by Sandra Brown
“With all due respect, Mr. Begley, you can’t. You’ve got your girl safe and sound at home.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, speaking humbly. “I can appreciate your desperation to find Millicent. I also commend these concerned friends and neighbors who’ve volunteered their time to search for her. I mean that.” He included every man in his sweeping gaze of the room.
“But, gentlemen, this morning you’re reminding me of a lynch mob. At this point, Mr. Tierney is not a suspect. We have no hard evidence against him. I want to emphasize that. Folks heard his name mentioned in connection to our visit here, gossip spread like wildfire, it went out over the radio, and things got blown all out of proportion. We came to Cleary only to question him, to have him clarify some issues in order for us to eliminate him as a suspect.”
An unidentified voice spoke from the back of the group. “That’s all we want to do, too. Question him.” The tongue-in-cheek remark was met with snickers.
Begley, clearly irritated by the interruption, said, “You don’t need rifles with scopes to talk to a man. A helicopter is due to arrive within an hour. I intend to take it up to the peak. If Tierney is indeed in the cabin recently owned by Chief Burton, he will be asked to cooperate with us and will be questioned according to jurisprudence. He will be afforded his constitutional rights.
“Now, that’s how it’s going to be. That’s the only way it’s going to be, Mr. Gunn. If you and your friends attempt to compromise our mission, or take matters into your own hands, I will use whatever means I deem necessary to subdue you. This is a police matter. As such—”
“Then where are the goddamn police?” Gunn asked angrily.
“Excuse me?”
Gunn flung his arm wide. “These men came here this morning to offer their time and services to you and the police. But our chief of police is nowhere to be found.”
Hoot shared Begley’s astonishment. “What do you mean he’s nowhere to be found?”
“Just what I said,” Gunn replied. “His own men haven’t seen or heard from Dutch since late last night, when he told the dispatcher he was going home for some shut-eye.”
“He told us to come get him if we needed him.” Officer Harris materialized out of the crowd. He’d replaced his uniform with an insulated jumpsuit and a fleece-lined hat with earflaps like most of the others were wearing, making him indistinguishable until now. “I just got back from his place. Looks to me like nobody’s been there in a long time. Not even any ash in the fireplace.”
Begley cut a worried glance toward Hoot. “Perhaps Wes Hamer . . .”
Before Begley could finish, Harris was shaking his head. “He’s AWOL, too. I stopped at his house on my way here. Mrs. Hamer said Mr. Hamer came in late last night, slept for a couple of hours, then left again before dawn.”
“Did she know where he was going?”
“Said she didn’t.”
Hoot didn’t like the feel of this, not at all. Judging by Begley’s dark expression, he didn’t like it either. He pondered it for several tense moments, then said crisply, “Officer Harris.”
“Yes, sir?”
“In the absence of your chief, and until further notice from me, you are in charge of coordinating these men. I want them organized into an official search-and-rescue battalion. Your immediate job is to make certain they have the gear and supplies they’ll need. And I’m talking everything. Ammo. Extra clothing. Compasses. Food. Water. Lots of water. I won’t be responsible for somebody fainting out there from dehydration.”
“Right, sir.”
“I want them ready and standing by to go at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, sir.” Then the young man’s eyes clouded with confusion. “To, uh, to do what, sir?”
“I won’t know that until I’ve reconnoitered the area in the chopper. We’ll stay in contact through the police radio, so I suggest you remain here. Use this as your base of operation. Other volunteers may straggle in, and we’ll need every man we can recruit. If I may make a suggestion?”
“Uh, yeah. Sir.”
“I’ve found that dividing my units into smaller groups and appointing group leaders is an efficient way to coordinate men who’ve had less training. But choose those leaders carefully, as they’ll be reporting only to you. Just a suggestion. You may, of course, manage it as you see fit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Agent Wise.” Begley did an about-face and strode toward the door. Hoot lunged forward to open it for him, then followed him out. As soon as the door closed behind them, they dropped the pretense. “Do you think they bought that bullshit?”
“Difficult to say, sir,” Hoot replied.
“Well, trying to make sense of it will keep them occupied for an hour or so, especially choosing the group leaders. Hopefully by the time they’ve sorted that out, we’ll have rescued Ms. Martin and taken Tierney into custody.” Begley paused. “Crap. You didn’t get to use the phone.”
“Perkins hasn’t paged me. If he’s got something urgent, he’ll contact me that way. In the meantime I’ll keep trying to reach him by cell phone.”
“What do you make of Burton and Wes Hamer having gone missing, Hoot?”
“No idea, sir.”
“I don’t like it. Not a fucking bit.”
Hoot opened the driver’s door. “Where to, sir?”
“The drugstore. That seems to be their hangout. Let’s start looking for them there.” Before getting into the car, Begley looked up at the clear sky. “Never thought I’d say this, but I almost miss the snow. At least when it was snowing I knew where everybody was.”
• • •
Marilee didn’t think it was possible for matters to get worse. She was wrong.
Dora Hamer showed up on her doorstep, looking like an escapee from an insane asylum, dressed only in a bathrobe, the hem of which was wet from dragging through snow. She wore only house slippers. Her bare feet were raw looking and red. Marilee had never seen anyone in such a distraught state.
The instant Marilee opened the door, Dora cried, “Is Scott here?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he is? Please, I beg you. If you know where he is, tell me.”
Marilee reached for her hand and pulled her inside, then ushered her toward the fireplace. “Sit down and tell me what’s happened.”
Dora didn’t sit down, she paced, tearing at her hair while one hand clutched a piece of lined paper. The left margin was ragged, like it had been ripped from a spiral notebook. “What’s that?” Marilee asked.
“A note I found in Scott’s room. A policeman came to the house a while ago.”
“Policeman?”
“One of Dutch’s men, looking for him and Wes,” she said impatiently. “That’s not important. After he left, I looked into Scott’s room to check on him. The room was empty. I found this.” She shook the note at Marilee. “Is it true?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re his lover?”
With no thought of denying it, Marilee answered quietly. “For the past several months.”
Dora stopped ranting and gaped at her. “How could you? What’s wrong with you?”
“Mrs. Hamer, please,” Marilee said gently. She was more concerned about the other woman’s mental state than she was about the accusations sure to be flung at her. Dora appeared on the verge of emotional collapse. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about my relationship with Scott. But I can’t while you’re screaming at me. Please?”
She motioned toward one of the two chairs in front of the fire, but Dora swatted her hand aside. The blow stung, but Marilee kept her composure, knowing that one of them must. “What does the note say?”
“He explained what happened this morning.”
“It was very ugly. I won’t paint it otherwise.”
“Well, you should be proud of yourself,” Dora sneered, meaning the opposite. “Your shameless behavior has led to this.”
She thrust the note at Marilee. It was crump
led and damp from being clutched in Dora’s hand. When Marilee smoothed it out, she recognized Scott’s handwriting.
The note was addressed to his parents. The first line alarmed her: “I know you’ll never forgive me for what I’ve done.” She read the line out loud, then looked up at Dora. “What does he mean by that? What has he done that’s unforgivable?”
“Screwing his schoolteacher, I suppose. I don’t know.” Dora had resumed pacing and was wringing her hands. “You’re the last person I want to be near. I hate being inside your house. But I came because I thought you might shed some light on the note. On where he is now. On whatever is ‘unforgivable.’ Tell me something,” she screamed, her voice shredding on the last word.
Marilee read the line again. “He could be referring to our affair. Or he could mean . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say what else the obscure sentence might signify.
“Is he referring to something that he’ll have done by the time we read the note, or something he’s done already? Something that he thinks we’ll consider unforgivable?”
“I don’t know, and I’m afraid to speculate, Mrs. Hamer.”
Dora backed into the wall, covered her face with her hands, and began to sob. “Does he mean he’s going to kill himself?”
Marilee continued reading, her panic rising. The words had the tone of a suicide note, although Scott hadn’t specifically said he intended to end his life. However, when he’d left her bedroom through the French doors this morning, barely taking time to dress, he’d been terribly upset. Although she’d begged him to stay, he wouldn’t be persuaded.
He ran out and must have stopped at home only long enough to compose the note. Whatever course of action he’d decided on, he’d decided very quickly. The rashness of it terrified her. He wasn’t thinking clearly or rationally. “Did he take anything with him when he left?”
“I don’t know.” Dora’s reply was desultory, as though she was so lost in her misery she wasn’t really listening.
Marilee took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Was anything missing from the house?”
Dora’s vision cleared. “Like what?”
Like a gun. Before Marilee could vocalize her thought, there was hard knocking on the front door. Both women reacted with a start. They stared at the door for several seconds, with shared but unspoken fear.
Marilee was the first to gather her courage. She crossed the room and opened the door.
“Ms. Ritt, we met yesterday.”
“I remember. Special Agent Wise.”
“Yes, ma’am. And Special Agent in Charge Begley.”
“Come in.”
She moved aside, allowing the two FBI agents to step into the entry. They stopped short of entering the living room when they saw Dora Hamer cowering against the wall. To his credit, Begley pretended not to notice her dishabille and acted as though he’d bumped into her at a tea party. “Good morning, Mrs. Hamer.”
Her eyes were wide with fright. All color had drained from her face. “Have you come about Scott?”
“Scott? No.”
Wise sensed their alarm. “What’s the matter?”
Dora left it to Marilee to answer. “We don’t know that anything is. Why are you here?”
“Actually, we hoped to find your brother at home,” Wise replied. “We went to the drugstore first. No one was there.”
At the mention of her brother, Marilee felt the muscles of her face solidify. She was still trying to absorb the full enormity of his treachery. His delight in hurting so many people was incomprehensible to her.
If he’d truly been worried about her moral turpitude, he would have confronted her with her transgression privately, encouraged her to seek help from a counselor or minister, or even threatened her with exposure if she didn’t immediately end her affair with Scott.
Instead, he had harbored the secret, baiting her with innuendos, until a time when springing the trap would do the most damage and give him the most satisfaction. The God Marilee believed in would regard William’s malicious intent a far greater sin than her loving Scott.
The agents were waiting for her answer. “William left about an hour ago.” She’d waited in her bedroom until she’d heard him leave the house and his car drive away. “I assumed he was going to the store. If he’s not there, then I can’t help you. What did you want with him?”
“Actually, we were looking for customers of his. Your husband for one, Mrs. Hamer.” Turning to Dora, Wise said, “Can you tell us where he is?”
“I have no idea.”
“He and Dutch were here earlier,” Marilee said. “With William. I overheard them talking about snowmobiles. William recently purchased some at auction.”
The muffled conversation in the hallway had reached through her bedroom door. She’d been too disconsolate over Scott to pay attention to the raised voices, and she cared little what the three of them had to talk about, but that word had registered with her. “Now that I think on it, Wes and Dutch were dressed for skiing.”
The look that Begley exchanged with Wise made her uneasy.
“Please, gentlemen, what’s this about?”
“Cleary Peak,” Begley said.
“And Mr. Tierney?”
“Did they mention him or the peak in their conversation with your brother?” Agent Wise asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you familiar with the peak, Ms. Ritt?”
“Very. I grew up on it, just below the summit actually, on the western side.”
“Western side? How do you get there from town? Does Mountain Laurel Road wind around?”
“No. There’s another road that snakes up the western face. But it’s not much of a road any longer. Sections of it were washed away in a mudslide several years ago. The road is so rarely used that it hasn’t been repaved.”
“But snowmobiles could get up it?”
“I don’t know anything about snowmobiles, but I suppose it’s possible.” She divided a look between the two agents. “You think Wes and Dutch have gone up there after Mr. Tierney?”
Although Begley didn’t answer specifically, he said, “We’re waiting on a helicopter from Charlotte. Hopefully we’ll get up there before anyone who has a mind to take the law into his own hands.”
He looked at Dora. “Would you be willing to call Mr. Hamer and advise him not to take any foolhardy action?”
“I’d be willing, but I’ve already tried to reach him on his cell and couldn’t get through. I was frantic to tell him about Scott, but—”
“What about Scott?” Begley’s piercing stare was so daunting, Dora actually recoiled from it. “Mrs. Hamer,” he said, “did the questions we asked Scott yesterday about Millicent upset him to this degree?”
“No.”
Her response was weak and had no substance, and Begley seized on that immediately. “Frankly, we felt that Scott, indeed all of you, were withholding information that could be valuable to our investigation.”
Wise said, “Perhaps he knows more about Millicent’s disappearance than—”
“His emotional instability has nothing to do with Millicent,” Marilee said, interrupting. The men directed their attention to her. “I can’t let you waste time on something that’s irrelevant.” She hesitated, then said, “Scott is upset because his father and my brother have been giving him injections of steroids. He wants to stop taking them and knows he’ll get a fight from Wes if he does. Further . . .”
She stopped, took a breath, clasped her hands together. “Furthermore, Scott and I were caught in bed together this morning.” Reading the shock in their expressions, she added, “Everything you infer from that is correct. Scott and I are lovers.
“He left a disturbing note in his room this morning.” Marilee didn’t ask Dora’s permission before passing the note to Begley, who read it, then handed it over to Wise. Begley’s expression wasn’t encouraging.
Wise was the first to regain his voice, and even then he cleared his throat
delicately before speaking. “Do you think it’s your, uh, relationship with him to which he’s referring in the note?”
“I assume, but I don’t know for certain.”
“Suicide is implied, but . . .” Dora was unable to continue. She began to cry softly.
“We’ll put out a bulletin on his car,” Wise said. “He can’t have gone too far on these roads.”
Dora shook her head. “He didn’t take the car.”
“Are you saying he’s on foot?”
“He’s an avid hiker. He even hikes on Cleary Peak.”
Begley and Wise exchanged a significant look, then the senior agent addressed Marilee. “How long have you and Scott been in this relationship, Ms. Ritt?”
She appreciated him for not posing the question with censure. In fact, he seemed halfway apologetic for asking. “Since September.”
“And during that time, did Scott ever confide in you why he broke up with Millicent Gunn?”
“He never talked about his former girlfriends, and I never asked.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“You weren’t in the least bit curious?”
“No.”
“Then you are truly a remarkable woman.”
Or a liar. That was what Begley was implying. Oddly, it was less his hard stare than his soft voice that broke her restraint. Her shoulders slumped, and she let go a long sigh. “Last night. We talked about it last night for the first time. He told me why he and Millicent stopped seeing each other.”
They waited, but when she said nothing else, Begley prodded her. “Well?”
“I won’t tell you that, Mr. Begley. Not at the present time. I’ll tell you only if and when it becomes necessary for you to know.”
“We need to know now,” Wise said.
“I’m sorry.”
Wise was about to say more, but Begley held up his hand. Marilee listened and identified the sound at the same time Begley said, “There’s the chopper.” He headed immediately for the door.
“Wait!” Dora cried. Begley came back around. “If Scott’s up there—”
“I’ll do everything within my power to return him to you safely, Mrs. Hamer. I give you my word.”
