Alaskan Hideaway

by Beth Carpenter

  Mac frowned. “A photographer in the alley. If you don’t want your picture on the news, you may want to shield your face.”

  Ursula held up a hand to shade her eyes and looked toward the fence in the far corner. Sure enough, a telephoto lens was trained toward them. How bizarre. She quickly turned away and hurried after Mac to the garage where he ushered her into a car. When they raised the door and drove out, someone was there, snapping pictures. She could certainly understand why Mac had fled to Alaska.

  She waited in the car while Mac ran into the police station to drop off the bracelet, and then they drove on to the courthouse. Mac parked in the lot across the street. As they walked closer to the imposing building, Mac’s posture grew stiffer. He couldn’t have been more on edge if it were his own trial he was attending. Ursula reached for his hand. “Hey, are you okay?”

  He stopped, closed his eyes, and sucked in a long breath. After a moment, he blew it out and gave her a soft smile. “I am.” He squeezed her hand. “Thanks to you.”

  * * *

  MAC CHECKED HIS watch again. This hearing should have started ten minutes ago, but there was no sign of judge or defendant. It was a good thing they’d arrived early, because the courtroom was packed, mostly with reporters. A couple of them looked his way, but with Thaine’s capture, Mac was no longer their main focus.

  One woman who had been particularly persistent in trying to schedule an interview with him kept staring at Ursula, no doubt trying to place her. He felt bad about dragging Ursula into this circus, but she’d insisted on coming, and truth be known, he was glad she had. It was reassuring that at least one person in this room was not here out of curiosity or to bump their ratings, but to support him.

  The side door opened at the front of the room, and a group of people in suits came in and settled in at the table on the right. A few minutes later, the door opened again, and Joel Thaine walked through, accompanied by a guard.

  Mac’s stomach clenched. He studied Thaine’s face, trying to decide what could be going on in that dangerous mind, but at the moment, Thaine only looked mildly confused until the bailiff directed him to the table on the left. He sat alone, shuffling through some papers.

  A few minutes later, another door opened and the bailiff instructed everyone to stand for the judge. A middle-aged woman wearing judicial robes sat behind the bench, and the onlookers sat again.

  It seemed to happen quickly. After some lawyerly talk, the judge asked Thaine why he had refused counsel. His reply, about being innocent because he’d been led by an angel, seemed to flow too easily, as if he’d rehearsed it many times. The judge asked more questions, and Thaine answered, his voice revealing little emotion. After several more probing questions that elicited the same bland responses, the judge remanded him for psychiatric evaluation.

  As Thaine stood to leave, he looked for the first time over the bar at the reporters madly scribbling notes. His expression remained neutral, but there was a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. He was clearly feeding off the attention. His gaze traveled to the end of the row where Mac was sitting, and stopped as recognition dawned.

  Mac locked eyes with him, and he didn’t look away. Thaine’s expression revealed no sign of either remorse or guilt, just barely disguised smugness. He gave a little smirk before he allowed the guard to lead him away.

  Ursula touched Mac’s hand, and he turned to her. “Did you see that?” he whispered. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s all a game to him.”

  “I saw.” But her look of concern seemed more focused on Mac than on the situation. She glanced around. “Let’s go before some of these reporters decide to ambush you.”

  As they filed from the courtroom, Russ met him at the door. “Mac.” He gestured toward an unoccupied corner. Mac nodded and put a hand on Ursula’s back to guide her away from the crowd. Russ flashed a questioning look at Ursula before addressing Mac. “Thanks for bringing that charm bracelet.”

  “No problem. This is Ursula Anderson, from Alaska. Ursula, Detective Russ Ralston. I’ve known Russ for years. His daughter Bailey and Andi were in school together.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Anderson.” Russ shook her hand and turned to Mac. “Bailey’s in Japan now. She wanted me to tell you you’re in her prayers.”

  “Thank her for me.” Enough small talk. “Were you in there?” Mac gestured toward the courtroom.

  “Yes. It went pretty much the way we thought it would.”

  “You know he’s faking.”

  Russ shrugged. “Then let’s hope the psychologists can figure it out.”

  “Did you find a chip?”

  “Not yet, but the lab is doing a rush job for me. They should have some information for me later today. Can you come to my office at, say, four thirty?”

  “Couldn’t you just call?” Ursula suggested.

  Mac shook his head. It wasn’t just about the chip. He knew, from the way Russ wasn’t meeting his eyes, there was bad news yet to come. “I’ll be there,” he assured Russ.

  They made their way downstairs and across the lobby of the courthouse. One reporter made a halfhearted attempt to collect a sound bite, but he accepted Mac’s “no comment” without argument. They walked to the car, and Mac started home.

  He stopped at a red light and looked toward Ursula. He wanted her take on this. “Well, you heard him talk. You saw the way he looked at me. Do you think he’s faking?”

  “I’m no mental health expert, but I’m glad he’ll be locked up, one way or the other.” Ursula shuddered. “The way he spoke—to be so matter-of-fact about such a shocking crime—scared me. He’s dangerous. Of that I have no doubt.”

  The light changed and Mac pulled forward. She hadn’t exactly answered his question, but as usual she’d gotten to the heart of the matter. Thaine was dangerous. But he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. Mac would see to that. He’d let Andi down, hadn’t protected her, but he was going to make sure her killer paid his debt to society.

  Ursula yawned, and although she tried to cover it up, Mac knew she must be exhausted after flying all night. He probably shouldn’t have brought her, for her sake as well as Rory’s, but it meant more than he could say to have her there beside him in court today. Everything was easier knowing that someone cared about him, cared for him. That he wasn’t alone. Just as he’d supported Ursula through the custody challenge, she was there to support him now. It was a good feeling.

  Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted her at this upcoming meeting. There was something Russ dreaded telling him or showing him, and if it was that distasteful to a seasoned cop, Mac didn’t want Ursula exposed to it.

  Once they reached the house, he picked up her suitcase from the entryway where she’d left it. “Let me show you to your room.” He carried the bag upstairs to the guest room he’d asked Joan to prepare. Sure enough, the curtains were open and cool spring sunlight streamed through the windows and fell on the pillows resting against the cherry headboard.

  Mac set Ursula’s bag on the bench at the foot of the bed. “There should be fresh towels in the bathroom. Why don’t you have a nap before dinner?”

  She plumped one of the pillows, clearly tempted. “Do I have time before we need to leave for your meeting?”

  “You were up all night. Get some sleep. You don’t need to be at this meeting.”

  “You have to be as exhausted as I am.”

  He supposed he was, but he was too wound up to sleep. “I’m fine. You rest.”

  She studied his face. “Are you sure you don’t need me?” He had no doubt that she would forgo sleep for as long as it took if she thought she could help him. But it wasn’t necessary.

  He opened his arms. “Come here.” He held her close, and it seemed as though her calming energy flowed into him. “I need you. But you don’t have to be at this meeting. It’s enough to know you’ll be here when I g
et home.”

  And it was true. Whatever the news Russ had to share, Ursula would be there to lighten the load. And they’d get through it, whatever happened.

  She smiled up at him, and he brushed a kiss across her forehead.

  “Sleep tight, darlin’. I’m glad you’re here.”

  * * *

  RUSS WAS SHUFFLING through some papers when Mac stepped into his office, but quickly stuffed them inside a folder and closed it. “Thanks for coming in. Decided not to bring your friend along?” He indicated a chair.

  Mac sat down. “She was tired. Took the red-eye from Anchorage last night. Did they find a chip in one of the charms?”

  “Yes, in the heart. The battery was dead, of course, but it was a GPS tracking chip. A fairly expensive model, but easily obtained over the internet.”

  A sense of déjà vu ran a cold hand down Mac’s spine. “You say the battery was dead.”

  “Yes.” Russ met his gaze as though willing him to make the connection. “The battery life of a tracking chip with a transmitter that small is only a few days.”

  “But you found a miniature charging pack in the charm, too, didn’t you? And a charging mat on a tray in Andi’s apartment. The tray next to her bed where she would put her cell phone to charge before she went to bed. And she’d put her bracelet in the tray, as well.”

  “You remember seeing the mat?”

  “No.” Mac swallowed. “I wrote about it. In a book about five years ago. It was new technology then, but now it’s commonly available.” The transmitter in a piece of jewelry. The charging mat. It might still be a coincidence, but it wasn’t likely.

  “We didn’t find a charging mat when we took photos of the apartment after Andi went missing.”

  “No?” Maybe Mac was wrong.

  “No. I suspect Thaine got rid of it. But yes, we found the charging pack in the charm, and when we searched his apartment in Omaha, we found this.” Russ reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was a familiar book, the design on the dust jacket worn and faded.

  Mac’s heart stopped, and then began beating wildly. “You found this with his things?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I see it?”

  Russ paused for a moment before he nodded. “It’s evidence. Here. Wear gloves.”

  Mac pulled on the rubber gloves and removed the book from the bag. It fell open to a page toward the middle. A section had been highlighted, detailing how the antagonist had arranged for one of his victims to have received a charging mat for her cell phone as a gift, to recharge the tracking chip he’d hidden inside her favorite necklace.

  Mac flipped back a couple of chapters to find other highlighted sentences and phrases, all in the scenes told from the antagonist’s point of view as he made his plans. And then Mac found the section he was dreading. Yellow highlighter taunted him.

  “Do you have the autopsy report?” He knew Andi had died of strangulation, but he’d never known the details. Never wanted to know. Until now.

  “Mac, you don’t need to see that.”

  “I think I do.” He had to confirm the depth of his guilt.

  “I’m not sure I have it here.” Russ pretended to shuffle through the papers.

  “Just tell me. She died like this, didn’t she?” Like the victim in the story, whose killer had taunted her by tightening the garrote around her neck until she passed out, and then loosened it to allow her to regain consciousness so that he could make her beg for her life. He would pretend to consider letting her go, and then change his mind, over and over, before he finally killed her. A cat, playing with a mouse.

  Russ didn’t answer.

  Mac stared into his eyes. “Didn’t she?”

  Slowly, Russ nodded. “The report is consistent with that scenario.”

  Mac closed the book. The shadowy figure on the cover blurred and quivered. Mac closed his eyes and waited until he gained control and his eyes could focus once more. He opened the cover and checked the flyleaf.

  To Andi. All my love, Dad.

  * * *

  URSULA WOKE TO a birdsong alarm app Rory had downloaded onto her phone. They’d made a guessing game out of identifying the different birds. Rory had recognized the robins, chickadees and waxwings right away, but she’d never heard the soft coo of the mourning dove, so common in Wyoming where Ursula had grown up. Here in Tulsa, a meadowlark was singing outside her window. She’d have to try to record it for Rory.

  The nap had done wonders for Ursula’s energy and peace of mind. She’d been worried. Worried that being in court and actually seeing the face of the man who had taken his daughter’s life would pull Mac into that dark place he’d inhabited when she first met him. He was hurting, she could sense that, but that hug had reassured her. He wasn’t isolating himself. He was willing to let her help him. To let her love him.

  And she did love him. She’d been hedging, not admitting it even to herself, but she couldn’t pretend anymore. Somewhere around four in the morning last night, unable to sleep on the plane, she’d shifted in her seat and looked over to find Mac watching her. He’d reached for her hand, and the instant they connected, she’d felt better, stronger, and she’d known she couldn’t deny it any longer.

  No parent should have to go through what Mac had. To lose a child for any reason was an unthinkable tragedy, but for someone to have stolen her life away for his own twisted reasons was too much to bear. But Mac had to bear it, and she would do everything she could to help him get through it.

  She checked the time. Rory should just be getting home from school. She called the inn and spoke with Catherine for a few minutes. Catherine assured her everything was under control and called Rory to the phone. “Ursula!”

  “Hi, sweetie. How was school today?”

  “Good. For science, we’re growing worms. They eat paper.”

  “Really? Where are these worms?”

  “They’re in a box of dirt. We keep them under the art table.”

  “Cool.”

  “Are you in Oklahoma now? Is it snowy?”

  “No, it’s spring here. I saw daffodils blooming. Are you and Blossom being good for Catherine?”

  Rory giggled. “We are but Van Gogh isn’t. Catherine says she was eating lunch and had to stop and answer the door. When she got back her sandwich was gone and he was lying on the chair pretending he was asleep.”

  “Maybe it was Blossom.”

  “No, she was in my room.”

  “Did she sleep in your bed?”

  “Uh, just part of the night. Is Mac there?”

  Nice misdirection. “Not right now. Do you want me to tell him anything for you?”

  “Just say hi, and that I’m taking good care of Blossom.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell him. I love you, sweetie.”

  “I love you, too. Bye.”

  Ursula smiled as she hung up the phone. Mac still wasn’t back, so she took advantage of the groceries Joan had left to make a salad to go with dinner. She was bent over the oven, sliding in the casserole dish, when the back door opened.

  “I’m just putting in the casserole. It should be ready in half an hour.” Ursula turned and stopped at the expression on Mac’s face. He seemed to be in shock.

  “What is it?”

  He didn’t answer, just shook his head.

  She stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm. “Mac? Tell me.”

  “They took some of his things as evidence.”

  “Yes?”

  “There was a book. My book. One I wrote several years ago. It was a copy I’d given to Andi.”

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t you see? He was using it. Highlighting the passages the killer in the book used to control his victims. The GPS chip in the bracelet? In the book, it was a necklace. That’s how he found her, whe
n she ran away.”

  She brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Mac.”

  “And then he killed her. He tortured her. Just like the killer in the book.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Sure it is. I dreamed up all those nightmares.”

  “That doesn’t make it your fault.” She had to make him understand that.

  “I gave him the blueprint. I might as well have killed her myself.”

  “Don’t do this, Mac. Don’t let guilt drag you down again. You’re not to blame.” Ursula put her arms around him.

  He stood stiffly, not responding. Soon, she reached up to take his face between her hands. “Mac. Look at me. I love you. Don’t let this come between us.”

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t deserve your love.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re a wonderful person. Kind. Talented. And patient with little girls who like to play cards. Rory says hi, by the way, and that she’s taking good care of Blossom for you.”

  “Rory’s better off without me.”

  “How can you say that? She adores you.”

  He shook his head. “Every relationship I have eventually ends in tragedy. I had no business getting involved with you and Rory.” He pushed her hands away from his face. “We’re done here. I’ll make reservations to fly back to Alaska tomorrow. Thank you for making dinner, but I’m not hungry. Good night.”

  He turned and started for the stairs. She almost ran after him, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. The darkness they’d been fighting had returned. And it was winning.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE NIGHTMARES WERE BACK. Mac sat up in bed, gasping for air. The details of the dream swept away, leaving his mind filled with swirling terror. The terror made him think of Andi and what she might have felt in her last few seconds of life.

  Mac stumbled into the living room and reached for his grandfather’s knife, only to remember it was gone as well, into a mass grave with box wrenches, mace canisters, bottles of booze and other forbidden items at the airport security checkpoint.