by Henry, Sue
“Hey, babe. Where’d you come from? Wanna go with us to Gertie’s?”
Let it ride, makes it look better, she told herself.
“Come on, Terry,” his friend said, suddenly realizing he had dropped back. Then he noticed the reason. “Hi, there. You here with the race?” he asked Jessie.
“Yeah,” Jessie said, allowing Terry’s arm to remain across her shoulders. “Sure, I’ll go to Gertie’s. Why not?”
Geez, he weighs a ton.
“Yeah…why the hell not?”
“Where you from?” the second man asked her.
Don’t say Knik—somewhere else—anywhere.
“Ah…Nenana. Where you from?”
Ask them questions. Keep them talking.
“Whitehorse. I’m from Whitehorse with John. Ya know…Noble. He’s a real good musher.”
Terry staggered again as they stepped off the boardwalk into the street at the corner and turned left, headed for Diamond Tooth Gertie’s a block away, one of Dawson’s most famous gambling establishments. It was usually closed for the winter, but while the Quest was in town it was wide open, and in the bright lights over the entrance Jessie could see people coming and going. The block between it and the hotel was dark, and halfway along it she stopped suddenly, sliding from under Terry’s friendly arm.
“Hey. Where you goin’, babe?”
Oh, please, don’t call me babe. I hate being called babe.
“Changed my mind,” she told him. “You go on ahead. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Oh, gotta take a pee, huh? Okay. See you there.”
Drunk enough to be amenable to almost any suggestion, they rocked away from her toward the distant glitter and, without further hesitation, Jessie quickly crossed the street and slipped into a shadow, rolling the mask down over her face, as much for warmth as to avoid recognition. Once there, she stood still for a long few minutes, carefully watching the street, but saw nothing to make her think that anyone had noticed her exit from the hotel, or was following.
Still, she walked around two blocks in a direction away from where she was really headed and sidetracked through an alley before she felt securely alone in the night. Then, as quickly as she could walk, staying in what shadows she could find and avoiding busy streets, she headed for the southern edge of town.
Familiar with Dawson from a previous visit when Alex had been involved with a case that concerned both Canada and Alaska, Jessie knew her way around the grid of streets beside the Yukon River. This made it easier to watch out for anyone who might be curious about her late-night errand.
A short ten minutes later, she was standing at the front door of a snug log cabin that sat among several trees and spilled a warm glow from its windows into the dark, knocking quietly on the door as she pulled off the face mask. It was immediately opened by the attractive red-haired woman she had seen at the checkpoint that morning, who reached with eager hands to draw her into the soft light of the warm interior.
“Jessie. Finally. Oh, it’s so good to see you. Come in. Del’s here. Of course, he’s always here, now.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Claire. Thanks for being so patient. I had to be sure I wasn’t followed from the hotel.”
“Hotel? You should be staying here with us.”
“Thanks, but I think you’ll understand why it’s not a good idea when you hear what I’ve got to tell you. I can’t have anyone know I’ve even been close to here.”
“That critical, is it?” A square-shouldered, dark-complexioned man stepped forward from behind Claire to hold out a hand in greeting. There was an air of physical strength and the ability to move quickly about RCMP Inspector Delafosse, as well as the assurance of a competent intelligence.
“Yes, Del, I’m afraid so,” she told him soberly.
“Take off your coat and…Oh, you’re not wearing one. Jessie, you must be frozen. Come over here by the fire and get warm. How could you—”
“Don’t worry, Claire. I’ve got on enough under this vest to brave a blizzard.” She grinned and began to pull off layers of gloves, vest, and sweater. “I’m used to the cold anyway, and my red parka would have been a dead giveaway to anyone watching. Might as well stand in the middle of the street and shout my name.”
“Well, sit down and let me get you something. A glass of wine? A drink? What would you like? You drink something Irish…Jameson? Right?”
“That would be great, thanks.”
“Ice? Water?”
“Just a straight shot, with a glass of ice water, please, Claire.”
Settled in a comfortable armchair beside the fire that crackled in the stone fireplace, Jessie glanced around and sighed in the relief of being there.
Claire McSpadden’s…
No, Jessie thought, it’s Claire Delafosse—for her friend and the inspector had married since they had last seen each other.
Claire Delafosse’s handmade house was enough like Jessie’s own cabin in Knik, with its snug four rooms full of comfortable furniture, brightly colored curtains, and many books, to make her feel quite at home.
Claire returned with the Irish whiskey and a beer for Del, and settled on the sofa close to her new husband.
“Is it all right for me to stay?” she asked.
“Yes, of course. I trust you as much as I do Del. And, by the way, congratulations, you two! Sorry we couldn’t make it over for the wedding.”
Delafosse laid an affectionate hand on Claire’s knee and smiled.
“It was a good party. We missed you. But now, how can I help, Jessie? Your friend Don Graham called me, but didn’t say much—just relayed the message that you needed to talk to me about something seriously important and private.”
“He doesn’t know any more than that,” Jessie told him. “I more or less promised I wouldn’t tell. But I’m going to break that promise with you, because I think it’s less important than a woman’s life. I think we need help and are about to need more.”
Delafosse was immediately on alert, sitting up just a bit straighter than before and leaning slightly forward, listening intently.
Just like Alex, Jessie thought, and shoved that thought from her mind in favor of the subject at hand.
“Who did you promise?” Del asked. “Who’s we? Just tell me everything. This concerns the race? What? Just start at the first and tell me all of it.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “You should have been a doctor, Del. Great bedside manner.”
For the next half hour, between sips of Jameson, she told him, including the murder of B. J. Lowery, the recovered team, the note Leland had received in Pelly Crossing, and everything she imagined could be even remotely important concerning Debbie Todd’s abduction.
Inspector Delafosse listened intently, and only interrupted twice to clarify what she had told him. When she finished, he asked a few questions, then sighed and narrowed his eyes in thought.
“So, the searches—Leland’s and the committee’s—didn’t turn up much.”
“Nothing useful.”
“Interesting that the note should emphasize no police, then they draw attention to Debbie Todd’s absence by leaving the sled and team near the highway, to say nothing of the dead man. Clearly they wanted at least the team to be found. That dog of Leland’s going missing as well is odd, though I wonder if it might not have got loose and run off. It might still be out there somewhere.”
“Doesn’t make much sense.” Jessie agreed. “I didn’t say so, but I wondered if they could have killed Royal for some reason, accidentally or otherwise.”
“Anything’s possible, of course. Was the dog particularly protective of the girl?”
“No more than ordinary. These dogs are not watchdogs or trained for security. Jake sells some of his nonracing dogs for pets, so he wouldn’t train them that way. But Royal’s worth a lot—he’s an Iditarod-winning lead dog.”
Delafosse was quiet for a minute, considering. “You know,” he said finally, “by leaving the body
, and that sled and team, they must have known that the RCMP would eventually be called. When they found Lowery and couldn’t find anything in a search, they’d call us. We’d have to be involved. Whoever this is must have known that.”
“Maybe they’re dumber than it seems.”
“Maybe—but they tried to hide the body, after all. It almost seems something they hadn’t planned. The rest of this seems to have been well thought out ahead of time—premeditated. Another thing about that team occurs to me, though. By leaving it where they did, they guaranteed that any search would be focused on where it was found, or where she supposedly disappeared. That would be handy if they planned to be somewhere else, wouldn’t it? And I’d be willing to bet that’s exactly where they are—somewhere else. Now if we could only figure out where.”
“There’s no way of knowing, and a lot of ‘somewhere else’ out there between where she disappeared and Fairbanks. If there’s any chance of finding them—and Debbie—I think we need help. That’s why I’m here, Del.”
“Where’s Alex, Jessie?” Claire asked suddenly. “Is he working on this, too?”
Jessie told them about Alex’s father’s death and his trip to Idaho.
“I can’t ask him to come back now, for this. His mother needs him. Besides—”
The inspector nodded, turning his attention back to the problem at hand. “I have to agree, Jessie, that whether Jake Leland thinks so or not, you need help—lots of very expert help. But not the kind that would inspire whoever is responsible for this abduction into doing anything foolish to the girl.”
“You mean like killing her, don’t you, Del?” she said with brave honesty. “Might as well say what we’re all thinking and what terrifies Jake and his wife. The kidnappers could kill her—easily. And may, no matter what we do, right? Could have already—afraid she could identify them.”
“I doubt that. They probably know they might need her at some point. But that’s part of what I mean, yes. There are lots of ways to kill someone. Just leaving them alone in this kind of cold, far from anywhere, will do it. In this country it’s very easy to arrange it so they’ll never be found, alive or dead—just disappear, leaving no evidence. There’s a very large and unexplored wilderness out there, Jessie, thousands and thousands of miles of wilderness, much of which has never been touched by the foot of man. And there are other things to take into consideration.
“Right now, however, that’s not the issue. Right now we need to figure out what can be done, and fast. And it’ll have to involve both Leland and some very carefully selected law enforcement on both sides of the border. But it might be better to wait until just after you leave town and they are less likely to be watching Leland so closely, focusing more on you and the money. Let me think it over.”
Jessie felt her breathing change and her chest tighten in a tense response, knowing he was right. It would be so easy for someone to make just one small mistake—and even the smallest slip could mean the life of Jake Leland’s stepdaughter. She could only hope she had done the best thing in coming to Delafosse.
But the contact was made. It was out of her hands now.
13
“It is a simple matter to see the obvious, to do the expected…. When the unexpected does happen, however, and when it is of sufficiently grave import, the unfit perish…. On the other hand, there are those who make toward survival, the fit individuals who escape from the rule of the obvious and the expected and adjust their lives to no matter what strange grooves they may stray into or into which they may be forced.”
—Jack London, “The Unexpected”
UNACCOMPANIED, JESSIE SLIPPED BACK INTO THE HOTEL much as she had slipped out of it, by waiting and following someone else through the door, then quickly disappeared up the stairs to her room.
As quietly as possible, she went in and, with a glance down the hall to make sure she had not been observed, closed the door. As she turned away, something crackled under her boot. In the soft glow of the light she had left turned on by the bed, she saw that she had stepped on an envelope that had apparently been slid in under the door.
“JAKE LELAND,” it read in squared-off letters, as if it had been written with the assistance of a ruler, just like the first he had received.
So, the kidnappers not only had someone in Dawson, they knew where Jessie was staying and which room was hers. She hoped she had been careful enough that they did not know she had been away from it for the last hour or more, much less where she had been. Maybe this new note could tell her.
If it had not been addressed to Leland, she would have looked to see. But as much as she wanted to immediately rip open the sealed flap to get at the message, she resisted. First she must find Jake.
Clutching it, she started back out the door, remembered how she was dressed, and stopped. Pulling off the vest and one of the sweaters, she tossed the ski mask on the bed and grabbed her red parka.
Back to being musher Jessie Arnold, she thought. Whoever’s watching needs to see me as myself. They might remember what I looked like coming back in here, even if they didn’t recognize me, and I sincerely hope they didn’t.
As she laid her hand on the doorknob, the phone on the bedside table rang, startling her so that she dropped the key she was holding, along with the envelope. Leaving them where they had fallen, she crossed the room and lifted the receiver.
If they knew where she was, it might be…
“Hello?”
“Hello, love.”
Alex. It was only Alex. He had said he would call her in Dawson, and it had totally slipped her mind.
Only Alex?
“I tried to call earlier, but you weren’t there. How’s the race going?” he asked. “I’ve been following it when I can get a report. Not much on the news down here, though. How’re you doing?”
“Oh,” The race…oh, yes…the race. “Ah…fine. I’m doing fine so far. In the top ten…barely.”
“Hey, that’s great. Keep it up.”
“Yeah, sure. I will. Yes.”
“You don’t sound very pleased about it.”
The envelope lay on the floor, just out of reach, demanding her focus.
But this is Alex, she told herself. I need to talk to him.
Just being with Del and Claire—his friends, too—had brought him closer somehow. Still, right now he seemed not only incredibly far away, but almost from some other life.
How can I talk to him now? I’ve got to find Jake.
“Jessie? Are you okay?”
“Alex, I…”
“Is something wrong, Jess? What’s going on? Tell me. I’m right here.”
“I…Alex…I’m sorry, but I absolutely cannot talk to you now. There’s something important that I have to take care of. Something…” She knew her voice sounded weak and distracted…confused.
“Jessie. You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, God, Alex…everything. And I haven’t got time to explain.”
“Okay. We can talk later. I’ll call you back, just tell me when. Or you can call me…. Jess? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No…yes…I need…I’ve got to…”
“Do you want me to come, Jess?”
“No, Alex. I’ve already talked to Delafosse and Claire….”
“It sounds serious.”
“It is, but not about me, and Del is working on it. There’s so much…and I…well…I just can’t divide my attention right now.”
As she heard herself say the words, she remembered the other, earlier conversation with him, when she had offered to go to Idaho and felt hurt and guilty when he refused.
Divide…there was that word again, and this time she understood it, though the situation was much different. He had become a part rather than a whole.
Dammit.
“I’m sorry, Alex. I have to go. Call me later.”
“Can I call Del?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, call him. He knows it all. He can explain. Sorry. Bye.”
She grabbed the envelope and her key, and was on the stairs before she realized she had hung up on his response. Guilt swept in, momentarily slowing her feet. Then she was once again hurrying down the steps, heading for the door. She would think about it later. Right now…
Where could she find Leland?
“I’ll be around,” he had said. “The checkpoint official…I’ll keep going back…at least every hour or so.”
It was a place to start, but Jessie realized now that around wasn’t half good enough. They hadn’t anticipated that the message might be delivered to her, had they? They had expected that it would come to Leland, then he would find her. All she could do was search him out—and it was almost one o’clock in the morning. Where the hell would he be?
A quick look in the bar of her hotel told her he wasn’t there.
He was not in his room or the bar at the Downtown Hotel, on the corner of Second and Queen, a block from her own.
Three more noisy bars and a restaurant that was open late yielded nothing.
The big service station bay held only three racers and several support crew members engaged in repairing battered sleds.
Jessie checked them all, as she headed for the Yukon Quest Dawson checkpoint in the tourist information building at the north end of Front Street, the last place on her mental list and her best hope.
“He was here almost an hour ago,” the checkpoint official told her. “He’s been in and out all day. Said he’d be back.”
“Do you know where he was going?”
“Nope. Could be just about anywhere, I guess.”
Spinning abruptly away in frustration, she walked hard into the solid form of race marshal Ned Bishop, who had come up behind her.
“Ooph. Hey, take it easy, Jessie. Who you looking for?”
“Sorry, Ned. Jake. I’m trying to find Jake Leland. It’s important. Very.”
“Back there.” He waved a hand with a mitten on it. “Talking to Connie Stocker in the office.”
Jessie looked in the direction he indicated and saw a closed door with a window in it. Through the glass, she identified the back of Jake Leland’s head, nodding, as he gestured with both hands, speaking to a woman she did not recognize, but who appeared to be listening intently from behind a desk.
