You guessed he wasn’t Allegro? Ramiro was a good Catholic boy. I left the gun for him in the bathroom and told him to do it publicly; otherwise I’d send the webcam jerk-off performances he thought he was swapping with a Thai girl direct to his family members. Tragically, this is happening to so many young folks nowadays.
Repulsion swelled and Beth was just as sickened by the gunman’s flippancy as the suicide she’d just witnessed. Why are you killing the people who witnessed the accident and deleting their clips? If she revealed she knew who Ramiro was, there was little point withholding the question.
I knew you were a sharp girl, Beth. Ramiro made it easy. He works long hours at the hospital and I was able to remove his recording using his home laptop. Found the password that he uses for all of his accounts. We didn’t need to meet but I like to oversee things.
Her fingers trembled on the keys. Stop this.
Say pretty please.
Beth looked at her watch. It was 3.32. She knew he had to be leaving for West Glacier. She anticipated him logging out, and rapidly typed. Are you protecting Allegro?
How about dinner at Tony Roma’s? We can talk it out over surf and turf and go see a show afterwards. The Elvis Cirque Du Soleil is a hot ticket. My treat.
His invitation froze her blood cells. Another decoy? If I refuse?
Just don’t stand me up again. See you around seven.
Beth pushed her way out of the café and hailed a cab. If the gunman had driven to Vegas and left immediately, she could still overtake him on a flight, even if it didn’t leave for another couple of hours.
But he had to know she would try to find the O’Dooles. They were the last clip that had to be erased.
Chapter 59
When he’d got the message from Beth Jordan, Mimic had pulled his white Nissan Murano SUV over and sat on the hood. He’d closed the Facebook page on his iPad and had opened a Google search.
Nothing but blacktop and dry wilderness stretched ahead. He briefly closed his golden eyelashes against the breeze skimming across the desert prospect in front of him. He opened them again. Interstate 15 disappeared into the haze. It felt like the hottest part of the day, and he was eager to get back into the air con even though it gave him cottonmouth. He inhaled some real and tepid air and dabbed at the sour cream at the corners of his lips with a napkin he’d taken from Starbucks.
Beth Jordan had given him a run for his money and so had the O’Dooles. Both parties had to be silenced, Jordan because, as suspected, she knew what united his targets. He’d told Ramiro Casales to shoot anyone in the Luxor lobby answering her description before he turned the gun on himself, but Mimic had guessed she wouldn’t show. He still had Allegro to reel her in with, but the threats to her family were no guarantee she wouldn’t ruin everything he’d painstakingly orchestrated. He wondered how he would finish her, Mrs O’Doole and her children. Google told him.
He found some more details to ponder, and then slid off the hot metal and dumped his iPad back through the driver’s door. This route was alien to him, but the enjoyable part of his work was when it took him to new territory. He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He’d always wanted to visit the Moapa Valley, and decided to stop off on the way. They had a renowned wildlife preserve there. He’d let Beth Jordan locate the O’Dooles. Mimic had over fifteen hours of driving ahead, so he figured, by the time he arrived, he’d have them all in one place.
Chapter 60
Belted in and rolling back, Beth took shallow breaths over lurching sickness and tried to convince herself she was a step ahead. Hers was the first flight to leave. She’d waited in a different departure lounge until the plane had boarded, and she was positive he hadn’t checked in. The flight after hers went to Bozeman, so he’d have a four-hour drive from the airport there to West Glacier. Whether he got on that or was in his car, she still had a decent enough window to find the O’Dooles before he did.
The flight was just under three hours, and all she could think about was the desert road below. Even if he’d left immediately after she’d communicated with him, by the time she’d got to the airport and the plane had taken off, he would only have had a two-hour head start. When she got to West Glacier, he would have been on the road for five hours. Google Maps driving time told her he would still be about ten hours behind her.
If he got the next flight to Bozeman at 6.15, it was an hour longer than hers because it stopped in Salt Lake City. He still then had to drive four hours to West Glacier. That meant it would take him nine and a quarter hours from the time she took off. That gave her six and a quarter hours extra to play with. Depending on how long it took her to get out of the airport. Wait, was that right?
She spent the flight turning the times over and over in her head, coming to the same conclusion but doubting her mental calculations and convincing herself she was missing some other way he could be there before her. He had to know where she was headed, and when she arrived, Beth still had to locate the family. Perhaps he knew exactly where they were staying. That would seriously shrink her time advantage.
Beth doubted the gunman had left anything to chance and was convinced she would be putting herself exactly where he wanted. She looked out of the half-shuttered window and watched the clouds turn coral pink and then darken, dirty blue to black.
Chapter 61
The plane began its descent just before eight, Vegas time. Kalispell was just an hour ahead. What would the O’Dooles be doing now? Was there somewhere near their lodge they’d go for the evening, or would they pick this night to stay put and make matters even harder? Beth knew where she’d try first.
With no baggage, she was clear of the airport in less than twenty minutes and at the front of the taxi line in the freezing cold rain. It was fortunate, as there were only two white SUVs waiting there.
“Any bags?” The cabby half opened his door but didn’t look like he wanted to emerge.
“No. It’s fine.”
As she left the shelter, she was shocked by the sensation of the freezing moisture on her exposed head. She wiped it away as she settled in the back seat. The denim-baseball-capped driver turned so she could see the grey bristles that seemed to cover most of the features below his peak. He nodded when Beth gave him her destination and reacted to her accent and shivering.
“Been to Montana before?”
“Never.” She was in no mood to be treated like a tourist.
“We have a saying here – if you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes.”
Beth didn’t respond, only pulled her leather jacket tighter around her and used the weak yellow streetlight to squint at the time on her watch: 8.23 Vegas time. Nothing stopped there. Everyone would probably be in bed here.
Her cabby remained silent for the remainder of the thirty-five-minute journey to West Glacier. She wondered if it was because she’d been rude, or if he was picking up on her agitation. She sat rigidly back in the seat, occasionally glanced at the dipped peak of his cap in the mirror and clasped her hands in her lap.
Their journey revealed little of her surroundings, the headlights picking up the dark wet asphalt and yellow lines of the expansive road, and occasionally catching tall pines and the green reflective signs on US 2. The scenery skulked within the darkness and it felt like they were hissing down a black tunnel. She could have been anywhere but Flathead County. She wished she were.
“You staying at the Belton?”
“No. Could you just drop me off when we get to the centre of town.”
“The centre?” the driver said incredulously.
She wasn’t sure what he meant by it until the wooden buildings of West Glacier started to appear at the sides of the road. There didn’t appear to be anyone on the street. She spied an inn and the general store and saw old signs for the railway. She was about to ask him about Elkhorns restaurant when its carved sign illuminated by tiny yellow bulbs appeared to their left.
“Here’s just fine. How much do I owe you?” H
e told her and she gave him a generous tip, but he said nothing as he turned the taxi and headed back the way they’d just come.
She could hear Bob Dylan getting “Tangled Up In Blue” inside Elkhorns and smell mesquite and burgers. The rain fell harder and Beth trotted quickly across the road to the cedar-wood-panelled building, and pushed on the heavy glass swing door.
The aroma and music became overpowering inside. A fibreglass grizzly greeted her. It held a sign that said: Today’s saying – “You look like you’ve been chewed up by a wolf and shit over a cliff.” It looked like a staff joke to relieve the boredom. Most of the wooden chairs were stacked upside down on the dining tables.
“Help you?” But it sounded like the last thing the girl at the waitress station wanted to do. Was she the one Beth had spoken to on the telephone? She was diminutive and compact, her solid bust too big for the crimson shirt she was wearing. A dyed black bob cupped her canine features.
“I’m looking for some friends of mine. The O’Dooles.”
The girl’s eyes went dead. “Only a few regulars in tonight, so we’re closing early, so unless you want to order right away...”
“I called here recently...’
“I know, and I told you I don’t know them.”
Beth opened her mouth.
“And as we don’t take reservations, I can’t help you any further. Now, Chef is about to turn the grill off so...” She raised her eyebrows and chewed something invisible.
“Thanks a lot for your help.” Beth found herself back in the street, pulling her leather jacket over her head. She turned left and headed along the sidewalk in the direction the cab would have taken her if they’d carried on. The music was quickly gulped by the darkness, and the impacts of her boots on the wet paving stone and her own breathing inside the tent of leather were the only sounds. Not even a solitary dog barked. Where the hell would she try next?
She suddenly stopped by a parked car and braced herself by putting her palm against its cool, wet metal. Another surge of nausea. Not again. Probably brought on by the aroma of food. Was her smell becoming oversensitive? Her legs wobbled and felt suddenly fragile. She tried to remember the last time she’d had solids. Apart from a tiny bag of pretzels she’d consumed on the plane, Beth knew she hadn’t eaten properly since LA. How long ago was that?
Beth waited for her ears to stop burning and the sensation to pass, but it felt like an hour. Eventually, she straightened and sniffed the night air. The rain was just drizzling now, but it was getting cold fast, probably because they were near water.
Near water. Beth recalled the water through the window in the photo of Mrs O’Doole that Kevin had posted on the Facebook page.
Chapter 62
The lodge was beside the water. It was a start. She saw a sign for the “Alberta Visitor Center” and followed it, passing West Glacier Mercantile until she came to a brick building that looked like a miniature Alamo with a triangular wood and glass roof, flanked by four motionless flags on poles. Beth climbed the five steps to its courtyard and made for the faintly illuminated windows at the front.
She tried the door but already knew it was locked. Taped inside the pane was a map of West Glacier, however. Beth wiped the cold vapour from her eyes with her fingertips and found the building and its relation to the Middle Fork Flathead River.
She passed West Glacier Mercantile again and headed down Going-To-The-Sun Road. It led to the nearest stretch of the river. The sign told her it was closed winters.
Beth smelt the cold soil aroma of the water before she saw it. She left the road and walked onto the grass of a clearing. Her boots squeaked on the wet blades as she moved carefully towards the river’s edge. A gang of dark clouds was restraining the moon and she couldn’t tell where the land ended and the Flathead began. The ground became softer underfoot and she stopped as she reached a fence of tall reeds.
A cool draught hit her face and she briefly closed her eyes against it. But when the wind dropped, she could hear the fizz of the water. She looked right to where the river bent around into the distance, but couldn’t make out the shape of any cabins. When she gazed the other way, she could see a faint yellow light through the trees. A streetlight? It seemed too high up.
She strode back to the road, keeping her eye on the light as the branches between it and her made it wink. It disappeared as she reached the asphalt again, and suddenly Beth felt as if she wasn’t alone. Halting and holding her breath, she could hear nothing but the odd gurgle from the sizzling river. She headed in the direction of the light via the track curving around the cedar trees.
Beth swivelled back to the clearing when she heard the scuff. Her circulation knocked in her ears as she strained to listen again. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t be here. Not yet. No other sound. Perhaps it was an animal, or somebody out walking. She tried to focus on the different shades of darkness within the trees but couldn’t discern any movement or figure.
Beth paced quickly along the track and found it becoming a steep incline of loose stones. Her boot slipped on its uneven surface as she tautened the muscles in the backs of her legs to push herself upward. Beth turned again and peered back down the track, expecting to see someone furtively pursuing her. There was nobody. She was just getting jittery in the dark of an unfamiliar place.
Beth followed the curving edge of the trees and thought about the crash site. Everything must have seemed harmless there too, until they’d rounded the corner.
She thought about the clips and her at the roadside staring out into Jody’s lounge through someone’s iPhone. She wished she were viewing this from the comfort and safety of the armchair. The track levelled off, then the yellow light winked into view again, lower this time. It couldn’t be a streetlight; if it was, it seemed odd that a single one would be positioned in the forest.
As she progressed further around the bend, Beth realised it was a spherical lamp over a wooden sign. She made for it, reading the words carved into it.
FLATHEAD BEND
The sign was positioned atop a flight of wooden steps leading down to a hunting lodge perched on the edge of the river. A fishing jetty extended from the back of the property, disappearing into the blackness of the water.
As she reached the bottom of the steps, she was suddenly illuminated by motion detector lights positioned on the gables. Simultaneously, a window rattled and opened below them.
“And just what the hell can I do for you?” a hostile male voice.
Beth couldn’t see the man through the glare of the overhead bulb. She shaded her eyes with the edge of her hand. She could see he had grey muttonchops and whiskers. “I’m sorry. I’m looking for someone. A family called the O’Dooles. They’re staying along the river here somewhere.”
“There are no O’Dooles in this house and I have a hunting rifle already loaded right here.”
“You haven’t seen a mother and two teenage boys?”
“You’d better scram before I call the cops.”
But there was another incoherent voice now, a woman’s whispering, placatory tone.
The man paused while he listened, then it sounded as if he’d turned to address them. “OK, OK.” His voice got loud again. “Apparently, there’s a mother and two teenage boys staying at Whispering Brook.”
“Could you tell me where that is?”
“Go back down the track you came up and make for the footbridge. It’s a good ways along there on the left.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s a couple of other family places along there. Try not to terrify anyone else.”
“Thank you again. I’m sorry if I–”
But the window closing cut her off. Beth turned and headed back up the steps, feeling his eyes on her back all the way.
Chapter 63
Beth stumbled back down the track and quickly found herself at the clearing again. She strode quickly, surveying the woods to her left, and soon reached a dilapidated covered wood footbridge held up by scaffolding. It
groaned with her slight weight before she was heading down another dark tunnel of trees. Thankfully, the clouds relinquished the moon and spilled some extra light through the branches.
It was a long time before she reached the next lit sign.
BLUE PONTOON
She kept walking and passed BEAR BECK and SAW CREEK before WHISPERING BROOK finally materialised out of the overhang of trees.
Beth could easily have missed it. The sign was barely visible from the track, and no lamp illuminated it. She approached to double-check. It didn’t look as new as the others, and she guessed a letting company didn’t maintain it.
She was looking down another flight of wooden steps cut into the bank that led to the front of the house, but couldn’t see any motion detector lights positioned anywhere on its cedar cladding. A dull glow of yellow light emanated from the back of the property and died halfway up its jetty. There was also smoke weakly emerging from its chimney, being blown at her from the direction of the river.
The aroma of beech ash wafted over her. What the hell was she going to do now? Even if it were the right family, where would she begin to tell them why she was there? But ascertaining it was the O’Dooles had to be her first priority. If it wasn’t, she only had a matter of hours left to find them.
Beth descended the steps, her palm grazing the rough, green-stained wood handrail as she decided what to say. The truth seemed to be the only option, however unlikely. She hit the walkway that led down the side of the lodge and to the jetty. Her thudding footfalls along it would alert anyone inside she was approaching.
She turned the corner and was standing at the back of the house. In front of the double-glazed window were a narrow seating deck and a balustrade. A table with its parasol folded had four metallic seats collapsed and leaning against it.
Looking in through the window, she saw a spacious lounge illuminated by ceiling spotlights. There were animal heads on the wall, a huge circular wooden table dominated the polished tiles and some skewed mats in front of three chairs were at the far side. A wood-burning stove was to her right, and there was still a log glowing orange inside.
Stalk Me Page 21
