Under Cold Stone: A Constable Molly Smith Mystery (Constable Molly Smith Novels)

by Delany, Vicki

  Tracey spun around. “Wow. Wasn’t that something? I’ve never seen a bear up close before.”

  Smith stuffed the can of spray into her pocket. Her legs shook, but she didn’t dare collapse, not yet. “Let’s hope you never do again. If there is a next time, you do exactly what I tell you. Got it?”

  “Sure. Come on. We’re almost there. I think I recognize this path.”

  That Smith doubted very much. But Tracey seemed to be invigorated by the encounter with the bear and her pace quickened. An innocent in the wild. Smith wondered if Tracey would have tried to pat the bear or feed it by hand. That had been known to happen. If they were lucky, they lived to tell the tale.

  Feeling much like Gretel following breadcrumbs, Smith followed the scraps of red cloth. It was coming up to two o’clock, only one more hour until she’d insist on turning around, when the forest ahead began to thin out, and more sky came into view. A clearing, most likely.

  “We’re here!” Tracey shouted. Energized, she broke into a run. Smith followed, moving with more caution. They emerged into an alpine meadow. Full of boulders, scrubby bushes, and tiny plants that would make a carpet of riotous color come spring. A scattering of snow clung to the dark underside of rocks and filled crevasses in the ground.

  A lake, a perfect small jewel of sapphire and white, sparkled in the sun.

  “Matt,” Tracey yelled. “I’m here! Matt, you can come out. It’s me, Tracey.”

  Smith’s right hand rested on the knife at her hip. Other than the cries of the girl, all was quiet.

  “I told you to come alone.” A man stepped out from a line of spruce at the edge of the clearing. He was unshaven, his hair lank, his face dirty, his eyes haunted.

  “She never would have made it,” Smith said. “How you doing, Matt? Not well, by the look of it.”

  A small grin touched the edges of his mouth. “Moonlight Smith. I was thinking of you the other day.”

  Tracey ran toward him. Matt wrapped her in a hug that lifted her feet off the ground. They embraced for a long time. Smith shrugged off her pack and searched for a bottle of water. She took a long drink.

  Matt let Tracey go, and she dragged him by the hand. “Molly wanted to help. I hope you don’t mind too much.”

  He studied Smith’s face. “I don’t mind,” he said at last. “Nice to see you, Moonlight.” He held out his hand. She took it. “You got anything to eat in there?”

  She tossed him a granola bar. He caught it easily and tore the wrapping off. The food disappeared in two quick bites. She found chocolate bars and nuts and passed them over. While he ate, she walked to the edge of the lake to give him some privacy. The water was perfectly clear. Gray and white stones lining the bottom swayed as light passed through the water. Small fish nibbled at unseen plants. Tracey told Matt how worried she’d been and that everyone was looking for him. Matt said nothing.

  Finally, Smith turned around. “You have to come back to town with me.”

  He shook his head. “No. I appreciate you helping Tracey, but you can leave now. We’ll manage.”

  “What do you think you’re going to do?”

  He had his arm around Tracey’s shoulder. He looked down at her, his smile soft and intimate. “We’ll manage.”

  Tracey beamed.

  “Hardly,” Smith said. “The police like you for the murder of Barry Caseman. You must know that.”

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “Tell them then. What are they supposed to think, you running off?”

  “I guess your mom called you, eh?”

  “Of course she did. She’s worried about you.”

  “Tell her I’m sorry for what happened. Sorrier that I can say.”

  “Tell her yourself. She’s still here. So’s the ch…your dad. He’s worried sick. So’s your mom.”

  “My mom’s here?”

  “Matt. Do you not understand how serious this is? You. Are. Wanted. For murder.”

  “But he didn’t do it.”

  Smith threw up her hands. “The both of you can keep saying that till the cows come home, but it won’t make any difference. You have to turn yourself in and tell your side of the story. You don’t actually think you’re going to run, do you? Run where? To the States? You think the border guards haven’t been alerted? Are you going to walk to Ontario? You can’t rent a car. Your driver’s license has a flag on it. There’s a bus, but it costs money and you can’t use your credit cards. Even if you manage to get there, they have police in Ontario, you know.”

  Matt released Tracey. He walked in circles, eyes on the ground, rubbing at the stubble on his face. “This is such a mess, such a fucking mess.”

  “Start cleaning it up. Come back to town.”

  “I can’t. There’s a cabin, back in the woods. An old abandoned trapper’s place. We can stay there for a while.”

  Tracey nodded.

  “Listen to yourself, will you?” Smith said. “Do you think we’re at the end of the world? This is a national park. The rangers have been told to look out for you. How long before one of them thinks, oh, yeah, that old trapper’s cabin would be a nice place to hide out.

  “You know I’m right. Otherwise, why have you hung around? You must know you could have hitched a ride out of here before your face got on the news.”

  He looked at Tracey. “I started to. But then I realized I couldn’t leave you behind.”

  Tracey burst into tears.

  Smith groaned. She zipped up her pack. “I’m not going to stand around here arguing. You can come with me. I’ll drive you to town. We’ll call your dad and he’ll take you to the police station and wait with you while you make a statement. Or you can play mountain man and try to hide out and possibly get shot—or get Tracey shot—in a shootout as a dangerous fugitive. Your choice.”

  “I don’t want to see my dad.”

  “Geez. I’ll go with you then. While we walk, I’ll brief you on what to do and what not to do at the police station. You want to ask for a lawyer straight up.”

  “How do you know what I should do? Have you been arrested?”

  She swallowed. No more prevaricating. He’d asked. She had to answer. “No, I have not been arrested. I have, however, been the arresting officer. I’m with the Trafalgar City Police. Constable Third Class.”

  “Hey,” Tracey said, “you never told me that. You pretended you were trying to help.”

  “I was trying…I am trying to help.”

  Matt started at Smith for a moment. Then, to her surprise, he burst out laughing. “Of all things. You, the wilderness kid with the hippie parents and the funny name, a cop. Me, the cop’s kid, a waste-of-space, wanted for murder. Makes about as much sense, I suppose, as Lucky Smith sleeping with my dad. Your mom said you still ski.”

  “Whenever I can.”

  “Me, too. I was planning on teaching Tracey this year. Guess that won’t happen, eh?”

  “It still can.”

  “Okay, Constable Smith. You win. I’ll come with you and hand myself over to good old dad. Probably be a feather in your cap, eh?”

  More likely a stern talking to for not immediately reporting Matt’s contact with Tracey. Smith kept the thought to herself.

  “I’m running out of freeze-dried food anyway. Never could stand that stuff. Got anything else to eat in there?”

  She handed him two granola bars. “Where’s your things?”

  He jerked his head toward the trees, as he unwrapped one bar. The second he stuffed into his pocket.

  “Matt,” Tracey said. “Are you sure?”

  “No. But it’s what I gotta do. I guess I knew that all along.”

  Chapter Fifty-five

  BIG EDDIE’S COFFEE EMPORIUM. TRAFALGAR, BRITISH COLUMBIA. TUESDAY AFTERNOON.

  As soon as lunch was over and Paula and Beowulf had waved good-bye, John Winters made a phone call. Robyn Winfield answered on the first ring.

  He thought he might have to persuade her to meet with him. Instead she sound
ed almost eager. She suggested Big Eddie’s in ten minutes.

  The last thing Winters wanted was another coffee. But they had to meet somewhere, and he wasn’t ready—yet—to request she come into the station. Sometimes, such was the policeman’s lot.

  Robyn told him she was shocked, shocked to hear about the setting of the trap. Then she shrugged and said, “Some people take the protection of the planet very seriously indeed. I’ll mention it at the next meeting of the action committee. Remind everyone we don’t want to put lives in danger. Although, some people don’t seem to think the lives of wild animals are of any importance.”

  “You are aware that the trap was illegal, in the first place, and secondly, it was a deliberate attempt to injure someone? We will be investigating, and charges will be laid.”

  “If you find the person who did it. If I have any information I’ll be more than happy to share it with you.”

  “Tell me about Steve McNally.”

  “What about him?”

  No denial at the name. So, it was McNally at the demonstration. “Might he…know someone…who’d set the trap?”

  “Steve’s committed to the protection of the planet. As am I. Other than that, I don’t account for him, and he doesn’t account for me.”

  “He has a reputation, you must know that, of going beyond non-violence.”

  She shrugged. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I’ve heard the talk. If it’s true, no one was hurt.”

  “Lucky maybe.”

  “He’s never been charged with anything.”

  “Lucky then.”

  She had fabulous blue eyes, the deep turquoise of the Caribbean Sea. Winters suspected she used colored lenses. Her red hair was cut very short. Her skin was tanned and lightly freckled, and she used no makeup. She wore jeans, well-worn but not tattered, and a Save the Whales t-shirt under a black leather jacket. As she sipped her coffee, she focused those lovely eyes on him.

  She made him very uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why. He suspected she was laughing at him.

  “This is a serious matter,” he said.

  “And I take it seriously. We are talking about nothing more than the survival of our planet…”

  “Save me the lecture. All we’re talking about is a handful of people from Vancouver or Calgary who want to spend their vacation time in the mountains.”

  “It grows, you know. One little development here, one small hotel there. What’s the harm? A couple of luxury lodges. Soon you have a multi-lane highway and a nice new Walmart for all those people to shop at. Dam the rivers, cut down the forest, starve the bears, kill the fish.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “It has to stop somewhere. It will stop here. One way or another.” She downed her drink and shoved her chair back. She studied the scattering of people in the room. Early afternoon on a Tuesday, the clientele mostly consisted of young people, the sort who had jobs in restaurants or shops, not in business offices or city hall. A few teenagers off school early, a group of gray-haired women dressed in lululemon relaxing after yoga class.

  “People.” Robyn lifted her arms in the air. “Please, can I have your attention?”

  The clatter of cups and buzz of chatter stopped. Eddie looked up from the cash register and Jolene stopped halfway across the floor, a tray of quiches and salads in her arms.

  Robyn, Winters had to admit, had a commanding presence. She paused, long enough to ensure every eye was on her. Her arms were outstretched, inviting them all into her circle.

  He could do nothing but sit and fume.

  “There will be a demonstration tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock at the Grizzly Resort. I’m going to protect that wilderness with my body. With my life if necessary. We have to stop those bulldozers and diggers. Is anyone with me?”

  “Yes!” a young man, long hair tied back under a blue bandanna, shouted.

  “How about you?” Robyn pointed to the yoga women.

  They glanced at each other, hesitating. One of them leapt to her feet. “We’ll be there.” Her friends nodded, not entirely enthusiastically.

  Winters stood up. “That’s enough.”

  Robyn pumped her fist into the air. “Eight o’clock. Spread the word. We’ll show them what the people of Trafalgar can do.”

  The teenagers cheered.

  “This is over,” Winters said. “Let’s go.”

  “Or what, you’ll arrest me?” She focused her intense sapphire eyes on his. Her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear. “Washed-up, small-town cop, you have no idea what you are dealing with. Get your hands off me,” she shouted, although he had made no attempt to touch her. She spun back to face the room. “This isn’t a police state, not yet.”

  Winters knew when to make a strategic retreat. He walked out. Jolene threw him a strained smile as he passed.

  What the hell was Robyn playing at? She’d pretty much invited him to show up tomorrow with a full complement of officers and arrest her. In full view, of course, of as many townspeople as she could gather. No doubt she’d be giving the media plenty of notice.

  Media. Attention. Make a big enough scene, she might get some national focus. Nothing like attractive young people courageously lying in the mud or fastening themselves to trees in defiance of a row of bulldozers to make the front page of the major papers. Add police stepping in to move them, and she might even get herself on the CBC national news.

  Winters marched back to the station, fury rising. He’d been played like a cat played a particularly stupid mouse. No more friendly chats in coffee shops. Next time he spoke to Robyn Winfield, it would be in interview room number one. Was it possible Paula had been in on it? Setting him up?

  Probably not. Paula had no guile in her. She seemed to genuinely like him and had been happy to help.

  Robyn would have known he’d be wanting to talk to her. All she had to do was sit back and wait for him to stick his head out of the mouse hole.

  For the first time, John Winters wondered if the trap had been set, after all, for him.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  BANFF NATIONAL PARK, ALBERTA. TUESDAY AFTERNOON.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Smith asked. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

  After an initial burst of exuberant energy, Tracey had begun dropping back. Matt Keller and Molly Smith were forced to slow their pace so she could keep up. Matt took Tracey’s hand.

  “First, how’d you get a phone to call Tracey?”

  “I went down the trail, closer to town. Sat on a log and put on a sad face. A couple came by and I told them I’d lost my phone and needed to contact my pal who was meeting me. I figured even if I was on the news, tourists wouldn’t have paid any attention.”

  “True enough. Tell me what happened that night. You called your dad. Said you’d found your friend dead when you got home. Was that the truth?”

  “Yup.”

  She studied his face. She saw no cunning. No attempt to lie or to excuse himself. Then again, she was a lousy judge of character. “Why’d you take off?”

  He slowed. “Tracey, you walk ahead.”

  “Why?”

  “Please?”

  “Okay.” She let go of his hand and skipped down the trail. Tracey, Smith thought, did not seem to realize how serious this still was. She was happy, just to know Matt loved her so much he couldn’t leave without her.

  Sometimes, that’s enough.

  But not often.

  “I recognized him.”

  “Recognized who?”

  “The guy who killed Barry.”

  “Geez, Matt. Are you sure?”

  “Sure I recognized him, or sure he killed Barry? Both.”

  “All the more reason to tell the police.”

  “I don’t…I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Barry was a scumball, pure and simple. Always looking for the main chance. Not smart enough to be a big-time crook, dumb enough to keep stepping into the shit and thinking it was his big bre
ak.” Matt snorted. He studied the path beneath his feet. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

  “Barry was into something criminal and his partner got mad at him. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Not partner. But yeah, he screwed up, probably got greedy and had to be taken out of the picture.”