The walkie-talkie squawked and both turned expectantly.
"Admin, are you there?"
"This is Admin. What do you see?"
"River's rising and fast. We've got less than six inches before it hits the bridge."
The man holding the walkie-talkie clenched his fist. "Check downstream to see if anything's blocking the river."
"Will do."
The man dropped the walkie-talkie back down on the table."If the bridge gets washed out whoever's on this side will be stuck here for a couple of days at least. Get the youth leaders and tell them to call their drivers. We're evacuating."
Jeremiah and Dave ran back to the dining hall and told every adult they encountered what the situation was, sending several of them back to the administration building to make their own phone calls.
Chuck grabbed a microphone and stood up on the nearest table. "Attention everyone."
The noise died instantly.
"I've got some bad news. Due to all the rain we're going to have to cut camp short."
Disappointed sighs went up around the room.
"It's cool, though, because we'll reschedule this with your churches for some other weekend in the next month or so and you can all come back. Now, what I need you to do is head back to your cabins and grab your gear. Meet back at the meeting hall in twenty minutes. Don't worry about busing your trays. Okay, move!"
Kids jumped up from their tables and went streaming outside.Jeremiah saw Noah leading his cabin out and he fought his way through the crowd to follow.
Once they made it into the cabin he said, "Don't worry about leaving things neat. Just grab your gear and let's move."
It took him less than a minute to stow all his stuff. Noah was done almost as quickly and the two of them went through the cabin helping some of the others pack as fast as they could.
They beat most of the other groups back to the meeting hall and while they waited Jeremiah ate one of his protein bars, grateful that he had packed them.
Cindy woke up with the alarm at seven after only three hours of sleep. She groaned as she hit the alarm clock and pulled herself up to a sitting position. She reached for the phone and called Geanie's cell and explained to her what had happened.
After a lecture about calling when she needed someone Geanie ordered her to take the day off. Reluctantly Cindy agreed.
"There go all my sick days," she sighed as she hung up the phone.
Her clothes from the night before lay crumpled in a heap where she had left them. The sight of the green shirt reminded her of her meeting with Max and also reminded her that it was still St. Patrick's Day.
She got up and began to get dressed for the day. She grabbed the shamrock-covered T-shirt she had bought on clearance the year before and paired it with some black slacks. Then she checked her email and surfed the web for a few minutes.
Finally she had run out of excuses to avoid the living room.She walked down the hall slowly and winced as the spot where Max had died came into view. She felt herself starting to sweat and she averted her eyes and headed into the kitchen. When her home had once been invaded and vandalized it had felt terrible, but nothing compared to this.
As she grabbed herself a glass of orange juice and drank it, she couldn't help but think about what Joseph had said, about the people who had been murdered on his property. Two people had been killed in his house and she wondered how he lived with it.
She should probably call her landlord, Harold, and tell him what had happened. Maybe at the least she could get him to pay for having the carpet steam-cleaned.
She contemplated her food choices in the refrigerator and none of them sounded good to her. She finally decided to eat out and with a feeling of relief she grabbed her keys and her purse and headed for the car.
She locked her house door behind her, then came to a stop.There, partially blocking her driveway, was a military green Hummer, an H1. She remembered then that Mark had said that someone would be by probably late in the day to take possession of the vehicle that had once belonged to Max.
She walked around it and checked the clearance with her mailbox and realized that she would have just enough room to squeak her car out past it. She got in and after a few angling maneuvers finally eased out of the driveway.
Once on the street she hit the gas, eager to put the memory of Max and his late night visit behind her. She drove quickly toward downtown and then glanced at the clock and realized that most places wouldn't be serving food until lunchtime.
She passed a few houses and businesses displaying festive holiday flags and she remembered that the pub served breakfast.She had never been there that early and she wondered if they served corned beef hash or corned beef omelets. It was St.Patrick's Day; they had to be serving corned beef all day long, she reasoned.
She had to park a block away. Several cars were parked out front, clearly having had the same idea that she did. When she walked up to the door, though, she was disappointed to see a hand-lettered sign proclaiming: Closed for private event. Open to public at 10 a.m. Happy St. Patrick's Day.
She checked her watch and debated whether her stomach could hold out for another hour. She turned and started walking toward her car. When she got there another car was parking next to her and a familiar figure got out.
"Cindy! Here for the corned beef?" Gary asked as he walked over to her.
"And the green 7-Up," she said with a smile. "It looks like the pub isn't open to the public for another hour, though."
"Yes, but I know the owner," he said, giving her a wink."Come with me. I talked to the Realtor and unfortunately that couple is putting a bid in on a different house. Sorry, but we'll get another bite soon."
"Do you think we need to drop the price?" she asked.
He shook his head. "It's too early to think about that.Besides, it's already priced under market value. If that weren't the case I might be saying something different."
They paused in front of the restaurant and Cindy glanced at the sign as Gary reached for the door.
"You're sure it's okay?"
"Positive," he said as he put his hand on her back and steered her inside.
"Wow, there's a lot of people here," she said, taking in the twenty customers clustered around a few tables getting a head start on the day's festivities.
"It's a private party. Mine, actually, that I'm throwing for a new client."
"Not me?" she asked with a weak laugh.
"No, shame on me. Given how much you love corned beef I should have thrown it for you. I should have at least thought to invite you," he said, leading her to a table.
"It's fine," she said. "I was teasing."
"Yes, but a client is a client and here I am showing favoritism."
"Well, if you insist on feeling bad about it, I'll take a corned beef sandwich."
He laughed loudly, but she noticed that nothing about his face from his mouth to his eyes was actually smiling. A chill danced up her spine.
"So, who is this new client?" she asked.
"A businessman who likes to revitalize areas by bringing in new housing and businesses."
"Oh, that would be nice."
"Yeah."
Guilt flooded Cindy. She should tell him about Max. It hadn't hit the papers yet and she was pretty sure the police hadn't awakened him in the middle of the night just to tell him a client was dead.
"Here, I'll introduce you."
Cindy got back up from her table and Gary led her over to another table where a man in his forties stared up at her with cold, black eyes.
"This is my newest client," Gary said. "Frank Butler."
Max's rival.
"Frank, I'd like you to meet someone."
Why is he working with Max's rival?
Frank looked her up and down and then purred, "Hello, Cindy."
And she remembered what Gerald had told her about people she didn't know knowing her name. She turned and ran toward the front door.
She was almost the
re when something grabbed her hair and yanked so hard her feet slid out from underneath her and she crashed to the floor on her back, knocking the wind out of her.
She looked up into a pair of leering eyes.
"Oh, no," she whispered as realization hit her. "You're the one who's been killing people."
"Oh, yes," Gary sneered. "It's me."
14
MARK AND PAUL STOOD WITH THE CORONER AND SURVEYED MAX'S BODY."You think it's the same poison that killed the doctor?" Paul asked.
The coroner nodded his head. "I don't have any test results yet, but I'd be willing to bet on it."
"We should check out the restaurants and the bar at his hotel. It's possible that's where Dr. Tanner was having breakfast when he was poisoned," Mark said.
"That's possible," the coroner said, "but if you're trying to decide where this guy got liquored up last night I'd like to make a different suggestion."
He walked over to a bin on a counter and fished a crumpled up piece of green paper out of it. "This was in his pocket."
Paul was the one wearing gloves and he gingerly took the paper and unfolded it. It was a flyer and Mark read it over Paul's shoulder.
Get your green on at O'Connell's Pub. Two for one green beers and three-dollar corned beef sandwiches.
And there, at the bottom of the flyer, were the restaurant's address and business hours.
"They're open for breakfast," he and Paul said at the same time.
"I feel the need for a corned beef sandwich," Mark said, heading to the door.
"Right there with you," Paul answered.
Terror gripped Cindy as she stared into Gary's leering face."How could you?" she asked.
"Simple," he said. "You know how tough it is to be a Realtor right now? I needed this sale to go through or I was finished, everything I've worked to build, lost."
"But why did you kill Max?"
"Why? Because Max was weak! He came in here last night, got himself good and drunk, and told me that he was pulling out of the deal. You had filled his head with the idea that people were dying because of him. I couldn't let the deal fall through. Not after everything I've sacrificed.
"So, I killed him and found a new partner, one with a little more . . . imagination," Gary said. He hauled her to her feet and another man moved to pin her arms behind her back.
She turned and stared at the owner of the pub. "You're okay with your brother killing people?"
"Okay with it?" Gary said, laughing. "He helped! Whose idea do you think the poison was?"
She turned, scanning every face for an ally. Her gaze finally fell on Frank Butler. "And you, you're okay with your real estate agent killing people?"
Gary laughed even harder as Frank grinned at her. "Okay with it? He helped too!"
She turned and stared at Gary, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. "How is that possible if you only became partners last night?"
Gary smiled. "Well, I'll tell you. Those board members are surprisingly hard to sway. No, we realized that they needed a greater motivation to sell the property, something that would make them give it away if they had to, just to get rid of it."
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Let's see how clever you actually are. What would make them desperate to sell?"
"If, if there was something wrong with it."
"Bingo."
"But if you poison the water, then the land is useless."
He just continued to smile at her in that maddening way until suddenly she realized.
"If there was a tragedy . . ."
"Ding, ding, ding. Give the lady a prize."
"The campers!" she shouted, lunging toward him.
He laughed as the man behind her managed to keep her from taking a step. "Thanks to Mr. Butler, they're going to be dead campers within the next few hours."
The kids, Dave, Jeremiah!
She stomped down with all her might, nailing the instep of the guy holding her. He loosened his grip ever so slightly and she elbowed him with her good arm and spun out of his grasp.
Gary lunged for her, but she twisted to the side, slamming into the beam that held the dartboard. She reached up and snatched the darts from the board and ran for the door.
Someone tripped her and she fell hard, but remembered to hold her hand out away from her body. Her sore shoulder slammed down with a crack, and she bit her tongue, tasting blood, but she managed to hold the darts in a death grip. She scrambled to her feet, twisting as she did so, and slammed her back up against the wall of the restaurant. The door was ten feet away. Two guys stood between it and her, and others clustered around.
She switched all but one of the darts to her left hand and raised the single one in her right while trying to ignore the throbbing in her shoulder.
"Look, little missy wants to play," Gary sneered. He took a step forward and she focused on his face.
It's just like being at home. She threw the dart and nailed him in the eye. He fell to the floor screaming and she refused to look as she grabbed a fresh dart. She didn't want to see the result and she certainly didn't want to take her eyes offthe other men.
"It's St. Patrick's Day, boys! Anyone else up for a game of darts?" she shouted.
She could see them exchanging uneasy glances. "In case you're wondering, that wasn't luck. I can pick you all offone at a time," she said.
"You don't have enough darts to get us all," a man a few feet from her said.
"No, but I can guarantee you a couple more of you will lose an eye."
She had seen that trick in an old western on TV once and she prayed it would work here. As it turned out, none of the guys facing her were eager to be the first either, especially not with Gary on the floor still screaming and thrashing about.
"I'll call your bluff," one man toward the back of the room said, pulling a gun out of a holster under his jacket and pointing it at her.
"We can't have gunfire in here!" the pub owner roared. "Put that thing away."
Sweat rolled down Cindy's forehead, stinging her eyes. They had a standoff. But there were more of them and there was no way they were just going to let her walk out of there.
With a shout a guy rushed her, forearm up to cover his eyes. She let fly and the dart sailed into his open mouth and he dropped like a stone, a horrible choking sound emanating from him. She grabbed another dart from her left hand.
Three darts left. She stepped to her left, easing slowly down the wall in the direction of the door. She raised the dart and aimed it at one of the two guys standing between it and her and he retreated, moving farther into the restaurant.
That left one man between her and the door and he didn't look like he was going to scare as easily.
"I have no idea who you are," she said, addressing him while still trying to keep her eye on the rest of the room. "You could leave Pine Springs and I wouldn't be able to tell anyone who you were."
"Yeah, but we know who he is," one of the other men said.
"Yes, but of the rest of you, I only know who Butler and O'Connell are. The rest of you I don't know. I would never have to see or think of any of you ever again. I'm just saying, a dozen men can walk free with no fear of reprisal from me."
Butler chuckled. "My men are loyal. If you're trying to get them to turn on me, it won't work."
"So, then maybe I should skewer you next," she said.
He smiled. "I don't think you have what it takes. I, after all, am not attacking you. You're only acting in self-defense. You forget, my dear, that oftentimes the best defense is a strong offense."
She refused to bandy words with him. She returned her attention instead to the guy by the door. "Let's you and I walk out of here together, as friends," she said.
He smiled at her. "I've been watching you. And I know how long it takes you to aim."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, I'm too close," he said, rushing forward.
She slammed the dart into his carotid artery as he grabbed her. They
fell together and this time she lost the darts when her hand hit the floor.
It's over, I'm dead.
Suddenly the front doors burst open and light poured in."Police! Nobody move!" she heard Paul shout.
She pushed away from the man and Mark reached down to grab her as officers rushed into the room.
"Remind me never to play darts with you," he said.
She started laughing hysterically and it faded quickly to sobbing.
They moved all the campers down to the bus pick-up area and waited for the vehicles to begin arriving. Two Jeeps began ferrying some of the camp employees across the river in waves.
"We should move everyone down across the river. There's still quite a drive on this side of it for the buses," Jeremiah warned Dave.
Dave shook his head. "I agree, but there's just nowhere down there for them to turn around."
"How about on that side of the bridge? We could walk everyone across now, get down the mountain a little way."
Dave shook his head. "I'd agree with you, but we have the same problem as we do up here. Unfortunately I think we're just going to have to wait it out."
One staff member was still in the admin building, receiving calls and updates via the landline. Every few minutes he came out to give a report.
We're not going to all make it down the mountain, Jeremiah thought.
Leaders for each church were huddled together where they could receive the reports. Jeremiah preferred to stay with his kids. Since they had gotten a lift from First Shepherd he was content to let Dave be the one getting the reports. He was still close enough, though, that he could hear much of what was
The first bus arrived and was met with cheers by the kids who were starting to feel the anxiety coming offof the adults.It was from the Methodist church on the outskirts of Pine Springs. The driver pulled up and hopped offwhile the kids from the church piled on board. The counselors started slinging bags underneath the bus as fast as they could.
"I passed the bus for Baptist Brethren on the way here. It was broken down on the highway," the driver told the leaders."I promised the driver I'd pick up his kids. We should have just enough room if some people sit triple to a seat."
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