With a sigh Fay turned to the others. “I’m going to bed. Why don’t you stay again tonight, Mack? It’s late, your place is cold…I know a mattress on the floor of the sewing room isn’t luxurious, but…”
“Thanks, Fay,” said Mack. “I’ll take you up on that. Your mattress on the floor is a lot more comfortable than my mattress on the floor.” With a grin, he wished them both a good night and disappeared into the sewing room.
“I’m beat too,” said Laura after a yawn overtook her. She went up to her mother and, placing an arm around her good side, gave her a gentle hug. “Good night, Fay. Sleep well.”
Faye smiled and hugged her back.
As Laura settled gratefully into bed, she realized she still hadn’t told Fay or Mack about the skeleton. Or the man. She shied away from the memory. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
Then they could decide what to do about it.
She dreamed she was a child again, and that her father sat by her bed, rubbing her legs, trying to ease her growing pains. As he rubbed, he told her nonsense stories about the man on the cliff being made out of cheese. She giggled and eventually fell asleep to the sound of his murmuring voice.
She felt as if she had barely closed her eyes when the telephone rang. She was the first to reach the phone in the living room. Still struggling with the dregs of sleep, she picked up the receiver just as the answering machine clicked on. After a confusing moment of trying to listen to two voices, she finally turned the machine off.
In the sudden silence, she said, “Hello?”
“Ms. Thorsen?” came Detective Harris’s voice.
“Yes, Detective?”
Didn’t that woman ever sleep?
“Ms. Thorsen, I want you to listen carefully, and do exactly as I say,” said the detective. “We just received a call from the Watson Lake detachment. A man matching the description of the body we found at the crash site has been reported missing by his wife. He had been driving a white pickup back to Watson Lake from Whitehorse. A gas station attendant near Whitehorse reported seeing a white pickup matching the description, heading back toward town.”
Laura stood still in the dark living room, trying to make sense out of nonsense. The fire in the woodstove had died out and the cold was creeping in from the windows. Laura’s toes curled against the hardwood floor and she shivered in her oversized T-shirt.
“Ms. Thorsen?”
What time was it, anyway?
“I’m sorry, Detective,” she finally said. “Could you repeat that?”
Moonlight streamed through the living room windows, but the nearest clock was in her bedroom.
“Wake up, Laura!” said Harris sharply. The tone of voice, coupled with the detective’s use of her first name, finally snapped Laura awake. “Pay attention! I’m telling you Hicklin may not be dead. He may already be in Whitehorse. Get out of the house—go to Mr. Hawkins’s place. We’re on our way, but it’ll be at least half an hour.”
“But…” Laura still couldn’t grasp what the detective was saying. “Why would Hicklin want to kill me now? The story’s out—Tucker would be crazy to want me dead.”
“Maybe Hicklin didn’t ask Tucker,” said Harris patiently. “Maybe he doesn’t listen to the radio. It doesn’t matter. Don’t waste time talking. Get out!”
And with a soft click, Detective Harris hung up.
Laura became aware that Fay and Mack were standing in the living room, waiting. Moonlight caught her trembling hand as she replaced the receiver on its cradle. Finally she turned to the other two. Mack had donned his jeans, and his bare chest gleamed in the pale light. Fay stood silently, clutching her bathrobe close to her neck.
“We have to get out,” said Laura. “It might not have been Hicklin in the car.”
There was just enough light to see Fay’s face settle into lines of despair. Without a word she turned around and disappeared into her room.
It took less than two minutes for them to get dressed in the dark and reassemble in the living room.
“Should we drive?” asked Laura, suddenly uncertain.
“Of course not,” said Fay. “If he is out there, he’ll hear the engine.”
“We’ll go out the back door,” said Mack, “and take the cliff trail.”
Laura studied her mother’s face in the moonlight. Fay looked old. A wave of foreboding almost swamped her. “Maybe we should wait here,” she suggested, trying to keep the fear from her voice. “Harris said the cops are already on their way.”
“Do you have any weapons?” asked Mack, turning to Fay. She shook her head and he looked at Laura.
“We could hide in the crawl space,” she said. “He’d never find the trap door.”
But Fay was shaking her head. “If I’m going to die,” she said grimly, “it won’t be like a rat in a trap.”
And that was that. With dread settling like a shroud around her heart, Laura followed the others through the living room to the back door.
If this nightmare ever ended, she would buy Fay a dog.
It was cold enough for their breath to fog. As they set out on the cliff trail, Laura glanced up. The moon was close to full and the stars were pinpricks of light in a clear sky. Any other time she would have appreciated the display, but now she was busy battling a growing sense of rebellion. She was tired of running. Tired of being afraid. Just plain tired. Her mother didn’t want to die like a rat in a trap. Well, Laura didn’t want to die running.
Fay and Mack were ahead of her. She couldn’t just sneak back to the house—they would turn back for her. But she didn’t want to argue, either. Stuck between the need to stay and fight and the need to make sure her mother and Mack were safe, Laura lost herself for a moment. Anger roared through her like the great river below her, filling her senses with its power.
What she really wanted was to have Johnny Tucker’s scrawny neck between her hands. Barring that, she would settle for Barney Hicklin’s.
She stopped, breathing hard. Mack glanced back. When he saw how far behind she lagged, he paused, waiting for her.
With a silent curse Laura started forward.
A twig snapped behind her and she stopped. For a split second the whole world stopped, too. Then she looked over her shoulder and light blinded her as a flashlight clicked on.
“Where are you going, Laura?” asked a soft voice.
Laura blinked, unable to move away from the pinioning light. Had he seen Fay and Mack? Get my mother out of here, she prayed silently. Get her out.
“Is that you, Hicklin?” she finally managed to say. “What took you so long?”
“This place is the ass-end of nowhere. Do you have any idea how many dirt roads lead off the highway in this area?”
Why wasn’t he surprised that she had expected him? Laura decided to push harder. Maybe if she stalled long enough, Mack would get Fay out of the way. Maybe the cops would arrive in time. And maybe she would sprout wings and fly away.
“Who was the poor sucker in your car?”
The light moved as he shrugged. “Some guy. I just wanted his truck, would you believe?” His tone was amused, and she could almost see him shake his head in wonder. “I had pulled over, and like a good Samaritan, he pulled over to see if I needed help. Imagine my surprise,” he continued, “when this guy steps out, with long, blond hair halfway down his back. All I had to do was cut it, put my jacket on him and voila, instant disappearing act.”
Laura wanted to close her eyes against the image he had conjured up of a man stopping in the time-honored Yukon way to help a fellow motorist, only to end up murdered.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said. “How did you know about him? And what are you doing out here?”
Laura shook her head. He wasn’t the brightest light in Tucker’s firmament. She wondered if she should be insulted that Tucker had sent someone so dumb after her. “You’re too late, Barney. The cops are on their way. They warned me you were coming—that’s why I’m out here.” She paused for his react
ion but couldn’t see past the beam of light. “You know, don’t you, that the RCMP has arrested your boss? Your buddy’s in jail and he’s talking for all he’s worth. And Adam is dead. It’s all over.” She took a deep breath. “Turn around and leave, Barney. You still have a chance to get away.”
Hicklin was silent for a long time. Finally he lowered the beam a fraction, easing the strain on her eyes. When they finally stopped watering, she saw that he was smiling. She also saw for the first time the gun held in one unwavering hand.
“You’re very good, Laura,” he said, shaking his head. “You almost had me there. But if Mr. T. had wanted a change of plans, he would have told me.” He tapped the back pocket of his pants, where he presumably kept his phone. “No more fooling around. You can jump from that cliff or I can push you. Which will it be?”
The conversational tone of his voice chilled Laura more effectively than the night air. Her remaining bravado dissipated like mist. How had she even considered attacking this man? He killed the way people flossed their teeth—as a matter of routine. What did he have planned after he killed her? A nice meal? A good night’s sleep?
“What if I run, Barney?” Her voice was so low she could barely hear herself above the rumble of the river.
“Then I’ll shoot you,” he said. “Either way, you’re going over that cliff. Look at it this way,” he added cheerfully. “At least if you jump, you have a chance.”
A sudden image of the skeleton in the rift flashed through Laura’s mind and she shuddered. Never. She wasn’t going to die that way. Just as she was about to make a break for the trees, the light suddenly left her.
“What the hell is that?” Hicklin muttered.
To her amazement, Hicklin had his back to her and was sweeping the trees with the beam of the flashlight. He was looking for something. He turned sideways, crouching, with both arms extended. One hand held the gun, the other held the flashlight just above the gun.
Laura eased herself silently off the trail. The moment she was in the trees, she felt better. Hicklin was still sweeping the flashlight around. A shadow moved at the edge of the light and Hicklin jumped. A man suddenly appeared in the beam’s light. With a gasp Laura recognized the man she had seen on the cliff and in the woods.
A shot rang out, and the man disappeared. Hicklin ran to the spot and shone the light about. “Where did he go?” he muttered. Laura remained very still for fear of attracting his attention. When he shone his light away from her, she began moving away again.
“Got you!” cried Hicklin.
Laura stopped in sudden terror. But it wasn’t her Hicklin had found. She glanced back. He was now within the trees, too, on the edge of the cliff trail. His flashlight illuminated another figure.
Laura’s blood seemed to stop running for the endless seconds it took to recognize her father.
“Daddy,” she whispered. The flashlight’s beam followed as he moved purposefully toward Hicklin.
Laura’s legs gave out and she slid to the ground, scraping her hand against the bark of the tree. She stared at her dead father, unable to grasp what she was seeing. His hair was fuller and he looked younger, but impossible as it was, he was James Thorsen.
Laura was dimly aware of Hicklin staring slack-jawed at the apparition. “Who’re you?” he demanded. But even from her vantage point, Laura could see the beam of the flashlight playing through her father’s figure.
“Holy shit,” came Barney Hicklin’s whisper from the trees.
And then another figure appeared at her father’s side—the stranger, the one from the cliff. He and her father strode toward Hicklin with the inevitability of fate.
“Stop!” Hicklin shouted. They were less than ten feet from him when he started shooting. When they kept walking toward him, he dropped the flashlight to steady the pistol with both hands. “Son of a bitch!” he screamed as the hammer finally clicked on the empty chamber. He threw the gun. It sailed harmlessly through her father and Barney Hicklin moaned in terror, wrapping his arms over his head and turning away from the apparitions.
Into the sudden silence came the crashing of underbrush and Mack’s bellowing charge. Laura looked around in time to see Mack hurtle out of the trees and launch himself at Hicklin.
The air whooshed out of the killer as Mack landed on him, with Fay right behind him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I almost feel sorry for Hicklin,” mused Mack from his favorite seat at the kitchen table. He stirred more honey into his coffee and tasted it. Sweet enough. He put the spoon down and drank.
“Why?” asked Laura, stifling a yawn. She brought her coffee to the table and sat down. For a split second Mack felt as if the last few hours hadn’t happened. Except for a tightness around her mouth, Laura looked none the worse for having been up most of the night. Well, that and her black eye. He resisted the urge to rub his gritty eyes.
Detective Harris had finally left with Hicklin, taking with her the last of the police cars. They had arrived moments after Mack had subdued the killer, too late to do more than arrest the man and place him in the back of a cruiser. Thank God Fay lived on twenty acres, or they’d have nosy neighbors to contend with, too.
“You heard him, didn’t you?” said Mack, startling Laura. She looked as if she’d forgotten what they were discussing. “Babbling away about the ghosts who jumped him?” Mack shook his head. “I think he’s lost it. Or maybe he was always crazy. Maybe you have to be crazy to do what he does for a living.”
The sound of the shower downstairs stopped. Fay would be out soon.
Laura sipped her coffee and they sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the peace. “By the way,” she finally said, “thanks for saving my life.”
He grinned. “Think nothing of it.” He waved a hand carelessly. “I’ve grown fond of the Thorsen women. It wouldn’t do to lose one of them.” To his surprise he found that it was true. He was fond of mother and daughter, and wanted them both in his life.
The door to the bathroom slid open, letting out a great billow of steam. Mack looked at Laura, remembering the last time he had showered here, the first time he had met her. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, but a sudden shyness held him back. He didn’t know what she wanted. Despite their one kiss, she’d been treating him more like a brother than a potential lover.
Fay stepped out of the bathroom and looked up at them. With her hair slicked back and her face freshly scrubbed, she looked much younger. But the smile she gave them did little to conceal her exhaustion. Mack’s heart lurched as he watched the woman slowly climb the stairs to the kitchen. He glanced at Laura and found her watching her mother, her eyes suspiciously bright.
It was time to leave these two alone.
He stood up, scraping his chair noisily along the floor. “I should get back to the house. I think the roof trusses are being delivered today. Or was that tomorrow?” He shook his head, amazed that he had lost track of time. He turned to Fay. “Will you be all right?”
“Of course,” she said calmly. “One good night’s sleep and everything will be fine.”
He smiled and gave her a quick, careful hug. She was a hell of a woman. “I’ll come check on you later.”
“Come for supper instead,” countered Fay.
Mack nodded and turned to Laura. “If you have nothing better to do later on, I still have one wall to build before the trusses can go up.”
Laura laughed, although it seemed forced. “Sure. I’ll be there in a bit. I suppose I’ll have to bring lunch, too?”
Mack smiled. “That would be nice.” He leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
When he finally released her, Laura was blushing. Her lips looked moist and inviting and he controlled an urge to do it again.
Brother, indeed.
***
In the end Fay accompanied Laura to Mack’s. Despite the battered state of the work crew, they managed to get the last wall up before the trusses arrived. Fay stood back while the crane deposited each truss precario
usly on the walls. Laura and Mack, each on a ladder, secured the truss to the walls, and then the entire operation was repeated for the next one.
When the sun began to set, Fay went back home to get supper ready. She took the long way back, down the driveway, up Wild Rose Lane and then onto her long driveway. She walked slowly, enjoying the contrast of warm sun on her back and cool air on her face. Soon she would have to keep a fire going in the woodstove. Her first winter without James.
James. She scrubbed at her eyes, refusing to cry. Last night, in the trees, she had seen him and Sawyer working together to save her daughter. As furious as she was with James, she had loved him, and he had loved her.
To see them together…To know they had both been looking out for Laura…
A sob shuddered through her and Fay stopped in the middle of the road. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocked by grief, and joy, and anger.
***
After supper Laura stood next to her mother in the doorway, watching Mack walk down the driveway toward the road. Thanks to the full moon and the porch light, the beginning of the driveway was well lit. Mack turned before the final curve and waved at them. They waved back and watched until he disappeared.
The night was clear and cold. It would dip below freezing again tonight. Maybe there would even be northern lights. By silent consent, mother and daughter stayed on the porch long after Mack was gone, quietly enjoying the night. The visit was drawing to a close. Laura had to be at Johnny Tucker’s arraignment in Montreal in two days.
Laura tucked her cold hands inside her jean pockets. Her fingers felt for the stone pendant and traced the metal wire circling it. The leather thong grew pliant again under her fingers.
Even the rumble of the river did little to disrupt the sense of peace that had finally settled over the house. Laura took a deep breath of cool air tinged with wood smoke and released it slowly. The polished gray stone of the pendant felt heavy in her hand. Finally she turned to her mother.
On Her Trail Page 13
