by Patti Larsen
“Let’s not leap to conclusions without proof,” Crew said. “We’re about twelve hours from crossing. Just sit tight and keep your eyes open, okay? I have no doubt your evidence is solid, Jill, but I’d like my girlfriend to be in one piece and breathing when I finally see her again. Over.”
Jill grinned at me before taking the walkie back while I blushed but shrugged, smiling in return. “Roger that, Sheriff. Over and out.”
Twelve hours. We only had to wait until dark? Yeah, that didn’t sound creepy or anything. Cue the horror movie music.
The day passed about as uneventfully as it could have, considering there was a murder suspect cuffed to a sink upstairs, a dead body in the deep freeze and a nervous and unhappy crew of guests and locals pacing the building under constant guard. At least Barry had gotten over the lack of internet (or had stopped talking about it when Jill’s hand settled on her gun and sent him scurrying). She finally sent everyone back to their rooms and locked the doors all over again while shadows crept over the front entry, the sun setting behind the mountain though night was off a bit yet. How long exactly did it take to fix one measly bridge, anyway?
Quiet settled around the building, Mom puttering in the kitchen, muttering about low supplies, Bill and Moose on patrol, Jill outside keeping an eye on things while I felt about as useless as I could have under the circumstances.
Temptation to call Crew just to hear his voice drove me to my room so I wouldn’t beg the walkie from Jill or try to use the CB. Seriously, I was a grown woman. I didn’t need my boyfriend to comfort me. My boyfriend. I hesitated at the bottom of the steps as that label hit my brain with the weight of a freight train. And burst into a nervous giggle.
Officially? You betcha. No way he was getting out of it now, not when he called me his girlfriend in front of Jill like that. Though it felt odd to call him by that term, if only because I wasn’t sixteen, after all. Someone needed to find a more dignified way to identify love relationships after the age of majority.
Something moved in the periphery of my vision, shutting down my anxious laugh and triggering my fight or flight in a flash of self-preservation honed by recent attempts on my life. Was that a shadow in the study? Couldn’t be. I could hear Bill calling Moose outside. He must have taken the dog for a run. And Mom was in the kitchen. Maybe Jill came in when Bill went out…? I needed to go upstairs, to hide in my room, lock the door, prop a chair against my wardrobe and wait out the next few hours.
Instead, I found myself returning to the foyer one slow back step at a time before I pivoted like I had no control over my body and crept to the door to the study. Nothing. No one. Like the night Grayson died. My heart thudded as I scanned the room for another dead body, but came up empty. Exhaling softly, I skirted the edge of the space, one hand pressed to my chest, forcing air in and out of my lungs while I talked myself down from the ledge. I’d been seeing things. There wasn’t anyone here. Though, part of me longed to run outside and get Jill and make her check on Eddie. I hadn’t looked into where the tunnels ran, but surely one came out here, in the study? Had he escaped somehow and was prowling the building, looking for me?
Coming to kill me?
Fee. Woman. Get it together.
Even as I turned to go find her, another thought crossed my mind and I shuddered involuntarily, blood rushing from my face. What if it wasn’t Eddie who’d tried to murder me after all and he was right? What if the real killer, the stalking enemy, was still on the loose and coming after me right now?
I meeped a bit in fear, even as my gaze flickered over the fireplace. And caught sight of something I’d missed the last time I was here. Papers. Mostly burned, but with some still intact, the shining white of their surface visible under the rungs of the metal grate in the hearth. Something had shifted, revealing them. I drifted closer, crouching and fishing them loose while madly looking around me every two seconds to ensure I hadn’t been lured into a trap.
Blackstone. The logo stood out in sharp relief against the white, the letterhead enough to shush my fear and make me focus. There wasn’t much left, certainly nothing of the actual letter, but my mind took me to the folder I’d found beside Grayson, the empty file with this same logo. Had someone liberated the contents and burned them the night of his murder? Had he been burning them himself? Or did the killer do so after the act?
The second piece of paper was a black and white photo, just a corner remaining, not much to go by. But it solidified my personal guess that’s exactly what I held in my hands—the contents of the Blackstone file.
The final piece of the puzzle was the most intact and, as I read the contents of the paternity test, I caught the gasp that threatened to choke me.
Just as an arm clamped around my neck and did the deed, cutting off my air. I had no time to struggle, darkness dragging me down with a scream echoing in the back of my mind.
***
Chapter Thirty One
I hate that groggy feeling that comes from waking from a nap in the middle of the day. The sort of disoriented where am I and how much time did I lose that comes from losing most of an afternoon to sleep. Only this didn’t feel like I’d napped. The ache in my throat and the way my head pounded felt more like I’d been hit by a truck.
My eyelids parted, fluttered, the dim of the sky overhead, the looming evergreens, adding to my confusion. What happened? Where was I? I’d been in the study, right? Looking at papers I’d found in the fireplace. I groaned as the memories flooded my aching head, flashing like a movie through my mind. Even as someone crouched beside me and the last piece of information I needed to solve the crime appeared in my mental vision at the same time as his angry, brown eyes.
“I’m sorry, Fee,” Caleb said. “I was going to just snap your neck and be done with it, like I did to my father. But I’m trying to deflect suspicion and there’s no guarantee the herd of boar I’m going to chase in your direction will do enough damage to hide the evidence.”
I gaped at him, heart beating just a bit too fast to be fear. “What did you do to me?” That’s what I said in my head. Something far more garbled and harsh emerged, like the post-stroke attempt at a conversation from a three-pack-a-day smoker.
He seemed to understand, though, pushing against my shoulder and easily knocking me back into the dead leaves on the forest floor. The world wobbled, wonky and out of sorts, my mouth tasting like dry death as he leaned over me and shook his head.
“I found some drugs abandoned in the tunnels under the building,” he said. “A makeshift hospital. Figured the chokehold would knock you out for a bit, but I needed to know you wouldn’t be able to get up and run away once I left you. And I didn’t want to tie you up.” He tsked softly, glanced up and around. “This is a mess. I never wanted to involve you. You had to go poking your nose in, didn’t you, Fee? And I actually like you. Killing you wasn’t on my agenda.” He sighed, almost sad. “They’re just sleeping pills. The drugs are pretty old, though, so I don’t know if they are going to last long enough to make your death painless when the pigs find you. But I’ll do my best, okay?”
My gurgled protest almost cut off my air. No, wait. Crew was coming, any second now. Wasn’t he? He’d save me. I tried to roll away, my body floundering even as surprise at my lack of coordination made me giggle. Weird.
“It’ll look like an accident long enough for me to get across that damned bridge and get out of here.” His desperate expression warbled into a parody of himself as the drugs skewed my vision. “The tunnel runs all the way to the river, did you know that?” He sounded almost regretful. “I would have loved to stay a bit longer. There’s so much more here to explore. But I have to get going. Your disappearance will have been noticed by now. And that’s the distraction I need to get out.”
“Why?” I managed that one word with enough clarity he sighed, bitter, angry.
And answered. “You already know,” he said. “Grayson Gallinger was my father.” Yes, I’d read that in the paternity test. Hadn’t I? So hard to focus, everyt
hing soft and wavy around the edges. But his voice kept me present, enough I absorbed what he said even if I couldn’t respond to it. “He would never admit it, cut me out of his life. Shamed my mother. She was his secretary and he took advantage of her. Seduced her, tossed her aside like garbage when she got pregnant.” Was he shaking or was it the drugs making my vision vibrate? “I could have lived with it. Except Mom got sick, cancer. Grayson was selling his business to Blackstone for millions. He could have helped her. What do you think that bastard said when I went to ask?” I couldn’t answer, but I had an idea. “He laughed at me.” Yes, I was right. He was shaking. Maybe I was, too. What had he given me? “My mother is suffering. She’s going to die without advanced treatment her insurance company won’t cover. He could have saved her. But he laughed, Fee. So I killed him.”
“Blackstone.” My throat ached with the attempt to talk, darkness now swirling around my vision in pinpricks threatening a further fall into unconsciousness I knew I wouldn’t come out of.
“I don’t know anything about that corporation,” he said, one finger brushing a piece of hair from my forehead, almost tender. Did he really regret what he was about to do? “And I don’t care. I snapped. That’s it. I saw him get out of the SUV and knew I had to do something.” His hands ran through his hair, rage on his face. “He knew exactly who I was. Made sure to treat me like a servant.” Yes, he’d been particularly nasty to Caleb, now that I thought of it. Why hadn’t I put two and two together? “I killed him and that was supposed to be it. Except I saw you with the folder, Fee. The one he showed me, the one he was going to burn.” Ah, so he didn’t know Grayson already had. “He said it contained all the proof I was his son. And that he was going to destroy it. So I killed him. But before I could take it, you came downstairs and I had to run.” He sagged, hands falling to his knees where he crouched, head down, face now sad and slack. “I knew you knew. Tried to shoot you. Before I realized you didn’t know it was me or you would have said something. Stupid, damned stupid.” He shook his head. “I was going to just drop it, I swear. But I was out that night you were snooping, and I thought you saw my face. So I pushed you.”
My turn to shake my head. “Folder empty,” I gargled. “Didn’t see.”
He sighed, looking stricken. “I hope you realize this isn’t personal,” he said. “This is about my mother.” Caleb wiped at his nose with the back of one hand, tears now standing in his eyes. “I’d do anything for her. And I have. Except save her.” He looked away. “I can’t save her.”
Must have been the drugs that made me feel empathy at a time like this.
“I used Senator Winterton’s gun,” Caleb said, pulling himself back together. Wait, was I feeling better, not worse? Were the effects of the drugs already fading? They had to be old, sitting in the tunnels under the building for so long. Were they far enough past their expiry I might actually recover in time to save myself? I held still, pretending incapacitation even as my heartrate increased with hope while Caleb went on. Hopefully oblivious. “You’re lucky I missed. I’m an excellent shot.” He exhaled heavily. “Would have been perfect, really, to frame him after he supported my father all those years.” Caleb’s dark eyes seemed haunted. “Blackstone had me investigated,” he said. “They were worried I was going to push for money. They were right to worry. And now I have a new target. I might not know anything about them at the moment, but I’m going to. Very soon.” His gaze tightened and I knew I was at the end of my rope. “It’s finally dark enough.” He reached out, touched my neck, felt my pulse. Scowled. “You’re worked up for someone who should be on her way out.”
Oops. “Please.” That croak barely escaped and I knew I looked panicked. I couldn’t help it. “Run. Leave me.”
“I can’t.” He stood, looming over me, a dark shape in the growing depths of approaching evening. When he turned away, I scuttled in the leaves, my body still not quite coordinated but more than it had been before. If I could just get to my feet—
His big hand grasped my jaw and forced my mouth open, dumping a small vial of round pills between my lips. I gagged on them, spit most of them out, but a few made it past the swollen ache in my throat and within moments I blinked as the world sloooowwwwweddd dooooowwwwwwwnnnnnnnn
***
I blinked awake for the second time, shivering uncontrollably, and rolled on my side to throw up into the crinkling leaves. My stomach heaved, body rejecting the last of the drugs, the cold air stealing my breath while I coughed past the agony Caleb’s attack left behind.
It took a few minutes to wrangle my strength, control over my limbs, over my lungs while fighting to sit up, but I finally did it. The thin fabric of my shirt did nothing to protect me from the cold, but I figured it was the chill temperature that woke me and saved me, so I wasn’t complaining. How much time had passed? And where was I?
As I staggered to my feet, two things became acutely obvious. I had no idea where to go from here. And, as a gunshot echoed from not too far away followed by the crashing sound of approaching game, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Exactly what Caleb had in mind.
***
Chapter Thirty Two
I had just enough time to dive behind a fallen log as a snorting, furious and hugely antlered buck leaped through the underbrush and sailed majestically over my hiding place. The rising moon gave me just enough light to admire him as he vanished again. While he was a beautiful sight to behold, he wasn’t exactly the rescue I would have preferred. Sort of hard to fully appreciate him, too, considering the pounding terror that shoved me down against the ground to cower like a terrified child.
Weird how my brain was happy to see animals had returned to the mountain despite Frieda’s attempt to scare them away.
The snorting, squealing sequel I heard coming long before the boar appeared and I knew if it caught sight or wind of me I’d be in serious trouble. While the buck was happy enough to leave me alone, wild pigs in these parts had a terrible reputation for their temper. Yes, I had my own anger issues, but I had zero illusions about who would win in a Fee vs. pissed off pig contest.
Fortunately for me, the boar veered and rumbled by, just visible through the underbrush in the low light. If it did know I was here it clearly decided I wasn’t worth the effort, though I wasn’t going to hang around and let its friends choose otherwise. Because from the sounds heading my way, it wasn’t alone. Caleb must have still been driving game toward me.
My head might not have been screwed on properly, but I knew better than to run in a straight line. Okay, so the trees prevented straight lines, but I quickly remembered how many times I’d yelled at the TV or the movie screen for the heroine to run sideways out of the path of the oncoming danger instead of fleeing straight ahead of it. Sure, it made for better visuals in a film or show, but in real life? I chose living over drama, thanks.
The underbrush tugged at me, thick enough I had to flounder through it, hard in the best of circumstances. I fell several times, feet sliding over wet leaves, catching on tree roots, the deepening chill of the November night (or was it morning yet?) devouring my strength and chattering my teeth together. I finally collapsed, panting, the sounds of fleeing wildlife long behind me, and hugged myself against the cold. Realizing only then I had zero idea where I was and that Caleb might get his wish after all. If I didn’t find my way back to the main building, there was an excellent chance I’d die from exposure.
And not the quick, devouring end that I’d almost suffered the Valentine’s night I’d found myself locked out in a snowstorm, either. Nope. As I wiped at my running nose, the cold making my nostrils ache, chest heaving ice in and precious warmth out, I knew I was in for a very bad end.
Not that I was quitting. I looked up at the moon, hoping for some directionality. But without knowing the time or even when it was meant to rise, I had little in the way of guidance there. Though, at least I’d have some company when I perished from exposure.
Pessimist.
Pick a direction, Fiona Fleming.
I have no idea how long I staggered through the dark woods, though I did finally figure out I was heading west, at least according to the moon’s path. I altered my trajectory slightly, pushing a bit more north, best guess at the retreat’s location, happy to find I’d been moving in the right direction all along. Gave me the strength to carry on despite my aching legs and the way my arms and hands dragged at me as if the cold had turned them into dead weights, pulling me down.
A deep, threatening grunt woke me from my stumbling daze. I looked up slowly, heart quivering, and froze in place, a giant, black bear standing at the crest of the small hill just above me. It glared down at me, huffing its anger while I stood rooted, unable to scream or run or do a thing to keep it from coming after me.