by Karen Harper
He yanked her arm nearly out of its socket. She got to her knees, her feet. She was absolutely sick of pretending to care for and obey this man, but she wanted to live. She wanted to live here in Falls Lake, now and in the future.
To her amazement, he knocked her down again, almost as if it was a football tackle. He pressed her down, lay on top of her.
“You stupid bitch, I ought to take you right now, then tie you up naked and leave you, but you may be my ticket out of here. Swear to me you’ll go with me, keep your mouth shut.”
He pulled her hair so hard her chin jerked up. Her eyes watered and she began to sob. If Lyle still had the gun, she would be gone, not that he couldn’t strangle her, knock her head with a stone, the way Val had died.
“Yes, I’ll go with you. I—I said I would. Lyle, you have got to trust me if we’re going to be together.”
“Remains to be seen,” he muttered, and hauled her to her feet again.
One of her shoes had come off in the scuffle. He saw it, but kicked it off the path, pulled her away from retrieving it and shoved her on.
* * *
Earlier, Quinn was confused that his quarry had evidently turned toward the lake and the road. So Alex was letting her captor wander, hoping for time, maybe for a way to escape. But on the shingle shore, he’d lose their tracks.
Sticking close to the trees, not on the water’s edge, he jogged around this end of the lake. And there, closer to the water, glittering in the sun, was a thin link gold bracelet that must be hers.
A struggle had caused it to come off? No, even the delicate lobster claw link was intact. Weird but he pictured the wedding rings in the jewelry shop window again. Gold. She liked gold. And graceful, delicate things.
Like herself, his golden girl. Graceful, but not delicate. Strong and sturdy except when it came to missing her lost sister. And now, Alex might be missing, too.
He heard and saw nothing but two loons landing on the lake with their crazy call that sounded like a yodel and the distant murmur of the waterfall. The lake sometimes sent back an echo. He had to try the other path.
Jamming the bracelet in his pocket, he turned and sprinted for the trail that led to the road, then down it, jogging again, eyes alert for any signs—signs of how Alex was holding up.
Down the path toward the road, something silver caught his eye—another treasured clue, a larger item than the slender bracelet? A metal compass glinted in a shaft of sun. Surely Alex had not left that for a clue, too. Quinn picked up the compass, holding it by a big leaf, preserving fingerprints, not leaving his own. He dropped it in his backpack and scanned the ground again. Had her captor lost or tossed it?
He knew one thing for sure: her captor was the metro man she’d thought she’d loved—Dr. Lyle Vet, whatever his last name was.
But he’d figure out how the bastard had traced her later. He pushed on, not far—then, over here, it looked as if two bodies had hit the ground and writhed a bit. Both got up again and went on. Had he attacked her sexually or had they fought? He couldn’t tell.
Then yes! They were still on the trail ahead. Even running, he could see their footprints again. Alex was flagging, dragging her feet. He prayed she wasn’t injured. And not wounded by the gun he’d heard go off, but he saw no blood.
He came to a place where there had been another scuffle, near a bad stand of devil’s club. Her shoe was there, just one shoe. Surely the monster who held her was not undressing her. At least two sets of footsteps appeared again and went on, Alex with one shoeless foot.
So head down, hurrying, he went on, too.
* * *
This trek was turning into an out-of-body experience. It was way beyond nightmare, beyond the hope she could escape, or that Suze and Meg would send troopers to rescue her, if they could find her. No sounds of search dogs, no helicopters flying over.
Even better, she prayed someone had reached Quinn in New York, and he would tell them what to do, that he would be back as soon as he could.
One foot in front of the other. Paying the price for falling for Lyle—trying to keep from falling. Maybe she should pretend to faint, to collapse at least. It would be so easy. Maybe he would run off and leave her. He was tired, too, frustrated, panicked he’d attempted more than he could control.
She knew they must be close to the road, for this was the same path she and Quinn had taken out of the woods. It seemed so long ago.
She was full of regrets. The minute she knew that Spenser distrusted Lyle, she should have taken that for a sign, but she thought the little guy would get over it.
“Lyle, I’m too sick and weak to go on. Just leave me and go.”
“Lied to me about wanting me back, didn’t you?”
“Let’s just say the way you have treated me on this trek has not been like someone in love who wants a reconciliation, like I do.”
He yanked her arm to spin her around to face him. She nearly fell, tried to keep her balance.
“How about I take your clever suggestion you just stay here, and I’ll go on alone?” he ranted.
He pushed her, back against a tree so hard she hit her head. Dizzy, spinning...
She watched him through slitted eyelids as he grabbed a broken tree branch from the ground and swung it at her head. Somehow, she turned away in time, and it banged against the tree trunk. The limb shattered—bark flew, rotten inner wood peppered her. Rotten to the core—he meant to kill her!
Move, crawl, run, fight! an inner voice screamed at her, maybe Allie’s voice.
“The end!” he was muttering. “The end, the end!”
She scrambled to her feet and ran, but she heard him coming after her. He was between her and the road, but could she lose him in the woods she knew better than him? Wouldn’t someone, Suze or Meg, Josh—anyone—come looking for her?
Her wrists still tied, she darted down a narrowing path, around a sharp turn, and there was salvation. Quinn! It was really Quinn, here now, running toward her!
“Lyle! He found me, wants to kill me!” she cried, and nearly vaulted into his arms. He was solid, really here!
“Is he behind you?” he asked, setting her back behind him and moving off the path. “I don’t hear him. Does he have the gun I heard go off?”
“I threw it in the devil’s club back there.”
“That’s my girl. Stay here.” He dug a jackknife out of his pocket and pulled it open, put it in her hand. “Saw yourself free and stay put. I’ll get him. He’s the one in trouble now. You’re safe, sweetheart—I’ll be sure of that.”
* * *
Quinn had hoped to spot Lyle, but maybe he’d have to chase and hog-tie him, then drag him to the road until they could get troopers here. Or could he be hiding in the thick foliage here? He must have seen or heard him and decided not to chase Alex, to run. Thank God she was safe, staying behind. She’d obviously been beaten and dragged around, but she was alive. He’d make all this up to her.
But he had to find and capture her bastard kidnapper. The guy must be clever to have once won her, fooled her. Quinn wasn’t a violent person, but he could not wait to get his hands on Lyle.
Then, around a turn in the path, he saw his quarry, just standing there when Quinn had figured he’d run. The thing was, they were both prey now: Lyle was standing like a statue on the path about twenty feet ahead of him but not looking this way because he was staring down a bear Quinn could see off to the right of the path. The large black bear had reared up on its hind legs, sniffing the air and watching Lyle in return.
Quinn’s pulse pounded so loud it nearly drowned his thoughts. His eyes widened. From the depths of dark memory, he saw again his father’s and Scottie’s bloody bodies.
The bear looked at him, too, then back to Lyle, who hadn’t moved. The guy was a domestic animal vet, but at least he must know not to run. Lyle looked from the bear to Quinn, then back
to the bear again. His features were frozen in fear.
Standing still, Quinn lifted his hands high to make himself look taller. Of course, his instinct—human instinct—was to run. To tear back to get Alex away, to protect her and himself.
Steady. Stay. See it out. At least she’s back a ways behind you.
He stood stock-still with his hands in the air as if Lyle had got the drop on him in an old western-style shoot-out. Off to the side of the path, near the tangle of berry bushes, the bear stared, too, the three of them forming a triangle.
And then, damn it, without turning back to look, he heard Alex’s slow, careful footsteps on the path. Why hadn’t she stayed back?
In a quiet, steady voice, he said, “Bear at three o’clock. Don’t move. Stay behind me.” Then he said a bit louder, “Don’t move, Lyle.”
“Yeah, sure,” Lyle said, his voice high-pitched with nerves. “So you can haul me in? I think my car’s close.”
He turned and tore away. He had a head start when the bear ran after him, but Quinn knew what the result would be.
Alex hugged Quinn from behind, holding tight. She was shaking, but he was, too.
“He didn’t know not to run,” Quinn muttered, fighting the tears of memory. “A vet but not with wildlife.”
They heard one sharp scream, then a ragged cry, and that was all. He turned and held Alex hard.
“There may be more than one around with the last of those berries,” Quinn said, his voice breaking. “Let’s head back for the lake, and I’ll call for help for him on my cell in case he’s still alive. It’s either there or the road for phone reception.”
“Yes, we’d better be sure he isn’t suffering after that attack, call for emergency help.”
Carefully, fearful the bear might still be near, they followed the path. Lyle’s body lay in a pool of blood. His arms were wrapped around his head but his shoulders were bare and clawed. Strangely, she pictured a German shepherd she’d cared for which had been hit by a car and lay on the road. No, this was Lyle, a human being, even if a sick, evil one.
Looking all around, they knelt on either side of him. Quinn felt for a pulse at the side of the base of his neck, then shook his head. “Dead,” he whispered. “At least it was fast. I pray it was so for my dad and dog. Let’s call for someone to retrieve the body. We’ll phone out on the road rather than at the lake, then come back here to wait—protect him as he never did you.”
She realized that as cruel as Lyle had been to her, she was crying. A release from fear, a final release from poor, sick Lyle.
Quinn sniffed hard and pressed his lips together. His words came out raspy and broken. “He didn’t...hurt you, force you?”
“He wanted to. He would have. I lied to him to keep him from shooting me. Somehow, he didn’t know about us. He said he found me through my license plate.”
“But someone here must have helped him trace that plate number,” he muttered as they rose and headed for the path to the road to call not for a rescue squad but a coroner’s vehicle.
37
Quinn stayed at the lodge that night in her room, sitting on the bed, holding her, then lying down outside the covers so he didn’t have to let her go. Twice he had to put Spenser on her other side, so they didn’t press the little dog between them. Spenser seemed to be guarding her, too, as if he knew what his mistress had been through.
His mistress. Spenser’s mistress but she would promise again to be his wife as soon as she woke up and was herself. The local doctor had checked her out: dehydration, black and blue bruises, but no concussion.
She’d fallen asleep sitting up while Trooper Kurtz had questioned her, even when the BCI team member asked her about her kidnapping ordeal. The forensic team had gone to retrieve Lyle’s body and survey the scene. It was Quinn who had to tell them where to find the gun in the devil’s club.
Trooper Kurtz had told Quinn, “I’d thought at first Lyle Grayson might have murdered Valerie, but obviously no connection, and we verified he was cross country then.”
So no answer yet to that looming question. Ryker was still a person of interest, and Val’s murder cast a pall over many other people who had been around that day.
* * *
When Alex woke, it was still daylight—no, it was daylight again, for she had slept all night. The horror crashed back over her, but she was safe now. Lyle was dead.
Why had he been so sick to stalk her after she’d fled miles away? How did he find her? Someone must have tipped him off. Officer Kurtz didn’t know how, nor did the others at the lodge she had asked before she’d absolutely collapsed from exhaustion.
She squinted at the curtains over her bedroom window and heard Spenser yawn. A new day. A good, beautiful day. Back to normal life—a better one, one with Quinn. She’d hire Josh to get those marks off the outside of her room, then suggest he remove the claw marks by Sam and Mary’s woodpile, if they agreed. Or maybe, in case a person was arrested for Val’s murder, those marks would be needed for evidence.
She shifted her weight and realized she was sore all over. And then she felt a body much bigger than Spenser’s next to her. She opened her eyes a bit, then wider. Quinn! Quinn fully dressed, sprawled on her other side, asleep facing her. Oh, that’s right. He’d been with her when she’d finally gone to bed after all that questioning and more to come. More to come...
As if he sensed that she was awake, he opened one forest-green eye, then both.
“A new day, a new start,” he whispered.
She reached out to touch his cheek. At least two days of beard growth there. She knew he grew a trimmed beard in the winter. She’d seen it when she first looked at the lodge website, which seemed eons ago.
“I came back too fast to bring a ring,” he said. “How about we pick one out together, do a lot of things together—if you’ll say yes.”
“Yes. Absolutely, positively yes.”
His eyes shimmered with tears. “I don’t mind sharing you with Spenser, though I suggest we change his last name from Collister to Mantell soon.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, and lifted her hand to his, palm to palm. Their fingers touched, then intertwined, holding firm and strong.
One month later
Their engagement party on the patio of the lodge reminded Alex of the gathering she’d walked in on the day she’d arrived. Again, Geoff and Ginger were here from New York as well as Brent. The two men kept talking, probably hatching, Quinn had said, trends for the Q-Man show. Also, Trooper Jim Kurtz and his wife, Janice, were here, though Jim looked so different in casual clothes.
It was a salmon bake again, though the fish were not fresh out of a stream but had been frozen since the season was over. Another season, a special one for her and Quinn, had just begun.
On a table separate from the food, Alex had set out little sacks with gifts from her renovated products line. The new art on the packaging Suze had created had pretty forest and wildflower labels.
Spenser was on a spiffy new leash—red, no less—and was getting used to the bungalow in town they would close a deal on next week. The absentee owner, a friend of Quinn’s, had already let them come and go anytime to renovate and furnish the place. Her furniture and other possessions were being shipped from Illinois. With Suze and Meg’s help they had been painting the rooms.
“Oh, this little bedroom will be good for a nursery!” Mary had said when she had dropped by. “Maybe we will raise children together.”
“You know,” Alex had confided in her, “you are not the only one haunted by past family losses. I lost my twin sister before we were born, and I sometimes believe she is still with me, but in a good way.”
“A good way,” Mary had repeated. “That’s how I will remember my lost family now, too.”
Mary waved and smiled at her across the mingling guests. Proudly showing a bit of a belly, she was
helping Suze and Meg serve salmon sliders and a variety of side dishes. Quinn and Alex thought her weekly psychiatric counseling sessions in Anchorage were really helping her.
As for the Falls Lake ghost, Mary had admitted she had sneaked out to cry and mourn at night, hoping to honor her lost grandparents and praying for a child. Hearing that, Sam had smiled and said, “Was it a prayer to have a son?”
“It might be a girl!” Mary had protested. “One I will name after my beloved grandmother.”
Sam had also confessed to them and Trooper Kurtz that he had been the one to take and hide Mary’s bear claw necklace so that it could not possibly be lost when it was taken to Anchorage to be examined. He was certain, he said, Mary had not harmed Val. The necklace had been examined and given back to her when the claws did not match the marks on Val. Since it had been his wife’s property, no charges had been brought against Sam.
Alex noted that Sam and Josh seemed especially close tonight. No doubt it had been hard for Josh to have Mary choose Sam instead of him when they were younger, but both brothers seemed finally reconciled to that. Everyone was glad to see Josh had brought a date from town tonight, a redheaded waitress from Caribou Bill’s.
Chip was everywhere, still toting his dad’s binoculars, which Meg felt comforted him. The boy looked up at all kinds of planes that flew over, so he did not fixate so much on just one. Surely her dear boy would work his way out of his problems, she’d told Alex and Quinn.
Geoff had managed to patch things up—producer to producer, he’d said—with Gab Fest, and Quinn was being rebooked on the show next week when he and Alex flew to see his mother and her husband, then on to London to visit her parents.
Geoff had insisted on a round of champagne, which he’d arrived with, and his voice cut through the chatter.
“All right, everyone. Raise your glasses. Here’s to our future bride and groom, from all their friends and family!” He lifted his goblet high, and they all—except Chip and Spenser—did, too. “Although the Q-Man TV show will reach out mostly to men, we’re going to have Alex and Mary on it to emphasize that women can be wilderness trackers, too.”