by Mary Ellis
‘You’re absolutely sure? Shelby might have checked in under an alias.’ Nick tried to read the screen over the manager’s shoulder.
‘Sir, I am positive.’ Prescott straightened his tie for a second time. ‘The three couples who are here are regular guests and much older than the people in the photos. No one has checked-in since. Now, if there’s nothing else …’
‘Which way did they go when they left?’ Gordon asked.
Mild indignation replaced some of Prescott’s discomfort. ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t keep tabs on our guests when they leave.’
‘They turned left out of the parking lot,’ said the hostess who had been hovering in the background. When the manager gaped at her, she continued, ‘I wanted to make sure the woman didn’t get behind the wheel. She seemed in no shape to drive since she tripped on her way out.’
‘And?’ Nick prodded.
‘Unfortunately the man got into his car,’ she said, ‘and the woman followed him in a beat-up truck. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Officer, if they had appeared impaired, the waiter would have cut them off.’
Nick ignored the manager and addressed the hostess. ‘You’re sure they turned left?’
‘Yep, they headed up the mountain.’
‘Let me talk to their waiter,’ Nick demanded of Prescott.
‘He’s already left for the day,’ he whined.
Nick turned to the hostess. ‘How long ago did they leave?’
‘Not that long ago … maybe fifteen minutes? The man seemed mad about something, like maybe he didn’t want her to drive.’
‘Thank you, miss. You’ve been very helpful. If by chance either of them comes back, call me immediately.’ Nick laid his card on the podium, glanced around an almost empty restaurant and walked outside.
‘What now?’ Gordon asked.
‘What else is up this road?’ Nick pointed in the direction Jamie and Jill had headed. ‘A roadhouse? Maybe an after-hour joint?’
‘Heck, no. Nothing is up this way except a few abandoned farms. My dad’s property is at the very top and that’s where the road dead-ends. The state bought up most of the land and handed it over to a conservation organization.’ Gordon stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘And Shelby sure wouldn’t take Jill to our house. Either my father or brother would shoot him on sight. Jamie must have turned around somewhere and headed back to town.’
Nick muttered an uncustomary expletive and climbed back into the car.
‘Should we start checking those farms?’ Gordon jumped into the passenger seat.
Nick didn’t answer. Instead he switched on his police radio and summoned the Spencer County Sheriff’s Department. ‘I need to speak to Sheriff Adkins,’ he told the dispatcher. ‘This is Lieutenant Harris of Kentucky State Police.’
In less than a minute, Sheriff Adkins’s voice crackled across the radio. ‘What’s up, Nick?’
As succinctly as possible, Nick explained his location and the situation with Jill Curtis and Jamie Shelby. Then he asked, ‘Where is Owen? I hope you haven’t released him.’
‘Nah, he’s sitting in a cell, still waiting for his lawyer. I don’t want him signing a statement without legal representation. Owen must’ve been right about the guy being on a golf course.’
‘I need you to call Owen’s wife and ask if she’s seen her son. And if not, call the security office at Founder’s Reserve to see if Jamie passed through the front gate recently. Then radio me back.’
‘You got it.’
Like the consummate professional he was, Adkins didn’t ask unnecessary questions. But it was a long time before he came back on the line, during which Gordon fiddled with his cell phone, and Nick pictured what he would do to Jamie if he hurt one hair on Jill’s head.
Finally the radio crackled to life. ‘Negative on both counts,’ said Adkins. ‘Mrs Shelby hasn’t seen her son all day, and Jamie hasn’t passed through either entrance since he left the office hours ago.’
Nick clenched down on his back teeth. ‘Could you bring Owen Shelby to the radio? I want to ask him a few questions.’
‘Hello?’ asked a hoarse voice five minutes later.
‘Mr Shelby, this is Lieutenant Harris. We’re trying to track down your son’s whereabouts. Does your family own any properties other than your house in Roseville and the distillery?’
‘Let’s see.’ Owen paused to think. ‘We used to own a winter home in Naples, Florida. It was my wife’s pride and joy. But we sold it to buy new automated equipment for the distillery. So Norma now spends winter in Roseville, a fact she never ceases to complain about if we get even a few flakes of snow.’
‘Think, Mr Shelby,’ Nick commanded. ‘Are you sure you have no other properties, maybe something that’s usually rented out?’
Again, silence ensued while the elderly man pondered. ‘We once owned a rustic cabin up in the hills. But when Jamie and I stopped hunting, we haven’t been there in years.’
‘Who did you sell it to?’
‘No one. The place really wasn’t worth much, so we just stopped paying the taxes and let the state of Kentucky take it. I guess it’s part of the new conservancy now.’
‘Do you remember the address?’ Nick asked. ‘Would your wife have it written down somewhere?’
‘Goodness, no, Lieutenant. That cabin didn’t have an address or a mailbox. It was on an old logging road without a name.’ Owen chuckled as though Nick had asked something amusing. ‘The cabin didn’t even have indoor plumbing. It was for men who wanted to rough it, so you can understand why it grew distasteful as I grew older.’
Nick gritted his teeth, yearning to grab Shelby by the throat. ‘What highway was it off? How did you get there?’
‘Back then it was called Roseville Road. I think the route number was seventy-three.’
With his thumb, Gordon gestured to the road they were on.
Nick rolled his eyes. ‘All right, I want you to explain to a local resident everything you can remember. There must’ve been a landmark to help you find the turnoff.’
‘It must be twenty years ago. I would never be able to find it,’ moaned Shelby, sounding close to tears. ‘Besides, my son wouldn’t go there. The roof has probably fallen in.’
‘Do your best, Mr Shelby.’ Nick played the only card he had. ‘Then maybe the prosecutor will show some mercy towards you.’
‘Let me think,’ he said. ‘I remember passing the restaurant with the all-you-can-eat buffet on Sunday.’
Gordon pointed at the lodge behind them.
‘Then there were two farms on the right and then several logging roads. We turned down either the third or fourth one with an oak tree on the corner. That tree trunk branched so many times the loggers just left the tree behind. I can’t remember any other landmarks.’
When Gordon rolled his eyes, Nick got a bad feeling in his gut.
‘Thank you, Mr Shelby. If you remember anything else, tell the sheriff to radio me right away.’ Nick started his engine. ‘Let’s look for those two farms.’
‘The houses might have fallen in and some of those old roads could have grown over,’ said Gordon. ‘Let me ask my sister if she knows this cabin. She and Billy roamed all over these woods when they were young.’
Nick pulled up to the pavement and checked for traffic. ‘Don’t waste time. You’ll never reach Michelle on your cell phone.’
‘True, if Michelle is inside the house. But she loves to hang out at the goat barn with her favorite critters. And if she’s up there, the call might go through. The barn sits high enough to get a signal from Roseville.’ Gordon punched in his sister’s number and waited, letting the phone ring for a long while.
To Nick’s utter astonishment, they both heard a tentative, ‘Hello?’
‘Michelle, it’s me, Gordy. I’m with Nick Harris, and we’re trying to track down Jamie Shelby.’
‘I have no idea where—’
‘Just listen, Michelle,’ Gordon interrupted. ‘This could be
urgent. Shelby could be with Jill Curtis and he may wish to harm her.’
‘Why would Jamie want to hurt Jill? You’re not making any sense.’ Michelle’s words were broken by static.
‘Because Jamie thinks Jill figured out who killed Uncle Roger.’
‘And who would that be?’ Michelle asked.
‘We’ll explain later. Right now, do you know the whereabouts of an old hunting cabin the Shelbys used to own? It can’t be very far from our house.’
‘Yeah, that’s where a bunch of us hung out during high school. We used to drink beer and roast hot dogs and crash on the floor in sleeping bags. But the Shelbys haven’t owned that cabin in years. It’s part of—’
‘I know, Michelle,’ Gordon snapped. ‘Have you been there recently?’
Michelle remained quiet for so long, they thought they had lost the connection. ‘Not recently, but I could still find it,’ she finally said. ‘Shelby once asked me to meet him at the cabin for a romantic picnic supper. That creep told me he’d fixed the place up, but all he’d done was patch the holes in the roof and put sheets on the rusty bed. And his idea of dinner was a bucket of chicken and a six-pack of beer.’ She clucked her tongue. ‘I told him the place was a dump and if that was the best he could do he shouldn’t call me again.’
‘So you started meeting him at the Pine Hollow Lodge?’ Gordon sneered. ‘You deserve so much better than Shelby!’
‘I’m a grown woman, big brother. I’ll make my own decisions.’
Nick pulled the phone from Gordon’s hand. ‘This is Nick Harris, Miss Clark. If Jill is still with Jamie, she might be in danger. Could you tell us how to find this cabin?’
‘It’s down one of those old logging roads. I don’t remember which one. When I went I always took the path through the woods. It was quicker that way.’
Nick frowned at Gordon. ‘We’ll need to check down every logging road between here and your place.’
Gordon took his phone back. ‘Don’t get any ideas of going there, Michelle. Your baby is due any time. You stay right where you are and we’ll find Jill if she’s still with Jamie.’
‘Fine, brother dear,’ she said. ‘But make it snappy. Jamie has a bad temper when things don’t go his way.’
Gordon slipped his phone in his pocket, while Nick peeled onto the highway, heading north. He didn’t want to think what a desperate man in a bad mood might do in the middle of nowhere.
EIGHTEEN
Jill regained her senses in a dimly lit, dusty log cabin that reeked of mildew. When she tried to breathe deeply, she ended up coughing and choking against the smelly rag over her mouth. Willing herself not to panic, she scanned the room from one end to the other. An old-fashioned metal bed sat against the wall with a flowered bedspread and two pillows with matching shams. Compared to everything else inside the hovel, the bedding looked fairly new. An antique trunk sat at the foot of the bed, perhaps containing whatever the owner wanted to keep safe from mice. In the center of the room was a kitchen table beneath an oil lamp hung from a rusty chain. What looked like dates had been carved into the oak surface, perhaps notating the cabin’s most recent occupants. Two more chairs exactly like the one she sat on were at the table, while a fourth broken chair was sticking from the kindling box on the hearth. Streaks of black soot and several loose flagstones hinted at the unsafe condition of the chimney, and there was enough dirt on the floor to write your name. A breakfront cabinet with mismatched dishes that hadn’t been washed in years and a sofa which might have been blue plaid in better days completed the furnishings. Sheets of plastic, yellowed from age and weather, covered the windows. The cabin had one trash can, overflowing with beer cans and takeout containers, but no stove, refrigerator, or sink where a person could wash their hands.
Why would Jamie buy me an expensive meal, a fancy bottle of champagne, and two desserts in a nice restaurant, and then bring me to a dump like this?
Jill remembered using the ladies’ room, finishing the glass of champagne, and tripping over uneven carpeting on her way out. She remembered feeling lightheaded in the parking lot and Jamie helping her into Roger’s truck. Then she had followed his red sports car down the road until he turned into a driveway. By that time her mild case of lightheadedness had become full-blown nausea. Once they had pulled off-road, Jill had swung her legs out of the truck, bowed her head, and waited to throw up.
Nothing after that rang a bell.
Now she was tied to a chair inside an abandoned shack with a gag in her mouth, making it impossible to call for help. Talk about bad dates gone wrong.
Jill tried to recall where they had been going after the restaurant, but a sharp pain pounded behind her eyes. For a while, she could do nothing but concentrate on not choking on her own bile. When the pain finally subsided, images of a very pregnant Michelle floated across her mind. She and Jamie had been headed to the Clark farm, to give Michelle money for a hospital delivery. Jill didn’t need a second perusal to confirm she wasn’t inside the Clark’s mountain-top cabin. Although modest in décor, Michelle kept their home spotlessly clean.
After struggling for a few minutes against the restraints, she succeeded only in tipping over the chair and whacking her head on the floor. Once again, her world went dark until a harsh voice pierced her fog.
‘For heaven’s sake, Curtis.’ As Jamie yanked her chair upright, his angry face loomed into view. ‘Couldn’t you just sit still until I got back?’
He was still wearing the same pants and white shirt from dinner, but his sleeves had been rolled up and his suitcoat was gone. He pulled the dirty rag from around her mouth.
‘Jamie,’ she muttered after a short coughing spasm.
‘Very good,’ he said. ‘You haven’t knocked yourself completely witless.’
‘Where have you been? And where am I?’ Her voice sounded weak, almost feeble.
Jamie dragged over one of the kitchen chairs, straddling it to face her. ‘First things first. I had to run an errand, thanks to your unrelenting stubbornness. But while en route I thought of the perfect solution to my dilemma.’ He held a water bottle to her lips.
‘So what is this place?’ she asked after several swallows of water. ‘I thought we were on our way to see Michelle.’
‘We’ll get to that in a minute.’ Jamie gazed around the room. ‘I have such fond memories of this cabin. I used to come here hunting with my father and uncles a long time ago. That’s when dear old Dad had time for such pursuits. Then more recently, Michelle and I hung out drinking beer and making love.’
‘How charming. Judging by the dust those trysts must have been a while ago.’
‘Suddenly, my Mountain Mama got picky about the accommodation and insisted I spend the big bucks on her.’ His laugh was downright malevolent.
‘Can’t blame a gal for having standards, but why am I here? Surely you don’t have visions of us cuddling on the pink peonies.’ Jill angled her head towards the flowery bedspread and shams. ‘That is so off the table.’
He snorted. ‘I would’ve enjoyed that when we first met, but not anymore. Your virtue is safe, since romance by force isn’t my style. I’m just not that kind of guy.’
The gleam in his eyes sent a shiver up Jill’s spine. ‘OK, then why are we here?’
‘I want to know why your truck was parked outside the Maxwell house. You forget what a small town Roseville is. Why couldn’t you just go back to Chicago when you finished your article?’
‘Maybe I have ambitions of becoming an investigative reporter.’
‘That ship sailed a long time ago. Newspapers are laying off reporters these days. People prefer the highly biased stories from the internet and TV talk shows. Your partner was smart enough to heed my message and leave town.’
The blood in Jill’s veins turned to ice. ‘What did you do to Michael?’
‘Nothing lately. Michael is back in Chicago, where you should be now. Several claustrophobic hours in an elevator and a few smashed car windows sent that boy packi
ng his bags.’
‘You locked him inside the elevator at Black Creek? But you didn’t have a key.’
‘Michelle gave me hers the night of Roger’s fundraiser. But we got so caught up in the excitement she forgot to get it back. That key came in handy more than once. After all, I had to wipe the security tape clean and lock up the room after I paid Maxwell to leave his post.’ He grinned malevolently. ‘Seeing the videographer snooping around was a bit of good fortune for me.’
‘But why Michael? My videographer never did anything to you.’ Jill wiggled her wrists against the ropes.
‘Michael’s allergy to grain was a little annoying,’ he sneered. ‘Then I saw him videotaping everyone who came to Roger’s funeral, as though a guilty face might betray the killer.’
‘Is that why you stole his camera? Would the tape have betrayed your guilty face?’
‘Not mine, you little ninny. I was with you, remember? I just wanted you both to stop butting your noses in my family’s business.’
Jill strained against her restraints. ‘Well, Roger was my family and he’s why I stayed.’
‘You didn’t even know the guy a few months ago. If you had, you wouldn’t have liked him much.’ Jamie jumped up and started pacing the room. ‘Roger Clark wasn’t very nice to his employees or to your precious Aunt Dot. He was a bully with delusions of grandeur with his little distillery.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jill noticed a flush had risen up Jamie’s neck.
‘Roger tried to recruit Founder’s employees every chance he got, hoping to steal our secrets along the way. My father went to see him with an idea that could have benefited both companies. Instead of being grateful, Roger wanted to reap the majority of the profits.’ Jamie’s hands bunched into fists as he paused by her chair. ‘My grandfather and great-grandfather built Founder’s Reserve into what it is today after years of hard work. Then my father poured every dime of his and Mom’s savings into improving operations. Roger thinks he can move into the same position with his insignificant upstart?’
‘Not very realistic, huh?’ Jill didn’t like the sweat on Jamie’s forehead or the spittle in the corner of his mouth.