“You’re already down there. I’ll run to the dining hall,” I announced, cutting short the menacing babble in my mind. If my body trembled any harder, I wouldn’t be able to move at all. “It’s not far,” I added. “Probably less than a half a mile.”
Lucas stood up on the edge. He reached out a hand to me, then realized that it was too far away to touch and drew it back. He glanced over at Amélie, lying peacefully in the snow.
“I’ll yell my head off if I so much as see anyone,” I promised. Lucas nodded. “And you do the same,” I ordered. He nodded again.
I turned once more to go.
“Penelope,” Lucas whispered. I looked over my shoulder.
“What?” I asked.
“Take care of yourself. Please.”
“Duh,” I said. Then I spun around to go and promptly tripped over a tree root, losing my balance and tumbling hard face first into the snow.
“Penny!” Lucas yelled. “Are you alright?”
I wiped the snow from my mouth and closed my eyes to keep the icy cold wetness from getting in them, too. “I'm fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I tripped,” I said. “I'm fine.”
I lay there for a moment. I rolled my ankles around and tested my knees. I flexed my arms and brought both hands to my eyes. None of the major limbs appeared to be injured.
If felt like Jack Frost was now tickling my cheeks. With the back of my hand, I wiped across my eyes, dusting away the last of the powder stuck to my face.
Jogging down the snowy path in the moonlight, I tried to take care of myself, ignoring the niggling thought that Lucas could in fact be the killer, and if so, I’d just left him alone with the good doctor to finish the job. No. No way. I’d known Lucas since we were kids. I trusted Lucas… well sort of… maybe not with my heart so much anymore, but I trusted him not to kill me, or anyone else. Didn’t I?
I strained my ears to hear any sound that was out of place. But all I could hear was my own labored breathing and my feet crunching the snow. I scanned the path ahead for movement, seeing only unrelieved darkness. But I felt something. A presence. Was someone watching me? Or was the presence my own fear, taking palpable form? I moved faster and thought of Holly. She had presumably been on skis when the murderer caught her.
I was almost to the dining hall when I saw the figure on the porch. I couldn’t see who it was, only the tall shadow silhouetted by the porch light. Sweat bathed my entire body. I stopped short and took a deep breath. It was time to yell.
“Help!” I screamed. “Call the police! Get an ambulance!”
The figure raced down the stairs toward me. Oh God. Should I turn and run?
“Help!” I screamed even louder.
Finally I saw who was coming toward me. It was one of the officers from earlier. And she had her hand on her gun. My body convulsed with relief. Then my legs gave out. I flopped painfully down onto the snowy path, jolting my tail bone. Impatiently, I forced myself to stand again.
“What’s happened?” the officer demanded. I saw my own fear reflected in her wide eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Dr. Amélie Belle, she’s on the mountain’s ledge!” I raced the words out. “She’s hurt.”
“But not dead?” she asked tightly.
“No, she’s alive,” I answered. Suddenly I was very grateful. Amélie was alive. The murderer had made a mistake. “But she needs an ambulance.”
The officer motioned me to go on.
“We’ve got to hurry,” I insisted. I wasn’t taking any more time to be grateful. What if the murderer was there at the ledge now? “Amélie’s alone out there. She and Lucas.”
“Hold on,” said the officer, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Lucas?” I nodded impatiently. “Is he hurt too?”
“No,” I answered. “Only Amélie is hurt. Lucas is guarding her.” The officer nodded slowly. Why wouldn’t the woman hurry up? “But the murderer could find them any minute. We’ve got to protect them!”
“Did you see the assailant?” the officer asked.
I shook my head frantically.
“So, Lucas could in fact be the assailant.”
“No, of course not.”
“You found the victim together?”
“Well, no, but he followed me and appeared a second later. Listen, I know how this sounds, but he didn’t do it and you’ll see that if we just hurry and keep them both safe.”
“Okay. Tell me Dr. Belle’s injuries, and I’ll call it in,” she said. “Then we’ll go.”
“I don’t know what her injuries are,” I yelped. I told myself to calm down. “She was pushed off the mountain, left in the snow. Her legs are twisted—”
“Is she conscious?”
“She was,” I answered. “But barely.”
“Okay,” she said and reached for her radio. “I’ll call it in. Damn it! I left my radio and cell phone inside the cruiser.” She turned to the stairs, then turned back. “Wait here for me,” she ordered.
“But—”
“I don’t know the way,” she explained. “Wait. I’ll be right back.” Then she turned back and ran for her car. At least she was hurrying now.
So I waited, hoping this wait wasn’t something I would regret for my entire life. I doubted I could hear Lucas yell for help this far away. And even if he yelled, and I heard him, could I get there in time? And what would I do, anyway? I needed the officer with me. Her and her gun.
I had taken a couple steps towards the trees when I heard steps behind me. I swiveled my body in the direction of the sound. I saw Marie-Angelique. She was scurrying down the chalet steps toward me, dressed in a chenille bathrobe. She fiddled with the sash around her waist.
I stepped back, watching her hands on the sash. Was chenille strong enough to strangle a person? This person? I wouldn’t bet my life it wasn’t. I resisted the urge to turn and look for the officer. I kept my eyes on Marie-Angelique and her hands. If she tried anything, I’d have her slammed on her back so hard, she wouldn’t know what hit her.
“Oh, Penelope,” she greeted me breathlessly. Her face didn’t look murderous, only softly concerned. “Has something happened? I heard you screaming. There hasn’t been another…?” Her words trailed off. She looked down at the ground. Was she still unable to pronounce the word “murder”?
“No, there hasn’t,” I snapped.
I heard more footsteps. I glimpsed a brief look of fear on Marie-Angelique’s face as she turned toward the sound. But the approaching footsteps belonged to her husband. Justin Tremblé was fully dressed in jeans, a sweater and boots. I asked myself why he was dressed at this hour. Then again, I was fully dressed, too.
“We heard a yell,” said Justin, his voice unusually resonant in the darkness.
I bent over, trying to catch my breath. The Tremblés stared at me as if I were an abstract painting they were trying to comprehend. Their faces seemed preternaturally pale in the moonlight, their eyes dark pits.
Then I heard the officer’s footsteps approaching. “Ambulance and backup will be here in a few minutes,” she announced briskly.
“Ambulance?” asked Marie-Angelique, her voice small and frightened.
The officer ignored her question. “You still have my number?”
Marie-Angelique nodded.
“Stay here and call my cell if anything else happens. Got that?” The officer turned to me. “Go!” she ordered.
I sprinted up the snowy path to the ledge. How long had I been away? Five minutes? Fifteen? My time sense had been swallowed by the events. I listened to the comforting sound of the officer running behind me and concentrated on speed. Only when we were almost there did I allow myself to think of Lucas. Please let him be all right, I chanted in my mind.
Once the ledge came into dim view I shouted out, “Lucas!”
“Here!” he yelled back.
Lucas was alive. My feet slowed down, fear no longer propelling them forward. I sucked in air. The officer sped past
me. I ran every day, so the fact that this woman just flew by me impressed and annoyed me. I watched her disappear through the trees as I jogged the last few yards. Then I was through the opening myself, panting and weak.
The officer had climbed down and was squatting next to Lucas, talking to Amélie. Only Amélie wasn’t answering. She lay as I had left her, sprawled out on the snow, eyes closed. The officer grabbed her arm and felt for her pulse. Then she turned to Lucas.
“You can leave now,” she said softly. “We’ll take care of it from here on in.”
Lucas stood up slowly and gazed at me across the ledge.
“But don’t go too far,” the officer warned. “The Detective will want to talk to you two.”
Lucas grunted his assent, but kept his eyes on me. His face was smeared with snow. So were his hands and arms, his boots and his knees. They all bore the snowy imprint of his care for Amélie. Lucas reached his arms toward me briefly.
“How are you?” he asked gruffly when he reached me. He put his hands on my shoulders.
“A little winded but good,” I replied.
He looked down at his hands, still gripping my shoulders. “Oh, geeze, I’m covered in snow,” he said, as if noticing for the first time, and pulled them back.
His eyes grew serious as he whispered, “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be touching you, anyway.” He dusted the snow from my shoulders.
A laugh burbled up and escaped my lips.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just thankful you’re alive. I kept imagining the killer getting to you before I could get back.” I started to tear up thinking about it, now that all the adrenaline was leaving my body.
“Copper, don’t cry. You hate crying.”
“I know!” I said, angrily wiping away a tear. “Gosh, what would I have told your mother?”
He pulled me in close against his snow-smeared body. I felt his arms come around me. Then the strength entered them and he squeezed. Mid-squeeze, we heard the sirens.
We jumped apart guiltily, and I swiveled my head in Amélie’s direction. She still lay unmoving on the snow, her eyes closed. The officer was gently massaging one of the doctor’s hands, her face anxious.
“Is she—?” I began.
“Don’t think about it,” Lucas whispered. “She’ll be fine.”
A blur of figures came rushing down the snowy path in the moonlight. Justin was in the lead, two uniformed men were close behind him. One of them carried a folded stretcher. He dropped the stretcher and unfolded it then entered on the heels of the other man. Officer Morin was next, running up the path with his gun pointed upwards. Bumble jogged up last.
The uniformed men went to work within moments, devising a plan to retrieve Dr. Amélie Belle.
“Is she conscious?” Bumble demanded.
“No,” the paramedic replied curtly. My stomach tightened. Was Amélie going to die, after all?
The officer emerged from the ledge as the stretcher-bearers disappeared from view. Bumble marched toward her angrily. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Miss Trubble and Mr. Vallerand,” she began patiently, pointing to us, “discovered Dr. Belle—”
“Not again!” Bumble bellowed.
Twenty Two
_____________
T he detective turned slowly to face us. “So, you two found another body,” he began conversationally.
I nodded.
“Wonderful,” he said, injecting a full syringe of sarcasm into the word. “And I suppose you two walked all over the crime scene.”
I nodded again and found an unexpected smile tugging at my lips. Somehow Bumble’s sarcasm had served to cheer me this time around. His sharp tone felt very homey—as comforting as a roaring fire on a cold day. We were standing in the dark, covered in snow, but I was no longer afraid.
Bumble spotted my smile and shook his head in ponderous disgust. “Stay right there,” he ordered brusquely. “Don’t move a muscle.”
Then he turned to the officer. “Have a look around,” he told her. “See what you can find.”
“What am I looking for?” the officer asked, head bent forward earnestly.
Bumble snarled. “Footprints. Weapons. Lurking suspects. The abominable snowman. Use your imagination.”
Once she was gone, Bumble resumed his questions.
“So, you didn’t see the assailant?” he asked, as if hoping we would change our minds.
“No,” Lucas and I answered simultaneously.
Bumble sighed, then asked, “When did you find the victim?”
Lucas and I looked at each other for answers. But neither of us had kept track of the time. I shrugged my shoulders.
“Maybe twenty minutes, a half hour ago,” Lucas said slowly.
Bumble looked down at his watch. “Twelve-thirty?” he asked.
Lucas and I told our story in tandem. We covered nearly every moment from the time we found Amélie’s body until Bumble arrived on the scene.
Then Bumble pressed us for details. By the time we had been over the story twice, the officer was back.
“You two, come with me,” he ordered, beginning down the snowy path to the dining hall. “I’ll have more questions for you later.”
We followed Detective Bumble down the path. He stomped along without speaking, deep in thought. Lucas and I walked close enough together that our arms bumped every once in a while. That was a comfort. But some of my fear began to creep back as we walked, despite the escort. The path was too dark, too quiet. Suddenly, I imagined someone watching us. I peered into the darkness nervously. I knew martial arts but I couldn’t fight someone that I couldn’t see. And this killer seemed to love to use the element of surprise in his attacks.
When we were almost to the hall, I remembered Cody. He was probably really worried about me.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas asked.
“Cody’s probably wondering what happened to me.”
Lucas asked Bumble if we could stop by to get Cody and change into dry clothes.
“Not a chance,” was Bumble’s muttered reply.
Lucas and I exchanged worried glances as we continued to walk. Did Bumble really think we had pushed Dr. Amélie Belle from the mountain, then called the police to rescue her?
I was blowing on my hands when the main building came into view. Someone had turned on all the outdoor lights, transforming the porch into a stage, complete with actors.
I dropped my hands, my attention captured by the spectacle before us. Justin Tremblé stood straight and tall, his arm around his son’s trembling shoulders. He stared out into the shadows with a soulful expression. Felix’s face was less subtle, a study in pure wide-eyed fear. Marie-Angelique sat on the porch bench with a puffy coat over her chenille robe, her arms wrapped around herself. Two uniformed men, both tall and dark, stood off to the side. One was burly, the other thin.
We were almost to the stairs when the stillness was broken by the thump of Mateo’s cane behind us on part of the shoveled stone walkway. “I heard the sirens,” Mateo explained softly.
Bumble shot him a quick glance and grunted in reply. Mateo seemed to be fully dressed, up to and including his trapper hat. Another night owl? As we mounted the stairs, Mateo limped up the ramp.
Marie-Angelique’s head pulled up. Justin and Felix turned to us. And the thin uniformed officer marched forward.
Detective Bumble looked at the rest of us on the porch and barked, “Wait inside by the fire!” Then he led the men down the stairs for a whispered consultation. We all went inside the main chalet and gathered around the hearth as we’d been ordered to. Seating was limited so Lucas and I had no choice but to squeeze into the oversized chair together closest to the heat, Justin, Marie-Angelique and Felix Tremblé took the couch. Mateo paced.
I was all out of adrenaline and fading fast. I didn’t want to, but I leaned against Lucas sleepily while the police consulted one another.
“Anyone check the weather lately?” Lucas asked.
&nb
sp; Mateo nodded. “It doesn’t look good. High winds and more snow tonight. They say it will be blizzard conditions in another hour or so.”
The wind rattled the windows to punctuate Mateo’s claim.
I slumped. “How long is it supposed to last?”
“They say it could blow through overnight, unless it meets another storm front they’re watching. If they meet, the whole thing could stall right over us.”
“So, let me guess, we have to stay off the roads?” Lucas mumbled.
Felix’s shoulders drooped. “Great, we’re locked down with a murderer.”
Mateo’s grimace reflected Felix’s assumption.
After another half an hour, my eyes were refusing to focus properly. I closed my eyes gently and wondered if Felix was right? Was I sitting in a room with a murderer? Even if I was, I decided, I wanted a little nap.
After a few minutes Bumble’s voice came floating through the front door.
A phone rang somewhere in the hall. My eyes popped open to see Justin Tremblé’s eyes frankly studying my face. The phone rang again and Detective Bumble answered.
I sat up straight in my chair. My foggy mind struggled for alertness. Was the phone call about Amélie? Was she conscious? Or dead? I turned to Lucas. His brows were low on his worried face.
I looked across at Justin. Why had he been staring at me? His eyes were lowered now, shielded from mine. Then I heard the dining hall doors open again. I turned, expecting to see police officers, instead I saw Eve, Denise and Gloria.
“Psst,” hissed Denise loudly. Everyone turned to her. Her jowly face reddened. Gloria waved a frail hand at me and smiled.
I waved back.
Eve motioned me over.
I got up, feeling the curious eyes of everyone present, including Lucas. I gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and walked over to join Eve and her new make-shift spy network.
Murder, She Slopes Page 15