by Karen Woods
“Thank you. I’ll be here for meals. May I have my key? There is parking near the cabin?”
“Directly in front. It’s number seven. Just follow the road around about a quarter mile. It’s the last cabin on your left. You should have plenty of privacy. There is a good cross-country ski run between the lodge and the cabins, if you would prefer to leave your car parked.”
“Thank you.”
Edwards had switched cars in town, dumping his rented BMW and renting a four-wheel-drive Eagle. The fake credit cards would be useless after this job, but that was why he kept the counterfeit plastic.
There were times that he knew that he wasn’t paid enough for the work. But, then again, he knew that he would have taken this job, even if it hadn’t paid a cent, just for the sake of paying back General O’Shay. Now, all he had to do was to set up the situation where he could get off a clean shot at Margaret Mary O’Shay.
Chapter 5
Maggie smiled at Hunt as he came to a halt at the base of the slope. She had beaten him down by less than ten seconds. Hunt was a good skier. She would never have won, except that she had the feeling that he was holding back, just a bit.
Hunt pushed up his goggles. “You cheated.”
“Cheat? Moi?”
“Cheat. Vous.”
“Never,” she replied with a mischievous laugh.
“Yeah, and I’m the Pope.”
“Forgive me, Your Holiness. I failed to recognize you.”
“Another run, before breakfast?”
“Why not?”
The man who had registered under the name of Edwards watched from his seated position behind a tree at the top of the ridge. It would be so easy to shoot both of them, he thought as he reached for the large .44 pistol he wore in the small of his back.
He sighted in on Maggie. He fired the suppressed .44 auto mag, twice.
A dull thud, quickly followed by another, echoed down the hills.
Hunt watched Maggie grasp her chest and fall backwards.
“Maggie!” Hunt cried in concern as he threw himself onto the snow beside her.
“I’m okay. Don’t say anything,” Maggie whispered without moving her lips. “Look concerned, grieved. He could still be there, watching us, to make certain that he killed me.”
“You’re hit?” Hunt demanded.
“I’m not injured. But, we can’t let the shooter know that. Not yet, at any rate.”
Hunt winked at her. “Lady, you are something else,” he said with approval in his voice as he rose slightly, blocking her from view of the hill.
“Let’s just hope that we stay alive long enough for us to find out what,” she whispered. “Do you suppose that he’s still there?”
“You’re hit,” Hunt said softly as he looked at the two holes in her new ski jacket.
“Thank God for Rusty’s body armor,” Maggie replied in a whisper.
Hunt freed his boots from the skis. Then he loosened her boots from the skis and gently scooped her up into his arms.
Maggie moaned.
“Lie motionless. If we are being watched, he might be fooled.”
“I’ll try. But I think that I probably have a cracked rib or two,” she said tightly. “It hurts, badly.”
“Hang in there, Maggie. We’ll be back to the lodge in fifteen minutes. It’s faster skiing, but I can’t ski and carry you.”
“I can walk, Hunt.”
“Can’t take the chance if he’s still watching.”
Edwards returned his key to Helen at the reception desk.
“Leaving us so soon?” Helen asked.
“Yeah. I’ve stolen about all the time for myself that I can arrange,” he said regretfully. “But, I’ll be back when I can be sure that I have more time.”
“We’ll be happy to have to return,” Helen said warmly. “Drive safely.”
“Always do.”
“Hunt!” Helen called a few minutes later as she saw her son enter the foyer carrying Maggie.
“Call Doc Greer, now,” Hunt called to his mother. “Tell her that we are on our way to the clinic. Give me the keys for the van.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Someone shot at Maggie. Just call Doc,” Hunt snapped as he took the keys.
The clinic was about a mile away.
“Hunt,” Maggie said from her position lying on the second bench in the van. “Is there any need to identify this as a gunshot?”
Hunt was silent for a long moment. “Why wouldn’t you want to?”
“I promised Michael that I wouldn’t harm his election campaign.”
Hunt uttered a stream of curses that would have made a Marine blush. “Listen to me, Margaret Mary O’Shay! Listen well. Michael McLaughlin can go to the devil for all I care. But, I want to find the shooter. The police are best equipped for that.”
“The publicity . . . .”
“Damn the publicity. Someone tried to kill you.”
“It isn’t the first time,” Maggie replied dryly.
“The shooter could have killed me, as well.”
Maggie gave a ragged sigh. “Maybe it isn’t such a good idea for us to explore this relationship any further. I don’t want to cause you to be harmed. I don’t think that I could live with that.”
“Just do me a favor Maggie mine. Shut up,” Hunt said with feeling as he parked the van. “Now, we are going into Doc’s office and get an x-ray of that chest to check for broken ribs. I’m not going to let you run from this, Maggie.”
‘Doc’ Gwen Greer was a sturdily built woman in her late sixties who ran a one woman clinic out of an extensively remodeled store front in a small town about a mile from Hunt’s parent’s lodge. Part of the building was dedicated to Gwen Greer’s practice. The other part of the building was her living quarters.
Hunt rang the bell. One of his arms was around Maggie.
“Bring her in, Hunter. Gunshot, your mother said?”
Maggie cleared her throat. “Possible broken ribs,” Maggie corrected.
Gwen looked at her. “Come in. Let’s take a look at you.”
Hunt walked along side the women as far as the examination room. When he started to go in with her, Maggie looked at him and smiled. “Unless you are planning on practicing medicine without a license, I would suggest that you stay out here.”
Hunt laughed. “Now, I know that you will be fine.”
“Don’t make me laugh. I suspect that laughter would hurt just now.”
Hunt kissed her forehead. “Go with Doc. I’ll be right here.”
“You are one lucky young woman,” Gwen Greer said finally after the examination and looking at the x-ray which she had taken. “The damage could have been much worse than two cracked ribs and some bruises. That flak jacket saved your life.”
“I know. I shake every time that I think I almost didn’t wear the body armor today. I’m sure that the shooter intended for any medical examination to have been a formality,” Maggie said quietly.
“And it would have been without the body armor.”
“As soon as we are done here, the police will be waiting to take your statement,” Gwen said. “I called them as soon as Helen called me.”
Maggie nodded. “I understand.”
Officer Ned White was a middle-aged, balding, slightly overweight, cop who had spent far more of his career sitting in a patrol car catching speeding motorists than investigating violence. Unfortunately, it showed.
Coupled with that obvious discomfort at this investigation was the fact that the officer had been listening to the radio before he had answered the call. Michael’s announcement that he would be seeking the Republican nomination had apparently been featured prominently on the news.
Gwen Greer had made her kitchen available to them for the questioning. Maggie, Hunt, and Ned White sat around the table and drank coffee.
“You want to tell me,” Officer White asked quietly, “Why you were wearing a bulletproof vest?”
So she told him.
“Do you think that your friend could have arranged for a dramatic demonstration of the effectiveness of her new body armor design?” Officer White asked pointedly.
“Absolutely not. Rusty wouldn’t do that to me.”
“You sound sure about that.”
“I trust Rusty. Implicitly. There are only a handful of people whom I trust that thoroughly. Rusty would never do anything to harm me.”
“Then could this have been related to your stepfather?”
“What do you mean?”
“Could someone have used you for target practice as a way of getting at your stepfather?”
Maggie sighed. “I don’t know. The only way that we are going to find that out is to catch the shooter. What are you doing in that regard? Besides, hassling me, I mean?”
Officer White stiffened visibly.
Hunt finished his coffee. “Are we about ready to go here?”
Maggie changed clothes when she got back at the lodge. She was sitting on the bed in her room, speaking on the telephone, when Helen walked in.
“Senator McLaughlin, please. This is his stepdaughter, Margaret. Michael? Yes, it’s me. I thought that you should know that someone tried to kill me this morning, early. No, I am not kidding. Do you really think that I would joke about something like this? Two shots. Yes. I was hit. No, I’m fine. I was wearing body armor. Pure luck Michael. Pure luck. But without it, you would have been talking with an undertaker just now.”
Helen watched Maggie’s face. That was one young woman in pain. Hunt’s mother did not miss the gaping bullet holes in Maggie’s jacket as that garment lay on the table. Nor did she miss the strange-looking set of long johns that lay folded next to the jacket.
“No, Michael. I don’t think so. I don’t think that going back to the estate would be a good idea. I’ve never been one to be able to hide from trouble, and I’m not going to start now. I don’t know what my plans are. Don’t worry about me,” she said flatly.
Maggie rolled her eyes as she listened to her stepfather.
“Forget it, Michael,” she cut him off sharply. “There is no way that I’m going to stand still for that. I’ve never handled bodyguards very well, you know that. Sooner or later, Michael, I’d get so tired of them that I would shake them. Probably, with disastrous results. I wouldn’t be responsible for that, Michael. Not a chance. I just thought that I should tell you this before the press did. I owe you that much. Goodbye, Michael.”
Susan walked into Michael’s study. “What’s wrong?” she demanded as she saw her pale husband staring off into the distance.
“Someone just tried to kill Daisy.”
“Tried? She’s all right, isn’t she?” Susan asked hesitantly.
“For now, at least.”
“Who would want to kill her?”
“I don’t know. But, when I find out,” Michael said fiercely, “Whoever it is will regret the day that he was born.”
Helen looked at Maggie. “Are you all right?”
“Stiff, sore, and generally ill used,” Maggie replied. “But, I am very thankful to be alive.”
Helen looked at the young woman on the bed. “I’d say that your guardian angel was looking out for you.”
Maggie nodded. “It seems that way, doesn’t it.”
“There are reporters downstairs wanting a statement from you.”
“Somehow, I don’t doubt it.”
“Why were you wearing body armor?”
Maggie smiled slightly at the reporters. “That is about the tenth time that I’ve been asked that question. The answer is that a friend of mine designed a line of lightweight, threat level three, body armor. I was reviewing the equipment at her request with an eye towards evaluating its long term comfort and range of motion. It seemed like a good way of evaluating mobility to try it out on the slope.”
“Who developed the body armor?” another reporter asked.
“If I gave you her name, this would seem like a publicity stunt. When she is ready to unveil the line, she’ll do so. Until then, I have nothing more to say about the body armor.”
“Who shot at you?”
“If I knew, do you honestly think that I would be standing here talking with you?” Maggie asked.
There was a trickle of laughter around the handful of reporters, print and television, who had gathered in the foyer of the Inn.
“What kind of chances do you think that your stepfather has in his run for the presidency?”
“Frankly, I believe that Michael could easily be the best president that this country has ever had,” Maggie stated firmly. “He’s a good man, a strong man, an honest man. He has my full and unequivocal support in his run for the Oval Office.”
“Did you falsify this alleged attempt on your life in order to get publicity for Michael McLaughlin?” another reporter asked.
Maggie’s eyes flashed out her anger. “I happen to like living far too much to purposefully let someone to try to put two large caliber slugs into me, whether I’m wearing body armor or not. Further, I resent that question since it impugns both my character and Michael’s. I ended up with two broken ribs out of the attack on me. I really don’t have the patience to endure both my discomfort and those sort of grossly impertinent, nearly slanderous, questions. Good day to you all.”
“Ladies, gentlemen, Miss O’Shay has been through enough today,” Hunt said.
“Is it true that you and Miss O’Shay are engaged, Mr. Thomas?” a reporter asked.
Hunt merely smiled at them, then looked tenderly at Maggie.
“Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” Maggie stated gently, but firmly, bringing an end to the questioning.
Maggie could have hidden in her room for the remainder of the day. But, she stayed downstairs. Maggie had practically had to beg Helen to give her something to do. But, then, Helen had relented, putting Maggie to making desserts for dinner.
The man who called himself Edwards listened to the televised evening news. He cursed violently when he heard that Margaret O’Shay escaped an attempt on her life. His curses became more vehement when the question and answer session with Maggie appeared on the television.
From a darkened room, illumined only by the light of a computer monitor, skilled hands quickly left a message on the computer bulletin board for another former U.S. soldier, now soldier of fortune. Maybe this one would have better luck in eliminating Mary Margaret O’Shay.
The Thomas family and Maggie sat around the dinner table after a late dinner. No one had spoken of the morning’s incident.
Maggie spoke softly. “I’m sorry for bringing this trouble on you. And thank you all for running interference for me with the press.”
Helen shook her head negatively. “Don’t worry about it. We just feel sorry that we weren’t better able to provide for your security.”
Maggie shook her head. “Don’t you worry about that. If someone really wants me dead, there’s very little that any of us could do to stop the attempt.”
Each of the Thomas’ family members looked at her. Maggie sipped her coffee while avoiding looking any of them in the eye.
“Maggie,” Jason asked quietly. “Do you think that you are still in danger?”
“I’d say that was a strong possibility,” Maggie replied. “I don’t want to see any of you become an accidental victim of any attempt on my life.”
Hank said, fiercely, “We stand by our own, Maggie. You are one of our own.”
She looked at Hunt’s father. “I really don’t want to see any of you hurt.”
Hank nodded. “You are your father’s daughter, all right. I can’t think of any other female who would take this so calmly,” he said, smiling approvingly.
“Calm? Oh, I’m not calm. But what good would hysterics do?” Maggie questioned.
Hank nodded approvingly. “I like you, Maggie O’Shay. When are you going to formally join the Thomas family?”
Hunt looked at his father. “I’m glad that you approve of Maggie, Dad. But that de
cision is strictly between Maggie and me.”
Daniel and Jason both laughed. Then Daniel said softly, only half-teasingly, “Hunter, if you don’t want to marry her, I’ll take her.”
Hunt glared at his brother. “Back off, Danny.”
Maggie took Hunt’s hand. “Easy.”
“How are you feeling, Maggie mine?”
“Angry. If I could get my hands on the shooter. Well, I don’t want to even think about what I would like to do to that man.”
“I know that feeling,” Helen replied tightly. “And to think, the police believe that it may have been that nice Mr. Edwards.”
Hunt smiled. “Mom, you would find something nice to say about Jack the Ripper.”
“There was nothing nice about anyone who tried to kill Maggie,” Helen said sharply.
A general silence followed.
“Maggie mine,” Hunt said, breaking the silence. “That chocolate cake was wonderful.”
“Another reason to marry the girl, Hunter,” Hank said teasingly. “A beautiful, intelligent, woman who can cook. What a treasure.”
“Henry . . . .” Helen warned.
Hank tried to look angelic.
Maggie laughed then she grimaced. “Don’t make me laugh, please.”
“Sorry, Maggie,” Hank said in concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not going to complain about a few bruises and two cracked ribs,” Maggie stated tightly. “I’m not going to complain at all.”
“Anyone want to play ‘Scrabble’?” Daniel asked.
“That’s pretty tame for you, little brother,” Hunt observed.
“True, but Mary Alice is out of town,” Daniel replied mischievously.
“If you all will excuse me, I think that I would like to go to bed,” Maggie said.
“Of course, Maggie mine,” Hunt said, his voice gentle. “Shall I walk you to your room?”
Maggie nodded.
His family watched Hunt and Maggie leave the dining room. Hunt’s arm was around her waist, as though to steady her.