by Maddy Hunter
He arched his eyebrows in what I hoped was a sign of acute interest. “I dunno. I—”
“We recently hired a dynamite escort for our in-state tours, and if we paired the two of you, I think we’d create the most engaging team in the entire tour industry. Seriously. The two of you working together could set the world on fire. You’d be the most sought-after duo in travel history.”
He crooked his mouth in a lazy grin. “You have a tendency toward hyperbole, Mrs. Miceli.”
“Maybe a little. But it could work; I know it could. Plus we could offer you full health benefits, including dental.”
He closed his logbook, looking pensive. “So tell me about this tour escort you hired.”
“You’d love her. She’s enthusiastic and funny and…runway model tall…and a fashion icon…and, due to a recent divorce, unattached. Oh yeah, and she’s drop-dead gorgeous. You’d make the perfect couple.” I’d save the part about her being my former husband until later.
“Any dead husbands in her past?”
“Not a one.” I winced. “About Alison, Steele, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. The whole sordid story was so unbelievable. She had us all fooled.”
“One of us in particular. Talk about feeling like an idiot.” He gave his head a woeful shake. “Why don’t you look for that wallet, Mrs. Miceli? The owner is probably freaking out.”
“Right.”
I couldn’t picture where Dick and Helen had been sitting on the drive over, so I began my search at the front of the bus and worked my way back, checking out the seats, the floor, and the magazine and map pockets attached to the seat-backs. Halfway to the rear, I noticed a dark bulge in the seat-back pocket of a window seat, and—with a shout-out of thanks to Saint Anthony—fished Dick’s wallet out of the netting. “Found it!”
Steele laughed. “Told you I couldn’t be trusted.”
After finding a driver’s license that assured me this was Dick’s wallet, I dropped it into my shoulder bag and headed back toward the front of the bus, where Steele was wrestling with a small duffle bag in the overhead compartment directly behind the driver’s seat.
“Bus manufacturers keep shrinking the overheads, and it’s really annoying,” he complained while tugging on the bag. “Man, this thing is really wedged in.”
“I hope there’s nothing breakable inside.”
“Nah. Just my dopp kit and some extra socks and tee shirts.” He wrenched it back and forth with both hands before gliding his fingers beneath the metal framework. “I think the zipper’s snagged on something.” Grunting his frustration, he torqued the bag violently, ripping it out of the enclosure in the same way a demented dentist might extract a tooth.
The zipper tore open, disgorging the contents of the bag into the center aisle like a ruptured piñata. “Oh dear.”
I scooched down, frantically plucking his clean underwear off the dirty floor before the grit and grime from our shoes had a chance to—
I stilled my hand as it hovered over the rumpled tee shirt that was cushioning his cell phone—only it wasn’t Steele’s cell phone.
The case was a laminated sheet of black-and-white newspaper print.
It was Delpha’s cell phone.
I snatched my hand away and stared up at Steele.
“Damn. I wish you hadn’t seen that. I really liked you, Mrs. Miceli.”
Liked?
I eased myself to my feet, mouth dry, heart pounding. I took a step backward. “Why do you have Delpha’s phone?”
“I thought that might be fairly obvious.” His features shifted as if they were carved from melted wax. The lovely curves of his face disappeared…to be replaced by the sharp angles of a ruthless predator. “I took it.”
I said nothing. I didn’t have to. The evidence spoke for itself.
He’d killed Delpha.
I shook my head in utter bewilderment. “Why?”
He gave his shoulder a casual roll. “No reason. It’s what I do.”
He’d killed Delpha.
And now he was going to kill me.
I turned on my heel and ran toward the back of the bus.
The rear exit door was closed.
Damn!
His footsteps pounded close behind me. His breath singed my neck. He lunged for my arm.
I spun around and bashed him with my shoulder bag.
He threw me onto the bench cushion of the back seat and snaked his hands around my throat, his thumbs pressing against my windpipe.
I kicked. I flailed.
His thumbs pressed deeper into my throat.
A haze crept over his face. Spots danced before my eyes. His features seemed to pixelate as I gasped for air.
I flung my hand over my shoulder bag, my fingers grappling with the opening as I groped for something…anything…
I felt something hard. And slick. I clawed at it, my thumb looping through some kind of hole.
I clutched it desperately, locking my fingers around it, remembering what it was. Remembering—
I…couldn’t…breeeeeeeath…
I wrenched it out of my bag and with a final rush of adrenaline, aimed it at Steele’s face and depressed the nozzle.
PSSSSSSSSSSST!
“Aaaaaaargh!”
Slapping his hands over his eyes, he staggered away from me, crashing into chair backs and arms as he ran blindly down the aisle, falling out of sight when he stumbled into the rear stepwell with a thunderous crack of skull against steel.
I heard him cry out in pain, and then I heard nothing at all.
Coughing and wheezing to catch my breath, my eyes stinging with tears, my throat burning in agony, I squinted against the spray and dug out my cell phone. “Help,” I rasped as the message turned itself into text and winged its way to Etienne.
Ten minutes later he found me curled up in the back corner of the bus, Nana’s canister of bear spray still cradled against my chest.
twenty-three
“He collected his victims’ phones as trophies.”
Lieutenant Kitchen relaxed in an armchair in our suite the following morning, filling Etienne and me in on the details of Steele’s arrest.
“Pretty standard fare for serial killers. They take personal items to remind themselves of each kill. A search of his Anchorage apartment last night turned up a whole drawerful of cell phones. I suspect this might be the evidence we need to close a slew of unsolved murder cases.”
I shivered as I cupped my hand around my throat.
I’d been transported by ambulance to a medical clinic in Healy after yesterday’s incident. X-rays showed no internal damage to my throat, although my voice was still raspy and it hurt to swallow. After treating my eyes for exposure to bear spray, they’d released me, and the management at the Majestic had been kind enough to send a shuttle to transport Etienne and me back to the resort.
Steele had been taken by separate ambulance to a different facility, which I appreciated. I didn’t want to run the risk of seeing him again.
Ever.
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Mrs. Miceli, but if you hadn’t discovered Ms. Spillum’s phone, he’d still be running around loose, targeting his next victim. You’re a hero.”
I forced a smile. I didn’t feel like a hero. I felt like an emotional wreck.
“Has he admitted to killing Delpha?” asked Etienne.
“He’s not talking. Thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, so he’s clammed up. But it doesn’t matter if he talks. We’ve got him anyway. Odd thing is, we don’t think he killed Ms. Spillum.”
“What?” I croaked.
“His MO, Mrs. Miceli. He strangled his victims with his bare hands. The pathology showed bruises on Ms. Spillum’s throat from choking, but she didn’t die from strangulation. She died from a fractured skull. Our theory is that s
he fought him off and was successful in breaking away, but in trying to escape, she tripped on a tree root and died instantly when her head hit a rock. But you were right about the cell phone messages. Even though he didn’t kill her, he took her phone, so he was the one who was responding to your texts.”
Which caused me to shiver again.
“And I hope you’ll accept my apologies for refusing to divulge any of the circumstances surrounding Ms. Spillum’s death early in our investigation. We suspected it was our serial killer for two reasons—the bruising around her throat and the fact that she wasn’t carrying a cell phone, which in this day and age is nothing short of an anomaly. None of the other victims were carrying cell phones either, despite the fact that we discovered they all had accounts, so we decided to keep the information under wraps. We didn’t want to release any details to the public that might inspire copycats. You really helped us out when you verified that Ms. Spillum did indeed have her phone with her, Mrs. Miceli. That was invaluable. So once again, we’re in your debt.”
Swallowing painfully, I regarded Kitchen in confusion. “But how was Steele able to be on that mountaintop…without any of us seeing him?” My voice was a hoarse whisper.
“You probably saw him. You just didn’t realize it. He was toting an ample supply of stage make-up around with him. Fake beards and mustaches. Horn-rimmed glasses. Sunglasses. Baseball caps to cover his hair—the most unique of which was a cap with Kermit the Frog drinking a mug of beer. I didn’t even know Kermit was old enough to drink.”
“Oh my god,” I rasped, waving my hand as if to flag him down. “I saw that hat. It was on a man who…wandered through the foyer of the restaurant. And he wandered into the bar area too…because Bernice Zwerg snapped a picture of him. It’s…in the photo gallery on her phone. Etienne can give you her room number.”
“This just keeps getting better, Mrs. Miceli.” He jotted Bernice’s name down in his notebook. “I don’t believe I’m premature in saying we’ve nailed the bastard.”
He stood up abruptly. “I’ll be leaving now so you two good people can resume your holiday.” He snugged his hat on his head. “I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to press charges against Mr. Steele for assault with intent to kill. We can add it to the list. We’ve already begun contacting bus companies in the lower forty-eight about his employment history with them. I expect to find a direct link between cold case strangulation deaths and the areas where Mr. Steele traveled. And of course, we have the corroborating evidence of the cell phones.” He nodded in my direction. “Hope you recover real quick, Mrs. Miceli. Are you folks planning to head out this afternoon?”
Etienne chuckled as we escorted Kitchen to the door. “We’re minus a bus driver, Lieutenant, so we’ll be here until a substitute can make his way up to Denali. I’m told it could be another day or two, which isn’t unwelcome news. I think everyone could use some time to decompress.”
“You could be stuck in worse places.” Kitchen stepped into the hallway. “By the way, we’ve finally gotten through to the sister in Mongolia, so we’re cleared to release Ms. Spillum’s name to the public. The sister plans to make a stopover in Anchorage on her way back to Iowa to coordinate arrangements for Ms. Spillum’s body, so I thought you’d be happy to hear that.”
Etienne nodded. “Mrs. Thorsen needs to make similar arrangements for her husband’s remains, so perhaps they can coordinate their efforts.” He clasped Kitchen’s hand in a farewell shake. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“I’m the one who’s thankful,” Kitchen said in a humble tone. “Your wife has literally saved the lives of countless women. Pretty invaluable stuff.”
He offered us a brisk salute before heading down the corridor. Etienne circled his arm around my shoulders and hugged me against him, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Did you hear the lieutenant, bella? You’re a hero.”
A knot vibrated in my throat, choking off words I wanted to speak but couldn’t—words of terror and relief and gratitude. But all I could do was nod feebly while clinging to this man who meant more to me than life itself.
“You got a minute?” Ennis Iversen called to us from halfway down the hall.
“What can we do for you?” asked Etienne, inviting him into the room as he approached.
Fighting to regain my composure, I sucked in a calming breath and stiffened my spine as we sat down in the small living area.
“Lorraine’s been found,” he said without emotion.
I stared at him in silence, fearing the worst. “Is she…?”
“She’s fine. Boy, is she.”
Etienne paused. “I’m not sure I know what that means.”
Ennis tapped his cell phone screen. “Have you watched the video you sent us yesterday, Emily?”
Jackie’s Green Acres video. “Only about a minute’s worth,” I rasped. “Then I got called away”—Etienne squeezed my hand—“to look for Dick’s wallet.”
“Well, no one else has apparently watched it all either. Except me. I stuck with it all the way to the end.” He leaned forward in his chair to hand the phone to Etienne. “I’ve paused it at the fifteen-minute mark, which is basically the penultimate Kodak moment, but you can press play if you want.”
We studied the still image on the screen—an attractive middle-aged woman feeding cotton candy into the mouth of a balding man—her sultry smile hinting at how much she enjoyed their playful teasing, his arm curled possessively around her waist, suggesting that he couldn’t get enough of her. They looked as deliriously happy as newlyweds, except—
“Omigod.” I did a quick double-take. “Is that Lorraine?” She’d accompanied Ennis to all our pre-tour meetings, so I’d seen her on several occasions.
“She looks good on video, doesn’t she? Yup, that’s Lorraine. Not lying in an isolated cornfield in Iowa. Not holed up in an exotic hut in Tahiti. But hiding in plain sight.” He tossed his hand out in anger. “What better place to hide, right? In a freaking agricultural theme park a hundred and fifty miles from home.” His voice grew louder. “With freaking Al Arnesen!”
“Al Arnesen?” I squeaked. “Orphie’s husband?”
“Yes, Orphie’s husband. The little weasel. You don’t recognize him? I guess you don’t watch the local access channel that broadcasts the city council meetings.”
“But…Al’s in North Carolina. On a business trip.”
“No, he’s not. He’s standing outside a cotton candy concession in Iowa waiting for my wife to stuff a hunk of spun sugar into his mouth.”
“But…he called her from North Carolina.”
“And Orphie stuck to that story too, until I played the video for her. There was no business trip. The meeting with the would-be real estate developer? All lies. Al instigated the lie, and Orphie continued to perpetuate it when he stopped calling her. Provided good cover. I guess she was trying to avoid the indignity of being utterly humiliated in front of all her friends.”
I regarded the image again in disbelief. “Al Arnesen and Lorraine?”
“Go ahead,” said Ennis as he nodded toward his phone. “Press play.”
Etienne tapped the screen, giving life to the figures in the image. So we watched as Al sucked the sticky wad of cotton candy into his mouth, his eyes lighting up when Lorraine stuffed the opposite end into her own mouth and began eating her way toward him, their mouths eventually smacking together in a loud, unapologetic kiss. With unmistakable tongue action.
Eww.
My heart went out to Ennis and Orphie, but on a brighter note, at least I’d be spared the task of having to explain the concept of eminent domain to my dad.
“Have you notified Chief Burns?” asked Etienne as he pressed stop.
“You bet. He’s notified the local authorities, and they’re sending an officer to pick her up and hold her until he arrives. It’s not a crime to run away with someone else’s spouse, bu
t when it entails cleaning out bank accounts without authorization, you’re walking on thin ice.”
Etienne handed him back his cell phone, which he held in his palm for a long moment, studying it with hollow eyes.
“Are you going to be all right, Ennis?” I asked in a quiet voice.
He laughed ruefully. “Eventually. Right now I feel like crap, but don’t worry. I won’t do anything foolish. And I’ve decided not to fly home prematurely. I want to be here for Florence in case she needs me. Florence and I…we’ll see each other through the worst of this catastrophe.”
He boosted himself to his feet. “Orphie’s a mess, though, so she might need some TLC. Sorry to drop the burning embers of this dumpster fire in your lap right now, but I figured you’d want to know.” He threw a sympathetic look my way. “Hope those bruises aren’t as sore as they look, Emily. Hell of a business the two of you are in. Have you ever thought of switching careers to something less hazardous…like, say, skydiving?”
While Etienne ushered him out, I unlocked our sliding glass door and stepped out on the balcony, where the sun could warm my chilled bones. A broad swath of manicured lawn swept toward a copse of fir trees on the perimeter of the resort. Beyond that rose the craggy peaks of the mountain ranges that formed Alaska’s backbone—razor-sharp and haloed by formations of puffy clouds.
Etienne came up close behind me, his hands capping my shoulders. “Hopefully this is the end of it.”
“I wish that once, just once…we could enjoy a tour without losing anyone. Do you think that’ll ever happen?”
“Maybe next time?”
I watched as a flock of birds soared above the woodland, squawking at the trees below. “At least my scheme to hire Steele as a permanent bus driver in Iowa didn’t pan out. Please don’t tell Jackie, but I almost fixed her up with a serial killer.”
With the birds still squawking, I lowered my gaze to the forest floor, noticing a shadow amid the trees—a tall linear-shaped shadow. And it wasn’t stationary.
It was moving. Very slowly. Prowling. Skulking.