“She’s the mother of your new admirer?”
“Cut it out. James is just an old friend. But you’re right. His mother’s been remarried and out of the picture for decades. She must be in her late sixties by now.”
“I’ll put her down as unlikely. Who’s next?”
“James, I guess.”
We were interrupted when Captain, the older and more experienced llama, got to his feet from his kushed position and hummed a soft mrrrr that meant something had caught his attention. I walked over to where he stood and trained my flashlight beam into the dark forest. The light reflected back from a pair of eyes that I hoped belonged to a deer. Nick came up behind me and trained a stronger beam in the same direction. We both watched as a small doe turned on dainty hooves and slipped into the darkness.
“Let’s get back to counting O’Briens.” Nick glanced at his notes. “We were just getting to your old friend James.”
“He’s another unlikely. He wasn’t around when Cody died.”
“That doesn’t necessarily rule him out. He could have a partner in crime.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” I prodded the fire, producing a gentle flame. “He went through an expensive divorce and he may be hoping to inherit something when Seamus dies, but I can’t believe he would kill his brother. Cody called him from the hospital. He trusted James, had something he wanted to tell him.”
“But James doesn’t know what that was?”
“No. He knows his father wants to change his will, but he doesn’t know why.”
“Why doesn’t James just ask his father?”
“I don’t know, Nick. Maybe he will. Maybe he already has.”
“Does James know who his father’s lawyers are? Or whether Seamus has assigned anyone as his Power of Attorney?”
“That never came up, and I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable asking James.”
“No, don’t. If James volunteers that information, fine, but someone has already killed once, and you can’t afford to make yourself a target.” Flames from the fire cast meager light on Nick’s grim expression. “For now, let’s get back to this list. How many more O’Briens are there?”
“We’re almost finished. There’s Seamus’s present wife, Echo, and Keely, his youngest child.”
“What do you know about them?”
“From what I saw the other day at the market, Keely hates Echo and the feeling is mutual.”
“Any idea why?”
“They’re both used to being pampered by Seamus. I’d say jealousy is a big part of it.”
“Did we miss anyone?” Nick flipped to a new page in his notebook.
“No. But there is another person close to Seamus. He could become family one of these days.”
“Who’s that?”
“Keely’s boyfriend, Tucker Potkotter.”
“Potkotter? Isn’t he a farrier?”
“He was. I think he tried working as a hunting guide for a while, too. Maybe still shoes a few horses, but he’s employed by Seamus now. Learning taxidermy from the master.”
Nick added Tucker’s name to his list. “That takes care of the O’Briens, but it isn’t getting us any closer to finding your friend Laurie. Or to knowing how she’s involved in Cody’s death. What else can you tell me about her?”
“She was on duty the night Cody left the hospital. The next morning, on the same day he died in the Timbergate ER, she called in and resigned from her job at TMC. Now she’s disappeared.”
“But she called you.”
“She called me, then she called Cleo asking for me.”
“Then she called you again and left the Game Boy message?”
“Yes. And I think there’s some connection to the hospital in all of this.”
“Care to speculate?”
“Cody’s urologist is a woman, and she has a thing for another doctor on the staff, someone Laurie may have been involved with.”
“This is starting to sound like a soap opera. If Cody O’Brien wasn’t part of this love triangle, what does it have to do with his death?”
“I wish I knew. It’s just that Cody was admitted with a serious injury to his testicle, and his surgery was scheduled for very early the next morning. Laurie was his nurse that night, and by morning, Cody was dead and Laurie was gone.”
“And you think this woman doctor was so ticked off about the aborted surgery that she decided to murder both of them?” I heard the skepticism in his voice.
“I know it sounds crazy, but Dr. Poole is an unusual woman. Not necessarily in a good way. She’s actually pretty scary.”
“Is she also pretty?”
I recalled seeing her come to life on the bandstand at Margie’s. “She can be.” I told Nick about Dr. Poole taking Laurie’s place in Code Blues and her obvious crush on Tobias Fausset.
“But she isn’t dating this Fausset exclusively?”
“I don’t think so. But I think she’d like to be.”
“Why don’t you introduce me?”
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m serious.” Nick prodded the campfire’s dying embers. “If we don’t find Laurie up here, it might be a good idea for me to get to know the infamous Dr. Poole.”
I had to admit that he was probably right.
Chapter 13
We broke camp at first light, working with clumsy fingers stiff from the cold. Breakfast was a quick meal of high-protein trail bars washed down with instant coffee. I packed the tent and sleeping bags while Nick saddled the animals.
He poured our leftover coffee water on the charred remains of our campfire and turned the ashes with a folding camp shovel. We both knew a live ember could smolder unnoticed in the duff for more than a week, then erupt into an inferno.
I used a small rake to scatter the llamas’ droppings into the underbrush, then naturalized our campsite by spreading pine needles and twigs where the llamas had raked it with their sharp toenails. Nick stood in the damp fire pit checking for any hint of warmth coming through the soles of his boots.
“Satisfied?” I said.
“It’s good.” He untied Captain’s lead rope. “Let’s scout Eiler next. If we don’t see anything, we’ll try the higher lakes.”
I shrugged into my backpack. “Let’s go. I’m freezing. If Laurie’s hiding up here, she’s got to be miserable.” The trek generated some welcome body heat. We hiked without talking, our silence broken only by twigs underfoot or the faint hum of a commercial airliner far over our heads.
Lake Eiler was bathed in full light and appeared deserted when we arrived. It was the last of the three lower lakes on our list, and four times as large as the others. We tied the llamas to sun-bleached logs in a grassy clearing. Heads down, they ripped into the tender green shoots.
We shed our backpacks and inspected the two closest campsites. In one, the rocks from the fire ring were scattered, and what traces of ash remained were overlaid with forest debris. Nothing suggested the site had been used recently. I walked over to where Nick squatted on his haunches near the site of another fire ring.
“Anything?”
“Someone’s been here recently,” he said. “These ashes aren’t very old.”
“Can you tell how recent?”
“I’d guess within a few days, but don’t get your hopes up. It could have been anyone.”
I looked around. “What about these boot prints? They look pretty fresh.”
“They are, but anyone could have made them.”
“They’re not very big.” I placed my foot next to one of the prints. “Here, put your boot down on the other side.” He did. It was obvious the boot print was closer to my size than his.
“Could be a woman,” Nick said. “Or a kid. Or a guy with dainty feet.”
“How many other prints do you see as fresh as these?”
Nick gave me a quick look—the one he uses when I have a good idea and he hasn’t thought of it first.
After scouring the camp site, we agreed there
was only one set of fairly fresh prints—woman-sized boots with a distinctive heel tread. Three slash lines divided the heel into four segments.
Searching the east side of the lake, we found only animal tracks. Most were made by deer, but there was one bear print, confirmed by a rank-smelling pile of scat in the grass a few feet from the shore.
“I hope she didn’t cross paths with a bear,” I said.
“I doubt it. Bears are generally shy. And you’re still assuming these are your friend’s prints.”
“They might be, and they’re all we have right now. Let’s keep going.”
“Okay. I just don’t want to see you disappointed.”
“I know. Laurie isn’t a close friend, but for some reason, she called me when she was in trouble. I feel responsible for her.”
“You have no idea why she chose you to call?”
“Not really. We’ve eaten lunch together a few times in the cafeteria.”
“Did she ever confide in you about anything? Her job? Her love life?”
“No, we never talked about anything personal.”
“There must be some reason. Does she know you’re a black belt?”
“You know, that did come up. She wanted to start classes.”
“Does she know you can shoot?”
“Now that you mention it, she does. We talked once about women and self-defense. Do you think that’s why she called me when she needed help?”
“That, among other things.” He laughed.
I frowned at him. “What’s funny?”
“You don’t know, do you?” He reached an arm around my shoulders. “You’re a five-foot-four-inch little girl on the outside, but on the inside, I swear you’re an 800-pound gorilla.”
“Thanks a lot. I thought you were going to say something about my brains.”
“Hey, you don’t need anyone to remind you that you’re smart.”
“I wish I felt smarter right now. The more I try to make sense of this whole thing, the more confused I feel.”
“Then let’s stop talking and start walking.”
When we rounded the south end and started back up the west side, the trail gave out, obscured by foot-high shore grass and dark gray lava rock. Halfway back to our starting point, we came to a grove of aspens with golden leaves shimmering and chattering in the breeze. A makeshift lean-to constructed of bleached, long-dead tree limbs sat at the base of the aspens’ slender white trunks. Near it I spotted a bit of wet ash.
“Nick, look.” I pointed at the wet dirt. One partial print matched the prints we’d been following.
“I see it.” He dropped to a knee. “You’re right. It’s a match.”
I reached down and picked up a charred scrap. “Look at this. It’s a bit of burned paper. I can make out four numbers and they look familiar.”
Nick took the paper from my fingers and held it up, turning it in the light.
“I think it’s a matchbook. Maybe the numbers are part of a phone number or an address.”
“That’s it,” I said. “The numbers are Margie’s street address.”
“Who’s Margie?”
“Margie’s Bean Pot. Across the street from the hospital. Code Blues performs there.”
“Okay, slow down.” Nick said. “You’re going to have to translate for me.”
“Laurie played piano and sang in the hospital’s blues combo. I thought I told you.”
“You did, but I didn’t know they were called Code Blues. You think this matchbook proves Laurie was at this campsite?”
“It can’t be a coincidence. She was here. We just missed her.”
“Hold it.” Nick’s eyes narrowed. He pointed to a spot at the edge of the lean-to.
“I see it.” Another fresh print. But larger than Laurie’s. “It looks like someone tried to cover the prints, or sweep them away.”
“Right, but they missed this one. It’s as fresh as the smaller print.”
“Maybe she met someone here who could help her hide.”
“Or someone who overpowered her,” Nick said.
“There you go again.”
“Okay, have it your way. Let’s assume she arranged to meet someone here. You know her—better than I do, anyway. Do you have any idea who it could be and where they would go?”
“We only have a few mutual acquaintances, and they all work at TMC.”
“Anyone who might have missed work the past day or two?”
“No one comes to mind. There are more than five hundred employees at the hospital. Laurie must have friends I don’t know about.”
“It might not be someone from the hospital.” Nick poked at the duff with a stick. “There are three trailheads feeding into these lakes. If she and this alleged friend left before we came in, they could have used any one of them.”
“I know, but the ashes are still damp. They might have been here this morning, so there’s a chance she’s alive, and with a friend.”
“We can’t assume anything, no matter how much—”
A sudden staccato blast split the air above our heads. Nick dove at me, shoving me to the ground and shielding me with his body. I covered my ears against the noise and waited for a painful, bloody death.
When the rat-a-tat barrage ceased I felt no pain, just Nick’s weight on my back and pine-scented dirt filling my nostrils. I wriggled under Nick until I got my elbows propped up and my face out of the dirt.
“Get off. I can’t breathe.”
Nick rolled to one side and looked up into the trees. “Damn pileated woodpecker. I should have shot it.”
My mouth was full of grit and pine needles. I spat, ran my tongue over my teeth and spat again. “A woodpecker made that racket?”
“Dryocopus pileatus. Loud as a jackhammer when they start pecking.”
“Thanks for the biology lesson. If you knew what it was, why did you tackle me?”
“I wasn’t taking any chances.” He pulled out a kerchief and wet it from his water bottle. “Here, your nose is brown.” When he held the bandana out to me, his fingers trembled. Mr. Cool had lost it over a bird.
I wiped at my face. “You actually thought someone was shooting at us?”
“A potential murder witness is on the run. She tried to contact you and now we’re trying to find her. That’s enough to put us in someone’s sights.” Nick trained his binoculars toward the clearing where we’d left the llamas.
“Are they okay?”
“They’re fine.” He picked up his pack. “If you’re through cleaning your face, we might as well head back. You’re in charge of chores at the ranch tonight, aren’t you?”
I handed him the wet kerchief. “Harry can do them if we’re late. Maybe we should check the other two trailheads before we go home.”
“Not a bad idea. It would take them longer to hike out if they’re using the Bunchgrass trailhead. We might intercept them on the road.”
We made good time on the downhill trek to the truck and trailer. Nick drove west on the highway until we reached the entrance road to the Bunchgrass trailhead. As we slowed to turn in, a black Ford F150 pulled out of the trailhead road on our right with his blinker signaling a left turn. The driver wore reflective sunglasses and a billed cap in a camo pattern. The passenger, a dark-haired, dark-skinned woman, glanced our way for a moment. The driver barely cleared the front of our truck with a tight left turn that headed him in the direction we had just come from. He hit the gas, and the black truck sped off. In my side-view mirror I watched it disappear around a curve in the road behind us.
“Nick, that woman—she looked exactly like Laurie.”
“Did she look distressed?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Do you think she recognized you?”
“I don’t know.”
A driver behind us honked and waved his arm, impatient to get moving. Nick pulled off the highway and cut his engine. “Did you see the plate number?”
“Not all of it—too much dust—but it was an
Idaho plate. I saw a two and the letter C.”
He took a pencil and notebook from his glove compartment. “Okay, we’ve got that, and it was black. I saw the four by four decal on the rear fender. What else?”
“The cab had four doors. What do they call that?”
“Crew cab. You’re sure about the four doors?”
“Yes. But I don’t see how any of this is going to help us. They’re going the opposite direction and we don’t know where they’re headed.”
“Looks like they’re headed for Idaho, but we can’t chase after them with two llamas hitched to our behind.” He handed me the pencil and notebook. “Here, in case you think of anything else about that pickup. Right now, we have to take Jack’s animals home.”
I wanted to argue, but Nick was right. We had to go home. Even so, knowing I might have seen Laurie and that we were headed in opposite directions was unbearable.
Half an hour later, something I’d been trying to recall clawed its way to the surface.
“Idaho. That’s where Cody O’Brien’s wife was injured. It was at a rodeo somewhere near Boise. She was flown to Timbergate Medical Center with a brain injury and died in the ICU.”
“Didn’t you say she was kicked in the head by her horse?”
“Yes. Spooky, isn’t it? Both of them dying the same way. Except—”
“Except your friend said Cody’s horse is innocent.” Nick drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “It’s been a while since I’ve flown to Idaho. What do you say we visit the Gem of the Mountains?”
“Really, you’d do that?”
“Might as well. I have to log a little flight time. A trip to Idaho sounds about right.”
Chapter 14
When we pulled into the driveway at the Highland Ranch, Harry and Ginger greeted us on Jack and Amah’s front porch. Ginger’s tail spun in ecstasy, and when Nick bent to scratch her ears, she anointed his cheek with a few slobbered kisses.
“Any luck?” Harry said.
We filled him in and told him about our planned flight to Idaho.
“Idaho, huh?” The satisfied gleam in his eye told me what he thought of Nick and me thrown together for another two days. He readily promised to watch the ranch while we were gone. Ginger got a final pat on the head, and Harry took off in his shiny red Jag.
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