His hands were shaking as he turned the key in the starter. He tried to get his breathing under control, knowing he needed to be clear-headed for this. He had to get a plan together and look perfectly reasonable if he were actually stopped by Portland PD.
He drove the speed limit along the streets to the first place he saw to turn off. Under the bright lights of a convenience store parking lot, Seth read the postcard, hating Aimee with white-hot hatred. He wanted to burn holes in the postcard with his x-ray eyes, wanted it to singe her even in Montana.
Spanner, Montana, according to the postmark.
He tried to think over the pounding, chanting bloodlust in his mind. He could find a hotel and get a plane in the morning. But his body was humming with wild, random energy; he felt like he could drive there in one long stretch. In fact, he was eager to do just that. He checked the fuel gauge. It was still full; he’d only driven from the airport. He’d head to Montana tonight. No time like the present.
But just as he put the car in reverse, a police cruiser pulled behind him, blocking him in.
Twelve
Guy Theriot, the NTSB agent in charge of the Flight 134 investigation, glanced at his watch and winced. He’d told his boss he would be late but this was really pushing it. Francesca’s IVF treatments were causing him to lose a lot of time at work. He felt vaguely guilty about it, but more guilty about not being able to do more for his wife. It was another blow when they sat in the doctor’s office and were told that no, she wasn’t pregnant. The latest round – their fifth – had been another failure.
“We’ll try again,” Guy said in the elevator, after it was finally over. Francesca just looked at him with endless pain in her red-rimmed eyes.
Francesca skipped work altogether today to cry in bed with a stack of tabloid magazines and truffles. It was the first time she’d checked out of work altogether, and it had alarmed him. It had taken some time to make sure she was okay. And now he was stuck on Interstate 70 because Denver was experiencing its first freak snowfall of the season and it seemed every fair citizen had forgotten how to drive.
By the time he made it to his office, he was feeling conspicuously late.
His desk was tidy: an inbox of folders, a pen set, a list of contact numbers pinned to the half-cube wall beside a photo of Francesca. The red voicemail light was blinking insistently on his phone. Shrugging off his coat, he sat down, grabbed a pen from his desk and a yellow legal pad, then keyed in his code.
“Guy, its Kevin Black, FBI. I’m about to send over a report to you but I wanted to give you a heads up about United 134. Give a call when you get a second.”
Guy jotted the phone number and dialed.
“Glad you’re getting back to me,” Black said. “I’m about to send over some info we got from the medical examiner over there in Boise. The ME says there are two people missing.”
“What do you mean missing?”
“Their names are on the manifest but the investigators have found no DNA at the crash site.”
“Huh.”
“And those hundred dollar bills you found? They’re counterfeit. The Secret Service in Boise has been notified.”
“Holy crap,” Guy hissed.
“Yeah, those bills were beautiful. The Secret Service said they were some of the best fakes they’ve ever seen.”
“Did you check with the D.C. and Portland police about missing people? Any reports of anyone missing around the time of the flight?”
“No reports of anyone missing.”
“You’re still cowboying this task force?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’ll look at the reports. Thanks for keeping me apprised.”
“Yeah, well, interagency cooperation and all that shit.”
An involuntary smile touched Guy’s lips. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He hung up and frowned. Something he had noticed at the scene came back to him now. Something small, but was still bothering him. He reached to one of the files on the shelves and pulled out some photographs of the scene. It was early morning; the sun was fully up, glinting off the metal of the mangled wreckage, and dazzlingly bright on the snow.
As he looked at the photos, the details came flooding back. The overturned seats. The money that looked like it had rained down from a generous God. Finally he found a shot he was looking for. It was a broad shot of a chunk of relatively intact fuselage with the wing torn off. And there, barely visible, were small marks in the snow that could be footprints walking away from the wreckage.
At the time, he’d only barely noticed them. Even now, he was aware they could be from the other agents on the scene. But there was something very deliberate about the way they walked away from the wreckage. They didn’t circle the fuselage like they were examining the wreckage. They just walked away, from the fuselage toward the trees, deeper into the mountains.
He shifted through some other photos, and then found a long shot that was taken near the fuselage, facing the broken wing. And there, perfectly preserved, were footsteps tromping away, down the mountain.
Holy shit. A survivor? What about the second missing person? Did two people survive? If that was the case, why didn’t any friends or loved ones report them missing?
A crash that had seemed tragic and horrible but also relatively routine had suddenly become interesting.
Thirteen
Mark pumped up the tires and lubed the chains of the old mountain bikes hanging in the garage, then lowered the seat of the smaller one so it fit Aimee. Setting out down the road toward Spanner town center, Mark was surprised by Aimee’s competitive spirit. Her strength and determination had been evident since the first day, but it was only last night that he saw she had real talent. He had hated every second of yogalates – his body was not inclined to move the way she instructed, though the women seemed to handle the rather ambitious positions just fine. Despite the torture she’d inflicted, he had genuinely enjoyed watching her, and he wouldn’t have missed the class for the world.
They stopped at the Spanner Breakfast House on Capitol Street for omelets and pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice, then rode the blacktop back to the ranch.
For the next item on the day’s agenda, Mark put May in the cargo area of the 4Runner and Aimee buckled into the seat beside him. Aimee was mostly quiet, sighing contentedly once or twice when a particularly awe-inspiring tableau opened before her. It was only a twenty-mile drive, but the air was cooler and drier up here, and the natural beauty could daze even a longtime resident like himself.
Finally he turned off the asphalt, and made his way deeper into the mountains. Finally, the Resort at Starlight Lake came into view. Lauren’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, it is beautiful.”
Mark smirked. It wasn’t beautiful, not anymore. It was neglected and sad, reminding Mark of the creepy hotel in The Shining. But Aimee obviously saw what he saw – the raw potential.
“This place has got to be an absolute winter wonderland at Christmas,” Aimee said, stepping out of the truck.
Mark let May out of the car, and she ran sniffing at the ground, hyper in the nippy air.
The Resort at Starlight Lake had been one of his favorite places as a kid, but even then it was starting to show its age. His father had built it, believing he could capitalize on the travelers heading to Glacier National Park. But he had been so busy with his oil company and other interests that he could not give it the attention it needed. He had some good people running the place, but they too eventually gave up on it since it wasn’t becoming the next big thing Mark’s father had hoped. Then, six years ago, he had folded the resort with no plans to do anything with the property.
The cabins were in terrible shape, their roofs especially needing attention after several seasons of blizzards. The hotel itself was in only slightly better condition. The lobby’s ruined carpets and woodwork stank with mildew. Dust and cobwebs covered every surface. But the clear light twirling from the giant glass wall, which he’d copied for the hi
s ranch, was beautiful. Not too distantly down the mountain, the ski lift sagged with snow and seasons of disuse. He could remember as a kid riding on the lift with his siblings, waving to the people in the lobby.
Aimee was standing quite still near the check in counter that ran the length of the lobby. She gazed out the windows to the mountains, then around the large dingy space, now sour with age and neglect. “This could really be something,” she said quietly.
May started up the stairs. Aimee called for her to come, and May instantly stopped and walked toward her. Mark marveled at how quickly they’d found that mind-meld. How utterly natural it was that his dog should obey her. May sure was going to be sad when Aimee left for Portland.
It was a subject he hadn’t let himself ruminate over too much. She had to go, so he wasn’t going to hold her back. Especially not after Seth had played those mind games with her, making her doubt herself and making her forgo her entire life for him. Mark wanted to beat him for that. Of all the horrible things to do to someone, to rob them of their life just to gratify his oversized ego… it was just obscene. Well, he wasn’t going to do that to her. When the time came, he’d send her off to Portland with a smile.
Okay, maybe not a smile. It had become obvious that he was in deep trouble with this girl. He had gotten addicted to the feeling that they were in it together. He had to stop himself when he found himself talking about the future with her. It was just so easy to slip into that mode. There was a smooth, comfortable feeling that he realized with surprise was trust. He trusted her.
Aimee sauntered over to the wall of glass and looked out to the ski area. Mark joined her there. It was still too early in the season for skiing, even up at this altitude, but by the middle of next month, world-class skiers would be all over Jubilee Mountain. “It’s so pretty,” she said with genuine wonder in her voice.
“It’s definitely got the wilderness act down pat,” he answered wryly.
Aimee smiled. She was very close. Close enough to see the flecks of mica and gold in her jungle eyes, and the sexy little seam of her bottom lip. So soft, so sexy. Vulnerable. He saw the surprise and desire dilate in her eyes and a powerful gravitational pull pushed him incrementally closer until his lips hovered over hers. She shut her eyes as his hand came around her head, kissing her, craving her though they’d made love that morning.
May’s panicked, urgent howl filled the air with sudden sharp insistence that Mark had never heard before. He whipped his head around to see the May scooting backward even as she howled and barked ferociously at the massive, lumbering Grizzly bear that had stalked into the lobby.
Aimee let out a high-pitched squeal, then covered her mouth with her hands.
“Walk slowly out the door, Aimee. Walk backward, facing the bear and me. Just walk. Hopefully May will follow.”
“What about you?” Her trembling voice was a dry rasp.
The bear’s massive head came up, and his prominent nose sniffed the air while his black eyes locked on May, who was still growling and barking.
“Just do it,” Mark said with a calmness he didn’t feel.
Slowly Aimee began to back away. The bear took a slow, nonchalant step toward May.
“May, quiet,” Aimee said with a voice that was surprisingly strong.
May was shaking, but she hushed. She whined and whimpered, but she stopped barking. She backed from the bear toward Aimee.
The bear, however, continued directly toward May and Aimee. “Aimee, run.”
Aimee ran, with May taking the cue and bolting ahead. The bear began to lope toward the door. Mark grabbed a nearby chair and flung it at the bear’s head. It hit the side of his face, then clattered to the ground in pieces. The bear paused, looked around and locked eyes with Mark, as if just realizing he was still here.
Mark saw another heavy chair near the reception desk and ran for it. The bear followed. He vaulted himself up. Mark stood up on the reception desk, grabbed the chair, and looked at the bear, which was pacing back and forth in front of him like a prison guard.
Mark spotted a telephone unit where the computer monitor would be in a modern hotel, and he grabbed it, yanking the cords out of the wall. He waited until the bear was looking directly at him, then threw the phone into the bear’s face. Predictably it pissed him off even more. He reared back on his hind legs, towering over Mark, and let out a roar. Mark swung the chair into the side of the bear’s head with all the force in his body. The bear seemed surprised. He fell down to all fours. With a sniff and a look over his shoulder, he loped away, back to the hallway where he’d come from.
Mark waited until he was gone from sight, then on weak legs jumped onto the ground. He jogged outside, slamming the doors behind him, and saw Aimee and May in the front seat of the Bronco. Aimee opened her door and stumbled out, then ran directly to him. She flung herself into his arms, and he held tight. “Are you okay?” she asked. Her body was positively vibrating with fear.
He nodded. “I’m fine. Just a bear.”
She laughed slightly at the understatement, then pulled back so she could find his eyes and know he was safe. “I was really scared.”
She looked it too. All enormous green eyes and trembling lips. She nervously looked behind him for any trace of the bear. “What should we do?” Aimee asked.
The thought of encountering the bear again had quashed any hope of touring the property today. But before Mark could answer, she was startled by the honk of a vehicle pulling behind the Bronco.
Aimee jolted backward, her breath ragged. A gleaming forest green Range Rover parked behind the Bronco.
“Who is that?” she whispered.
“I have no idea.”
Aimee squinted into the driver’s side of the windshield but the reflections of the sun made it impossible to see. She edged slightly behind Mark. “Oh God, is it Seth?”
Polished Bally loafers touched the asphalt. Definitely not from around here. A husky middle-aged man followed.
Mark didn’t recognize the stranger standing in the parking circle at the Starlight Lake Resort.
“Help you?” Mark asked.
The man grinned. “I didn’t realize anyone would be here. I’m Bob Hayes,” he said and stepped forward to shake Mark’s hand. “Hayes Development.”
Mark’s heart sank. He asked directly, “What brings you here?”
“I talked to Josh – is he your brother?”
“Yes. God help him.”
“Josh and I have been talking about doing business together.”
Mark could only imagine. He narrowed his eyes at the developer, trying to take his measure. “You’re the one who wants to build a golf course.”
Bob Hayes laughed. “A whole luxury resort, actually. With skiing, world-class fly fishing, and of course, golfing.”
Mark had a weird sense of déjà vu. He’d said pretty much the same thing to Aimee. If the Resort at Starlight Lake was going to be turned into a luxury resort, he wanted to do it. He had done it before, after all. He knocked down all the old buildings to their foundations at Spanner Ranch and rebuilt a beautiful, contemporary home in its place. He had saved some of the original flourishes, like the giant stone fireplace in the great room, and he’d used some of the original timbers for the pitched roof.
And for what? He was a single man who had bunked in some truly hideous hell-holes in poverty-stricken parts of the world. Why did he need nearly twenty thousand square feet of living space? Family history, he supposed. He liked his family history, and he believed in maintaining it. Likewise, selling this historic property was just about unthinkable.
“Josh said I could come by and look at it again.”
“I see.”
“Were you busy? Am I interrupting?” He smiled, and Mark thought he saw a wink, to indicate he had seen them kissing when he arrived.
“We were just about to go work on one of the cabins.” He knew he was being rude and he chided himself for it. It wasn’t Bob Hayes’ fault that Josh was entertaining o
ffers for the property that had been in the family since the town’s founding.
“Well, ah, do you mind if I take a look around?”
“There’s a bear inside,” Mark said.
“A real bear?”
Mark and Aimee shared a glance.
“Yeah, a real bear. A Grizzly. I wouldn’t recommend going inside right now.”
Bob Hayes rocked back in his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well maybe you don’t mind if I poke around the property, maybe check out the cabins? I’ve driven all the way from Missoula.”
“Mr. Hayes, I think you should know that Josh has gotten ahead of himself. The property is not really his to sell.”
“I see. Well, my offer has been very generous, I think.”
“This isn’t about money.”
Bob smiled thinly, obviously thinking that it was always about money. But Mark’s meaning was clear: he wasn’t welcome here.
“I see,” Bob said again. He reached into his pocket and handed Mark a business card. “I guess I’ll get back on the road.” He looked up at the darkening sky.
Mark shook his hand and watched him walk back to the Range Rover. They waited until the man had driven out of sight before Aimee looked up at him and said, “That was weird.”
Mark exhaled. “I need to talk to Josh.”
Mark opened the SUV door for her, and she climbed inside, holding May on her lap.
“So what is your brother like?” she asked.
“That’s a loaded question,” he replied. “He’s very ambitious. We were very competitive growing up, and I guess we’ve both mellowed since then. But he’s definitely trying to expand my father’s legacy.”
“So why is he so eager to sell the property?”
“That’s one thing I plan to ask him. But for him, everything is a financial decision. Those properties aren’t earning anything right now.”
“And you believe they can?”
“I think it is a good time to renovate them. Tourists are starting to discover Spanner, and I sense that there is a customer base for nice resort and cabins.”
Crash Into You Page 15