“Yeah,” Mike Aklaq said, “haven’t you noticed? I’m a regular comedy club.”
Clara saw that Mike, Thor and Jackson exchanged looks. She was certain that while their faces bore no real expression, they communicated.
Nothing that had happened today was dire. They could wait to exchange notes.
They gathered around the table. Clara saw that there were settings for herself, Thor, Jackson, Mike, Marc Kimball—and one more.
She remembered his timid little assistant, Emmy.
But, Kimball pulled out her chair and seated himself.
“Where is Emmy?” Clara asked.
“Emmy? Oh, Emmy,” Kimball said, waving a hand in the air. “She prefers to be alone.”
Apparently, Magda hadn’t known that. And Clara had the feeling that Emmy didn’t really want to be alone—Kimball just ignored her as he would a pen or a pad he used when it was needed and forgot when it was not.
“Oh, but I’d love to talk to her a bit!” Clara said.
“I’ll go knock on her door,” Mike Aklaq said, smiling at her.
“Great!” Clara said, smiling brilliantly at Kimball. “The more the merrier, right?”
Kimball took his seat. Jackson and Thor waited.
Mike returned with Emmy, who looked pleased and flushed.
“I was just working on some data…and I was actually just realizing that I was hungry,” Emmy said.
Mike held her chair for her. She took it and Mike, Thor and Jackson seated themselves.
Magda appeared from the kitchen. “I’ll scoop,” she said, and proceeded to do so, dishing out hearty helpings of stew.
“You doing all right, Magda?” Thor asked her.
“Right as can be,” Magda assured him.
“Nice, good to hear it,” Thor said.
She glanced at him and shrugged. “I need to get back in the Mansion. Those scientist people are just finishing up. We need to get those TV crew people back here after, too. Pick up their stuff. Bloody awful junk, if you ask me. Apparently, all that fake gore they have is expensive—props!” She shuddered to convey her disgust.
“We’ll get them out as soon as the cops give their okay,” Kimball said. He turned to Clara. “You don’t work with awful stuff like that, do you, Miss Avery? You do beautiful, wonderful, cheerful musical things all the time, right?”
“All musicals aren’t entirely cheerful,” Clara said, accepting a bowl from Magda. “I love Les Miz, but it’s not all cheerful. I’ve also done Jekyll & Hyde and a few other shows that aren’t all a laugh a minute.”
“But nothing like that horrible TV!” Kimball said.
“No, nothing like that,” she agreed.
“Mr. Kimball,” Thor said, “we really do want to convey our thanks for you being not only cooperative, but so hospitable. We’re grateful that your business ventures allowed for you to be able to come out to the island so quickly. We appreciate how valuable your time must be.”
“Yes, well, there are situations that require one to forget about business, right?” Kimball asked.
“You really arrived quickly—that was exceptional,” Thor said.
“I happened to have finished an important deal the night before. Naturally, when I heard, I sent instructions to the pilot immediately,” Kimball said.
“You must be exhausted,” Jackson said.
“Yes, of course. But, I sleep on the plane,” Kimball said.
He made a point of turning away from Thor and looking at Clara. “So, Miss Avery, I’m sure you must hate Alaska after this.”
“I don’t blame a place for what a horrible person might do,” Clara assured him. She went on to talk about the things she had been able to see and the things she wanted to see, aware that the agents around the table listened—and seemed grateful that she was keeping it all rolling. Emmy commented that she’d have loved to see more.
“You’re lucky you see anything,” Kimball said. “Very lucky that you work for me!”
“Of course,” Emmy murmured.
Clara glared at Kimball, her dislike for him heightened by his rudeness to his employee.
She saw expressions of disgust on the others, as well. Emmy looked at her and shrugged and shook her head; she didn’t want anyone coming to her defense.
The stew was delicious, which Clara mentioned to Magda. “Venison,” Magda told Clara. “And don’t go thinking we killed Bambi! You have to watch the population or the poor critters starve to death!”
When the meal was over, Clara yawned—and not with any point. She apologized quickly.
“It’s late,” Kimball said, dismissing her apology.
“Very late!” she said, looking at her watch.
They all rose as if on cue. “Can we help you pick up?” Clara asked Magda.
“Justin and I have this—you all just get out of our way,” Magda said.
She meant it; Clara thanked her and Kimball for the dinner.
“Good night, then,” Clara said.
Kimball took her hand. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’m not really sure why you’ve agreed to stay for law enforcement, but I’m so glad that you did.”
Clara shrugged, glancing at Thor, and wanting her hand back.
“There just might be something I can say or do or remember about…about Amelia,” she murmured. She hoped she didn’t sound too lame.
“So caring!” Kimball said.
“Yes, well, I am really exhausted,” Clara said.
“Of course, of course. The same room is yours,” Kimball said.
“I’ll walk you there,” Thor said, smiling as he set an arm on her shoulder and turned her around to head down the hallway.
As they left, Jackson made a point of engaging Marc Kimball in conversation regarding a print on the wall.
They stopped in front of Clara’s door.
“Get some sleep,” he told her softly.
She looked at him and nodded.
There had been that moment on the Coast Guard boat when he had touched her…
She didn’t want him to leave, she realized. She wanted to draw him into the room. What happened after that…
Sparks!
“Yes,” she murmured.
“And don’t worry—one of us will be here,” he said.
“Just whistle,” she murmured.
“Whistle, yell—scream blue blazes,” Thor said, and smiled.
She thought that he would touch her again; she wanted him to touch her.
But, of course, they were standing in a hallway. The others were just down the hall, in the living room with its great hearth, animal heads, and warm and cozy decor.
“Just whistle,” he said softly. The hall was shadowed, but she thought that there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I love old movies,” she said. “To Have and Have Not,” she said. “Lauren Bacall—great lines in that movie, and terrific performances.”
“Ah,” he said softly.
On impulse, she stood slightly on her toes and pressed her lips quickly to his, then backed away, flushing. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for making me feel useful—and safe.”
He grinned. “You kissed me.”
“I did. I’m sorry. I know you’re working and—”
“No, no, I was just thinking about To Have and Have Not, and a few of the other lines,” he said.
“Oh?”
He leaned closer to her and whispered near her lips, “It’s going to be better when I help.”
He opened her door; she went into her room, closing it behind her, leaning against it.
Sparks.
Oh, yes, good God, they were definitely there.
There was a knock on her door. She was s
tartled by the way her muscles quickened—by the way her heart seemed to leap into her throat.
He’d come back. And her heart was thumping too quickly.
She threw open the door.
It wasn’t Thor Erikson.
It was the ghost of Amelia Carson.
CHAPTER 11
Thor and Jackson met with Mike in the office.
Mike listened to everything that had happened back in Seward and environs; he told them that he’d spent his time watching over the house—though there were still four police officers assigned to that duty—and searching the woods.
Thus far, he hadn’t found anything else; a forensic team had spent hours combing the area where they had found the blood spill, but as yet, no one had found the weapon or tool used to cut Amelia Carson into two halves.
“I was thinking of heading down to the cliffs next,” Mike said.
“Tomorrow,” Thor agreed.
“So, this guy really broke out of prison in Kansas and came here,” Mike said.
“I just don’t believe I’m wrong,” Thor said.
“So, we are looking for two killers.”
“That’s what we believe,” Jackson said.
Mike nodded. “Makes sense. Well, the most sense.” He stood up and said, “You’re here—I’m going to get some real sleep. But I don’t need to leave the island. Not if Enfield and Brennan are working everything in Seward. I can stay here, Thor. No offense to Jackson, but you and I know this place, and I can help search. Better than you going it alone.”
“That’s what we hoped,” Thor said.
Mike nodded. “Thing is, though, where are these killers now? Here, or on the mainland. Or, are they still split up?” He hesitated. “There have been cops or teams around the Mansion and the Alaska Hut since you’ve been gone. It’s cold at night here. If someone has been hanging around, where the hell can they be without freezing their buns off?”
“That’s the question,” Jackson said quietly.
“Unless of course,” Mike said, “one of the killers happens to be someone who is in this house.”
Thor nodded at that. “Kimball is pretty slimy.”
“Bears watching,” Mike said.
“The two of you can feel free to search,” Jackson assured him. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll be watching him. And Clara, of course. Actually, the two go together, since Clara may need watching because of him.”
“Fine. I’m going to get some sleep,” Mike said. “Thor, we’ll start about eight in the morning?”
“Eight it is,” Thor told him.
“I’ll read a book in the living room for now,” Jackson said.
“All right. I know the cops are on, but I’m going to take a walk around the place and maybe check on Clara,” Thor said.
Mike opened the door and they all left the office. Mike headed to a room. Jackson talked to the officer on duty in the living room; Thor slipped out the front door.
He saw someone leaning over the rail on the long porch. Someone tiny—Emmy Vincenzo, he thought.
And it was.
He walked over to her. She turned as he did so. For a moment, she looked frightened. Then she smiled hesitantly, reminding him of a frightened Chihuahua, always hopeful for a bit of affection while being afraid of a hand slap at the same time.
“Hey,” he said. “Enjoying the night? A bit cool, I guess, if you’re not from here. It’s warmer—really nice, actually—in Seward. The freeze here all the time has to do with the altitude,” he told her.
She pulled at the neckline of her windbreaker.
“I guess it is a little cold,” she said. “But I like it out here. I’ve been here with Mr. Kimball a few times before. I’ve never seen much of Alaska—just the airfield and then a car and a boat and Black Bear Island.”
“The island is special, though. I mean, usually. You can see moose and caribou and black bears and brown bears—including grizzlies—out here,” Thor said.
She nodded. “I know. I woke up one morning and a moose was looking right through my window! I didn’t try to go near it. Mr. Kimball said they can kick the life right out of you.”
“That’s true. They are big and powerful. But, they’re not vicious animals. Give them their distance, and you’ll be just fine. Like, don’t try to tug at one or rope it in,” he said.
She didn’t smile. She looked at him gravely. “Oh, I would never!” she said.
“So, I guess you work closely with Mr. Kimball,” he said, casually leaning on the porch rail as well and looking out over the night.
“Closely?” she asked.
“You’re his assistant, right?”
She glanced toward the house, as if fearing that the walls had ears.
“He’d never bother to see what I was doing,” she murmured, and then looked at Thor. “Minion. I’m just a minion,” she said.
“Ah, but you flew here with him,” Thor said.
She made a sound in her throat. “With him? No. I was in my seat in the front of the airplane. I assume he was sleeping in back. I didn’t actually see him until he got in the car at the airport.” She shrugged. “If he’s sleeping, the steward doesn’t even come in the back. I get a loudspeaker announcement that says we’re taking off and to buckle up, and then that we’re landing, and we should buckle up.”
“Really?” Thor said.
“He’s like that. When he doesn’t want to see anyone—he doesn’t. I never know when he’ll pop up, or what he expects I should have known, or whatever.”
“You’re the one who informed him about the situation, though, right?”
She laughed. “I was in an office. I don’t know where he was. I called him on his ‘red’ phone, though, and he did answer right away. Then I called the pilot. And the plane arrived and I don’t even know when he got off the plane. I just met him in the car.”
“Why do you work for him?” Thor asked her.
“Money,” she said flatly. “I need the money.”
“Surely there’s something else you could do.”
“Maybe. But, you might have noticed—I’m just not that charming. I clam up in an interview. I just sit there and freeze. I’m actually shocked that he hired me,” she said.
“If you found a job where there was mutual respect, Emmy, you would probably find out that you had more confidence.”
“Great. Find me a job.”
“Let me think about it,” he told her.
Once again, he looked out on the landscape, feeling a tinge of guilt. He’d come to get information from her, because she was a little mouse. He’d gotten some details, and now he wanted to turn her into a lion.
But, he still needed more information.
“So, Emmy, in truth, you really don’t know that Marc Kimball was even on the plane you took to get here, right?”
She looked at him, puzzled, and then she shook her head, laughing a little. “Agent Erikson, you’ve got to be kidding. He would never, ever have put me in his private plane by myself. Oh, no, if he were just sending me out here, I probably would have been on a mule train.”
“But you never saw him before you left New York, or on the plane?”
“No, sir, I didn’t. But I’m used to that. I’m just the hired help. But then again, no one really sees Marc Kimball—not unless he wants to be seen.”
* * *
“You’re alone,” Amelia said to Clara. “You really shouldn’t be. I was alone. And…you don’t know what’s coming. Suddenly, he’s behind you and his hands are around your neck and you’re fighting and kicking and screaming, but…he’s strong. You can’t breathe—he has your windpipe. And the harder you try to fight, I think the faster you use up your air. It’s horrible…so horrible. Everything starts to go dark, and your lungs
are burning…and, you really shouldn’t be alone. That’s how he gets you.”
“Amelia,” Clara said gently. “I’m not alone. There are many people here. There are cops here, Mike Aklaq is here, and Jackson! And Thor.”
Amelia sat at the foot of Clara’s bed. Clara leaned against the rustic, raw wood dresser.
Amelia smiled, her expression a strange combination of wickedness and wistfulness.
“You’re alone. In a room. Talking to a ghost,” she said. “I’m grateful that you are talking to me. I want to believe that you’ll find my killer and help me—without dying yourself. But, frankly, as far as the not dying yourself goes, I don’t think you’re doing very well.”
Clara was surprised to feel somewhat irritated by the ghost of a young woman who had been brutally murdered. “I’m doing all right, I think—since I am alive,” she said, and quickly regretted her aggravated response.
Amelia’s expression immediately became one of sadness. “At least, when I was alive, I knew how to live,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry—truly,” Clara said.
Amelia smiled at her. “I know you are. You’re actually a nice person. I wasn’t a vicious person—I just thought that I… I thought that I would live forever, becoming more and more adored and famous! Ah, well. I will go down in the history books. I wanted people to remember my name. Now they will when they talk about horrible killers in history. I probably already have thousands of hits on the internet.”
“Oh, Amelia,” Clara murmured. She wasn’t sure what she should say.
“I think you should hop right on one of those FBI guys,” Amelia said.
“What? Hop on?”
“Oh, please!” A mischievous smile crossed Amelia’s face. “My God, how old are you? Mid to late twenties? Where have you been? With one of them. At all times. Through the night. How do you know that the killer isn’t in this house? Do you want to wake up with your throat slit or hands around your throat, choking the life out of you? You need to pick one—and sleep with him. Oh, my God! If I were the living one, I would have done so by now!”
Clara stared at her, completely taken off guard. And then she began to laugh.
“Amelia, honestly, and say what? Hey, buddy, I’m here, and since I am, I think we should sleep together?”
Krewe of Hunters, Volume 6: Haunted Destiny ; Deadly Fate ; Darkest Journey Page 50