by Terry Spear
Cameron's brows raised just a hint. And she was certain he didn't believe her.
The officers again exchanged glances and Officer Adams said under his breath to Whitson, "Kenneth O'Malley's daughter."
"You met my dad?" she asked, unable to contain her surprise.
"No," Adams quickly said. "It's a small town. He was asking a lot of questions, which caught the police department's attention. We discovered he was doing some kind of sociology study and that was the end of it."
But they seemed to have recognized she was related to her father even before she mentioned her name. Or maybe she was just making more of their reactions and wasn't correct in her assumptions. So much for keeping her father's business here secret. At least they probably didn't think she'd totally lied. She did want to see where he'd gone on his trip here.
But what really got to her more than anything, though, was neither asked who the guide was. Although maybe they'd talked to Trevor about him and already knew that he was her father's guide. Small town. Sure.
"If we have any more questions for either of you, where will you be staying for the next several days?" Officer Adams asked.
Cameron, being the gentleman he was, let Faith go first. She cleared her throat, dug around in her purse, then pulled out a piece of paper. Wrong one. List of what she wanted to do when she got here. She dug around a little more, found the slip of paper that she wrote Hilson's itinerary on—after having discovered the password on his computer, teach him to run off with her father's stuff—the receipt for breakfast, for the hotel, and yes! The information on her cabin rental at Nahamkanta Lake Rustic Resort.
She handed it to Officer Adams, who jotted down the information.
"No telephone service that far out. And cell phones won't work," he warned. "When you reach the trail head, you have to ski in, get in by dogsled, or snow mobiles. Snowshoes if you want to trek ten miles on the unplowed road."
"Yes, that's what the clerk said. But they're the only other cabins near Baxter Park that still had a vacancy and that's hopefully where Trevor Hodges is camping. At least the hotel clerk said she thought he was when I called earlier. But I dropped by here first to speak to the staff that employs him to learn more of his current whereabouts in the event he moved camp, if I could."
"You've made arrangements to get to the resort once you reach the trailhead?" Officer Adams asked.
"Yes. I'm renting a snowmobile."
Cameron smiled a little and she wondered if he thought she couldn't do this. Not that she was really a rustic type, but the place had two heated shower houses, flush toilets, and a hot tub. So it couldn't be all that rough. And she'd sledded before so no problem there.
Cameron handed Officer Adams a piece of paper and the guy looked at it, then back at Faith. "All right." He jotted the information down in his notebook. "If we need to get in touch, we will. Have a safe trip."
Officer Whitson gave her a slight nod of his head, as if sharing the other officer's sentiments. For her, not for Cameron. The officer didn't give him the time of day.
Cameron escorted Faith outside, but not before she overheard Officer Adams tell Whitson, "She's a wanted woman, and you don't stand a chance."
She wondered if the officer thought she and Cameron were already an item as Cameron walked her to her vehicle, which amused her and seemed to Cameron also.
"What's the name of your cabin?" he asked, as they crunched along the crusted snow on the walk, his body touching hers in a possessive and provocative way.
There was something about the way he moved beside her, as if she was truly with him, not like the way Hilson would have acted as though he just happened to be there walking in the same direction she was at the same time. She wondered if Cameron acted the same way with all women. Maybe he was a womanizer, well versed in how to make himself more attractive to the female sex. "Don't tell me you're staying at the same rustic resort."
She slipped a little on an icy patch on the snow covered sidewalk, and Cameron's hand shot out to take hold of her arm. Hilson would have done the same, but then Cameron went a step further, pulled her in close to his body and wrapped his arm around her waist, making sure she didn't slide again. She hid a smile. If he slipped next, they'd probably both go down. But it was damned cold out, and she enjoyed the heat of his touch.
"Seems we're looking for clues in the same direction. I'm at White Wolf Den."
"The cabin I'm staying at is Black Bear Den. Are you using a snowmobile?" she asked.
"Yeah, from Skidoo Rentals."
"Guess we are headed in the same direction. Maybe we could have lunch together."
Cameron smiled and the expression was as if he'd found out her itinerary beforehand and had this whole thing planned from the beginning, from handing out keys to his and her rooms, to leaving his own key by accident in his room. "I thought you'd never ask."
"Yeah, well after you stood me up for breakfast…" She arched a brow at him.
He gave her a warm squeeze and chuckled. "I knew I'd never live it down if I saw you again. You want me to lead the way?"
"Sounds—" She spied a gray pickup sitting across the street at a barbershop. No driver in the vehicle, and it might not have been the one that she thought had been following her last night, but then again, maybe it was. She had the most awful urge to take a peek in the truck to see if the seats had white dog hair, or make that— white wolf hairs—on the seats.
Cameron looked over at the truck. "Something wrong?"
She took a deep breath. "No, no, lead the way." As tinted as the windows were, she didn't figure she could see inside all that well anyway.
Again he considered the pickup, then patted her SUV. "All right. Don't lose me."
"I don't intend to lose you." Flakes were already falling, and she was sure if they didn't hurry, they might be caught in the middle of the snowstorm. She definitely didn't want to be alone if that happened.
Once he made sure she got into her vehicle all right, with the pretense he didn't want her slipping again, which was fine by her, he climbed into his rental car. But as they drove off, he inched past the gray pickup as if the speed limit were five miles per hour. She swore he was writing down the license plate number—she had done that too.
When they reached the place for the snowmobile rentals an hour later, Faith and Cameron went inside a small grocery store next door to get provisions. Cameron was picking up a few items on another aisle, when Faith noticed how much the snow was falling. Too fast.
Last time she was in a snowstorm, she'd been visiting her dad at Portland Community College, taking in the hilltop view as she enjoyed a hot cocoa with him in between his classes. The falling snow looked majestic, blanketing everything in a fresh coat of white. Beautiful, until they tried to leave after his final class that day and were trapped with tons of other vehicles attempting to return home in the storm. Pile-ups. Stuck cars. While she and her father had struggled to get snow chains on the tires. What a mess.
"Hurry up, Cameron," she said, coming up behind him as he weighed the options of buying one package of tuna over another.
"I always bargain shop."
"That's great, but do it faster then. We've got to get out of here before we're stuck staying at the lodge in Millinocket for another night because of the storm. And who knows whose room we'll end up in this time if the same clerk is on the desk."
He chuckled and tugged gently on the tassel of her blue and red striped ski cap. "Would be all right if we ended up in the same room again." He eyed the prices again on the packages of tuna. "If I don't choose the right tuna, I could be broke before I return home."
She grabbed one of the packages from him. "Fine. I'll pay for it." Then she hurried to the checkout.
He soon caught up with her with a basket loaded with a week's worth of goodies, and she eyed the snack foods and a couple of salmon steaks in the mix. "If you're so broke, why did you have that gigantic steak for dinner? And room service at that? Plus salmon also now?"
>
He just winked at her. Yeah, he wasn't so broke. She thought it admirable that he bargain shopped, although about now, all that mattered was that they get on their way.
Then they were off, leaving their rented vehicles in a parking area behind the snowmobile rental shop, bags and sleeping bags loaded onto their snowmobiles, the snow falling way too rapidly. But Faith was sure they'd make the ten-mile trek in time before they lost their way.
She called her father, although she knew he'd still be sleeping at this hour and by the time she reached the cabins, he'd be in the middle of teaching Sociology 101 to a bunch of tired students in the early morning class, but she wanted to leave him one more message. "Dad, I'm off to the dead zone."
She didn't mention how she'd found a body, or a hunk, or how the police officers knew of her father.
She sighed and signed off with, "I love you. Call you later when I have a signal again. Don't work too hard. I'll get the flash drive back. And I'll be home as soon as I can. Don't worry."
But now she was worried. She envisioned getting here, locating Hilson, having it out with him, and he'd have a conscience and give the research back to her. Now she was having doubts her plan would work. What if she couldn't find him? What if he refused to give the flash drive back? Or what if he got rid of it already?
What then?
And something she'd been avoiding considering— why did Hilson want the information so badly? And what had he planned to do with it? Plus, what was the research all about that made it so damned important in the first place?
Chapter 3
AFTER ALLNIGHT SURVEILLANCE OF A RENTACOP ON THE graveyard shift at a warehouse, who was suspected of worker's comp fraud, Gavin Summerfield yanked his bedcovers to his chin at four in the morning in his tidy little condo in Seattle. He closed his eyes, wishing his P.I. partners would return to help run the business. Since Cameron had left, Gavin was being run ragged and he didn't think he could take much more of these kinds of hours.
But as soon as he shut his eyes, the phone rang. He ignored the first two rings as he stared at the red numbers on the digital clock. Then he growled and grabbed up the phone, ready to strangle the caller if it was a wrong number or overzealous telemarketer who didn't know what time it was in the Northwest. No phone number listed on the Caller ID.
"Hello!"
"Gavin?"
Gavin bolted upright. The voice sounded a million miles away and the phone crackled with static, but he'd recognize Owen's voice anywhere. "Owen? Owen, you all right?"
"We're quitting."
"The hunt? Are you and David okay? Coming home soon?"
"Quitting… partnership. Tell—"
The phone sputtered.
"Owen? You're breaking up badly."
"Tell Cameron don't come."
"He's there already. Where are you?"
"Dangerous."
"Owen, Cameron's there. I can't get word to him. What's dangerous?"
"… kill him. We're okay." Crackle. "… go."
"Owen—"
"No!" someone else yelled in the distance on the other end of the line. Then the phone crackled again and died.
"Owen!" Gavin stared at the phone. "Shit." He jerked his covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to regain his equilibrium. At thirty, he was getting way too old for all-night surveillances without a partner to back him up. But helping his friends if they needed him—and they better damn well need him—that, he would never be too old for.
He rubbed his tired eyes. If he had the time, he'd drive to Maine. It didn't matter that more people died in car accidents every year according to statisticians who kept such statistics. Just taking off in a plane nearly killed him.
He tried Cameron's cell phone, but after several minutes, gave up. Either Cameron was on his way to the cabin resort and couldn't hear the phone above the noise of the snowmobile, or he was already beyond where he could get a signal.
Gavin ran his hands through his hair. At least he could convey the information to Cameron about the gray pickup when he caught up to him. Although he was more interested in the woman Cameron had his sights on rescuing this time.
Gavin shook his head. Cameron would never learn. He punched a few numbers on his phone and said, "When is your next flight to Bangor, Maine?"
The snowstorm intensified as Cameron and Faith drove their snowmobiles slowly along the unplowed road, the visibility less than a quarter mile, the wind blowing faster than they were driving. Pine and spruce trees lining the wide road were draped in white, like snow giants protecting the dwellers of the forest.
Cameron and Faith had considered staying at the lodge in Millinocket for another night, but both of them were impatient to get on with their business. Cameron still wondered exactly what Faith's business here was. He didn't believe for a minute she was here to relive her father's snow-filled adventure. Not in the beginning, and then when Officer Adams mentioned the sociology business, Cameron wondered what that was all about, since the police had taken an interest. Not only that, but Faith had been reluctant to mention it. Curiouser and curiouser.
He was still wondering about his friends, too. Were they in some kind of trouble? From what Gavin had told him about the conversation with Owen, it didn't sound like it. And with the difficulty Owen was having with talking to Gavin because of the remoteness of the area, that might have been the whole problem. They'd gotten stuck some place where they couldn't make phone contact and were perfectly fine. If Owen and David were now quitting the hunt, maybe they'd get home before Cameron could even locate them. Which put a whole different slant on the situation. What if he now could make a vacation out of this instead of work? He hadn't taken one in over three years. Maybe he could share Faith's adventure, help her to relive the time her father had spent here?
He snorted. He didn't believe that was what she was here for in the least. And he was determined to learn the truth sooner or later. But another thought occurred to him. Why was she worried about the gray pickup? Even though he'd called the license plates in to Gavin to have him investigate, Cameron knew he wouldn't hear back from him for a while, what with communications being so spotty where they were going. But Faith seemed to think something wasn't right about the vehicle, and he wasn't leaving anything to chance.
And the police officers? That was another concern. Of course every department had its own procedures, and every individual officer had his own way of dealing with a crime scene, but he thought both acted strangely unconcerned. Almost as if they were trying to appear that way to cover up their true feelings. He'd observed Officer Adams's expression for the briefest of instances when he'd first seen the dead man, as if he had more of a tie to him than he wanted to admit. But then his look had swiftly changed to all business.
More than that, they seemed to recognize Faith before she even told them her name. From what Cameron understood of the situation, she'd never been to this part of the country. So it seemed odd. Even if they'd heard of her father, it was as if they had a whole dossier on the family, current photos included. The comment about her being a wanted woman threw him, too. Even though he shouldn't have made anything of the guy talk, he couldn't help wondering if Adams was referring to Cameron wanting her, or someone else.
Shifting his thoughts to where they needed to be, Cameron concentrated on the road, trying to stay in the center while he followed Faith, unwilling to go first and risk losing her behind him, when he saw a flash of something to his right. Jerking his head that way, he tried to see into the forest, but the snow was blowing so hard, he couldn't make anything out. Probably nothing of importance. But he still couldn't help wondering what it was or if he'd just imagined it.
Watching Faith again, he hoped she was warm enough from the heat distributed from the manifold through foot rest grilles and heaters placed on the steering handles on the snowmobile. She was wearing those stretchy, clingy ski pants that, on her figure, were flattering and way too sexy. Even her ski jacket was short-waisted, showing of
f her curves a little too much.
Not that he didn't enjoy looking, but he could have beaned the guy restocking shelves at the grocery store for eyeing her a little too hard. And the "kid" at the snow mobile rental place made a big deal out of the fact she wasn't wearing a wedding ring and when she returned to Millinocket, he could sure take her out to some fun places. That was until Cameron did his I'm-with-the lady routine to keep the vultures away. Whether she wanted him to or not.
Actually, she'd seemed a bit amused. If any guy thought he'd make any moves on her at the camp, he'd let them know just how wrong they were.
She slowed her snowmobile down a little, and he matched her actions. He suspected they were getting close to the resort when he thought something moved again to his right. But when he looked hard in that direction, all he saw was blowing snow, snow-laden trees, snow piled against them, nothing but white.
He glanced back at the road and a one-story log lodge appeared up ahead with a majestic prowlike front and covered wraparound veranda. Cedar rocking chairs sat all along the wooden deck, the arrangement welcoming guests to sit and visit while taking in the panoramic mountain and forest view. But the large picture windows were dark, no light filtering through, and the massive stone fireplace was cold, not a trickle of smoke.
Faith drove up to the porch and paused for a minute, not turning off her engine. He parked beside her and saw what it was that had stopped her: a note pasted on one of the windows from the inside.
Closed due to family emergency. Keys in cabins. Be back later. Charles and Elizabeth Roux.
Faith pulled her ski mask down under her chin so she could speak more clearly. "Guess we're on our own."
"Good thing we brought supplies with us and didn't count on eating at the main lodge first thing. So, which cabin do we hole up in for now? White Wolf or Black Bear Den?"