by J. S. Marlo
“Gil, you check Serpent’s address. Take the colonel with you. I’m going back to Snowy Tip.”
From the corner of the room where she’d retreated upon entering, Amelia nodded.
During breakfast, Rich had reasoned it might be safer for his pregnant deputy to stay behind a desk than to pay a visit to a potential kidnapper and Amelia had conceded she might be more objective looking into the senator’s side of the case.
From behind her desk, Eve leapt to her feet. “What about me?”
Pleased with his deputy’s reaction, Rich ushered her in his office and closed the door behind them.
Palms over her belly, Eve glared. “It better be your way of keeping the colonel away from Snowy Tip, because if you sent her with Gil as an excuse to keep me here digging into phone records, searching for Norman’s indiscretions, or waiting for that elusive list of employees and volunteers, I may just quit.”
Battling two stubborn women was worse than dismantling a terrorist cell—and twice as dangerous.
“You can’t quit, Eve, you’ll lose your maternity benefits. Besides, I need you to access the military database while the colonel is gone.”
“You want me to do what?” The glow in her eyes subsided. “Do you know how risky that is? Or illegal? Why don’t you just ask her? You seem to be on friendly terms.”
“It’s complicated.” Last night had blurred the distinction between colleagues and lovers. More than one, not quite the other.
He’d shaved while Amelia was under the shower—and cut himself fantasizing about the path of her shampoo and soap. At the sight of the blood running down his face, he inwardly chided himself for being a lunatic, only to recall her forceful indignation. Only a lunatic would think Norm Craig is. Those had been her words, which she’d abruptly ended.
“On one occasion last night, the colonel used present tense when talking about her daughter’s father.”
“On one occasion?” Eve’s dubious looks resembled Amelia’s, and she served him an extra long one. “You do realize it may have been a simple slip of the tongue.”
“Amelia doesn’t slip, Eve. I want you to verify her whereabouts after she graduated from West Point. I also want to know everything there is to know about Hope’s father.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking he might still be alive?”
“Right now, I’m not sure what to think.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m counting on you. I’ll be in the mountains reminding River I need that elusive list.”
Despite his suspicions to the contrary, Rich needed to ascertain Amelia’s teenager wasn’t lost in the mountains.
As he grabbed his winter coat, his cell phone rang. “Sheriff Morgan.”
“Good morning, Sheriff. This is Verna.” The secretary’s voice sounded friendlier on the phone than in person. “The senator would like to see you in one hour. It’s important. Please don’t be late.”
An hour at the speed limit wasn’t enough time to drive to Norman’s office. The politician’s definition of important had better match Rich’s.
***
“Are you awake?”
The rhetorical question irked Quest, and she was already peeved. Her keeper stood at the foot of the bed on which she lay bound at the wrists and ankles.
That is not the start of a good day. “Have you ever seen someone sleep with her eyes wide open?”
“You’re one mouthy brat. Your little stunt hurt the boys.” The creep raked his right hand through his short hair. “It cost me another grand each to buy their silence.”
She glanced around the room. The boys as he’d called them were nowhere in sight.
“You paid an extra two thousand bucks for one cheesy head and two tennis balls? You should ask for a refund.”
“You think that’s funny?” The hatred and resentment she saw in his eyes were more frightening than the fists he made. “Do you get that from daddy? The seedy son of a gun.”
“My father is dead.” The frequent allusions about her father grated on her nerves. Except for her mother, no one knew much about him. “He’s been dead a long time.”
“Is that so?” He sat on the edge of the mattress, smirking.
“Stay away.” Pushing both heels against the bare mattress, she recoiled away from him. Only then did she realize he’d taken off her ski boots while she was unconscious. Someone is going to pay for this.
“I’m not after you, young lady.”
The large bruise on her face disagreed with the statement. “Really?”
“It’s your father I want to destroy.”
So the man was seeking revenge for something her father had done. “My father is in Arlington Cemetery. Want me to give you his row number?”
“That attitude of yours will get you in trouble one day.”
Like I can get in any more trouble than I am right now. “Who are you?”
“My friends call me Sly.”
Quest didn’t know any Sly and she wasn’t his friend, nor did she want to be. “Is Sly short for Slimy?”
“You keep insulting me, I won’t loosen your bonds.”
Under no circumstance did she want him to check her restraints. She was making too much headway with the knots to be caught. “What do you want from me, Slimy?”
“I read your biography on the Internet. It says your late father is Norm Craig, and that your mother met him in Europe.”
“So?” Her coach had requested a biography from every athlete. Despite knowing her mother would object, Quest had mentioned her father’s name. Now she had the sinking feeling she’d missed a great occasion to stay under the radar.
“Do you know he’s not dead?”
“What?” Grampy had often told her she had the best poker face he’d ever seen. She hoped it wasn’t an empty compliment. “You’re wrong.”
“I visited Arlington Cemetery. He’s not buried there.” The smug look on his face emulated a drunken knucklehead. “I’ll give it to you, switching his name around was very ingenious.”
Confused by what she thought she read, Quest tried to recapture the movement of his lips. “Switching...name?”
“I’m sure Senator Craig Norman wasn’t too impressed to see his name on the Internet.”
Slimy couldn’t be stupid enough to think Craig Norman stood for Norm Craig. Her mother despised politicians; she would never sleep with one. That had to be the most preposterous idea Quest had come across in a long time.
“You think my dad is Senator Norman? Are you out of your mind?” If this was a blind fishing expedition, Slimy was about to go on a diet. “My dad is dead. If he could hear you, he’d be rolling in his grave, laughing his guts out.”
His chest rose, only to abruptly fall flat. The breath he took had burst out too sharply for Quest’s taste. If he became too annoyed, it could spell disaster for her.
She tried to modulate her voice to sound less belligerent. “What did that senator do to you anyway?”
“Now you’re curious about him, are you? Maybe next time we chat, I’ll show you a picture of him with your mother taken in Germany.”
If Slimy based his assumption on a picture, he was fit for the loony bin, which made him unpredictable at best.
“I see you lost your tongue. Pity.”
He walked to the door and turned the ceiling light off. The light coming from the room behind the doorway turned his body into a shadowy figure. If he spoke to her, the words vanished into thin air. He closed the door behind him, plunging her into darkness.
Quest fought the blind panic that always threatened to engulf her when faced with total darkness. Ever so slowly her eyes adjusted to the dark. Faint light filtered through the shutters obscuring the only window in the room. To her relief, the ominous shadows in the room took earthly forms.
It has to be mistaken identity. While this was the only logical explanation, proving she wasn’t that senator’s daughter might sign her death warrant instead of ensuring her release. Unlike the two guys who’d kidnapped her, Sl
imy didn’t wear a mask. Either he didn’t care if she identified him later or he intended to get rid of her. As long as he believes me to be valuable, I may remain relatively safe.
Her mother would be looking for her—that much was certain—and Colonel Matheson would expect her daughter to say and do what was needed in order to stay alive until she was rescued.
Taking a deep breath, Quest forced her muscles to relax. Both thumbs snapped. Dislocating her joints was a painful, but useful trick she’d learned from Grampy. He would be proud.
The tight loops slipped along her wrists, scorching her skin.
***
“The senator is expecting you, Sheriff. Please go in.”
Verna’s pleasant greeting resounded like a death knell. If not for the chance the senator had received another email concerning the teenage girl, Rich would have ignored the man’s invitation.
He entered the lion’s den.
“Ah...Sheriff Morgan. Please, come in.” Standing in front of his desk, Senator Norman welcomed him with a smile as fake as the veneer on his teeth. “May I introduce Senhora Marcella and her husband, Senhor Phillipe De La Costa?”
Caught off guard by the identity of the dark beauty from the bridge, Rich mumbled some mundane salutations.
“Sheriff Morgan, the senator tells me you’re the one investigating the scandalous pictures of Marcella circulating on the Internet?” The betrayed husband, a sophisticated man much older than his wife, sounded genuinely concerned.
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.” Feeling like a sacrificial pawn thrown in the middle of a political game in which he didn’t know the rules, Rich glanced at the senator.
Norman had retreated behind his desk without inviting anyone to sit. “Senhor De La Costa is leading a trade delegation from Brazil. He called me when he saw the pictures. I was as shocked and appalled as he was by the resemblance with his wife. Would you please tell him you identified the culprits behind the fake pictures?”
The senator deserved an award for his shameless performance. So did the lovely married woman who stood helplessly by her husband’s side, fluttering long eyelashes over dark brown eyes filled with anguish and pain. Too bad Rich didn’t carry any trophies with him.
“My wife is very distressed over those awful accusations, Sheriff.”
The allegedly distressed woman timidly slipped a hand under her husband’s elbow. “I swear I never met the senator until my husband dragged me here.”
Never met the senator? Unlike Norman, it appeared Marcella had forgotten about the kiss and the friendly walk on the trails.
Rich had no doubt the senator had purposely set him up in order to deflect the wrath of an angry husband, but if he played his next hand correctly, the tides might turn in his favor.
“Without giving too many details, I can say we identified the man posing as the senator. It’s only a matter of time before we find the other participants. In the meantime, I would appreciate if you kept this information to yourself.”
“Yes. Of course. Thank you, Sheriff.” Relief lifted years from De La Costa’s features. “Senator, I’m sorry for my rather...abrupt and rude entrance. I was angry for no reason.”
“Apology accepted, Senhor.” The senator’s arrogance, as he shook the husband’s hand, churned Rich’s stomach.
As soon as the door closed behind the couple, Norman removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves. “You avoided a diplomatic incident, Morgan. You can go now.”
“We’re not done, Norman.” Unfazed by the senator’s unfriendly glare, Rich sat in a deep burgundy padded chair with his elbows on his knees. “Once I arrest Serpent, I’ll make sure he produces all the other pictures he snapped of you and Marcella, and testifies under oath of their authenticity. I can easily expose your little secret—or I can protect it. Your choice.”
Blood rose to the senator’s head. “Are you blackmailing me, Morgan?”
“Yes.” The few people to ever call his bluffs had ended up dead or seriously injured. Rich wasn’t ready to make an exception for the senator.
Norman’s nostrils flared as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “What do you want?”
“The truth.” A girl’s life depended on the answers Rich extracted from the man. “I don’t care how many women you slept with. Did you get any of them pregnant?”
“There...there might have been a few accidents.” Defiance seeped from every pore of his body. “I sent them to Barry. I don’t have any other children.”
“Is Barry a place or a person?” Rich needed details.
“He’s a doctor. I don’t know his first name.”
Hell, you don’t. “That’s what Serpent meant when he accused you of having your children’s blood on your hands, isn’t it?” The senator’s arrogant behavior incensed Rich. “Except Serpent seems to be under the impression you or your doctor forgot to get rid of one daughter.”
“For the last time, Morgan, I wasn’t sloppy. Nobody knew about them.”
Someone had broken the silence and Serpent had listened.
Sooner or later, the truth always comes out. “I want those women’s names.”
“You think I’m stupid enough to keep a list?”
Chapter Nine
Still reeling from his encounter with the politician and his short conversation with his female deputy, Rich entered the maintenance bay at Snowy Tip.
Two mechanics in royal blue overalls stained with grease patches, fiddled with the engine of a snowmobile. A plump blonde in her mid-forties held two hoses out of the way of a burly young fellow maneuvering a wrench. When the man glanced in his direction, Rich inwardly winced. The large bruise on the side of the fellow’s jaw looked fresh and painful.
From the back of the bay, Wayne River motioned for Rich to approach. The master map of the mountains had been taped to the wall and color-coded for easy reference. Two-thirds of the quadrants were crossed off.
“As you can see, we’re making progress. We’re just not finding anything.” A soulful sigh rose from Wayne’s chest. “It’s been two nights, Sheriff. Two very cold nights. Human beings are not built to sustain such conditions for that long.”
Assuming Hope was lost or injured in the mountains, which Rich doubted, the only way she would have survived was by seeking refuge in some sort of shelter.
“Tell me again about the trails.”
“The green trails are open. The red ones are currently closed. The farther ones in grey are hiking trails. We don’t maintain them in the winter.”
All the green trails and roughly half of the red trails had been marked as searched. Rich had to give the search parties credit; they were not wasting their time. “Those pentagons of different colors along the trails, are they shelters?”
“Small wooden lodges equipped with solar panels and painted the color shown on the map. They’re warm enough to keep a stranded skier alive for days. Unfortunately, they were all empty.”
All the pentagons fell within the searched area, except for one located deep in the mountains along an unsearched grey hiking trail. “What about that orange lodge?”
“That particular trail consists of steep slopes and narrow tortuous paths. The young lady wouldn’t have made it that far on her own. Not on skis, and not on foot. Besides, that lodge isn’t heated. We keep it locked until the spring to avoid vandalism.”
Locks can be broken. “Could she have been taken there on a quad or a snowmobile?”
“It’s possible, but...” River pointed at a curvy segment of the trail. “This part is treacherous. There are crevices hiding beneath the snow. Your rider would need to be familiar with the landscape.”
That scenario implied local involvement. Someone who’d worked or still worked at the training center. Someone, who might pretend to search for Hope.
“We can’t ignore that lodge, River.” It presented too much of a convenient hiding place.
“All my people are out. As soon as Erik and Kris report
back, I’ll send them. They can be trusted.” It hadn’t taken long for River to catch on to Rich’s conclusion regarding an inside job. “Which reminds me, I faxed the list you requested to your office an hour ago. I even attached a work schedule.”
“Good, but I’m not waiting for your guys.” The sooner he checked it out, the sooner Rich could cross it off. “Get me a snowmobile and a detailed map of the area. I’m going now.”
A disapproving frown creased the maintenance chief’s forehead. “No offense, Sheriff, but going there alone when you’re not familiar with the terrain is a stupid idea. Would you at least take my son with you? He grew up in these mountains. He knows them inside out.”
Had River suggested any other name, Rich might have refused, but no father would intentionally place his son in harm’s way.
“Get your boy ready. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
As Rich left the bay, the chief yelled at his mechanics to hurry up.
***
Serpent’s address corresponded to a decrepit apartment complex overseen by an overweight matron in her sixties.
“I’m Deputy Thompson and this is Colonel Matheson.” The military officer by Gil’s side remained silent and motionless. “We were told someone by the name Sly Serpent lives here. We’d like to see his apartment.” Assuming this isn’t another hoax.
The landlady barely ventured a glance at Gil’s badge, but she openly studied Matheson from head to boots.
“Back in the days, my husband wore the same uniform. The poor devil is buried in it. God bless his soul. Third floor. Come with me.”
Unsure how to respond to the comparison, Gil stepped behind the matron—and focused on the case. “What can you tell us about Mr. Serpent?”
“I haven’t seen...Mr. Serpent in ten days.” Wheezing and whistling hindered the woman’s ability to climb more than three steps before she had to stop and catch her breath. “Did...something happen to him?”
“That’s what we’re hoping to find out.” The civilian landlady didn’t need to know he was the suspect of an investigation. “When did he rent the apartment?”