The Body in the Landscape (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 5)

by Larissa Reinhart

  “I can’t see why I have to return if Mr. Bass, Mr. Rick, and Mr. Avtaikin can continue to hunt,” LaToya said. “I’m as good a hunter as those men. I have awards to prove it. I’m eighteen. It’s not like I’m a kid.”

  Mike held up his hands. “I understand, Miss LaToya. The contest is over. I’m not going to present the big prize or trophy. And I will refund your money. I’m just allowing the remaining participants to continue to hunt while they wait to return.”

  “If they don’t shoot that hog tomorrow, I’ve got to take care of the beast before he does more damage to the area,” said Jeff Digby. “LaToya, won’t your parents be worried sick about you in this weather?”

  “My parents know me well enough,” LaToya fumed. “They know I’m an expert shot and likely to have a spot on the Olympic team in a few years. They know I keep a cool head. I’m not some girl who gets shook up by a little rain and cold.”

  I slipped to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Your parents would be proud of how mature you’ve been this weekend, particularly with all the weird stuff going on. You act better than some adults.”

  She shook off my hug. “Pardon me for saying so, ma’am. But I’d think you’re a better candidate to go back. Considering how most of us think you might be behind this ‘weird stuff’ going on.”

  Under the table, Buckshot barked her assent and pushed her nose into LaToya’s hand.

  “Et tu, Buckshot?” I gritted my teeth and turned to center Viktor in my fiery gaze.

  “I may have made haste in the accusation of Cherry Tucker.” Viktor accompanied the statement with an Eastern European-fueled sigh. “We have examined the map and it is possible Lesley Vaughn cut the tires. I am sorry to speak ill of the dead, but Lesley wanted to protect the giant hog. Perhaps too much.”

  LaToya dropped her gaze to the table. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Anyway, I’ve got to stick around to help my friend, Max.” I patted LaToya’s shoulder. I recognized her attitude stemmed from a competitive nature combined with teenage stubbornness. “I won’t be having much fun, hanging on here. Chock this weekend up to ‘hot mess’ and grab hunting time somewhere less jinxed. You’re braver than me if this weekend hasn’t given you the heebies.”

  “Nature doesn’t give me the heebies.” Her Mars Brown eyes glared at me. “Only people.”

  “I want the guides to drive so they can bring back another ATV. Caleb Guterson doesn’t realize we need a return vehicle,” said Mike. “We could squeeze one more person in. Miss Tucker?”

  I realized I could send a semi-reliable messenger to Rookie Holt. One who was currently showering and unable to defend himself. “Take Todd. Mr. Max would rather have my help than Todd’s. And I’m sure Todd won’t mind accompanying Lesley’s body.”

  “Yes,” agreed Viktor, fixing his eyes on Jeff Digby. “I think the artist should stay. She is of no importance to return early. Send other guests first.”

  “I guess by important guests you mean me,” said Bob Bass. “But I want to hang out and finish the hunt. Avtaikin and I have our own little competition that doesn’t involve any of y’all. And that artist gal still needs to paint my picture.”

  “I should stay with Bob,” piped Peach. “No way can you get me to ride with a dead body. Gross.”

  “What about Rick there?” said Bob. “He’s hurt, after all.”

  “I’d rather have Todd, I mean, Mr. McIntosh, accompany me.” The rush of her words darkened LaToya’s cheeks.

  Rick flicked his gaze between Bob and LaToya, but remained silent as usual.

  Eyeing Rick, I thought about Mike’s statement about Caleb Guterson. Had Mike tried to reach Caleb on the walkie-talkie and failed? Or tried to radio the lodge and failed?

  Wait a minute, I thought. Could a Guterson have pulled these tricks to ruin the lodge’s big event?

  Caleb would have known about the radio antenna. He and the Sparks had left just as Todd and I arrived at the bunkhouse. Rick’s Gator had already been parked.

  All Caleb would’ve needed was a minute or two alone to cut the tire valves. That kind of stunt was more fitting to Caleb’s background than Lesley’s.

  Caleb also could have followed Abel into the woods from the Double Wide. But why? Did Abel overhear plans by the Gutersons to disrupt the hunt?

  I dropped onto the long wooden bench next to LaToya and used my finger to trace designs on the wood’s surface. The idea of Caleb sabotaging the radio and Gator made more sense than a mysterious stalker. I could see the Gutersons planning pranks meant to scare the guests. Had their intended pranks turned into deadly accidents? Or were the Gutersons driving toward more malevolent acts?

  It was hard to imagine that kind of evil, but in the Gutersons, I recognized the viciousness that often came with self-preservation.

  “I am serving more soup now,” announced Viktor. “There is also the corn soufflé, honeyed fruit salade, and barley tea.”

  The crowd dispersed into the kitchen. I scooted down the bench toward Mike, waiting for Jeff Digby to join us.

  “Did you find Lesley’s backpack?” I asked without segue, because I was not a segue kind of girl.

  While Mike appeared momentarily perplexed, Jeff seemed to have adapted to my repartee. “Found it beneath him. It had gotten tangled around his legs in the fall.”

  “That makes more sense for an accident,” I said.

  “More sense than what?” asked Mike.

  “Abel’s hat.” I waved that aside. “I’m glad you decided to send LaToya back. Makes me feel easier about this business.” I looked at Jeff. “Did you tell Mike about the radio antenna?”

  He nodded.

  “Damn shame,” said Mike. “It’ll be okay, though. Viktor’s first rate at nursing and we’ve got food and fuel. Big Clem and Lil Joe will get back tomorrow afternoon with more transport. That’ll give the last guests a chance to hunt tomorrow morning if they want. Then maybe we won’t have to refund everyone’s money.” Before I could speak, Mike hopped up from the bench. “Thanks for your help, Miss Tucker. Boy, do I need a shower. I’m going to grab one while everyone’s eating.”

  We watched Mike walk toward the kitchen, where he complimented Viktor on the food. I glanced at the lines tightening around Jeff’s eyes.

  “Is Mike in denial?” I asked.

  “He’s a good guy,” said Jeff. “Takes things to heart. Maybe a little too much. I’m going to suggest he take a vacation after this weekend.”

  “You don’t like this plan of letting the hunt continue tomorrow.” I dropped my voice as the guests took their seats at the other end of the table.

  “Nope,” said Jeff. “It’s not worth the money. Everyone’s keyed up and we don’t need more accidents. I’d just as soon have everyone sit tight and wait for the rescue. I’ll stay and get rid of that hog myself.”

  He rose from his seat and I placed a hand on his arm.

  “What about Caleb Guterson?” I whispered. “He had the opportunity to cut the tire valves. Possibly the antenna wire too, while we were getting ready to depart for the deer blinds. You know how the Gutersons feel about the lodge.”

  Jeff kept his eyes on my hand clamped around his wrist. “I guess it’s a possibility.”

  Behind us, the bedroom door opened and the fragrance of hotel shampoo mixed with the funk of wet dog, mud, and mushroom soup.

  Todd emerged with his wet locks slicked back, long and water-darkened. I heard Peach’s sharp intake as she beheld the amazing sight of the freshly showered, shirtless Viking. Even LaToya gasped. As he lived in my home, I had become mostly desensitized to a wet and partially nekkid Todd.

  Mostly. After all, as an artist, I could never become completely immune to beauty.

  Next to me, Jeff grunted. “I thought he’d never get out of the shower. I’m next.”

  I pulled my hand off Je
ff’s arm to wave Todd over. “Do you want some dinner?”

  “In a minute.” Todd shrugged on a flannel, plopped onto the bench next to me, and began buttoning the flannel over his muscular glory. “I want to talk first.”

  At the other end of the table, Bob dropped a spoon in his empty bowl and resumed his constant prattle that had ebbed while eating.

  Rick abruptly pushed away his bowl, yanked his cigarettes from his front pocket, and stood. Despite the bandages spotting his face, he appeared to have recovered from the misfire.

  “Going out for some fresh air? I’ll join you. Who else’s coming?” Bob glanced at his dinner companions.

  LaToya kept her eyes on her food, but Peach jerked from her internal musings at Bob’s statement.

  From his pocket, Bob pulled out a metal cigar case and waved it at Rick. “Bet you’d like one of these Cubans. I betcha never even tried one before. I like to share little privileges with my fans. Try a Cuban.”

  “I’m fine with the Pall Malls,” said Rick. “Thanks anyway.” He scurried toward the front door, grabbed his coat from a hook, and flew into the dark.

  Still sharing his cigar knowledge with the room, Bob followed Rick. Peach snatched her GoPro from the table and hurried to grab her coat from the drying rack beside the fireplace.

  The front door swung open again and a belt of cold and damp snuck into the room.

  Finished with his buttons, Todd refocused on delivering his speech. “I thought about that idea you had about enemies.”

  I kept my expression neutral as I searched my brain’s outbox for comments about enemies.

  “You know how spy movies usually have a double agent?” said Todd.

  I dropped neutral for bewildered.

  “So I’m fixing to do that for you.”

  “Fixing to do what for me, hon?” Poor Todd. I took his hand in mine and squeezed.

  “When we get back, I’m going to ask Shawna Branson out. But I’ll do it as a double agent.”

  I dropped Todd’s hand and planted my face in mine. “Oh Lord, of all the bad ideas.”

  “It’s a great idea. From what I hear, Shawna’s been kind of lonely. She’s hot and all, but she’s got a reputation for being high maintenance.”

  “Lordy.” Remembering my self-comparison to Shawna, I peeked out between my fingers. “Wait, do I have a reputation like that?”

  Todd shook his head. “You’re known to be easy...”

  My head jerked from my hands.

  “...going. But a little scary.”

  “Scary? How am I scary? I’m five foot and a half inch.” Despite my protestation, I couldn’t help but feel pleased. My fierceness preceded me.

  “Not physically scary,” said Todd. “You’re cute as a bunny. Scary like a guy might begin a date with you at Red’s and wake up in jail the next morning.”

  “That’s ridiculous. No one I’ve dated has gone to jail.” I paused. “Except Dewey. But he doesn’t count. I didn’t know he was on probation.”

  “Anyway, I thought taking Shawna on a couple dates might work. I might learn something that could help y’all.”

  “That’s a terrible idea. First off, Shawna knows you’re my roommate and Cody’s best friend. Second, if she finds out you’re dating her to help me, she’ll throw a hissy so epic, it would literally rip the town in two. Like an earthquake. With spewing lava. And some of Lesley’s mythological creatures flying right out of the crack in the earth. Therefore cementing my brother in prison for eternity.”

  “I’m confused,” said Todd. “Does Shawna cause earthquakes or volcanos?”

  “You need to eat because your brain is tired,” I said. “I will get you some of that tasty dirt soup.”

  “I think you should sleep on this idea,” said Todd.

  “I’ve got plenty of ideas that need sleeping on.” I swung my legs over the bench. “Right now, I’m more concerned with rescuing Max and keeping Viktor from going wacko from paranoia. Then there’s the Gutersons. Considering they are now my most likely suspects for scaring everybody.”

  As Viktor had been gifting me with the evil eye since our initial meeting, the one he offered at my request for Todd’s soup held no meaning.

  “You are wrong,” he said, shoving the bowl of piquant brown liquid at me.

  This remark, so oft repeated in my presence, left me unperturbed.

  I asked on which account I was now wrong.

  “Big Clem called Team Three on the walking-talking.”

  “Walkie-talkie,” I corrected.

  “Whatever,” he said. “And the guide Tennessee answered. He says Avtaikin is safely in the deer stand.”

  I beamed.

  “But when I insist on speaking to the Bear, Tennessee does not give the good answer. Big Clem forced Tennessee into the confession.”

  My beam dimmed. “Max isn’t in the deer stand. He’s out stalking that damn hog, isn’t he? He’s going to rip out all that fancy surgical work.”

  “He is not stalking the hog,” seethed Viktor.

  “Good.” I tucked the bowl against my belly and grabbed a plate of cornbread fluff. “Because I was just imagining the Bear lying at the bottom of a hill like Lesley and Abel. If Max slips and dies, I’m going to kill him.”

  “No, you misunderstand. Avtaikin is in the forest. But he is not stalking this hog. He is stalking me.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I am not crazy. I grew up with this man. The Bear hunts me. I feel it. If Maksim Avtaikin allows me to have knowledge of his whereabouts, he is not the man I know.”

  “Then he’s not the man you know.” I tromped back to Todd and handed him the soup and corn soufflé. “Unbelievable. That Viktor will not let up about Max. He suspects the Bear of everything.”

  “Does he suspect Mr. Max will cause earthquakes and volcanos?” Todd laughed.

  I replied with a well-honed stink-eye.

  “Have some more soup,” said Todd, holding up his spoon.

  I scowled at the thought of Max creeping about in the cold, damp woods. “I’ve got to look for him. I wonder if I could take the Mule. I know Lesley’s in the back, but—”

  A splintering crack bit the night air and the light in the room dimmed. Buckshot broke the millisecond of stillness. With short, frantic barks, she scooted from under the table and galloped for the front window.

  Someone hollered from the porch. Viktor whipped around to face the room, forgetting the dripping ladle in his hand. Before the fireplace, the two outfitters shot simultaneous looks at the rifle packs lining the wall.

  I ran for the door and yanked it wide. Behind me, feet pounded on the pine flooring.

  The porch light remained on, but the light had disappeared in the drive.

  In the distance, a faint pop preceded a splashing thump. The next shot hit wood with a splintering crack and the Christmas lights blew. A hand shoved me to the floor. Darkness swallowed the porch.

  “It’s a sniper,” howled Bob. “They’re trying to assassinate me. They’ve got a silencer.”

  “Stay down and crawl into the house,” growled Jeff Digby, whose powerful hand still flattened me to the porch floor. “I cut the porch lights. Big Clem, shut the house lights so they can’t see in.”

  The bunkhouse darkened. Heavy paws dug into my thighs and butt and someone licked my ear. “Jeff Digby, I hope to God that’s not you.”

  Jeff’s hand released my back. “Dadgum, Buckshot. Get inside, girl. Lil Joe, grab her collar and get her on the leash before she gets hurt.”

  “What’s going on?” Todd called from behind me.

  “I didn’t hear a bullet hit anywhere too close,” I whispered to Jeff. “Unfortunately, I’ve had some experience with bullets in my vicinity and am alert to the sound of one hitting near my person.”

  “They must have
missed,” said Jeff. “Holy shit, who’s shooting at us?”

  “It’s the Bear,” called Viktor. “He’s come to finish me off.”

  A boot rammed into my side and I cried out.

  “Are you okay?” asked Jeff.

  “Bob Bass just kicked me.”

  “I’m trying to get into the house and you’re blocking the door,” hollered Bob.

  I belly scooted onto the wet porch and let Bob slither over my legs. Craning my neck, I saw Peach hunkered behind a rocking chair, clutching something against her chest. “Get in the bunkhouse. Don’t be scared, just crawl inside.”

  The object in Peach’s hand fell to the ground with a clatter. She scooted out from the rocking chair to feel along the floor.

  “Leave it. You can get it later. Where’s Rick?” I squinted, but darkness had enveloped the far end of the porch. “What happened to the security light? Rick, are you down there?”

  Another pop sounded in the forest. “Get down,” I yelled. Somewhere in the drive, the bullet smacked into the ground with a loud whump.

  “What’s going on?” called Mike.

  Scuffling sounded in the doorway.

  “Get your butts inside,” hollered Jeff. “Get out of my way.”

  “Stop blocking the doorway,” said Todd.

  Bullets smacked the drive.

  “Is it you, Avtaikin?” shouted Viktor. “Give me a gun. I will take care of this now.”

  “Absolutely no guns,” I yelled. “Rick’s missing.”

  From the back bedroom, Buckshot began to howl.

  Lord, I thought, you’ve got to help me. Because these men are about as useful as a trapdoor on a lifeboat.

  I glanced back at the rocking chair. “What are you doing?” I asked Peach. “Do you want to get killed? Get inside.”

  “Stop it,” she screamed, crossing her hands above her head. “Enough.”

  Figuring Peach for meltdown mode, I drew into a squat and leapt to her aid. We slammed onto the slick wooden floor and slid into the chair. Her head smacked the rocker with a crack. We held eye contact for a long second before she bucked and shoved me off.