When she reached the RV, she quickly scanned her surroundings and then pulled out the key and turned it in the lock. Her heart thudded loudly in the silence that greeted her inside. A deathly pall hung over the space, almost as though Sandy’s presence was there with her. What would she say if she could speak now? Had she tried to tell Hazel something?
Blair wound her way back to the bedroom and stood staring at the bed where Sandy had died. A natural death, or something more ominous? Blair’s mind was stuck on Hazel's insistence that something wasn't right about the situation in the RV. Why would a terminally ill cancer patient not bring any medication with her on a camping trip?
Blair’s shoulders sagged as another thought occurred to her. It was possible Harvey had brought Sandy to this isolated campground to let her die in peace. Maybe they’d had a pact. A mercy killing of sorts. Blair sucked on her bottom lip, considering this angle. He wouldn't get away with it, of course, even if Sandy had been on board with the idea. There would be an autopsy. If Harvey had given her some kind of Vicodin overdose, he’d be prosecuted for it.
Willing herself into action, Blair began her search of the RV by opening the bedroom cabinets and rifling through them one by one, careful to leave everything the way she found it. Most of the cabinets were filled with Sandy’s clothing. It appeared nothing had been tossed out other than the tennis shoes.
Finding little of interest in the bedroom, Blair returned to the main living area and began looking through the reading materials stacked on the shelves above the couch—housekeeping and yachting magazines, a few innocuous romance novels, a handbook on gold prospecting. She cast a glance over the kitchen appliances, frowning as her mind went back to Hazel’s note. Size 9. She’d written something else on the note too. Something about a mug—a mug and a face to be exact. Maybe she’d noticed something while she’d been making Sandy’s tea. It was a long shot, but Blair owed it to Hazel to test her theory.
She opened and shut several cabinet doors in quick succession until she found a shelf of miscellaneous coffee mugs. Looping her fingers through several handles at once, she lifted down a cluster of mugs and began examining them. A delicate sprig of roses adorned a matching pair. An oversized mug sported a Chihuahua in a heart, and another boasted an overweight bulldog. Blair pushed them to one side on the counter and then padded quietly over to the door to make sure there was no sign of Harvey returning. Logically, she knew it would take him a while to hike up to the SOS and back, but she didn't want to take the chance of him returning early for some reason and finding her here.
Continuing her search in the kitchen, she dug out several chipped white Christmas mugs embossed with snowflakes, and a potbellied clay mug—handmade judging by the stamp on the underside. She reached to the back of the shelf for the remaining three mugs and placed them on the counter. Two were nondescript, mass-produced novelty coffee mugs. The third one had a personalized photograph—a bride and groom on their wedding day. Blair glanced at the names beneath the beaming couple. Sandy and Harvey, June 11, 1979. Blair studied the photograph, a smile playing on her lips. They looked like a couple who were very much in love. They were barely recognizable to her which was hardly surprising given that the picture was taken forty years ago. But something about it nagged at her. There was something wrong with the image.
A noise at the door startled her. Heart thundering in her chest, she hurriedly began replacing the mugs on the shelf. The door suddenly swung open and, in her haste to cover up what she was doing, she knocked one of the Christmas mugs to the floor where it smashed with a deafening crash that seemed to echo around the RV. Her mind raced, trying to patch together a reasonable excuse. She was returning the key, she was—
She sucked in a shocked breath when Reed stepped into the RV and fixed a piercing stare on her. Even without his gun, he made an intimidating figure in his camo attire. Blinking across at him, she was momentarily stunned into silence.
"You … startled me," she blurted out as she knelt and began picking up the broken ceramic pieces. "I suppose you heard the helicopter overhead. Harvey went to see if search and rescue is going to attempt a landing, or at least make a drop." She opened the cabinet beneath the sink and tore off a plastic trash bag from a roll with shaking fingers.
"They won’t land in this weather,” Reed said, continuing to stare unnervingly at her. "What are you doing in here?"
She got to her feet and tossed him what she hoped was an indignant look, reminding herself that this wasn't his RV. She didn't owe him an explanation. "Not that it's any of your business, but I’m waiting for the others." It was close enough to the truth. She didn’t bother clarifying that they were actually meeting across the way at her trailer.
Reed folded his arms across his chest. "Got some kind of get-together going on that I should know about?"
"Yes. Harvey’s going to brief us when he gets back."
"Did your husband go with him?"
"No. He and Sam are with Whitney. A tree fell on her trailer and trapped her inside. They’re in the process of getting her out. They’ll meet me back here."
Reed drew his brows together. "Were you planning on inviting me to this meeting?"
Blair shrugged, her pulse drumming so loudly she feared he could hear it. "I didn't get the impression you wanted anything to do with us."
Reed curled his lip in contempt. "I don't have much choice. I had this campground to myself before I left. I come back and you lot are here—a man’s been murdered, a woman's missing, a young girl’s been beat up on, and now I find you nosing around in Harvey's RV." His cold gaze hardened like granite. "What are you really up to?"
Blair gave a careless shrug. "Like I told you already, I’m just waiting on everyone to get back."
Reed leaned against the counter without taking his eyes off her. "Maybe Logan was right about you."
"Right about what?" Blair wrinkled her brow.
"That I shouldn't trust you. That you’re a pack of liars."
"That’s rich!" Blair retorted. "He came here with his kid’s sixteen-year-old babysitter pretending they were on their honeymoon. He's a married man. He’s the one who can’t be trusted."
Reed uncrossed his ankles and took a step toward Blair. "So why are you hiding a body in the back of his truck?"
26
"Logan tells me you're trying to frame him for murder," Reed said, taking another step toward Blair.
"What?" she gasped. "That’s outrageous! You can't believe anything he tells you. He's a manipulative, pathological liar. Harvey's wife, Sandy, passed away yesterday—she had terminal cancer—we had to move her body out of the RV. We only put her in Logan's truck because we've been using ours to drive out to the road to check for any sign of a rescue crew."
Reed surveyed her for a long, uncomfortable moment. "So by my reckoning, that makes two dead bodies, one missing woman, and one abused teen so far. Anything else you want to add to that? Any other camp secrets I should know about?"
Blair hesitated, then shook her head. Technically, there was also a missing man, if you counted Rob, but until she knew for sure that Reed wasn’t the killer, she had no intention of letting him know of Rob's existence. "I’m not hiding anything," she asserted. "Are you?"
"Everybody's hiding something," Reed replied. "What's important is whether it’s a dangerous secret or not—whether it impacts anyone else." His expression softened briefly. "My struggles are my own."
Blair’s thoughts flitted to his camper van and the OCD streak in evidence throughout. By all accounts, Reed spent a considerable amount of time on his own. Maybe he had some kind of social aversion disorder. But it wasn’t enough to convince her that he was harmless. Not after he’d threatened them with a gun.
She reached for the trash bag with the broken mug and stepped past him. "Guess I'll see you at the meeting."
Reed frowned. "It’s not here?"
Blair shrugged. "Here, or at my trailer. We'll figure it out when the others get back. I’m going t
o lock up here for now."
Heart pulsing in her throat, she exited the RV and waited for Reed to follow. After locking the door behind him, she replaced the key in her pocket and watched as he strolled back toward his camper van. With a bit of luck, Reed wouldn’t mention to Harvey that she’d been in his RV.
She made her way down to the road, speeding up her pace to get back as quickly as possible, certain Reed’s eyes were burning into her back as she went. He wasn’t a man she felt safe around, but then she hadn’t given him any reason to trust her either.
Safely inside her trailer, she sank down on the couch and closed her eyes until her breathing slowed to a more regular pace. Even the very sight of Reed struck fear in her heart, but was it justified? She tried to put herself in his shoes for a moment. He had every reason to be wary of them. Obviously, he preferred his own company. After all, he’d come to a remote campground for a solitary hunting trip. But he’d returned to discover Bird Creek full of strangers in-fighting among themselves, one of whom might be a murderer. She could hardly blame Reed for being highly suspicious of what had gone on in his absence. How was he supposed to know who to believe or trust?
Weary and cold to the bone, Blair hauled herself to her feet and filled the kettle to make some coffee. Moments later, she was about to pour the boiling water over the grounds in the French press, when she heard voices outside. Peering through the window, she exhaled in relief at the sight of Matt supporting Whitney as they wound their way toward the trailer. She flung open the door and helped him ferry her up the steps and across the floor to the couch.
"Are you hurt?" Blair asked, anxiously cataloging the cuts and scrapes on Whitney’s face and hands.
She shook her head. "Just bruised. Nothing broken, as far as I can tell." She looked up at Matt. "Thank you again. I’d never have gotten out of there if it hadn't been for you and Sam."
"Where is Sam?" Blair asked.
"He's gone back to check on Duke," Matt said, opening the fridge and grabbing a leftover sandwich. He eyed the French press longingly. "Is the coffee ready?"
"I need to add the water and let it sit for a couple of minutes." Blair motioned to the back of the trailer and raised her brows to indicate she needed to talk to Matt.
Picking up on the urgency in her expression, he gave a barely imperceptible nod and made his way to the bedroom. A moment later, she followed him and closed the door behind her.
"What's up?" Matt frowned. "Why all the secrecy?"
"Remember that time you gave me Harvey’s spare key to give back to him?" Blair whispered.
"You … kept it?" Matt asked incredulously.
Blair put a finger to her lips to warn him to keep his voice down. "Yes, I did. It bugged me that we never got a chance to search Harvey's RV, with Sandy dying and all. And I know he was lying about those tennis shoes. So I decided to take a quick look around while he was gone. To be honest, I didn't even know what I was looking for at first. But then I remembered Hazel's note and how she’d written something about a mug and a face."
Matt scratched his head looking thoroughly confused. "She did?"
Blair blew out an exasperated breath. "I kept the note. It’s in my purse if you don't believe me. The point is, I found—"
"Blair?" Whitney’s voice drifted back to the bedroom. "I need to use the outhouse."
Gritting her teeth, Blair called back, "Coming!"
She leaned closer to Matt and whispered, "I found a mug with a wedding picture of Sandy and Harvey on it from 1979."
"And?" Matt demanded. "Where’s this going?"
"The man in the photo is shorter than Harvey."
"I really need to go!" Whitney called out more urgently.
Blair studied Matt’s reaction as she reached for the door handle. She could see by the look on his face that the gears were turning.
By the time Blair and Whitney returned from the outhouse, Sam and Reed had arrived. Blair tensed when Reed looked pointedly at her and tilted his head by way of greeting. She wondered if he’d told anyone about finding her in Harvey's RV. Or if he’d asked about Sandy. He struck her as the kind of guy who liked to dot his i’s and cross his t’s. Knowing him, he’d probably double checked her story.
"Harvey’s back at the RV," Sam said.
Blair raised her brows questioningly. "Why didn’t he come straight here?"
"He’s covered in mud—he’s cleaning up," Reed responded.
"We figured we’d go over there and save him a trip back out in the rain," Matt said, holding Blair’s gaze as if willing her to see where he was going with this.
Her breath caught in her throat. Of course! It was a chance to take another look at the mug. Maybe even confront Harvey about it. "Good idea," she replied.
"What about Logan?" Whitney asked, throwing a nervous glance Reed’s way.
"What about him?" Matt shot back. "He's where he needs to be until we turn him over to the authorities. He's going to prison, Whitney. What part of that don’t you get?"
"I just don't think we should leave him out, that's all," she retorted, sounding miffed.
"It’s good for him to have some time alone—to think. And he's gonna have a whole lot more time to do that behind bars," Matt said.
Blair reached for the French press. "All right, let’s go. We can have coffee over at Harvey’s."
Harvey looked momentarily taken aback to see them all converging on his RV. "I was just about to head your way."
"No worries," Matt responded. "We thought we’d save you a trip."
"What's the word with SAR?" Sam asked, sinking down on the couch. "I take it they didn't attempt a landing?"
Harvey shook his head. "No, it was impossible in these conditions."
"And the drop?" Sam pressed.
Harvey frowned. "They made the drop, but the wind was so bad it didn't land anywhere near the SOS. They took off right after that. Visibility was next to nothing. I tried to look for the survival kit, but the mud was so slick I didn't get very far."
Disappointment radiated around the room in the silence that followed. They’d hoped to have radio contact by now, if nothing else.
"It’s all right. They'll be back tomorrow," Blair said, trying to lift the mood. "Who wants coffee?" She got to her feet and made a show of opening and closing several different cabinets before fortuitously discovering the coffee mugs.
As she pushed down the plunger on the French press moments later, she wrinkled her nose at the distinctive burnt smell in the air. It couldn’t be the coffee, could it? Glancing in the sink, she noticed that Harvey had been burning some paper. "What have you got going here, Harvey? Are you trying to start a fire or something?" she joked.
He flapped a hand dismissively. "Anything to save a trip to the dumpster in this weather."
Blair shot him a bewildered look. Who burned their trash in their RV?
‘’I can't believe you didn't set off the fire alarm doing that," Sam said, scratching his head.
Harvey gave a disgruntled shrug. "It was just a couple of scraps."
Blair carefully selected an assortment of mugs including the one with the photo of Sandy and Harvey on it and then poured the coffee and handed it around. She looked directly at Matt as she passed him the mug with the wedding photograph. He took a long draught of coffee and let out a satisfied sigh. "Ah, exactly what I needed. Hey, what have we got here? Sandy’s and Harvey’s wedding photo!"
Blair kept her eyes firmly fixed on Harvey, monitoring his reaction. A momentary flicker of surprise crossed his face before he quickly composed his features.
Matt held up the mug for the others to see and then studied the photo more closely. His frown deepened. "No offense, Harvey, but you look kind of … short." His voice faltered and Blair was impressed at how convincing he sounded at being surprised.
Harvey scrubbed a hand over his jaw and let out an embarrassed laugh. "Oh, that's Sandy's first husband. His name was Harvey too—a British guy." He hesitated. "He died in a car crash six m
onths after they were married."
27
A strained silence followed Harvey’s stunning announcement before Whitney exclaimed, "That's such a tragic story. Sandy had a hard life."
Harvey shot her a dark look. "We were very happy together."
"Oh, I didn't mean … with you," Whitney stuttered, her cheeks flushing. "I meant with her first husband dying, and the cancer and all."
Blair stared down at the floor, her fingers so tightly wrapped around her coffee mug she feared she might crush it. The room appeared to be spinning around her—a thousand thoughts shooting through her head at once. Could it really be that simple—that Harvey shared the same name as Sandy’s first husband? Harvey 2.0. It seemed he had an answer for everything. But it felt like one coincidence too many. She stole a furtive glance around the room full of strangers and their secrets. It was just like Reed had said—the important thing was to determine which of them was dangerous. They all had the potential to be. Even Matt. Whitney was right about that. He could kill a man given the right circumstances. He’d been trained to. But he had no reason to as far as she knew.
She considered each of the others in turn. Sam was tall and athletic, a wiry mass of muscle. He could take someone out if he had to. Harvey was older, but broad-shouldered and strong. And then there was Logan. His ego was big enough to drive him to murder. Doubtless, Reed, an experienced hunter, was well capable of killing. Whitney was the only one of the group that she could dismiss as a potential killer. The girl was too small, too lightweight, too fragile emotionally, and too much of an airhead to figure out how to cover up a crime she’d committed. But even she could parrot a cover story for someone else.
You Will Never Leave: A psychological suspense thriller Page 18