Lark’s pulse quickened. “You do?”
“Yes.” Paul glanced around furtively, then lowered his voice. “She told me she was going to blow the lid off the Jitters operation during her closing speech this coming Thursday. She said she had proof of a scam involving the company. I didn’t believe her. I thought she was angry over Katherine’s courting of Jan Halloway.” Paul leaned forward, making sure they were still alone. “When you brought up the ledger at dinner, I realized I was wrong, and she was telling me the truth. I need to look at the ledger.” His eyes narrowed. “You still have it, don’t you?”
She decided not to tell him the ledger had been stolen during the break-in. Though, for all she knew, he might have taken it. This could be one giant ruse, an elaborate fishing expedition designed to ferret out how much she knew. Paranoia aside, she couldn’t help feeling that she’d just been stranded on a remote hillside with a killer. “How would Chipe’s records provide information that would harm Jitters in any way?”
“The numbers in the ledger blow the cover on the coffee wars.”
“The coffee wars? You mean as in competition between the coffee companies, or as in the conflict between the coffee growers and the PRI?”
“Both. If she has the information I think she has, the numbers recorded are way too high.”
Lark still had no clue what he was talking about, except she, too, had realized the numbers were off. “I found something else I’d like to ask you about,” she said, steering the subject away from the missing ledger. “A letter you wrote to Esther, dated a couple of years ago.”
He covered his face with his hands. “So you know?”
“I know you were in love with her.” The words tasted bitter, like an admission of guilt. Reading other people’s mail was not just a federal crime, it was a mortal sin.
“It’s true. Two years ago, we were both in Chiapas on business. It happened.”
“Did Vic find out?”
“I don’t think so, but Katherine did. She was dead set against Esther’s and my relationship from the beginning, and she had the power to end it.”
“How so?”
“She has the money. She is Migration Alliance.”
“You gave up the love of your life for a job?”
“It’s not just a job to me. I’ve worked a lifetime to get where I am. Even Esther wasn’t worth giving up my dreams.”
“That’s sad.”
“You think I killed her, don’t you?” His tone was edgy. “How could you possibly believe that? Tell me, why would I murder the woman I loved?”
Loved being the operative word. Lark steeled herself against the pain in his voice. “Money?”
“I don’t need any money. I have Katherine.” The bitterness in the words overshadowed his anguish. Paul picked up a pine needle and carved a white-line heart on his skin. “After Katherine found out about Esther and me, there was an ugly scene. Katherine laid down an ultimatum. I had a choice: Esther, or Migration Alliance and the position of executive director. I’d worked so hard. But, then, so had Katherine. Her father had provided the seed money, but Katherine worked tirelessly to find ways to increase the wealth of the organization in order to insure its work continue. We worked together, as a team. She was so possessive, you’d have thought we were married instead of just partners.” He drew a squiggly line through the heart. “But ours was a commitment and a union that couldn’t be broken. Esther understood that and left.”
“And Vic never found out?”
“It was six months later Esther and Vic moved in together. I don’t think he ever knew about me. If I’d asked her to, she would have left him. It would have killed him.” Paul looked up, pain reflected in his eyes and face. “The truth be told, he loved her more than I did.”
Lark felt no empathy for Paul. For the sake of prestige, he’d squandered love. “What can I say?”
“Hey, it’s life.” Paul threw down the pine needle. “And nothing’s changed. You need to keep your eyes open. Whoever killed Esther knows you’ve seen the ledger, and—”
A cracking of branches from upstream announced Buzz’s arrival, interrupting their conversation. Standing at the edge of the trees, he swept crumbled branches from his flattop and off the shoulders of his jacket. “There’s no way out of there, folks,” announced Buzz. “Not in either direction.”
“I could have told you that,” grumbled Lark, moving out into the clearing.
“Told us what?” asked Norberto, pushing through the bushes behind her. Where had he come from?
“That there’s no way across the creek, either upstream or down,” she said, recovering quickly. “And it’s starting to get late. I think we have to accept the fact that we may have to spend the night up here.”
“Hoo boy,” groaned Buzz.
“I’ll try reaching Dorothy again for their ETA, but…” She let the inference speak for itself.
Norberto turned back toward the overhang. “Jan can’t stop shaking.”
“Then we need to build a fire to get her dry.”
Buzz and Norberto headed out in search of fuel. Lark sent Paul back to check on Jan. He seemed only too happy to oblige. Lark fiddled with the controls on the walkie-talkie and finally got through.
“Dorothy, did you get a call for help through?”
“That’s affirmative. It’s on the way, over.”
“Dee, cut the over stuff, and just talk to me. I’m worried Jan Halloway’s developed a case of hypothermia. We need to get her off this mountain. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Because of the wind and nightfall, Mountain Search and Rescue can’t get a helicopter up to you until morning. Then there’s no place to land it on your side of the Alpine Creek. The storm washed out the trail in spots, so it’s too treacherous to hike up in the dark. They’re talking about coming up in the morning.”
“Ten four,” Lark said. “Over and out.”
Lark’s survival skills were rusty, going back twenty years to her Girl Scout days. Buzz’s were honed to perfection. In no time flat, he’d collected enough dry brush and kindling to start a small fire. Norberto produced some matches, and the two men fanned the flames.
In the meantime, Lark pulled a dry sweatshirt out of her backpack and peeled Jan out of her wet clothing.
“Put this on.”
“I’m fine.” Jan tried pushing Lark’s hand away, but her own hand missed.
“You’re not fine,” Lark said, unzipping Jan’s wet jacket. Underneath, her shirt was soaked and plastered against her skin. “How’s your vision?”
“Fine,” Jan said, rubbing her eyes. “I can see perfectly, except for the smoke.”
Norberto chuckled, watching them with amusement. His cargo pants were now stained with soot, and his black T-shirt whitened with ash, but the grungier he got, the better he looked. And more dangerous, in a Pierce Brosnan sort of way.
“Don’t just stand there enjoying the show,” Lark said. “Help me.”
Together, they stripped Jan down to her bra and forced her arms into the sleeves of the dry sweatshirt. As Norberto’s dark eyes strayed to her breasts, Lark yanked the sweatshirt into place, cutting off the view.
Norberto grinned. “You can’t blame a guy.”
With Jan bundled up in warmer garments, Lark assessed their supplies. Between the six of them, they had four bottles of water and a granola bar stuffed deep in Lark’s pack. She couldn’t vouch for how long it had been there, but they didn’t need food to survive the night.
Shelter was the critical thing. Even though the rain had abated, lightning flashes high on the mountain indicated the storm wasn’t over. Lark glanced up at the darkening sky. “You know, if we want to stay dry, we need to build a shelter.”
Buzz jumped into gear. “She’s right. If we get some stout logs we can construct—”
Paul cut him off. “She said shelter, not cabin.”
“No, he’s right, Paul. If we can find some long branches, we can cut boughs and tie them i
n place to form a wall to lean up against the overhang.”
Paul looked skeptical. “What are we going to tie them up with?”
“How about shoelaces?” Buzz said.
“What are we going to cut the branches with?”
Lark produced a Swiss Army knife. “It has a saw blade.”
By ten o’clock, the makeshift wall stood in place, and the inside of the Swiss Family Robinson–type shelter felt almost cozy. They had lashed together a wall of tree limbs and boughs strong enough to shield them from the threatening wind and rain. Prying her boots off at last, Lark leaned back against a rock, stretched her legs out in front of her, and dried her socks by the fire. Her ankle throbbed.
“I have a question,” Jan said. Wearing Lark’s blue sweatshirt with her blond hair curling around her ears, she looked like high school cheerleader at a woodsy. “Where does someone go to the bathroom?”
Lark pointed toward the woods.
“In the dark? By myself?”
A walk in the forest alone in the dark wasn’t Lark’s idea of a picnic, either. If only she didn’t feel responsible for the predicament they were in. “Let me put my boots back on, and I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll go, too,” Katherine offered.
“Isn’t one baby-sitter enough?” Buzz asked. “Or is it a woman thing?”
“Stuff a stock in it, Buzz,” Jan said, allowing Norberto to help her to her feet. “And don’t think we’re saying nice things about you.”
On his snort, Lark stepped around the makeshift wall into the stark moonlight. Without laces, the heels of her boots slipped up and down. Too much walking, and she would have blisters come morning. Turning her back on the campfire, she stepped off the path and headed into the woods. “We don’t have to go far. We can duck behind these trees over here.”
“What do we wipe with?” Jan asked.
“Pine needles.” Katherine rolled her eyes at Lark over the top of Jan’s head.
“You’re joking, right?”
“The other choice is to drip dry,” explained Lark.
Jan groaned. “I’d have made a lousy pioneer.”
They peed without any more talk, then headed back toward camp, single file. The storm had left the vegetation moist. Moonlight sparkled off the willows and danced along the creek. Closer to camp, the fire shed warm inviting light on the path. Katherine hurried ahead, but Jan hung back, something obviously on her mind.
“I want to thank you for saving my life, Lark.”
“Let’s not be overly dramatic,” Lark said, uncomfortable with the praise. “All I did was make you put on a dry sweatshirt.”
“If you hadn’t forced me, I might have frozen to death. And I know the fire was your idea, and the shelter. I’d like to reward you somehow. If there’s anything I can—”
“Nothing,” Lark said, cutting her off. “Your thanks is more than enough.”
Lark awakened at dawn when the first rays of sun peeked over the top of the mountain, smacking her full in the face. Rolling on the hard ground, she pushed herself up on her elbow, brushing dirt and pine needles out of the top of her hair. The end was still braided, but Lark imagined it looked worse for the wear.
The others were all still asleep. Katherine, curled near the fire, her dark head crooked on one arm, looked like a porcelain doll. Jan, scrunched up fetus-like beside Norberto, looked cold. Buzz lay flat on his back, his head propped on a bed of pine needles, snoring lightly.
Where was Paul? she wondered. He must have gotten up to go pee.
Not a bad idea. Lark sat up and stretched, feeling the pressure of her own bladder. The sky was clear, and the air smelled fresh. Reaching down, she gingerly rubbed her ankle. Her foot wasn’t too swollen this morning. That was a good sign. Clambering to her feet, she eased her weight onto her right foot. Tender, but usable.
Lark worked her feet into her boots, then hobbled out from under the lean-to. Turning toward the woods, she gimped her way up the path, breathing deep of the mountain air. Dew sparkled on the leaves, and a yellow-rumped warbler sang from the trees.
At the bend in the trail, Lark stepped off the path and moved deeper into the forest The underbrush crackled beneath her feet. A flash of turquoise in the woods to her right pulled her up short. “Paul?”
There was no mistaking his bright-colored jacket. He sat on the ground, leaning against a tree. He appeared to be watching something. Probably a bird.
“Did you spot something interesting?” she whispered, working her way quietly up behind him. “Paul?”
Reaching out her hand, she touched his shoulder, half expecting him to jump. Instead, he slumped sideways.
“Paul?”
She shook him, and his head lolled to the right. His eyes matched the color of his turquoise jacket. They stared sightlessly at the morning sun.
CHAPTER 15
A red stain spread across the front of Paul’s jacket, turning the turquoise purple. An angry gash gouged deep in his neck. Nearby lay a red-handled Swiss Army knife.
Her knife. The one she’d lent him to cut boughs with.
A scream bubbled up. Not a squeaky scream, but a full-throated screech that caused a flock of pine siskin to flush from the trees, and something larger to crash away through the undergrowth.
Lark clamped her hands across her mouth and tried breathing slowly through her nose, forcing herself to calm down.
Was he really dead? He looked dead.
She reached out a tentative hand, touching his wrist to feel for a pulse. His flesh felt cold, like precooked liver.
Panic bubbled up again. It looked like someone had slashed his throat.
Slowly, she backed away from his body; then she turned and ran toward the trail. With every step, sharp pains radiated up from her ankle. A dull throb pulsed in her temple. The underbrush on the forest floor clawed at her feet, tripping her. The branches on the bushes and trees snagged her clothes, stinging and scratching her face as she pushed through the woods toward the narrow path. Her heart pounded, and she gasped for air.
Reaching the trail, she took several faltering steps, then stopped and threw up in the bushes. Bile burned the back of her throat, and she vomited in spasms. Then, with her stomach emptied, she screamed for help.
“Buzz! Somebody! Get up!”
Ignoring the shooting pains in her leg and head, Lark sprinted for the clearing. She heard Buzz growling to life behind the lean-to.
“What’s going on? Who’s yelling?”
“It sounds like Lark,” Katherine said. “Paul? Where’s Paul?”
The shelter loomed in sight, and Lark slowed her pace. The sound of Katherine’s voice had pierced through her panic, sobering her to the reality of the situation. Katherine was Paul’s partner. The rest of them were Paul’s friends. One of them was Paul’s murderer.
“What’s wrong?” demanded Buzz, stepping out in to the open and grabbing her by the shoulders. “Did something scare you?”
Lark glanced at the others, then looked at the ground. “Can I talk to you a minute, Buzz?”
Katherine’s eyes grew round with alarm. “Did something happen? Was Paul with you?”
Damn! Lark scrunched her eyes closed.
“Where is he?” she demanded. “He was with you, wasn’t he?”
“He’s…” Lark looked at Buzz. “I found him…” She turned back to Katherine. “He’s dead.”
A shocked silence ensued.
“Dead?” Jan whispered.
“You must be wrong,” Katherine said, her black hair swinging around her face. “You can’t be right.”
“I don’t know what happened. I found him leaning against a tree. His throat was slashed.”
“Where is he?” demanded Katherine, heading for the trail.
“He’s back in the woods,” Lark gestured lamely. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea—”
“I don’t really care what you think,” Katherine said. “How could you just leave him out there?”
Lark blocked her path. “Katherine, he’s dead.”
“And what if he’s not?” Katherine pushed Lark aside with a strength that knocked her off balance. She turned to Buzz.
“You have to stop her.”
Lark felt another wave of nausea and dropped her head to her knees. “And someone needs to get the sheriff up here.”
Buzz hesitated for a moment before charging after Katherine. “Lark’s right,” he said, forcing her back to the clearing. “It’s better if we all stay here until the sheriff arrives.”
“What are you talking about? Someone besides her needs to go check on him. What if she’s wrong? What if he’s still alive and bleeding to death? Minutes can make the difference.” Katherine cast about for support. “Are the rest of you just going to take her word for it?”
Lark straightened. “Are you saying I would lie about something like this?”
Katherine stepped to within nose-touching distance and shrieked on the morning breeze, “Why not? You’re the one that got us stranded up here in the first place. You’re the one who gave him the knife. You’re the one he confided in.”
“Confided in? What are you talking about, Katherine?” Jan asked.
“Enough!” Buzz roared. “Everybody, sit down.”
Lark waited for Katherine to move away, then hobbled over to the boulder outcropping and sat on a relatively flat piece of rock. While the others banded together under the overhang, the sharp granite poked against Lark’s rear end, bringing the proverbial “pain in the ass” to life.
“Katherine is right,” Buzz said. “Someone else needs to go check on Paul.” He glanced at Lark. “Just to make sure. You understand. And, we need to reach Dorothy MacBean and have her notify the sheriff and park officials. Where is the walkie-talkie?”
Lark patted her jacket pockets. The handheld radio was gone. “I had it right here last night.”
“Do you remember having it this morning?”
“No. I didn’t use it. Maybe it fell out of my pocket while I was sleeping?” Lark started searching the flat spot where she’d woken. Norberto joined her, and together they combed the area.
Death of a Songbird Page 16