On Her Trail

by Marcelle Dubé

  “Good morning,” said Fay, stepping out of the trees.

  Laura started, and she winced at the pain the sudden movement caused. “Good morning yourself,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage. “Where’s Mack?”

  “Down the driveway,” said Fay. She wore a man’s heavy sweater with the sleeves rolled down to keep her hands warm. The shotgun was cradled casually in one arm.

  She looks so tired, thought Laura with a stab of guilt.

  “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked her mother.

  Fay shook her head. “I tried, but you were snoring too much.”

  Mortified, Laura was about to apologize when she caught her mother’s sly sideways glance.

  Laura laughed.

  Fay grinned. “I’m hungry. Want some breakfast?”

  At the mention of food, Laura’s stomach growled. When had she last eaten? “Sounds good to me.”

  They turned companionably toward the house. As they passed by the dark hulk of the pickup, parked next to the entrance, Laura suddenly remembered the envelope with the two pictures.

  “Hold on,” she told her mother. “There’s something I want you to see.”

  Fay obediently stopped and watched as Laura opened the door to the cab. The interior light came on.

  “Come over to the light,” said Laura, sweeping safety glass off the seat. She pulled the photographs out of the envelope and handed her mother the snapshot. “Who’s the man on the top step?” she asked. “He looks like the man I saw in the woods yesterday.”

  Fay put down the rifle on the truck seat and took the snapshot from Laura. She stared at it for a long time. Finally she said, in a voice barely above a whisper, “He was a friend of ours, before you came along. You couldn’t have seen him, dear.”

  Laura studied the picture again. “I know it couldn’t have been him—this picture is over thirty years old—but still…I could have sworn…”

  Then Fay saw the other picture. “When did you get this done?” she asked, reaching for the picture of the grim-faced Aunt Gertrude.

  “That’s not me.” Laura grinned. She took the picture from her mother and flipped it over. “Apparently it’s Great Aunt Gertrude. Or maybe Great Great…I get lost in too many greats.”

  Fay frowned and took the picture again. She looked at the handwriting on the back, and even in the poor light of the cab, Laura saw her pale.

  “Where did you get it?” asked Fay. Her lips looked almost gray and Laura took her arm in concern.

  “Mom? What’s the matter?” She tried to take the picture from Fay but her mother’s hand clenched on it spasmodically.

  “Where did you get it?” repeated Fay, enunciating very clearly.

  Laura’s heart hammered in her chest. She had triggered something, but she didn’t know what. Her mother looked like she was in shock. Not knowing what else to do, Laura told her the truth.

  “At the Trib office. Jason said Dad had given both pictures to Mr. Howell to give to me when he died. Dad, I mean.” At her mother’s blank look Laura took a deep breath and tried again. “Dad gave them to Mr. Howell. Mr. Howell was supposed to give them to me if Dad died before him, but I guess Mr. Howell forgot.”

  Fay looked even worse. Her face was chalk white. Her free hand held on to the door frame as if for support. Alarmed, Laura stepped closer to her mother and took the pictures from her nerveless hand.

  Through tight lips Fay asked, “When? When did James give them to Howell?”

  For the first time in her life Laura felt the inexorable pull of destiny. Without understanding how, she knew her next words would change her life and her mother’s, but she could no more have refrained from answering than she could have kept the sun from rising.

  “Ten years ago,” she said.

  Fay’s face went from chalk white to violent red. She stepped away from the truck, pulling out of Laura’s embrace as if she didn’t exist. In the growing light of day her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

  “The son of a bitch,” whispered Fay, stumbling drunkenly from the truck. She looked around at the gray trees. “You son of a bitch!” The tendons in her neck stood out with the force of her cry.

  She turned her back to the house and broke into an awkward trot, heading for the cliff trail.

  With a wordless cry of fear, Laura followed her mother.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Fay ran as fast as she could, rage fueling her legs and lungs. Her mind was too full of fury to form coherent thought and her entire being focused on only one goal: James.

  She raced the half mile to her home, dimly aware of the cliff’s edge, the slippery path, her laboring heart.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she burst out of the trees into the cleared space surrounding her house and skidded to a stop. She struggled to catch her breath, inhaling raggedly through the pain in her side. The house she and James had built loomed darkly, sleepily, but she wasn’t fooled.

  “You knew!” she yelled at the quiet house when her heaving chest finally allowed. “All those years you knew!” A harsh sob escaped. “James!” She wiped at her face and turned around, examining the trees. “James, you bastard—come out!”

  But James didn’t appear. Instead, Laura came running up the path, holding her arm awkwardly. Two red splotches stood out on either cheek, made vivid by the pallor of her face.

  “Fay,” she gasped when she caught sight of her mother. She stumbled to a stop. “What are you doing?”

  Sanity came crashing back as Fay looked at her daughter. What was she doing, demanding an accounting of a ghost? If he hadn’t had the decency to tell her as a living, breathing man, why did she think he would face her now?

  “Who were you yelling at?” asked Laura, her tone partway between a plea and a demand.

  She thinks I’m losing my mind, thought Fay. The sustaining rage and adrenaline suddenly deserted her and she swayed on trembling legs.

  “Mom!” cried Laura, reaching for her mother, but Fay steadied herself and shook her head. Somewhere deep inside, she realized that her daughter had just called her Mom. Again.

  “I’m fine, Laura.” She tried a smile. “I’m all right.”

  Laura shook her head, her expression grim, and with a feeling somewhere between relief and trepidation, Fay knew it was time to tell her daughter the truth. But before she could put order in her thoughts, Laura continued.

  “Mom,” said Laura, “were you calling Dad?”

  Before Fay could answer, an unfamiliar voice spoke up.

  “Hello, Laura.”

  ***

  Fear clawed at Laura’s throat and both women whirled toward the house. For a moment Laura could only stare at the tall figure stepping out of the doorway. Then she took in the slim build, short, curly brown hair and blue eyes. Adam—it was Adam Rhys, her editor.

  She got an impression of dark slacks and a black bomber jacket before her eyes focused on his eyes. She smiled tentatively, glad to see him in spite of everything.

  “Adam? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  He looked at her, shaking his head. “You’re so damned secretive. No friends to speak of, no phone calls home on the company phone. Nothing. But you named your mother as beneficiary on the magazine’s insurance plan.”

  Laura closed her eyes briefly. Undone by bureaucracy. Was that how Johnny T. had found her?

  Adam came down a step, keeping his hands in his jacket pockets against the morning chill. He was smiling. He looked around at the forest and the cliff only a few dozen feet away, the ribbon of river glinting in the increasing light. He turned to Fay and raised his voice slightly.

  “This is a beautiful spot, Mrs. Thorsen. And you have a beautiful home. I hope you don’t mind that I waited inside—it was very cold last night and the door was unlocked.”

  Fay glanced at Laura but didn’t say a word. Laura looked around the house, searching for a vehicle, but there was nowhere to hide one. “What are you doing here, Adam?” she asked again
.

  Adam sighed. “I’ve come to talk sense into you.” He shook his head and she thought she detected a genuine sadness in his eyes. “I told you to drop the story. You said you would. But you had to go ahead anyway, didn’t you?”

  “Why didn’t you publish it?” she demanded, stepping closer, placing herself between Fay and Adam. He was acting strange. Stiff. As though he didn’t want to be here.

  “Tucker’s men are in town now,” she said. “They tried to kill me last night.”

  Adam looked startled. “I thought I’d have more time…”

  “Time for what, Adam?” Laura stared at him. “All you had to do was publish the article, an article that would have made both our careers. Why didn’t you?”

  “Because he works for Mr. Tucker,” said Fay flatly, startling them both. Laura glanced at her mother, then turned back to Adam, expecting a hot denial. When he stayed silent, dread pooled in her stomach.

  “Adam?” she said softly. “Is it true?”

  He smiled ruefully. “She’s pretty perceptive, for a crazy person. I understand now why you never talk about her.”

  Laura winced but pursued her original question. “Is it true, Adam? Do you work for Johnny T.?”

  He didn’t reply.

  Oh God. Adam.

  “I needed money for Mom’s treatments,” he finally said. “There was an experimental treatment in the States, but it cost so much…”

  Laura took a deep breath. “Your mother died three years ago.”

  He smiled sadly. “It was too late by then.”

  “So you sold my daughter out?” demanded Fay. She put a hand on Laura’s good shoulder. It trembled. Laura couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or rage.

  Adam shook his head vehemently. “I’m trying to save your daughter,” he said. He shifted his gaze to Laura. “I’ve come to take you back with me. You have to convince Johnny that you’ll keep quiet. It’s your only chance.”

  He really believes that, thought Laura wonderingly. She was intensely aware of her mother standing silently behind her. What was Fay thinking?

  “Adam, did you bring those men here?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. He took a deep breath of the cold morning air.

  When he didn’t elaborate, Laura knew. “But you told Johnny T. where to find me.” She suddenly wanted to grab Fay’s hand and run. She glanced around the trees surrounding the house. Were Johnny T.’s goons even now closing in?

  She suddenly remembered Mack. She had to warn him…

  “She can’t go back,” said Fay. “Your friend will kill her, no matter what you think.” Fay’s voice was hard and Laura turned to look at her. Her mother’s expression was furious.

  Adam’s hands emerged from his pockets to wave away Fay’s suggestion.

  “No! He promised. If we can persuade him she’ll stay quiet…”

  He looked stricken suddenly and Laura knew what he was thinking.

  “That’s right,” she said. “It’s not just me anymore, is it?” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s Fay. Johnny Tucker will never let us walk away alive.”

  Adam shook his head. “You have to convince him you’ll both keep your mouths shut. If you do, he’ll leave you alone.”

  Laura stared at him for a long moment. “Sure. That’s why his men were shooting at me.”

  He shook his head. “That was just a misunderstanding. Come with me—”

  Now it was Laura’s turn to be furious. This man had been her friend. They had almost been lovers. And he had betrayed her. Not only had he put her life in jeopardy, he had put her mother’s life at risk, too. And Mack’s.

  “You’ll forgive me for doubting his good faith, if not yours,” she said acidly. She tilted her chin up at him. “You’d better get out of here, Adam. I’m calling the cops.”

  Adam looked down at her. Emotions flitted across his face, finally settling on resignation. “You’ll do it, won’t you?” he said softly.

  Before Laura could nod in agreement, he pulled a pistol out of his pocket and pointed it at her.

  Without thinking, Laura pulled her mother behind her.

  “I’m sorry, Laura,” said Adam, “but you are coming with me.”

  Fay put a trembling hand on Laura’s back. “Does this man pay you well enough to kill for him?” she asked.

  “Nobody’s going to get killed,” said Adam.

  A cool breeze kissed Laura’s cheeks. She stared at the pistol in Adam’s hand and found nothing to say. In the canyon the river rumbled its approval of the approaching day. Even the pines seemed more fragrant than usual.

  “If nobody’s going to get killed,” said Fay, “why are you pointing a gun at us?”

  Adam looked down at his hand as if it didn’t belong to him. He ignored Fay completely, and it seemed to Laura that her mother made him uneasy. She thought of what had happened earlier as it must have appeared to him—Fay bursting into the clearing and shouting at the house like a madwoman.

  He thinks she’s insane. Maybe he’s right.

  “You know, Laura,” said Adam, “I am trying to help you. The bomb in your car should have killed you. Right now I’m your only chance.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Laura saw Fay start at the mention of the bomb. She hadn’t told her mother about it. There was a lot she hadn’t told her mother.

  She swallowed the unexpected grief and concentrated on the problem facing her. What exactly did Adam intend to do? Surely he couldn’t mean to shoot them. Two women dead of bullet wounds would raise a few eyebrows—something Johnny T. wanted to avoid.

  Adam sighed and finally descended the porch steps. Laura watched his approach warily, but she refused to back away. He stopped out of easy reach, and determination replaced regret in his expression.

  “Nobody thought you’d come back to the house, but they left me here, just in case. You’re lucky it was me. They’ll listen to me. You have two choices—keep running and die, or come with me and live.”

  Laura wasn’t even tempted to believe him. He could fool himself if it made him feel better, but the man who shot her last night hadn’t wanted to persuade her. He had wanted her dead.

  No matter what Adam thought, Johnny Tucker didn’t leave loose ends. And Laura would be a loose end. So would Fay. And Mack, too, if they learned about him.

  “It’s too late, Adam,” said Laura slowly. “The story’s out. It’s with the RCMP and the Attorney General’s office. But it’s not too late for you. Help me. Don’t let filth like Tucker bring you down.”

  Adam shook his head reluctantly. “Nice try, Laura, but I don’t believe you. You want this scoop too much. You wouldn’t share it with anyone—it would steal your glory.”

  Laura didn’t dare look at her mother. She was smarter than he gave her credit for, but just as greedy. How could she convince him of the truth?

  Adam gestured with the pistol. “Turn around, both of you. We’re going to walk down the driveway to where I left the jeep. And Laura, please don’t try anything. You probably think I won’t dare shoot, but I will if I have to. I know you don’t believe this, but I really am on your side.”

  Laura didn’t move. “I’ll go with you, but leave my mother out of it. She doesn’t know what’s going on. You saw her just now. She’s no danger to you.” If he thought she was crazy…

  Adam was already shaking his head. “You know better than that. You’ll both have to come.” He stepped forward and Laura’s legs trembled with the urge to rush him. He wouldn’t shoot. They’d shared too much for too long—they’d gotten drunk on scotch together and almost slept together. Could he really bring himself to pull the trigger?

  The impulse passed. Had she been alone with him, she might have tried it.

  She turned around and faced her mother. Fay’s cheeks were rosy, and Laura couldn’t tell if that was from emotion, or from the exertion of her recent run. They stared at each other for a long moment. Laura couldn’t read her mother’s expr
ession. Was she all right?

  Laura tried a reassuring smile, but she knew it fell short when her mother frowned. Without a word Fay turned around and Adam shepherded them toward the driveway. They crunched through the gravel, their bodies casting long shadows before them.

  “It’ll be okay, Laura,” said Adam, almost to himself. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you.”

  Just as he finished speaking, half a dozen wild swans glided silently down the river canyon, even with the top of the cliff. They came abreast of the three people and suddenly called to each other, their haunting cries sounding like lost souls. Startled, Adam turned to look at the creatures.

  Laura grabbed Fay by the hand, whispered “Now!” and broke into a run. To her relief, Fay didn’t hesitate but ran as fast as she could toward the trees. They ignored Adam’s frantic calls for them to stop. Reaching the cover of the trees, they released each other and used their hands to protect their eyes from branches.

  Something smacked into a tree next to Laura, immediately followed by a loud popping sound. A split second later she realized Adam was shooting at them. So much for sharing scotch.

  The trees slowed them down too much. At this rate he was bound to hit one of them.

  “Go for the trail,” she told Fay, and they cut across the woods, heading for the cliff trail. It faithfully followed the cliff’s rugged outline and would place them out of Adam’s line of sight most of the time.

  Within seconds, they broke out of the trees. Another shot rang out, echoing against the cliffs, but Laura couldn’t tell where it hit.

  A parade of curses marched through her mind like a mantra, but she didn’t waste her breath voicing them. Fay ran ahead, heading for the highway five miles away. Her pace was already slowing. She had run half a mile at full speed less than half an hour ago—how long before her body gave out?

  Laura risked a glance behind her. Adam was close, too close. But as long as he was running, he couldn’t aim.