Timberline Trail

by Lockner, Loren

  “I’ll make a fire so we can thaw out.”

  Jon bounded up to the nearest tent’s landing and grabbed the shovel leaning against the small metal table. He returned to the fire pit, vigorously shoveling out the snow that had accumulated after the last storm.

  “Grab some dry wood from under the tarp,” he ordered Tia, and she was glad for some activity, needing to move her frozen limbs after their crazy ride. She obediently retrieved several logs.

  “I think I’m going to cheat this time,” said Jon, placing the logs in the classic Boy Scout pyramid. He returned to the tent and pulling open one of the large metal chests underneath the table, retrieved two packs of fire starters.

  “I saved these for the worst weather, but now seems as good a time as any to use them.” He returned to the pit, removing Ben’s trusty lighter from his parka pocket to light the fire starters which instantly burst into flame. Tia pulled off her gloves and stood close to the fire, seeking to thaw out her stiff fingers.

  “I was hoping,” Jon said mildly, “we’d be able to take the snowmobiles all the way into Timberline, but we’re in danger of suffering severe frostbite unless I can find some balaclavas and goggles. We’ll think about what to do once we’ve had something to eat. Let’s see what sort of food I can dig up in my tent.”

  Jon gave his hands another quick rub before entering his tent. Tia remained where she was, not willing to wander far from the warmth of the fire. A small crunching sound alerted her, but just as she was about to turn a muscular arm dragged her against a rock-hard chest while a rough voice whispered.

  “Not a sound sweet Tia. You remember me don’t you? Quickly now, move with me ever so quietly.” Tia turned her head slowly in his grip and gaped at her ex-fiancé, Paul Dale.

  “It’s been a long time,” said Paul, holding a shiny black Beretta in his right hand. With his left he jerked her against him and pulled her away from the fire. “Not a whisper,” he cautioned.

  His overly handsome face was marred with lines of fatigue and exposure and Tia swore his body trembled as he dragged her backward into the sheltering shadow of the trees. Paul leaned shakily against a rough pine but kept a firm hand upon her shoulder, the Beretta loosely grasped in his hand. The clang of metal and the rough sound of a zipper sliding across canvas caused Paul to stiffen.

  Jon’s cheerful voice searched for her. “I’ve managed to find a few cans of chili as well as some sliced peaches and French-cut green beans; that oughta make us a fine feast.”

  Paul’s arm once again tightened across her shoulders as Jon walked to the fire pit. He halted abruptly, glancing around in bewilderment at Tia’s absence.

  “Tia,” he called. “Tia, where are you?”

  Tia opened her mouth as if to answer, but Paul’s iron arm warned against it.

  “Simons,” rasped Paul’s hoarse voice from the shelter of the trees. “I want you to back away from the fire and place your hands high in the air where I can see ‘em.”

  Jon jerked as if the words were a physical blow and backed away from the dancing flames, his eyes instantly pinpointing where Tia and her captor stood.

  “Don’t hurt the woman,” stated Jon’s steady voice. “I’ll do whatever you ask.” He backed away from the fire, his hands held rigidly above his head.

  “What?” asked Paul, appearing startled. “You need to move forward now sweetheart.”

  Paul propelled Tia with his body until they directly faced Jon.

  “Tia, are you all right?” Jon’s voice was a rough hiss as his dark green eyes raked over her.

  “Stay where you are,” warned Paul, loosening his grip on Tia.

  “I want you to check my back pockets, Love, and search around for the pair of handcuffs there. As we move closer to Simons, you handcuff his hands behind his back, but be careful. Do you know if he has a weapon?”

  Tia shook her head mutely, remembering the rifle now leaning against the canvas wall of the tent. She peered at Paul intently, confused by his strange command.

  “Let’s go then,” ordered Paul, and Tia shuffled as quickly as the numbing snow would allow, finally pausing within three feet of Jon who kept his hands high. His green eyes searched Paul’s face bewilderedly as Paul aimed the handgun at him.

  “The handcuffs Tia,” instructed Paul when she didn’t move. Tia reached behind Paul and lifted his silver ski jacket up, removing the handcuffs as her mind whirled in confusion.

  “Come on,” Paul insisted between clenched teeth that were beginning to chatter with cold.

  Tia complied, taking Jon’s icy hands and shackling them behind him. She gave his fingers a quick squeeze of reassurance.

  “Now back away; he’s a dangerous man,” stated Paul.

  “What?” exclaimed Tia involuntarily. Something didn’t add up.

  “Sit down over there,” pointed Paul, with his gun to the low log near the fire and Jon awkwardly sank upon the smooth log.

  Paul seemed to sag with relief and wiped his weary face with a trembling hand. “You got any coffee Tia? I could sure use a cup.”

  “Coffee?” sputtered Tia. “You want coffee?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t find the camp until last night and damn near froze my ass off as the supplies here seem pretty sparse. Could you please make me some coffee?”

  Tia glanced from Paul to Jon, not quite sure what to make of the situation. “Alright,” said Tia evenly, grabbing the battered metal coffee pot off the rock.

  Jon’s quizzical green eyes followed her movements. He was obviously as puzzled as she. Paul sagged onto the log opposite Jon, the gun drooping between his legs. Lines of fatigue marred his perfect Hollywood face, and a long cut running parallel with his nose had congealed and clotted. His immaculately styled curly brown hair needed a good washing and his red jacket was filthy. Using the gray speckled pot Tia scooped up some snow from a drift and set it upon the rocks lining the fire pit to heat.

  “I’ll get the coffee,” she said easily and headed toward the tent. Paul obviously trusted her and barely raised his eyes from the fire.

  Tia grabbed the rifle from the tent deck and aimed the muzzle directly at her ex-fiancé.

  “Drop your gun Paul,” she said quietly, noting the surprise grip his face.

  “What?” he sputtered.

  “You heard me, drop your gun.”

  Paul obeyed, shock registering upon his tanned, good-looking face. “Good God Tia, you can’t be in cahoots with this character?”

  Tia raised the rifle and aimed it right between his china blue eyes. “Kick the gun toward the tent. That’s right, kick it hard.”

  Paul did so, the gun skidding toward the tent where Tia had slept the first night.

  “Now unlock Jon’s hands if you please?”

  “Tia, I can’t believe this! He’s a criminal, one of the men responsible for killing Andrew!”

  “I’m waiting,” said Tia deliberately, and Paul rose wearily, his football player physique sagging. He removed a small silver key from his pants’ pocket and unlocked the cuffs with one sharp click. Jon rose, rubbing his wrists before deftly slapped the cuffs above Paul’s own hands.

  “I can’t believe it,” cried Paul again. “You don’t know a blasted thing about this guy and you’re cuffing me?”

  “What I know,” said Tia, coming closer, “is that three men are holed up in my cabin as we speak. Not only have they tried to kill Jon and me, but most likely my wolf as well. They’ve ransacked my cabin and have damaged both our vehicles. The timing doesn’t fare well for you Paul since all this has happened after you announced your impending arrival two days ago.”

  “I came because I needed to warn you,” said Paul bitterly.

  “A bit late I think,” answered Tia, throwing a quick look at Jon to make sure he was alright.

  “I’m not so sure of that,” said Paul casting a deadly glance at Jon. “This man is Jon Simons and he’ll stop at nothing until he makes sure you pay for his sister’s death!”

  Chapt
er 9

  “What on earth are you talking about?” shrieked Tia, suddenly aware of Jon’s overly still face. “What does any of this have to do with your sister’s death?”

  Jon broke eye contact so Tia turned to Paul who sat uncomfortably upon the damp log; his cuffed hands dangling between his jean-clad knees.

  “His sister worked for your brother RK. Simons is convinced her murder wasn’t a random act or a mugging gone awry; he believes the Heath family orchestrated the whole killing to cover up your family’s dirty laundry, which his sister had inadvertently uncovered during the course of her work.”

  Paul’s words so astonished Tia that she stared bewilderedly at Jon for explanation. “Well?” she asked, a hollow space filling the pit of her stomach.

  Jon’s eyes jerked up to meet hers defiantly, pain reflected in their bleak green depths. “My sister Jenny did work for your brother. She was RK Design’s chief accountant.”

  “I can’t believe it,” sputtered Tia. “You’ve known all this time the connection between your sister and my family and never bothered to relay to me that crucial piece of information? So just what were you doing here? Trying to weasel out some information regarding my brother? You mustn’t have done your homework very well Jon, or you’d have known from the start that RK and I aren’t remotely close.” She added, close to tears, “So you pretended friendship and concern to get to me?”

  “No!” denied Jon vehemently. “I admit that my original goal was to speak to your father, but how I feel about you is honest and true!”

  “So you came up here hoping to meet my father?” Tia asked, her voice curiously dead.

  “Yes and no. I really am doing a nature shoot here in Alaska, but chose this exact spot because I needed to speak to you and your father. Ben and I originally planned to film in Denali. I’ve been watching your cabin off and on for the past three weeks, hoping your father would turn up. I had no idea he’d gone on holiday.”

  The color drained out of Tia’s face. The one man she’d finally grown to trust, had longed to trust, was proved to be a liar just like all the other men in her life.

  “Simons here hired a private investigator to research your entire family, including our relationship. Unbeknownst to him the investigator was a friend of mine; one I’d actually hired a couple of times.”

  “You hired a private investigator?”

  “Yeah,” admitted Paul sheepishly. “I had him check you out before we started dating. I ‘d just attained a large inheritance from my grandmother and when I first met you I thought you might be a gold digger.” At her incredulous look Paul added in hasty defense, “You said you were a children’s book author! I never made the association that you were the Heath from Heath Enterprises. I just thought you were some aspiring writer; struggling like me to break into the artistic world.”

  “So you mean to say you always had money? But you always professed you barely had enough to pay your rent. So that was just an act Paul; the struggling artist desperate to make it good in mean ole, bad LA?”

  “Okay,” said Paul, lifting up his cuffed hands defensively. “I admit it was just an act, but I had been burned before and I had to be sure. Much of what I’ve done in the past has been for show, but I’ve decided to come clean with my life. All of it!” The last was uttered so proudly that Tia felt compelled to believe him.

  “So when Jon hired your private detective to research me, the investigator relayed this confidential information to you?”

  Paul had the grace to look ashamed. “Yeah. Kenny and I were drinking buddies from way back and he belonged to my health club. He just wanted to warn me that your family’s problems were far from over. He didn’t divulge any privileged information to me.”

  “How noble,” snipped Tia.

  “Okay! Okay!” hissed Paul. “I know the whole thing was unethical, but I’ve got something really important to relay to you, but can’t tell you in front of him.”

  Jon rose, turning his stony face at Paul who defiantly frowned back from his inferior position upon the awkward log. Jon finally cast his dark green eyes up at her.

  “I know you’re not going to believe this Tia, but within a few hours of knowing you, I became convinced you had nothing to do with my sister’s death.”

  “Oh really?” snorted Tia.

  “I admit that you have the right to be angry, but please hear me out. My sister called me the night before she was killed indicating she’d found something about Heath Enterprises and your brother’s company. Jenny felt afraid for her life and promised to mail me a copy of some disk with crucial information on it. I was heading for Mexico at the time and suggested she mail it to my P.O Box in Vancouver. Jenny also supposedly mailed a copy of this information to RK’s sister, one Tia Heath, since your name was somehow involved but not in any sort of criminal way. Jenny said she was positive you would make sure the information got to the proper authorities, but for some reason you needed to know right away. She didn’t expound any further and later it was too late to find out what she meant.

  When my sister was murdered the next day and her purse stolen, no copy of the disk was ever recovered. It appeared like a simple robbery on the surface since her wallet turned up several blocks down the street, her credit cards and cash missing as well as the company’s banking pouch. The more I thought about it the more convinced I became that she’d had the disk in a mailing envelope ready to send me and was somehow murdered because of it. You were the only real lead I had.”

  “That’s a very touching story,” said Tia, applauding slowly with her gloved hands. “What am I to believe, that my father, or uncle, or maybe even RK had her killed? That’s pathetic Jon!”

  “Is it? Then why did your father suddenly have a hankering for a world tour?”

  His speculation was so preposterous she didn’t even bother to reply. Instead she asked, “So it was you searching my filing cabinet for the disk?”

  “Nope, I didn’t lie about that. Steve beat me to it. Apparently I’m not the only one aware of the disk’s existence.”

  “I’m warning you Tia,” said Paul from his rough bench. “He’s not to be trusted and this is pure baloney about a disk. I can guarantee there’s lots of stuff he’s not telling you.”

  Tia turned numb eyes to her ex-fiancé. “Why all this concern from you Paul? What is it to you if my whole family goes up in smoke? You can’t possibly hope to gain anything from it or rekindle my affection. After all, you were the one who broke off our engagement in the first place.”

  “I know,” said Paul roughly. “Look Tia I have to talk to you privately! Can’t you remove these handcuffs and let us discuss this in a civilized manner? I swear I won’t hurt you.” At her skeptical look he added, “Did I ever once point that gun at you?”

  Tia shrugged before reluctantly shaking her head.

  “It’s Simons you should be concerned about!” Paul shivered uncontrollably. His thin California blood wasn’t used to the Alaska cold.

  Tia thought for a moment and then ordered Jon. “Unlock him.”

  “No!” protested Jon. “You have no proof he isn’t involved with those men in your cabin. Who knows what his true motives are.”

  “I understand a whole lot more than you think,” said Tia quietly. “I don’t have all the answers, but it’s apparent I’ve been duped by more than one here. I said unlock his cuffs.”

  Jon hesitated, unwilling to meet her demands. But it was the awful expression in her eyes that motivated him to roughly unlock the manacles, dropping them onto the beaten snow before the fire pit. Paul immediately rose and hunched forward, massaging his hands vigorously before the orange flames.

  “Do you know who the men are in my cabin?” asked Tia to his silver clad back, avoiding eye contact with Jon.

  “Only one,” said Paul, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “He goes by the name Mike Puchalet. He’s a French-Canadian and from what I’ve heard, one the Canucks would love to disown.”

  “How do you
know this?”

  “From my P.I. friend Kenny. One of the reasons he was so eager to relay the information about Simons here was that this Mike character had been following me and your uncle. He ran Puchalet’s file and discovered he was wanted in Quebec on suspicion of murder. Kenny believes he’s a hit man.”

  “What interesting timing,” said Jon softly, “that you would show up here at exactly the same time to warn your ex-fiancé.”

  “Yeah, just after you did!” retorted Paul.

  “Well then Tia, who are you going to trust?” asked Jon. His voice took on a different tone. “C’mon Tia, you know me; remember the cave?”

  Paul peered intently at Jon and then looked wildly from Tia to Jon. “You slept with this guy?” he asked angrily.

  “We were trapped in a cave together,” said Tia wearily, and sank upon Paul’s vacated log. “And just where have you been for the last two days? We were worried sick about you.”

  Paul turned his back to the fire and sighed tiredly. Tia could now see that his crimson parka and jeans were crumpled and muddy and his hands red and chapped from the cold. The dirty red ski cap had a large rip in the crown with an unraveled wool strand dangling over his ear. His exhaustion evident, he raised his hands in surrender.

  “Look, why don’t we just call a truce for the next few minutes. You got any chow?”

  Jon nodded incredulously. “So now I get to fix you something while you figure out a fine story to explain where you’ve been the past two days.”

  Jon angrily opened two tins of rich chili and dumped them into a large pot which he suspended over the fire. Jon’s movements were jerky, highly unusual for a man who always seemed so sure of himself.

  Tia rubbed her eyes wearily and pondered the two men. Paul settled down upon the log, chaffing his hands before the hot flames as if he could never get them warm enough. His concerns about Jon caused a horrible knot to form in her stomach. Tia had thought she’d meant something special to the tall quiet man and felt immensely violated after learning he had ulterior motives.