“What makes either of us assume the shooter was male? I never got a good look.”
Jack shrugged. “Law of averages. Gut instinct. A professional guess. The point is, you need to be careful until we figure this thing out.”
He made it sound as if they were in this together. Partners in crime, so to speak.
Olive didn’t mind that notion at all. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“That’s not a good idea.” He gave her a grim look. “I don’t trust Tommy Driscoll.”
“What about the Pine Lake Police Department?”
“This area is out of their jurisdiction. They’d just refer the call to the County Sheriff’s Office.”
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Is there anyone in this town you do trust?”
“No,” he answered frankly. “Although after seeing the way you handled that boat just now, I can think of few people I’d rather have at my back.”
“My father and I used to do a lot of fishing and skiing. He made sure I knew how to drive in case anything happened to him. And for the record, you can trust me.”
“For the record, I don’t not trust you. But Nathan Bolt is your cousin and I don’t at all trust him.”
“Fair enough.” Olive followed him into the living room and sat down heavily on the sofa. Folding her arms around her middle, she watched as he restlessly prowled the cabin. “You’re nervous,” she said.
“Wired. Adrenaline always makes me jittery.”
“Who do you think was on the bridge tonight?”
“I can’t answer that. Like you, I never got close enough to catch a glimpse. But whatever he—or she—was looking for was important enough to risk detection. He must have taken to the woods as soon as he heard the outboard. Maybe the suspect drove away or maybe his car was just that well hidden. I never saw it. At any rate, the person doubled back to the bridge, maybe to continue the search or maybe because he knew you would be there alone.”
“That’s a whole lot of maybes,” she said.
“Best I can do right now.”
“I was under the bridge when he came back. He stood right over me. I heard footsteps. I even heard the click of a weapon. He shot in the water as I headed out to the channel, but he never came close to hitting me. Maybe his intention was to scare me.”
“Another maybe.”
“Best I can do,” she said with a tremulous smile. “All these close calls are curious, though. You would think if someone wanted to hurt me, they could have done so by now. Maybe it really is as simple as Marc Waller wanting to get to Nathan through me.”
“Nothing about this is simple,” Jack said. “I do know that at first light, we need to get down there and search that bridge.”
We again.
“As much as I appreciate you looking out for me, I can’t stay here tonight. I don’t even have a toothbrush.” Her feeble attempt to lighten the mood fell flat as she searched for a more substantial excuse.
Jack’s dark gaze took her in. “Lucky for you, my uncle kept plenty of spares.”
“That is lucky. Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a weapon?”
“I do.”
“Here in the cabin?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you carry it?”
He paused. “I’m not a big fan of guns. I carry on a need-to basis.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “But you were a cop.” When he merely shrugged, she said, “Why did you leave the police department?”
“I figured out I was better suited to private security. My superiors would tell you that I didn’t play well with others.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to the story?” she murmured.
“There’s always more to every story.” He brought the bottle in from the kitchen to replenish their glasses.
“I thought you were going to stick to water,” she reminded him.
“Tomorrow I go back to water.”
He poured her another drink. She took a sip and set the glass on the coffee table. “What do we do now?”
“I could fix some dinner. Are you hungry?”
“I’m still too shaky to eat.”
“If you’re going to keep drinking that whiskey, you need something in your stomach,” he said. “Just sit there and relax. I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Who do you think killed Anna?”
His eyes took on a faraway look as he scrubbed the back of his hand along the scruff on his lower jaw. He appeared as rugged and capable as ever, but somehow vulnerable. Not fragile by any means, but certainly haunted. “I must have asked myself that question a million times in the past fifteen years. The answer is always the same. I don’t know.”
“No professional guesses or hunches? No gut feeling?”
“Mostly just questions and I have plenty of those.” He went to the refrigerator to survey the contents. “I’m a pretty basic cook,” he warned as he reached for a carton of eggs.
Somehow Olive doubted he was basic at anything. She moved from the couch back to the bar so that she could watch his preparations. The motion of his hands mesmerized her as he chopped vegetables. Her gaze lingered on his battered knuckles as she imagined his fingers trailing along her backbone. She thought about their kiss that first night and wondered if the impulse would ever be repeated. Jack seemed more than content to keep her at arm’s length. If that was a good thing, why did she suddenly feel so bereft?
She picked up her whiskey and sipped.
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s about Anna.”
The knife froze as he glanced up. He searched her face for the longest moment. “What about her?”
“I’ve heard something that you might not know. Maybe you don’t want to know,” Olive added.
He went back to his chopping. The blade sliced through the vegetables with studied precision. “Tell me.”
“She used to work for Mona Sutton after school and sometimes on Saturdays.”
“I remember. She wanted to be a psychologist.”
“Yes, Mona said she was flattered at first that Anna wanted to follow in her footsteps, but after a while, she started to worry about Anna’s motivation. She said it wasn’t so much that Anna wanted to help people. She liked knowing things about them. Secrets.”
Jack frowned. “What kind of secrets?”
“Mona wasn’t specific, but she wondered if Anna had somehow accessed her files. She also told me about a hacking incident. Evidently, the school’s whole system was compromised. Grades were changed. Scholarship applications were deleted. It would have been a real scandal if the district hadn’t managed to keep it quiet. Mona thought Anna might have been involved. Did she ever say anything about it to you?”
Jack had gone very still. He seemed to drift away until the sizzle of butter in the frying pan brought him back. He lowered the heat and set the skillet aside. “I don’t know anything about a hacking incident, but I did wonder about some of my grades. When I questioned a couple of the teachers, they claimed to have found mistakes. And there was one scholarship in particular that I never heard back from. The others were mostly rescinded after I became a suspect.”
“That was so unfair to you.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know why Anna would have changed my grades, though. Let alone deleted scholarship applications.”
“Maybe she didn’t want you going away to school.”
“She was going away herself.” He grew pensive. “The one thing I could never figure out was motive.”
“A motive for her murder, you mean? Do you think she found something incriminating in Mona’s files? Something she used to blackmail another student? That seems out of character from what I remember of her.”
“Anna was complicated.”
“That’s exactly what Mona said. I don’t remember her that way at all, but then, I really didn’t know her. I didn’t know any of you very well, even my own cousin. But I find it hard to believe that a student could have a secret so dark he or she would be willing to kill to keep it from coming out.”
“Who says it was a student?”
“I just assumed...” Olive trailed off as she watched him. “You have someone else in mind?”
“How well do you know Mona Sutton?”
“Mona? You can’t be serious. What motive could she possibly have?”
“You said she suspected Anna had accessed her files. Maybe Anna found out something about her.”
“Like what?”
Jack shrugged. “You tell me.”
“This is pointless,” Olive said with an irritated sigh. “We could sit here and build a case against anyone. It’s easy when nothing more is required than idle speculation.”
“Take it easy,” Jack said.
“Sorry,” she relented. “But Mona’s a friend and Nathan is my cousin. I feel guilty talking about them behind their backs.”
“We’re just trying to find answers.”
“Tie up those loose ends,” she murmured.
In the ensuing silence, the coffeemaker started to drip, filling the cabin with a delectable aroma that reminded Olive of her mother, a true coffee connoisseur. She could drink cup after cup, but Olive wasn’t so immune to caffeine. Coupled with the lingering adrenaline, she wondered if she would sleep a wink that night.
She glanced up from her drink to find Jack watching her. “What is it?”
“I was just wondering if you’d ever heard any rumors about Mona Sutton. An involvement with a student, anything like that?” His expression never altered, but Olive saw a flicker in his eyes that made her wonder.
She answered without hesitation. “No, never. Not so much as a whisper. Mona Sutton’s reputation and behavior are exemplary.”
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that someone with her credentials and education would choose to remain in a place like Pine Lake as a high school guidance counselor? The pay can’t be that great.”
Olive bristled. “Her salary is commensurate to mine. Which, you’re right, isn’t that great. But most of us don’t do it for the money. We do it because we love our jobs and because what we do is important.”
“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“I’m not offended. And, yes, I suppose I have wondered why someone like Mona would remain in Pine Lake. But she also has a private practice in addition to her work at school.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.” Olive paused. “It’s fine for the two of us to toss around conjecture in the privacy of this cabin, but a public accusation of this nature could ruin a career.”
“Which is exactly my point,” he said.
“Your point being that Anna may have found something on Mona Sutton. Possibly a relationship with a student. And the name of this student?”
“Tommy Driscoll.”
Olive gaped. “You know this for a fact?”
“I don’t know anything for a fact. As you said, this is nothing more than speculation in the privacy of my uncle’s cabin. A conversation that will go no farther than the front door.”
“Mona and Tommy.” Olive shuddered. “I don’t buy it. I just can’t see it. She’s a beautiful, sophisticated woman. Tommy Driscoll is...well, Tommy Driscoll. I suppose he’s attractive in a good-old-boy kind of way and some might consider him charming, but he’s always been so full of himself. So cocky.”
And yet...
Hadn’t she wondered herself why Mona had never married or even socialized in Pine Lake?
“Mona may have killed Anna because her relationship with a student was about to be exposed. That’s your theory?”
“That’s a theory,” Jack said.
“I don’t buy it.”
“So you said.”
“But now I’ll never get that image out of my head. Thank you for that.”
She saw a grin flash as he turned back to the stove.
He dished up the scrambled eggs, poured the coffee and they ate at the bar, choosing to discuss innocuous topics. Olive talked about her plans for the coming school year and her mother’s recent marriage. Jack said little about his own life, but from the bits and pieces that she could cobble together, he seemed to lead a solitary existence. His parents had moved to Phoenix years ago and he had no siblings or cousins or anyone in his life he seemed close to. Undoubtedly his choice, but Olive sensed a restive nature that might always keep him discontent.
The meal concluded, she insisted on cleaning up while Jack went down to the dock to have a look around. She finished putting away the last of the dishes and then went outside to join him.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said. “It may not be safe.”
“It may not be safe anywhere,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve been thinking about that person on the bridge earlier. Why do you suppose he or she didn’t wait until later to conduct a search? It was barely dark when I spotted the flashlight.”
“Maybe he or she was afraid someone else would get there first.”
Olive leaned her forearms against the rail, staring out over the water. Moonlight shimmered on the dark surface, reminding her of the fathomless mystery of Jack King’s eyes. “First I was nearly run down by a truck that may or may not have been driven by Marc Waller. Then you were drugged and now I’ve been shot at it. What’s going on in Pine Lake? What have we gotten ourselves into, Jack?”
“I don’t know,” he said in a strange tone. “But I’m sorry you got dragged into it.”
“That’s hardly your fault. I’m the one who climbed to the top of the bridge in my sleep, remember? I’m the one who was there when Jamie Butaud’s body was thrown into the lake.”
“I’m talking about tonight. I shouldn’t have taken you with me.”
She straightened. “If I’d stayed behind, whoever was on the bridge might have come looking for me here.”
“No one knew you were at the cabin. Unless you told Nathan.”
“I didn’t. But aren’t you forgetting someone? Beth knew.”
“Yes.” That odd note in his voice again.
“What if the cabin was being watched? What if I’m being watched? If Nathan figured out I was sleepwalking Monday night, maybe someone else has, too. Maybe the plan all along was to lure you away from the cabin.”
“More maybes.”
Olive glanced along the glimmering channel toward the bridge. The iron truss loomed dark and forbidding in the moonlight.
Slowly, she traced the shallow water, her gaze traveling the tree line and all along both banks. Nothing stirred. She saw nothing untoward in the darkness. No flickering lights, no furtive searching. The night was still, with the gentlest of breezes blowing across the water. And yet she had that same uncanny feeling she’d had earlier underneath the deck. Someone watched. Maybe from the bridge, maybe from the pine forest on the other side of the lake. Maybe even closer, from a boat hidden by a thick curtain of Spanish moss.
Someone watched.
Chapter Nine
Jack awakened with a start. A noise had roused him, but he couldn’t say with any certainty what that sound had been.
He took a moment to orient himself to the darkness. He was in the bedroom of his uncle’s cabin on Pine Lake. Olive lay sleeping in the living room, having insisted on taking the c
ouch. Jack pushed himself up on his elbows, listening for a sign that she might be up stirring about, or worse, that an intruder was somewhere on the premises. A faint breeze drifted across the room, rippling the curtains at the window. Somewhere in the cabin, an outside door had been opened.
He rose from the bed and pulled on his jeans. Taking his weapon from the nightstand drawer, he left the room and slipped down the hallway to the living area. He checked the couch first. The covers lay crumpled and abandoned on the floor. The breeze tickled across his bare shoulders, drawing his gaze to the wall of windows that looked out on the deck. One of the glass doors stood slightly ajar.
He didn’t think Olive would have left the cabin of her own accord, but she might not be cognizant of her actions. Tucking the gun in the back of his jeans, he went out on the deck. The moon was up, casting an eerie glow over the water as it shimmered down through the cypress trees. Across the lake, the pine forest loomed dark and impenetrable. Night sounds assailed him. The hoot of an owl. The forlorn cry of a loon.
An icy premonition stole down Jack’s spine. Olive was somewhere out there alone, wandering the dark in her sleep while a killer lay in wait.
He left the deck and hurried down the steps to the dock. He hoped he might find her sitting in one of the chairs safe and sound, having slipped out of the cabin for a breath of fresh air. No such luck. He started to race back up the steps, but a flutter of movement out of the corner of his eye froze him. He turned slowly toward the water.
Olive was in the boat. Still dressed in the T-shirt he’d laid out for her earlier, she sat behind the wheel staring straight ahead. One hand rested on her bare leg as the other came up to trace along the instrument panel. She paused on the ignition. Then that hand also dropped to her lap and she remained motionless for the longest time until those furtive fingers came back up to search the dash.
Jack took a quick scan of their surroundings. The dock lines had been unfastened. If not for a knot that had caught on one of the cleats, the boat would have drifted away.
“Olive?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t acknowledge his presence with so much as a glance. Her fingers were still moving along the panel, pausing yet again on the ignition.
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