He picked up shavings she’d created while stripping the poles. He was impressed that she not only had the tools, she had the knowledge necessary to figure out how to haul all two hundred and fifteen pounds of him a mile through the forest. It would have been far easier for her if she’d left him, hiked out, then called for help.
But he could well have died before help arrived if she’d made that choice.
He turned to Fraser. “How well do you know Isabel Dawson?”
The operative shrugged. “Pretty well. We have a beer together every few weeks.”
An unpleasant feeling dangerously close to jealousy settled in his gut. “You ever go out with her?”
Fraser tipped his head back and laughed. “Hell, no. Isabel doesn’t date Raptor operatives. Period.”
His relief was just as unwelcome as the jealousy. He felt strangely possessive of her after sharing her body heat, but she was so far from being his, the notion was laughable.
“She mostly hangs out with Nicole at the Roadhouse. Nic probably knows her better than anyone in Tamarack.”
“Seriously? The woman who’s been trying to shut down the compound hangs out with the compound director?”
“Yeah. They liken it to the wolf and the sheepdog in the Warner Brothers cartoons. Battle each other all day, but at night, they clock out and have a beer.”
How did he not know Nicole Markwell, the Alaska Compound’s executive director, was drinking buddies with the woman who’d caused so many problems for him these last months? He’d been busy with the campaign, but this indicated he’d been more out of touch than he’d thought. Proof that stepping down so he could focus on the election was the right choice for the company.
He touched his throbbing temple. He’d planned to tell Nic about the CEO change first, then Falcon team, but it was Friday morning and he hadn’t even made it to the compound yet. His replacement, Keith Hatcher, would arrive tomorrow. Hell, given his disappearance, for all he knew, Keith was already en route to Tamarack.
One thing at a time. Right now he had a decision to make about Isabel. To Fraser, he said, “What’s your take on her? Do you think she did this?”
Fraser sat on a downed log, likely the same spot where Isabel had sat to strip the poles for the travois. “Honestly, Rav, I was shocked as hell to see her in the cabin with you. Isabel Dawson is a zealot for her cause, but I don’t think she’d ever deliberately hurt anyone.”
“Then why did you mention the restraining order? I didn’t know we were on Raptor land.” A corner of his mouth kicked up. Of course she hadn’t told him that useful piece of information. If he’d known where he was, he might have tried to steal the compass and head to the training ground.
Fraser shrugged. “No matter what I think, her being there was suspicious. She needs to be investigated, and it’ll be easier if she’s locked up. If we don’t find anything, you can withdraw the restraining order violation complaint. Her excuse that the cabin was the only shelter for miles is reasonable. It’s also true.” He shook his head. “Makes me wonder how she knew about it. None of us knew it was there.”
The operative had a good point. The trail cut by the travois had been as straight a line as the terrain allowed. She’d known about the cabin.
Fraser met Alec’s gaze. “The question is, what do you believe?”
“I think she saved my life, and I thanked her by having Westover arrest her.”
“Do you want to go to town and post her bail?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I do.”
“You should probably go to the compound first. Get a shower. We tried to keep a lid on it, but your disappearance hit the wire. National reporters could already be in town.”
Alec frowned. Shit. This would be all over the news in Maryland. But Isabel was locked up because of him, because he’d lost his head when he discovered who she was and allowed himself to forget everything she’d done for him.
She believed her brother’s accidental death had been deliberate and his people had covered up the crime. As far as he knew, she hated him with every fiber of her being. No wonder she’d been upset when she woke up with his erection pressed to her spine. His touch probably made her skin crawl, and yet, knowing exactly who he was, when she’d discovered he was cold in the middle of the night, she’d shared her blanket and body heat with him.
Because that was who she was.
She didn’t deserve to be in the cell in Tamarack, and if he made her sit there for another minute because he needed to shower to put on a polished face for the press, he didn’t deserve the senate seat he was running for. “No. I want to go to town now.”
Isabel paced the tiny jail cell, anger coursing through her. This was the most ridiculous, outrageous outcome for being a Good Samaritan that she could imagine. Another show tune came to mind, this one “No Good Deed” from Wicked. Even worse than the anger was the fear that lurked behind it. What if…what if because she was in custody, the police didn’t bother to search for the real culprits? What if the prosecutor filed assault and abduction charges?
What if she was convicted and went to prison for abducting Alec Ravissant?
Surely that couldn’t happen.
She’d been arrested for violating the restraining order. There was no way around that. She was guilty. Hell, if Alec Ravissant knew exactly how many times she’d violated the order, she’d be facing serious jail time for that alone.
At least because the order wasn’t stalking or domestic violence related, there was a simple bail schedule, with a hearing to follow. She’d probably need a lawyer for that—at least in this one instance, she’d had good reason to be on Raptor land—and shuddered to think of the cost. Even more daunting than the financial burden of bail and attorneys was that there was no court in Tamarack, just a small state trooper post with a two-cell jail. Westover had explained on their long hike out of the forest that some of the remote jails could accept bond payments, but Tamarack wasn’t one of them. Everything had to be processed at the Fairbanks courthouse, which was two hours away by car.
Isabel didn’t know anyone who could drive to Fairbanks and post her bail with the promise that she’d pay them back the five hundred bucks as soon as she was sprung.
Her closest friend in Tamarack was probably Nicole Markwell—Alec’s top employee. It was pretty damn unlikely Nicole would give up her career to help Isabel. Second to Nicole was Jenna, the waitress whose name she’d borrowed. Jenna might do it, but she probably didn’t have the money, plus she worked Fridays at the Roadhouse. It was too much to ask a woman who lived paycheck to paycheck, especially when they weren’t that close.
But still, with no other choice, she’d called Jenna and left a message, asking if she knew anyone who could discreetly make the trip to Fairbanks, because if no one posted her bail before close of business, the court would close for the weekend and she’d be stuck in this jail until Monday.
She shuddered.
As far as jails went, she supposed it was fine—it was hardly ever used and therefore clean, and she wasn’t likely to have company—but she wasn’t a fan of the being-locked-up part. She was a hiker. She chafed at being indoors unless she was safe and warm and dry in a cozy cabin while weather raged outside. Being confined to a cold cell was just about her worst nightmare. A taste of what she would face if no evidence was found to exonerate her.
Given her history with Raptor, she was guilty until proven innocent.
Alec had said his plane landed at eleven. She’d found him after five. During that whole period of time, she’d been in the woods by herself, out of reach by cell phone. No alibi. Nothing. Her future hinged on whether or not the man she’d stupidly declared her own private war on suddenly remembered what had happened to him. Except, given that private war and the blow to the head he’d taken, he could just as well “remember” her attacking him. Head-trauma injuries and memory were tricky things. She’d researched that enough in the months since Vin’s death.
Offi
cer Paul Westover stepped into the outer room of the two-cell block. “It’s your lucky day, Isabel. I just received notice from the court in Fairbanks that you made bond.”
“Really? Jenna found someone?”
The officer shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have the bond receipt, which means I can release you.”
He unlocked the cell, and she followed him into the room where she’d been photographed and fingerprinted.
Joyce Bowman, the post administrator, smiled at her tentatively. “If you want, you can go out the back door, sugar. I think every gossip in town has stopped in to say hi today, wondering who we had in custody for abducting Alec Ravissant.” Joyce’s Texas drawl sounded out of place in Tamarack, but then, Isabel had learned not long after moving here that most people were from somewhere else. Only about half the town’s three-hundred-plus residents were actually from the area. Others were called here, tourists who came to Alaska for a week, then returned a month later, almost in a daze, not quite understanding their rash decision to move, yet knowing they’d at last found home.
Joyce was one of those.
Having come to Alaska for an entirely different reason, Isabel didn’t quite understand. She usually got the itch to move after living in a new place for eight months. Unless she was in school and required to stay, she rarely lasted a full year at one address. There was much she loved about Alaska—and even Tamarack in particular—but she’d been here nearly ten months. If it weren’t for her quest to prove Vin had been murdered, she’d probably already be gone.
She cleared her throat. “You didn’t mention me?”
“I told them the truth. The FBI is investigating Alec Ravissant’s disappearance, and we don’t have anyone in lockup charged with anything related to his abduction.”
She winked at Isabel, who felt both relieved and grateful. If her boss learned about her arrest from the news, the man would flip. He’d lectured her about Raptor often enough. If he guessed she’d visited Raptor property during her solo surveys in the area—including yesterday—it wouldn’t matter that she’d done it during her lunch breaks, she’d be fired.
“Wait here, sugar. I’ll get your backpack.” A moment later, Joyce returned with Isabel’s pack and about three dozen zipper-top bags containing everything that had been inside. “Because you have pending charges, we have to keep the gun and bear spray. But this is the rest of it. Just sign the bottom of the inventory form, and you’ll be all set.”
Isabel scanned the list. The loss of the gun was annoying but understandable. Besides, she had a shotgun and more bear spray in her cabin. She was relieved to see her special Rite in the Rain notebook in a sealed bag. That notebook held enough incriminating evidence to nail her on the restraining order violation, making her very glad she used UTM coordinates in her notes instead of wordy descriptions of the locations she’d visited.
She frowned, noticing one important item not on the inventory, and paused before signing her name. “Where’s my cell phone? You can’t confiscate that, can you?”
“No.”
“Then why isn’t it here?”
“It wasn’t in the pack.” Joyce tapped the list. “This is everything that was inside.”
Isabel didn’t want to accuse the woman of stealing a smartphone, but where could it be? Then her eyes widened as she remembered. She’d left it by the stream. She’d set it down when she heard a noise in the woods.
But later, she’d gone back to the stream to get Alec more water. If her phone had been there, she’d have seen it.
5
Officer Westover wasn’t impressed with Isabel’s theory that whoever had assaulted Alec might have taken her phone. “Why would they take your phone? And if they’d left him for dead as you say they did, then once they realized he was still alive, why not go after you in the cabin?”
She shrugged, irritated the man didn’t recognize this for the startling clue that it might be. “Maybe because I had a gun and bear spray and was on alert?” She looked down at the water bottle, remembering the feel of it in her hands as she sat by the stream yesterday. “I heard a noise and grabbed the spray immediately.”
“I’d add it to your statement, Isabel, but you refused to make a statement.” Westover gave her a nasty grin. He’d been pissed she actually understood what “the right to remain silent” meant, because this was likely the biggest crime he’d ever get to investigate—since he’d flat-out refused to investigate her brother’s murder, following the company line and saying it was an accident—and he was no doubt bummed he’d be out of the loop of the FBI investigation.
As if the kidnapping and attempted murder of a US Senate candidate who was also the wealthy CEO of a mercenary organization would be investigated by Tamarack’s finest. And by finest, she meant only police officer.
She crammed all fifteen thousand plastic bags Joyce had separated her stuff into inside the backpack and headed for the back door of the post, bracing herself for a long walk. She’d left her truck deep in the woods two miles from town, but according to Westover, it had been impounded and would be searched for evidence that she’d kidnapped Alec.
Her cabin was five miles from Tamarack, on a lonely, ten-acre parcel that bordered the Raptor compound on one side and the state forest on the other. She was exhausted, but dammit, she had no other way to get home. She couldn’t exactly call Nicole and ask her for a ride. Asking Raptor’s compound director for a ride home from jail fell in the same category as asking for bail money.
So she’d walk, even though it meant five miles—she glanced out the window—in the rain, after an exhausting twenty-four hours in which she’d been assaulted, arrested, and had very little sleep.
Joyce patted her on the back as she unbolted the rear door. “If you wait at the Roadhouse, I can give you a ride when I clock out in another hour.”
She glanced out at the rain again, considering the offer. An hour at the Tamarack Roadhouse. A beer sounded good right now, but she was a wreck. She hadn’t showered since yesterday morning and had slept in a rotting cabin. She was tired to her bones, and hanging out in the Roadhouse was difficult for her on a normal night. She was fine once she settled in; it was that first ten minutes she struggled with, entering the room and the sudden quiet that inevitably greeted her—the crazy woman who wants to destroy the biggest employer in town has arrived—before conversation resumed. Her basic need to be among people usually forced her to face that initial discomfort, and in spite of her crusade, she’d made friends who made her forays into public enjoyable. Worth the anxiety and risk.
But tonight would be worse than usual. She’d bet she was on everyone’s shortlist of people most likely to abduct Alec Ravissant. Showing up grubby from the field would only confirm their beliefs.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll walk.”
“But sugar, you don’t have bear spray or ana’thing. Given where your cabin is, that’s dangerous.”
Isabel grimaced. “In all my months of hiking the forest, the first time I ever needed the bear spray was last night, when Alec Ravissant tried to strangle me. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me when you get home?”
She shrugged. “No phone.” But she was touched. She’d never been particularly close to Joyce, but then, she wasn’t particularly close to anyone. It was surprising and rather sweet to know the woman considered her a friend, that she would worry about her.
She opened the back door just as the sky opened up, and the light rain turned into a downpour. Five miles in a downpour. Not even Isabel was up for that tonight.
Behind her, Joyce said, “Go to the Roadhouse. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
On impulse, Isabel turned and hugged the woman, surprising them both. She wasn’t a hugger, and pretty much everyone in town knew it.
At least the rain washed some of the forest grime from her skin as she darted down the alley behind the jail to the back door of the Roadhouse. She pounded on the service entrance—it was raining too hard to waste time walking a
round to the front—and was relieved when Jenna opened the door.
“Isabel!” she said, ushering her in out of the rain. “How did you make bail?”
She stepped inside, shivering, and dripping enough water to form a pond in the commercial kitchen. “I thought you…?”
“No. I called a few friends in Fairbanks, but no one answered. Maybe one of them got my message in time?” Jenna handed her a stack of kitchen rags. “I’ve got an order up. Get dried off and head into the taproom. I’ll bring you some salmon chowder.”
She left Isabel to load a tray and deliver it, while Isabel blotted rainwater from her clothes and hair. Finally marginally decent, she headed for the front of the house. Soup sounded like the greatest, most wonderful food on the planet, and the owner’s salmon chowder was her favorite.
Entering the taproom from the back, she was halfway to a table before the usual and accustomed hush fell. First a logger seated at the bar saw her, then he tapped the shoulder of his friend, and it snowballed from there. Tonight’s hush was worse than usual, as half of Falcon team sat at a table in the middle of the bar—the same men who’d been in the cabin this morning—and gazes darted from Isabel to the team and back, as if everyone expected a scene.
She dropped into a chair at a table on the edge of the room, catching Brad Fraser’s gaze as she did so. She glared at him.
He stood and crossed the room to her, a beer in his hand and an apologetic smile on his handsome face.
“Go away, Brad. I have nothing to say to you.”
He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Tough. I’ve got lots to say to you.”
Months ago, she’d considered getting involved with an operative to glean information, but the very idea had made her queasy, so she’d dropped the plan. But if she’d gone through with it, Brad would have been on her shortlist of candidates. He’d been in the Army, and like most of Falcon, he’d served on one Special Forces team or another. Green Berets, if she remembered correctly. He was tall—at least six-two, she guessed—fit, and handsome. The only operative who might be better looking was Ted Godfrey, but Godfrey wasn’t nearly as friendly as Brad, and even more important than his looks and background, she’d liked Brad. Which made his betrayal this morning even worse.
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 242