Dosed to Death

by P. D. Workman

  If the poisoner got rid of the poison, then they didn’t have to worry about being dosed again. And they could all eat canned foods again the next day if there were any concerns. Everyone could keep eating canned food that they themselves had opened until the police got there and everyone else could get out and go home. Maybe the poisoner would never be found, but she was so tired, she just didn’t care. She wanted to finish with the search and go to bed. Whose idea had it been to search everyone’s cabins, anyway? She didn’t feel like they were any further ahead than they had started.

  Vance’s cabin looked the same as it had when they had seen it earlier. Other than the fact that it was dark. Kenzie played her light around the interior, and headed for the bedroom, as they had with every other cabin.

  And like with Jack’s cabin, she couldn’t help being a little surprised that the bedroom looked as ordinary as any other bedroom in a cabin or hotel. Nothing to indicate the dark workings of Vance’s mind. Nothing to indicate that he was a selfish jerk who didn’t care about anyone else. No way to tell whether he was a psychopath and a poisoner, taking this vacation just to give him an opportunity to kill his girlfriend, or one of the other guests, or everybody there.

  He probably was a psychopath. A lot of people like him were. Wealthy, famous, ready to push everyone out of his way in his climb to the top. That was how some people succeeded; they didn’t have the moral compunctions that others did. Some people were worried about how everyone else would feel, about who they stepped on on their way to the top. A psychopath didn’t have all of those things to worry about. They had a goal, and as long as they reached the brass ring, it was all good.

  There was nothing in Vance’s room that suggested he was out to poison or hurt anyone. His computer sat on the bed, where he had probably reviewed his emails when he was finally awake enough to focus on them. Kenzie wondered if he were feeling back to one hundred percent, or whether he were still under the weather. He hadn’t said one way or the other. There was a safe in the bedroom closet. One that took a key, not a combination. It was hefty, but small enough for one person to carry. Kenzie wondered whether she should ask Stiller to open it for her. She suspected the results of such a query would not be favorable.

  There was a glass on the nightstand. Water or alcohol? Kenzie picked it up and sniffed it. She couldn’t detect anything. Probably water. She opened the nightstand drawer and found several pill bottles. She picked up the prescription bottles first. Diabetes, blood pressure, a statin. Vance was not in particularly good shape. He was still a relatively young man, but his lifestyle was catching up to him already. Too many rich foods, too much stress, not enough exercise. She picked up the non-prescription bottles. A painkiller. A sleep aid. Vitamins. An herbal remedy for men’s health issues.

  Kenzie made a quick search through the rest of the room, the dresser, the closet, the writing desk. She looked through the books on the shelves but couldn’t see anything that appeared to have been touched recently. Everything was lined up flush and there was a light sprinkling of dust along the front of the shelf in front of the books. Kenzie checked the next room down the hall. Like Kenzie and Brittany, he had rented a multi-bedroom cabin. But there wasn’t anything in the next bedroom. No sign that anyone had used it, or that Stiller himself had used it for any other purpose as Brittany had. Everything was still and untouched. Maybe he had expected someone to join him later. Or maybe he’d just wanted to rent the most expensive cottage there so that he wouldn’t be shown up by Brittany or anyone else. Kenzie checked the other rooms and ended up in the bathroom, which was quite a bit larger than the one in Kenzie’s cabin, with both a shower and a hot tub, his and hers sinks, and a sauna. Not bad for a little cabin in the woods.

  She looked through Stiller’s toiletries bag, which was not organized as neatly as Jack’s had been. Kenzie pricked her finger on something and pulled her hand out quickly, sucking on the tip of her finger. She looked back into the bag and carefully moved the contents around to see what she had poked herself on.

  There was a razor blade in the case. Not in a protective plastic case or even a folded paper. Just loose, a straight edge, bound to cut someone who put her fingers into the bag unaware. Kenzie carefully pincered it out, grasping the back instead of the sharpened side, and put it onto the edge of the counter. Had he used it for something and then forgotten it was there? Kenzie bent down and studied the rusty edge, glad she was up to date on her tetanus shots.

  “What’s up?” Tyrrell asked, poking his head into the room. He had finished with his search of the living room and kitchen.

  “This,” Kenzie said, pointing to the edge of the blade. “I don’t think it’s rust.”

  43

  Tyrrell frowned and leaned forward, getting his eyes close to the razor blade and staring at it steadily. “Well, it could be... but I don’t think it is. It looks more like blood.” He switched his attention to Kenzie, her finger in her mouth again. “Did you cut yourself on it?”

  “Well... poked myself. Nothing serious.”

  “But if this is blood, it isn’t yours. It isn’t fresh.”

  Kenzie nodded slowly. “No, it’s not,” she agreed.

  They both stared at it. Raven was in the hallway, and she too came to see what they were looking at. She didn’t need to look as closely as Kenzie and Tyrrell to see it for what it was. She drew her breath in sharply.

  “Is that...?” She shook her head, eyes wide. “That’s not the murder weapon, is it?” She continued to shake her head. “He couldn’t have killed Mrs. Collins with that.”

  “No. It’s not consistent with the blade that killed Mrs. Collins. This is not the murder weapon. But it is... somewhat concerning.”

  “Especially since you just cut your finger on it,” Tyrrell pointed out. As if Kenzie wasn’t already thinking that. “Can you get AIDS from dried blood? Or does it have to be fresh?”

  Kenzie stared down at the little rectangular blade. It looked so harmless, and yet wickedly sharp. “I don’t think that a virus could survive like that for long. I’m pretty sure it has to be fresh blood or bodily fluids. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

  “Then what...?” Raven asked. “He cut himself shaving? Why isn’t the blade actually in a razor?”

  That was a very good question. Kenzie thought about Mr. Vance Stiller, revising her opinions of him. A psychopath? Someone who didn’t feel anything? No. She thought not. If she were right about Stiller, then despite his mask of apparent indifference, he actually felt things very keenly.

  “I don’t think he cut himself shaving,” Kenzie said. “But I think he cut himself.”

  Raven frowned. She looked at Kenzie and shook her head. “Men don’t do that.”

  “Men can cut too. It’s not solely limited to teenage girls.”

  “No,” Tyrrell said, “I’ve known of a couple of guys who cut. Usually in the name of body modification, but you still know... you just know with some of them, exactly what’s going on.”

  “Why would Vance Stiller cut?” Raven asked. “That doesn’t make any sense. The man has more money than he has a right to. He can buy anything he wants. Do anything he wants. So why would he cut? What reason would he have to do that?”

  “It isn’t about having money. It’s about pain. And feeling.” Kenzie shook her head slightly. She had misjudged Stiller too. She would never have guessed that he was troubled by anything. But how likely was it that the man would have gotten through life without the same trials as anyone else? Maybe more. Maybe he pushed so hard because of what had happened to him in the past. Or maybe a privileged upbringing had actually put him in harm’s way, raised by nannies or other servants, not by parents who kept a close eye on his well-being. Whatever had happened, the man she had thought was just a jerk, rude because he figured having more money than anyone else gave him the right to be rude, was not as indifferent as she had believed.

  She remembered the way that he had looked at Brittany, wondering whether th
ere was any possibility she had been the one to roofie him. Wondering whether she had taken advantage of him, drugging him to get whatever it was she wanted. It was just for a few seconds, a moment in time, but for a moment he had been naked, his emotions visible for everyone to see.

  Kenzie looked down at the razor blade. What to do with it? Put it back in his bag and pretend they hadn’t seen it? Throw it out or take it with her so that he couldn’t use it to cut himself more after she had gone? She didn’t want him getting an infection from using a dirty blade. He might have more razor blades around, but at least he would have to open a fresh one and maybe not poison his system with whatever bacteria clung to the old one just thrown carelessly in his toiletries bag.

  She eventually decided that she couldn’t leave it there. Maybe he would think he had just lost it. Maybe he would guess that she had taken it. But she couldn’t leave it as if she hadn’t seen it. She was a doctor, and it was her job to try to protect people from further harm. Maybe she would take him aside quietly and give him some resources for those who self-harmed. Maybe no one had ever reached out to him that way before and he didn’t know where to go.

  “Can you grab me a piece of paper or cardboard?” Kenzie asked Tyrrell. “Maybe in the writing desk?”

  “I doubt he writes anything longhand.”

  “No, but the writing desk is stocked by the Lodge, so there should be some kind of writing paper in there. It doesn’t matter what it is. I just don’t want to put this in my pocket without wrapping it first.”

  “You’re taking it with you?” Raven demanded.

  “I think I have to. I don’t want him getting an infection.”

  Raven rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He probably uses a lighter to sterilize it.”

  “Maybe. But I can’t assume he’s following any safety measures. So... I’m taking it with me.”

  Tyrrell went back to the bedroom to see if he could find a piece of paper for Kenzie. He returned a minute later with a sturdy sheet of writing paper. Kenzie folded the blade up in it before putting it in her pocket.

  “Okay. What did you find in the kitchen and living room? Anything I need to see?”

  Tyrrell shook his head. “No. Not really. Alcohol, but Raven said you don’t care about that. Some notebooks and stuff. No more pill bottles.” He shrugged. “No bloody knives.”

  Kenzie shuddered. She was glad that she hadn’t found any bloody knives in any of the cabins. Coming across the blood-encrusted razor was bad enough, even though she had known immediately that it could not have been the blade that had killed Brooke Collins.

  “Okay. Let’s call it a night. I really can’t do any more tonight.”

  Tyrrell nodded. They donned their winter gear and Kenzie let out a deep sigh. “That took a lot more out of me than I expected it to. We should have started in the early afternoon. I never even thought... how dark it would be after dinner. That’s not the time to start a search like this.”

  They left the cabin, heading back toward their own. Kenzie saw Stiller walking down a pathway created by a truck or piece of machinery that had been driven down the farm road. She raised a hand to wave at him, but he didn’t wave back. Like she, he was probably tired. And he probably didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Especially someone who had just gone through all of his personal stuff. He needed distance.

  Kenzie expected Raven to turn off to her cabin, but she didn’t. She kept walking with Kenzie and Tyrrell to their cabin door. Kenzie raised her brows. “You don’t need to come all the way with us. You must be tired too.”

  “There’s still one more cabin to be searched.”

  Kenzie looked at her blankly for a minute before realizing that Raven meant theirs. “Oh... yeah, I guess so. Do you want to get someone else to search it with you...?” Kenzie was awkward. Of course, the others would want to be sure that they were not the ones who had poisoned the meal. On one hand, they shouldn’t be suspects because they hadn’t been up to the house and hadn’t taken part in the meal. But on the other hand—they hadn’t partaken. They had not been affected like everyone else had. Maybe because one of them had been the perpetrator. Maybe Raven would want to have Brittany with her.

  “I don’t need anyone else. I can do it myself,” she asserted.

  Kenzie let everyone in. She was happy to be taking her coat and gear off for the final time. Putting it on and taking it off half a dozen times left her feeling sweaty and clammy. She was too warm as soon as she put it on, and as soon as her sweaty skin was exposed to the cool air of the room or outside, she was immediately shivery and uncomfortable.

  She hung her coat and took Tyrrell’s gear from him to hang up as well. Zachary had left his coat flung to the side even though the pegs were right there within reach. Kenzie picked it up and hung it on an empty peg.

  She felt like she had been away from home all day. It had only been since supper, but that felt like a long, long time ago. And by the looks of the living room, the children had been bored. The game boxes had been pushed to the side, but there were still cards and game pieces and spinners left here and there. Like maybe they had been making up a game of their own, bored with playing the same games over and over again. The room was a little cool. Warmer than the cabins that had been left with their fires burned down to embers. Cooler than Raven’s cabin with its blazing fire.

  Kenzie still couldn’t believe that she had lit such a large fire with Zachary in the cabin, knowing how it would affect him. She must have realized how much it would bother him, if he couldn’t even stand to have a candle burning at the table when he ate. For someone who appeared to have as many mental health issues as she did, Raven was pretty ruthless.

  44

  I’m going to check on Zachary.”

  Raven looked at her, frowning. “You should stay out here while I do the search.”

  Kenzie was irritated by the suggestion, but knew that Raven was right. They had told the others that they needed to stay out of their cabins until the searches were complete. She wouldn’t have wanted one of them hovering over her while she completed the search, or to worry about them going into another room and hiding or taking something before Kenzie had had a chance to find it. It had been awkward to search Raven’s cabin while she was there.

  “Come in with me,” she told Raven. “Then you’ll know I didn’t touch anything. After I make sure Zachary is okay, I’ll wait in the hallway so I’m out of your way. We’ve got Tyrrell’s kids, too. It’s not the easiest, having to search around everyone here.”

  “There are too many of you,” Raven agreed. “I’d rather you were out here. Both of you.”

  Kenzie looked around. Maybe Raven figured that if they had anything toxic, they wouldn’t have left it out where the kids were playing. Or around the food in the kitchen. Logically, the least likely place for a poison to be stored was out in the front rooms of the cabin where everyone congregated and where people might see it if they came to the door. In all of the cabins they’d searched, medications and possible poisons had been in the bedroom and bathroom.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “Tyrrell and I will stay out here. But can I please check on Zachary first? If he’s up to it, he can come out here too, where he won’t be in your way while you are searching.”

  Raven rolled her eyes. “Fine. Go ahead.”

  Kenzie walked back to their bedroom. Raven followed her and stood in the doorway to keep an eye on her. While Kenzie chafed at the idea that she or Zachary would do anything to hurt any of the other guests—they didn’t even have any motive—she knew that she needed to be okay with Raven doing what she had to in order to protect herself and the other guests. Zachary and Kenzie had to be watched like anyone else. Their cabin had to be searched like any other cabin.

  Kenzie tried to block out the distraction of Raven being there and to act just like she would if she and Zachary were alone. Zachary was curled up in a lump under the blankets of the bed, pulled up right over his head. Kenzie sat on the edge of the bed in
the dark room and tugged the top blanket back to expose his face. She didn’t turn on her flashlight, not wanting to shine it in Zachary’s eyes, but that meant that all she could see was his shape by the slight glow of the window.

  “Zachary. Hey, how are you doing?”

  “Not yet,” he mumbled. “Just need a break.”

  “I don’t need you to search any more cabins. We’re done for the night. I just want to know how you’re doing.”

  He groaned and didn’t answer.

  “Can you come out to the living room so that Raven can search this room?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. It’s warm there, and you can visit with me and Tyrrell. It will only be a few minutes, and then you can go back to bed if you want.”

  “Don’t want to get up.”

  “I know. But it will only be for a few minutes. You don’t want to be in here while she’s searching, and she wants us out of the way.”

  And it would give her a better opportunity to evaluate Zachary and whether she needed to be concerned about his mental state.

  “Don’t want to.” Zachary attempted to drag the blanket up over his head again. Kenzie pulled the blankets away from his body instead. He would be more likely to get out of the bed if she made him uncomfortable. If he couldn’t snuggle under the blankets there, and it was warmer near the heater in the living room, he would be more likely to go with her without her having to insist or drag him by force.

  “Bridget...” Zachary protested.

  Kenzie’s breath caught in her throat. Bridget? After the length of time he had been separated from Bridget, it should not have been her name that had come to his lips. Kenzie pulled the blankets back harder, frustrated and angry.

  “Not Bridget,” she told him tightly. “Kenzie. And you are getting out of bed and coming with me. So quit being such a—” She caught herself before she could say something really damaging. As much as she wanted to retaliate for the hurt he had caused her, she didn’t want to be Bridget. She hated the way that Bridget treated Zachary, for the anger and disdain that she had for the man she had once been married to and had claimed to love.