Against the Wild (19 page)

“What is it?” Dylan asked.

“The state police are here. They want to talk to you and Caleb.”

Dylan drained the last of the coffee in his mug. “Jesus, what now?”

Lane felt a tug at her heart as she noticed the weary lines in his face. Dylan walked out of the office and Caleb fell in behind him. Lane and Winnie followed the men down the hall.

Lane hoped it was good news for once instead of bad. Maybe it was something to do with the incidents that had been happening at the lodge. Maybe the police had stumbled across information about the man or men who'd been watching the house.

Trying to stay optimistic, Lane followed the men out of the lodge. Winnie, who usually stayed out of these kinds of things, marched out right beside her. One glance at the worried look on her face, and Lane's optimism went right out the window.

As Dylan walked through the door to the side yard, an Alaska State Trooper's white-and-gold SUV sat in the parking area at the end of the gravel road.

“You don't think Holly did something stupid?” Caleb said, spotting the two men in blue uniforms and flat-brimmed hats. “Oh, shit, Jenny!” He started forward, but Dylan caught his arm.

“Take it easy. Before you panic, we need to find out what's going on.”

Caleb took a deep breath, nodded. “Sorry.”

But as the troopers approached, not a hint of friendliness in their expressions, Dylan felt a shot of worry himself.

He stopped in front of the men. “I'm Dylan Brodie. My housekeeper says you're looking for me. What can I do for you?”

“I'm Trooper Drake. This is Trooper Everett.” Drake was tall, athletically built, and sandy-haired, his partner dark-haired, young, and stout as a bull.

Trooper Drake's attention shifted to the man with the long black braids. “Are you Caleb Wolfe?”

“That's right.”

“I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us.”

Caleb blanched.

“Wait a minute,” Dylan said. “What's this about?”

“Last night a woman named Holly Kaplan was murdered.” Drake's gaze sliced back to Caleb. “You were seen talking to her at Mad Jack's Saloon last night. According to witnesses, the two of you got into a heated argument. Now the Kaplan girl is dead. We'll need you to come with us, answer some questions.”

Caleb's dark face looked pale. “It's true we argued. But then I left. Holly was still in the bar. You should be able to verify that.”

“Where did you go after you left the bar?”

“A friend of mine has a cabin at the edge of town. He lets me stay there when I'm in Waterside.”

“So you didn't come back to the lodge.”

“I don't like to make that drive at night. Not unless I have to.”

“What time did you get to your friend's cabin?”

“I wasn't paying attention to the time. I'd say around eleven, maybe eleven fifteen.”

“What's the name of the man who owns the place?”

“Wally Sturgeon.”

“So your friend, Wally, can verify you were there from eleven o'clock till morning?”

“Wally's visiting some friends in Anchorage. I stayed at the cabin by myself.”

“The medical examiner places Holly Kaplan's death sometime between eleven and two p.m. last night,” the younger trooper said. “Very shortly after the two of you had a bitter fight. This morning, a hiker found her body floating in Bristol Cove. Looks like she was dumped in the river and floated downstream to the ocean.”

Caleb's breathing went shallow. “For chrissake, I didn't kill her. She was perfectly fine when I left her. Ask anyone who was there.”

“The problem is, Holly walked out of the bar by herself, but her car was still in the parking lot this morning. There were half a dozen phone calls from you on her cell. You threatened her in the bar. Now Holly is dead and you don't have an alibi for your whereabouts at the time of the murder.”

“I told you I went to Wally's cabin.”

Dylan interrupted the trooper's reply. “How was Holly killed?”

“She was strangled.”

Caleb's eyes slid closed.

“Raped?” Dylan asked.

“We're waiting for the coroner's report.” He returned his attention to Caleb. “Do you have any problem with us taking a look at your truck?”

“No. Why?”

“We believe she was killed somewhere else and transported to the river.”

“You won't find anything in my truck. Go ahead and look.”

But it had been raining like hell since well before dawn. If there had been anything in the bed of the truck, odds were it would have been washed away on Caleb's trip from Waterside to Eagle Bay. Or at least the police would see it that way.

The troopers made a cursory examination of Caleb's white Chevy pickup, careful not to touch anything in the cab or the bed of the vehicle, then returned.

“We appreciate your cooperation, but we need to question you further. I'm afraid you'll have to come with us.”

Caleb's eyes swung frantically to Dylan. “I didn't kill Holly. I was mad at her, but I wouldn't kill her.”

Dylan set a hand on his friend's thick shoulder, felt the tension running through him. “I know that. I've got a friend in Anchorage. Peter Keller's a top-notch criminal attorney. I'll call him, make arrangements for him to represent you.”

“Fuck, Dylan, I didn't do it.”

“I know you didn't do it, all right? We'll figure this out. Till we do, don't say anything more until you talk to Keller.”

Caleb nodded. “So I'm under arrest?” he said to Drake.

“We're bringing you in on suspicion of murder. We can hold you up to forty-eight hours before we have to arraign you. You cooperate, it might not be necessary.”

But Dylan could tell by the hard set of the men's faces they were ninety percent convinced Caleb had committed the crime.

The troopers turned him around and locked a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. Caleb made no protest as the troopers led him over to their big SUV and settled him in the backseat. A woman had been killed. Caleb was a powerful man. The troopers were only doing their job.

Dylan stood rigidly as the engine started and the SUV pulled off down the gravel road leading back to Waterside. He felt Lane come up behind him, her fingers reaching out to clasp his hand.

“He didn't do it,” she said. “They'll figure that out.”

Dylan's jaw hardened. “Let's make sure they do.” He headed into the house to make the phone call to Keller. But he didn't let go of Lane's hand.

 

 

Lane waited in the kitchen with Winnie while Dylan went into his office to call his attorney friend in Anchorage.

“I'm so worried, I can't think straight,” Winnie said, wiping her hands on her apron for the third time in the last five minutes. “The first person they suspect is the husband or the boyfriend.”

“Caleb and Holly broke up years ago. It shouldn't be too hard to prove Caleb was no longer involved with her.”

“He was mad at her for upsetting Jenny. He fought with her in a public place. There was any number of witnesses.”

“She was alive when he left her in the bar.”

“He doesn't have an alibi for the time she was murdered. They'll say he could have waited for her outside. They could have started fighting again and he could have killed her, loaded her into the back of his pickup, driven her to the river and dumped her body. We need to find a way to prove he didn't do it.”

Lane's stomach knotted. Winnie was right. Caleb was the obvious suspect. The only suspect so far.

“I read a lot of mysteries,” Winnie continued. “Caleb had motive—he was mad at Holly for causing trouble with Jenny. He had means—the man is strong as a horse, powerful enough to strangle a woman. He had opportunity—he could have been waiting for her outside the bar.”

Lane turned as Dylan walked into the kitchen. “We have to find out who killed Holly,” she said. “The evidence points to Caleb. It won't take much more to convince them he's guilty.”

A muscle tightened in Dylan's cheek. “Keller's agreed to represent him. He'll fly directly from Anchorage to Waterside and do what needs to be done to get him released.”

“We have to do something, too,” Lane said. “We need to go to Waterside, find out who else could have killed Holly.”

“I'll fly over in the morning. Start digging, see what I can come up with.”

“I'll come with you.”

He didn't agree, but he didn't say no, either. And she was going—one way or another.

“Looks like the fireworks show is out,” he said. “We need to be home before dark.”

She wasn't in the mood to celebrate anyway. Not with Caleb in jail. Another thought occurred. “You want to get back before dark because of the man who's been watching the lodge.”

“That's right. This isn't a game anymore. A woman's been murdered. Since Caleb didn't do it, the guy's still out there. I'm on my way to Yeil. I need to talk to Jacob Payuk, tell him what's happened, try again to get his cooperation.”

Lane's worry increased. “You don't really think the murderer could be the man in the woods?”

“I doubt it. At the moment, I don't see any connection. On the other hand, we can't be sure what the hell is going on, and until we are, I'm not taking any chances.”

“Are you going to tell the police?”

“When I get to Waterside on Saturday, I'll talk to Frank Wills. He's the chief of police. I'll bring him up to speed on what's been going on—the hoax, the break-ins, the man or men who've been watching us.”

“You want me to come with you to Yeil?”

His gaze swung to hers. “That might be a good idea.”

“Let me grab my jacket.” Turning, she started for the door.

“And put on your hiking boots. It's muddy as hell out there.”

 

 

It was quiet in the forest. He could hear a woodpecker battering the trunk of a tree, hear the sound of the water in the creek splashing over the rocks, the soft drip of the rain that had fallen in the night.

He liked the quiet, liked that it gave him a moment's respite from the voice inside his head.

Hell, he hadn't meant to do it. He'd just gotten carried away. He wasn't a fucking murderer.

You killed her
, said the voice.
You're worse than an animal.

“That's not true. It was an accident. We were just playing a game.” But the words rang hollow as he sat in a spot above the cemetery, a secluded place on the hill behind the lodge.

The voice spoke to him again.
They'll hunt you down. They'll put you in prison. Is that what you want?

“I told you it was an accident. It was just sex. I didn't mean to kill her.”

You've got to run. Get away before they find you.

He clenched his jaw. “They won't find me. Not if I don't want to be found. I'm not leaving until I finish what I came for.”

He waited for a reply, but this time the voice didn't answer. Sometimes it happened that way. He'd speak, but there would only be silence. Other times, the voice would be crystal clear.

He'd been hearing it for years, off and on since he was twenty-five, a soldier in the Army. Delta Force. He was good. The best.

Except when he heard the voice. Then he couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. The doctors had put him on Prozac, tried a couple of other meds. He could lead a normal life, they'd said. But it didn't matter. The Army didn't want him anymore.

He was thirty now, on his own, but trouble always seemed to follow wherever he went. He hadn't meant to kill the girl, but he wasn't about to change his plans.

He settled his back against a boulder, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the little wooden totem he had found on an antique table in the great hall, rubbed his fingers back and forth across it. He could just make out the roof of the lodge through the trees.

Did they really think boarding up the place was going to keep him out if he wanted to get in?

He chuckled, stuffed the totem back in his pocket, and started moving silently off into the forest. It was only a few miles' walk to the place he had found deep in the woods, an old hunting cabin. Its owners were long gone, making it the perfect place to take shelter from the wind and rain.

Tomorrow he'd drive the Jeep he'd rented into town and pick up supplies, enough to last at least a couple of weeks. Plenty of time to complete his plan.

After that, after things were settled, he would leave.

 

 

“I'm glad you came,” Dylan said to Lane, keeping the wheel steady as the big, extended-cab pickup slopped through the mud holes on the road to Yeil. “We need to talk.”

Lane felt a trickle of unease. “What about?”

“When we made the deal for you to come up here, neither of us expected any of this trouble. The hoax was bad enough. Now it looks like they haven't given up, that at least one of them is out there watching the house. Worse yet, there's been a murder and Caleb's the number-one suspect. I think it would be best if you went back to L.A.”

Something pinched hard in her chest. Yes, Dylan was having problems, but she'd thought they were friends. Friends didn't leave when the going got tough.

Another thought struck, and the tightness returned to her chest. “Are you . . . are you tired of me? Is this just an excuse to get rid of me?”

Dylan slammed on the brakes so hard the truck fishtailed in the mud and Lane jerked against her seat belt. He jammed the gearshift into park.

“Getting rid of you is the last thing I want! I just want you safe, dammit! If you stay, I can't guarantee you will be. You'll be out of danger if you're back in L.A.”

Her heart was beating hard, drumming against the wall of her chest. The fierce look on his face said it was the truth, and the frantic beating began to slow. He was worried about her. He was trying to protect her. The tight feeling eased.

“Caleb didn't kill Holly,” she said. “And you said yourself you don't have any reason to believe whoever's been watching us is the murderer.”

“It doesn't seem likely, no. But there's no way to know for sure. Like I said, I want you safe. If that means leaving, then that's what I want you to do.”

But she wanted to be there for Dylan when he needed her. And there was the job she had undertaken. She wanted to see all of it put together, wanted to see the finished design. And she wasn't ready to give Dylan up.

“I'm not afraid, Dylan. Whoever is behind the hoax, the fact is no one has ever been hurt, not during all those years. There's no reason to think that's going to change. The interior isn't finished. I'm waiting for the furniture to arrive. I just got the draperies ordered. I'm waiting for the wrought-iron chandeliers to get finished, shipped up here, and hung. I want to see what the Eagle Bay Lodge looks like when it's ready for its first guests.”