Camera Never Lies (18 page)

Jealousy.

Hadn’t I forced him into her arms? I shook my head at my crazy, wild imaginings—I’d allowed them to go too far, giving my mind too much leeway and imagining suspicious activity where there’d been none. Not only in the case of Spencer and the cute blond, but perhaps I’d presumed too much where Emily and Peter and Hillary were concerned, allowing paranoia to cloud my judgment. I resolved that I’d only focus on hard facts, like the photograph that had led me to question Hillary and, in turn, the information she’d given.

But would it be enough to discover Alec’s killer? I sent up a prayer for direction again, feeling that I’d lost whatever internal murder investigation compass I’d possessed.

“There you are.” A familiar voice I’d heard that day, but couldn’t place, spoke from behind.

Peter stood next to me, also looking over the rim. Immediately his words about pushing someone over the rim came back to me. But what did they mean other than he was somewhat morbid?

I moved away from the edge. “Hi. What are you up to?” Crazy question. But what did you say to a tour guide at the end of the day? “Finished with the tours?”

“Just stopped by to make good on my offer.”

I shook my head, my thoughts a blur.

“I offered to give you and your fancy camera a tour of Thomason Island.”

Now I remembered. I’d said I would think about it. But I hadn’t, and now I couldn’t recall if at the time I considered his offer a good or a bad thing. Might Peter’s offer be the dreaded fork in the road I feared? Waves of exhaustion tumbled over me, and maybe that added to my depressed state after the staging of a quarrel with Spencer. In any case, I was in no frame of mind to make the right choice. “I’m wondering if this is such a good time. It’s getting cold. It’ll be dark soon.”

“Not for more than a couple of hours. This isn’t the sort of tour just anyone can get.” He smiled again, this time completely disarming me. “This is a private tour.”

An exclusive viewing of Thomason Island tempted me. I might grab scenery not previously photographed, helping me to break into a travel magazine or two. I inclined my head and peered at Peter. Considering that he gave the boat tours, he couldn’t have killed Alec, could he? It was all nonsense—wild imaginings again. Still, his information wasn’t enough to convince me.

“I can show you some places no other photographers have been.”

How did he know? “Why me?”

He leaned in, speaking in low tones so only I could hear. “I’ve heard rumors that some photographer’s been asking questions. I’ve got some answers.” Then he grinned, not unlike Spencer. A tiny part of me thought of getting back at Spencer. After all, he’d not refused to go flirt with Miss Bleached Blond Diva-Wannabe. On that count, I was pathetic.

Of course Peter knew I’d asked questions, because I’d questioned him. If Peter had answers, maybe they would connect with what Hillary had told me somehow. Was this the direction I’d prayed for? Another puzzle piece would go a long way to discovering who’d been in my room and stuffed her in the closet.

“At the island, you say?” I wondered how many others would be there. As long as our tour didn’t take me to a room with a closet, I saw no threat.

“If it makes you feel better, we won’t be alone. I take a few of the summer volunteers over for some free time every evening.”

I looked down at the cone-shaped landmass in the lake then back at him and nodded.

I followed Peter to his truck—a four-wheel drive SUV, not unlike Ranger Jennings’s. When Peter helped me up, he took my arm brusquely, which was different than when he’d helped me off the tour boat. When I was secure in his vehicle, his smile faded until it was completely gone.

Quint was back, along with the paranoia.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

I
’d made plenty of mistakes lately and hoped this wasn’t another one.

After peeling out of the parking lot, Peter headed to the road encircling the caldera. “I already made my last official boat tour of the day, which includes picking up those I left on the island earlier. The summer volunteers will be waiting. I’d hoped to have you meet me there but didn’t have a chance to get you the message. So, here I am.” He glanced my way, his grin returning.

“I’m sorry for inconveniencing you.”

As he drove, Peter talked about the volunteers, mostly college students who worked for the National Park Service during the summer. This hadn’t been a mistake, after all. Hanging around a crowd like that in a relaxed environment was sure to provide clues about the murder, even if it were only hearsay. If nothing else, I could attempt to find out more from Peter. He’d hooked me with bait, tailor-made for me.

“You mentioned you had answers.”

With a quick glance and grin, he replied, “In time.”

He remained focused on maneuvering the curving road, which was fine with me, considering the close edge that literally dropped into the lake. The sun would be setting in a couple of hours, and with Thomason Island at the west end of the lake, I wasn’t sure I could get very many good photographs. But it was worth a try. As we pulled into the small parking area of Feldman’s Shore, dread filled me. In all my deliberations, I hadn’t thought of the hike down to the dock.

I’d maneuvered the trail once already today—comparable, they said, to climbing sixty-five flights of stairs. “Isn’t there any other way to the island?” I felt like an idiot for asking, but Mom always told me it never hurts to ask.

He pushed his door open and slid halfway out of the truck then turned to me. “ ‘Fraid not.”

I sighed and dragged my feet, still feeling the aches and pains from the first trek down. “Are you sure we’re going to make it back up before it’s dark?”

Peter stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. He squinted, apparently assessing me then frowned. “Maybe you’re right. Twice in one day is hard for someone who’s not in tip-top shape.”

My jaw dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He was right, of course. I wasn’t in the sort of shape required to compete in a triathlon, which in my estimation was the prerequisite to hiking that trail twice in one day.

“This wasn’t a good idea.” He started back toward his SUV.

I scratched my head, too tired to make a decision. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. I’m just not sure I can make it.” Nor did I want to make the hike at night. One wrong step… “Just tell me if we’ll be back before dark.”

He opened the door for me. “Get in.”

I wanted to argue with both Peter and myself. My indecision had cost me the opportunity to listen to college kids potentially discuss the murder. I climbed into the SUV. A vehicle pulled up in the parking lot near the entrance and dropped off a tall man and a short blond woman who quickly exited onto the trail. They reminded me of Spencer and the receptionist. At least if I’d gone with Peter to Thomason Island, I wouldn’t have had time to think about them.

On the other hand, maybe I should have stayed at the lodge and monitored the situation between Spencer and the receptionist. “I suppose it’s best for me to get back anyway. But wait, how will the volunteers get to the island without you?”

“They can get there without me.” Peter drove the vehicle out of the parking lot, peeling out again—an action I considered unusual for a man who looked to be in his midthirties. Maybe it was just a guy thing, and I’d spent too much time with Murphy to know.

Shoving back the regret, I considered how to redeem the situation. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel better, then you can take me on the private tour. I read there are a couple of trails on the island. I could even explore it myself. I mean, if you don’t have time. I could probably find those photographic points on my own, don’t you think?”

Peter glanced over at me and held my gaze instead of watching the snakelike road, making me nervous. Finally he returned his attention to his driving. “Sure you could. If you’re up to being stuck on the island all day without facilities and with only the food and water you bring with you. There’s no guarantee that any of the tourist boats will have room to take you back before the evening pickup. It can be done. Plenty do it.”

I pressed back into the vinyl seat. “But you don’t think I can, do you?” I thought about my race down the trail, running from an imagined predator. I owned beachfront property. Why hadn’t I taken advantage of it and gone for a jog once in a while?

“Look, it’s not an insult. Not everyone is cut out for that sort of thing. Imagine being on the island all day, at the end of which you’d have to make the climb up Feldman’s Shore Trail again. We caution people to avoid those situations unless they’re fully capable and prepared. I misread you earlier today, or I wouldn’t have invited you to the island this evening.”

He turned onto what looked like a dirt road too small for an SUV. “I’m not sure you could make it tomorrow. You’ll probably still be too sore.”

I gripped the handle of the door, supporting myself against the bumpy road. “Where are you taking me?”

“I have an idea.” He gripped the steering wheel to keep the vehicle from bouncing off the road. “This will work out better for both of us.”

I focused on the road ahead. If I needed to make a run for it, all I had to do was follow it back. That, and escape Mr. Triathlete. Otherwise, I had no idea where we were and wished Spencer had known about my traipsing off with the boat tour guide to who knows where. He wouldn’t have let me go alone.

Peter pulled to a stop in front of a small building. After he climbed out of the SUV, he stuck his head through the open window, where I remained seated. “You coming?”

I hadn’t decided yet. I was alone in the woods with what amounted to a stranger. “What are we doing?”

“If you want to see something beautiful, we’re going to hike a trail. Don’t worry, it’s not too far.” He trudged off.

Relieved at his answer, I sensed nothing sinister in his demeanor, and honestly, at this point—and I hated admitting my stupidity—if he’d wanted to harm me, he could have done it. I got out as fast as I could. His legs were longer. I’d have to work hard to keep up. How long would it take to hike to the viewpoint? The hiking trail narrowed so that I couldn’t walk next to Peter. I followed like an obedient puppy and tried to ignore more wild imaginings that he’d put me in a bag and throw me into the lake. The forest thickened, making it hard to believe it would ever open up to an observation point.

The trail steepened. Before long, I began breathing hard and sweating, glad there wasn’t anyone but Peter to see. A squirrel snickered in a tree somewhere, sounding like laughter. In squirrel-speak, he’d probably told his friends to come watch the show.

I vowed to avoid ever attending a wedding held at a national park again. But Rene was the only serious nature freak I knew personally, so unless she remarried for some reason, this scenario wasn’t likely to reoccur. I trudged up the trail, focusing on one step after another. A quick glance ahead stopped me.

A smirk on his face, Peter stood with one hand on his hip, looking at me.

“How…much…farther?” I could barely manage the question through gasps.

“Just over that rise.” He glanced at his watch. “You have time to catch your breath. You may not believe me now, but once we get there, you’ll see it’s easier than Feldman’s Shore Trail.” He tossed a bottled water to me. I’d not even noticed he carried it. Some sleuth I was turning out to be.

“Thanks.” I took a long, refreshing gulp. “So, why are you helping me find photographic places?”

He looked away and shrugged. His avoidance of the question unnerved me.

“Is this something you do all the time then? Or are you ready to give me those answers?” I took a swipe at tiny flying pests that seemed bent on annoying me.

“We’d better get going.” He turned his back on me and started up the trail again.

I fought the urge to run in front of him to demand an answer—like I had that much energy. If I ever decided to journal my life, I’d make sure to delete the part where I acted like an idiot. This time, either I’d let my exhaustion overrule my better judgment, or I was once again being paranoid.

Everyone wasn’t a killer. I repeated the words to myself as I trudged forward.

Suddenly Peter’s boots came into view. I pulled my gaze up in time to keep from running into him.

The sight I saw past him took away what little breath I had. “It’s…incredible. You can see for miles. Maybe even a hundred.” Hills carpeted in green surrounded a lush valley and huge lake. Farther on, mountain peaks were hazy in the distance, some snowcapped, even in July. To my right, sand dunes occupied part of the national park.

He smiled and held his hand out for me to move past. At once I lifted my camera, taking snapshots until his hand gripped my arm and yanked me backward. I yelped.

He pointed to the ground where I stood. “Be careful. You don’t want to get too close to the edge.”

The height made me dizzy. I looked at him, all my ridiculous, paranoid fears dissipating. “Thank you.”

If he’d wanted to kill me, that would have been his chance. He could have let me walk right off the cliff’s edge, so absorbed was I in taking photographs. And it would have been an accident.