Camera Never Lies (19 page)

I took a few more snapshots then gave it a rest. Peter had crossed his arms and was staring out into the open space, looking deep in thought.

He turned his pensive gaze on me. “The sun will be dropping behind those peaks soon. The most beautiful sight you’ll ever see. Then we’ll have to hurry down the trail. It grows dark fast in the canopy.”

“I understand. This is such a beautiful place; why isn’t it open to the public?”

“Mostly time, manpower, and money to make it safe. I like that there are places still off-limits to the public.” He stared beyond me, seemingly engrossed in the scenery.

In his silence, I took more pictures.

“How’s Mrs. Jennings? Were you able to learn anything about the murder from her?”

I lowered my camera, his words garbled in my mind. I thought he had answers. These were questions. And what with a killer still out there and what had happened to Hillary, it wasn’t a question I wanted to hear from Peter right now. He’d set me back on alarm. What exactly did he know about my conversation with Hillary?

It took me a full fifteen seconds to respond. “Um…what makes you ask?”

“I want to know what Hillary—I mean, Mrs. Jennings—told you about the murder. Why shouldn’t I ask?”

“But how did you know I talked to her?”

Now I saw why he’d taken a special interest in me. He’d dangled answers to get me up here. But he was the one who wanted answers. Without a gift for perceiving danger, I was out of my depth when it came to sleuthing.

“I had a break this afternoon and came back to the lodge, hoping to ask you to meet me at the trailhead later. Then I learned that Mrs. Jennings had been hurt and went to see her. You were there ahead of me. I didn’t have time to wait around.”

“And you think I was asking her about the murder?”

He glared at me. “Ms. Perkins. I’m not a moron.”

Idiot!
I’d called myself that a lot lately.

Here I stood on a precipice with a magnificent view because of its height, and no one knew where I was. No one would ever find me. I moved toward the wooded area, away from him. This was it. I was about to experience DEFCON 1, defined as an imminent attack from a foreign power. The look Peter was giving me definitely came across as foreign.

My teeth chattered uncontrollably. Wishing my camera still worked as therapy, I backed into a large boulder, cornered like a small rat terrier with Peter as the pit bull. A glance to my left revealed the trail. He already knew I wasn’t in great shape.

When he took a step toward me, I pressed against the boulder in a frozen panic.

Lord, please help me
.

“Relax, Ms. Perkins. You look like you might die of a heart attack. Like you think I’m the killer. I’m not.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because you’d be dead already if I was.”

Of course. I’d said the same thing to myself.

Was it considered rational to believe someone who might be a killer when they told you they weren’t? There was only one way for me to be sure.

Steeling my nerves, I fumbled my camera into position. “Can I take your picture?” Would he remember I’d asked the same of him on the boat?

“Huh?” He scratched his head. “Oh yeah, no problem. Honestly, it surprised me that you came here with me alone. But I figured that you knew I wasn’t the killer or you never would have done it.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I suppose I read you wrong on that, too. I overestimated you.”

His words both calmed my nerves and irritated me at the same time. “Now, wait just a minute.”

He stuck his hands out, palms down. “No need to be offended. I brought you up here where we could speak in private. But I also wanted you to see the sunset. It’s almost on us. Why don’t you answer my question, then you can take more pictures if you like, and afterward we can make our way down the trail before it’s completely dark.”

The sigh that came from me sounded like a tire deflating—it was that long. His question about Hillary made me think he knew something about the murder himself. But I wouldn’t say that to him. This time, I’d let him underestimate me.

“I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer one of mine first.” It sounded like we were competing sleuths. Could Peter be conducting his own investigation?

“It depends on the question. Go for it.”

“Do you think Alec deserved to die?” Hearing myself state the question a second time to Peter, I realized it was a trick question of sorts. Like when I asked Spencer if he saw the cute blond at the reception desk. Fortunately for him, he’d answered wisely.

He, like any man, knew that even if he chose his words very carefully, his answer could be taken wrong. I prayed I wouldn’t misconstrue Peter’s answer.

“I think Alec Gordon had plenty of enemies.”

“I already know that.”

“Have you considered Chief Ranger Jennings?”

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

B
ack at the lodge, I was too wired to go to bed even though I’d had an exhausting day. The mountain air had chilled considerably with nightfall, yet I stood outside against the stone-protected lake rim, allowing the wind to thrash my hair against my face—a punishment of sorts for my commonsense deficiency. At least with a vitamin deficiency you might only end up with rickets, but in a murder investigation my ailment could kill me.

Have you considered Chief Ranger Jennings?
Peter’s words had left me tongue-tied. Ranger Jennings as the murderer had never entered my mind. No wonder Peter took me to a remote location. He didn’t want to risk being overheard accusing a ranger, the law enforcement of national parks.

More than ever, I needed to talk to Spencer. He’d not considered the ranger either, or else he’d have brought it up when I told him about Hillary’s affair. Maybe, like I had, he assumed the ranger wasn’t aware his wife was cheating.

Before I found him, though, I had to make sure I reined in my emotions. I shoved aside any jealous thoughts of Spencer with the receptionist and instead hoped that he’d learned something. Part of me still burned with his untimely kiss, though I’d had a chance to cool off. After reexamining what happened, I could come to no other conclusion—I’d overreacted. When facing matters of the heart, acting with an ounce of brain was never easy.

The bottom line: I resolved never to let my guard down again.

Yeah, right.

“There you are.” Arms grabbed me and pulled me into a warm embrace from behind. “I’ve been worried about you.” Spencer whispered against my ear, his breath warm.

Oh, how I wanted to savor his embrace and forget about his staged kiss. Pulling free, I tried to appear nonchalant. “So, how did it go with what’s-her-name?” I cringed at the jealous-sounding words.

“Aren’t you cold out here?” He turned me to look at him, his face far too close.

It reminded me of the incident only a few hours before. “I was just about to go in.”

“Good, I could use a cup of hot…er, cocoa.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Are you trying to become more American? Choosing hot cocoa over your tea?”

“Yes, if that would please you.” He opened the door for me, and I stepped into the warmth of the lodge, the walls reflecting shadows created by the giant fire.

He led the way to a group of tables in the corner of the Terrace Café, the inside part where people shared a late-evening drink.

After pulling my chair out, he sat across from me. “What’s wrong, Polly? You don’t look happy to see me.”

A young woman came and took our drink orders. “It’s been a very long day. I’d like to hear if you discovered anything.”

He seemed pleased enough to see me, so maybe he hadn’t enjoyed his time with the receptionist too much. “Ah, yes. Well first, let me congratulate you on what a fine actress you are. Spot on, Polly.” He leaned against the chair back and grinned.

I supposed he’d poured that same charm on the receptionist. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, the slap, of course. You slapped me across the face. That was brilliant. Very convincing.”

The hot chocolate arrived. Spencer sipped his slowly, as did I while I considered his comment. The drink warmed my insides, making me realize I had become chilled and hadn’t even noticed. When I looked up, he was studying me.

“Feeling better?”

I smiled. “Yes, thanks.”

His expression turned serious again. “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s stopping you?”

He set down his cup. “Yes, well, see. From the vibes I’m getting from you, I’m wondering if perhaps the slap was real.” He inclined his head slightly but kept eye contact, as though gauging my response.

Avoiding his gaze, I toyed with my hot chocolate, stirring it for a couple of seconds then lifted it to my mouth and sipped. If I told him the slap was real, he’d know how I felt about his kiss—that I’d been hurt he’d used something that should have been a special moment, our first kiss in years. Nothing inherently wrong with that, except I wasn’t ready to reveal how I felt about him. How could I be when I wasn’t ready to admit my feelings to myself?

I felt that slight brimming of moisture in my eyes that I loathed. It occurred at the most inopportune moments, and this was an inopportune moment.

Fighting the tears, I took another swig of the hot liquid. “You said nothing was to be taken seriously. Sounds like I might have offended you with that. Sorry.”

“No problem. We accomplished what we needed to. But I’d like to know where you’ve been all evening.”

“What do you mean? Haven’t you been with the receptionist?”

“Ah, no. I spent a few minutes talking to her, maybe thirty, tops. I tried to find you. You scare me when you disappear like that, Polly.” With a pained expression he glanced away then back at me, his eyes penetrating. “Please…no more.”

Guilt rushed through me. He wouldn’t be happy about what I had to tell him next. I spent the next few minutes watching him work his jaw while I explained about jaunting off with Peter. His eyes seemed full of pain.

He waited until I was done before he spoke. “Don’t ever do that again.”

I froze. A knot grew in my throat, making it painful to swallow. Was the controlling Spencer showing himself now?

He leaned back and tugged on his collar. “That didn’t come out right. Polly, please, do
not
put yourself in that position again.”

With his contrite clarification, did I dare contemplate what appeared to be his deep concern for me? “No, you’re right. It all happened so fast. I wasn’t prepared. But all the same, I know a few more things.” For all of my trying to position myself to pose questions about the murder, Peter had been the one to do it first.

“What? That you should check into Chief Ranger Jennings as the killer? Why doesn’t this Peter do it himself? Polly, I don’t like it one bit. Maybe this guy is trying to turn our attention away from him, point the finger elsewhere.”

“That’s just what Ranger Jennings thought about me when I brought up Hillary. I know the very idea seems crazy. But I hadn’t even considered him.” Here I was concerned that Hillary Jennings confess her affair to her husband. She seemed convinced that he wasn’t aware of it, but what if he’d known all along? “Spencer, if he knows about the affair, then he had motivation to murder Alec Gordon.”

“Yes, well, that goes without saying. But are you considering the implications here?” Spencer looked around. Only one other couple was left, sitting at a table at the far corner. “Any law-enforcement official who would commit a murder would be more than eager to pin it on someone else.”

“Which means I need to figure things out—and fast.”

Spencer frowned. “I’d like to hear you use the word ‘we’ from now on.
We
need to find out who killed Alec, whether it was Ranger Jennings or someone else. Though to tell you the truth, I’d rather turn everything we know over to the authorities.”

“Well, we can’t exactly do that now if Chief Ranger Jennings is the murderer, can we?”

“At some point, we’ll have to. But I agree that it’s imperative we find the evidence we need to point to him, if he is the murderer, before he can pin the murder on someone else. A word of caution, Polly—we don’t know that it’s him.”

“You’re right. We don’t. Now, why don’t you tell me what you found out?”

“You’re going to find it interesting as well.”

“Go on.” One glance told me we were the only ones left in the café.

“Two things, actually. Your friend Emily? She’s registered as Raquel Kendall. More importantly, she requested a safe-deposit box to keep valuables.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “Now that’s something. There are pieces to the same puzzle here, but I’m not sure how they fit. Anything else?”

“The receptionist made a comment that I didn’t understand before, but now I think I’m getting it. She said she wouldn’t be surprised if Ranger Jennings turned a blind eye to whoever murdered Alec Gordon. That he was probably glad the man was gone.”

“Now what a strange thing to say.” I’d finished my hot chocolate and tipped the cup back and forth, my nerves on edge.

“Sounds like other people knew about their affair. Most likely even Ranger Jennings.” Spencer arched his brow. “Another thought occurs to me. Anyone who knew of the affair could easily use that information to their advantage, by say, setting things up to look like Hillary killed him.”