Deadly Fate (14 page)

“I know, of course. Detective Brennan told me that Kimball arrived at the police station soon after the news of a death on the island reached him. Very distraught. You realize that legally, it's all very complicated. He owns the island. Wickedly Weird rented the island. We can claim parts of it as a crime scene, but—without brute un-American force—we are beholden to him to cooperate as far as searches and use of the Mansion and Alaska Hut are concerned. Legally, I'm not sure what happened with the Wickedly Weird Productions crew's contract. Best at the moment to get done what we need to get done with the cooperation of Wickedly Weird and Marc Kimball.”

“Sir, with all due respect,” Jackson said, “we understand that. But it is curious that the man showed up so quickly.”

“Amen,” Detective Brennan muttered.

“I simply believe that his whereabouts immediately before the deaths would be nice to know,” Thor said.

“Absolutely. We are running a time check on Kimball,” Enfield agreed.

“When he's in Seward, he usually heads out to the island immediately—that's what the tabloids tell us,” Detective Brennan said. “So where was he when the killing was going on?”

“I'm pretty damned sure you're barking up the wrong tree with Kimball,” Enfield said. “A man like that...odd behavior would have been reported by now.”

“Describe ‘odd behavior,'” Thor murmured.

“Criminal behavior,” Jackson said.

“Let's face it. He's on the list of the world's wealthiest men—he can buy a lot of discretion. Still, it's not a matter of me suspecting him—it's really a ‘let's eliminate him' quest,” Thor said.

Enfield looked at Jackson curiously. “I'm interested, Crow. You manage your own team of investigators now—several units, I believe. Shouldn't you be managing them? No disrespect meant, but I have to assume you're here because of Tate Morley, too?”

Jackson nodded. Watching the interaction, Thor realized that Jackson had reached to the top for permission to come out here and involve himself in this investigation. Enfield had to be wondering what kind of pull Jackson had to get his way so quickly in a Bureau often filled with red tape.

Jackson smiled. “Yes, sir. When it comes to Tate Morley, I have to be hands-on.”

Detective Brennan studied Jackson and shrugged. “If it could be this man and you've hunted him before, I say all hands on deck.”

“But,” Enfield asked, “wouldn't it have made more sense for you to be hands-on in Kansas?”

Jackson gave him a rueful smile. “I can't say that I do know where Tate Morley is now, sir, but I would bet my eyeteeth that he's no longer in Kansas.”

“No one is here for a pissing match,” Thor said. “Sir—”

Enfield laughed. “I've heard about the Krewe of Hunters. Unorthodox methods—using the dead for witnesses, some say. Intuiting from ghosts or revenants or whatever. Well, I know you are an assistant director—field director—in your own right, taking a backseat here since you know Thor and don't know the terrain and he knows it especially well. And I don't care if you talk to walls, dogs or elephants. Get this guy—whoever the hell he is.” He hesitated. “We'll have forensic teams on the island for another few days. I don't know why the killer would hang around now, but if you still seem to think it's important to be out there, I'll go with your instinct.”

“We found where he butchered Amelia Carson, sir. I think we may find his hideout, as well,” Thor said.

“We're working on recovery of the video from the hotel—my guys are cleaning it up and enhancing it now. It will be ready in a few hours. You might want to see it before you head back,” Brennan said.

“We will want to see it. Thank you,” Thor told him.

“I've looked at it—poor quality,” Brennan said. “Nothing but people coming and going, all looking fine and normal. But the video doesn't even cover the elevators. Still, one man may see something that others don't.” Brennan's face tightened with an edge of aggravation. “And the island is covered for the moment at the least. Mike Aklaq is there, right? And I have people finishing up at the Mansion with hours and hours of film to process, only to prove it's all fake!”

“Thank God for science and talented techs,” Thor said. “Thing is...I know that island. I was once one of those obnoxious kids who liked to sneak out there and drink beer and build a bonfire. If there is anything out there, I believe I'm the one who can find it.”

Enfield nodded. “All right, just take it in shifts, and make sure you report to me, as well.” He shook his head, eyeing them both. “I'm no clairvoyant,” he added, “but I've been around awhile. Killers like this don't suddenly see the light. Do whatever you have to do. Use any method. Stop him—before he kills again.”

8

C
lara couldn't help looking around the restaurant. She was afraid that Amelia Carson was going to make an appearance.

But Amelia was not in the restaurant. She and her cast mates ordered their food. Clara began to relax, but she only half listened to the conversation going on around her.

She hoped that Amelia wouldn't arrive. She wasn't afraid of the ghost anymore. Amelia was lost—she needed help. Clara wanted to give her that help.

She just hoped that she didn't wind up appearing to talk to walls herself.

“I really hope that we actually get to do this show,” Simon said wistfully.

“Of course we'll get to do the show,” Clara said.

“We didn't get to do the last one,” Ralph reminded her.

“Yes, but that was different,” Clara said.

They all looked at her. “It was different!” she assured them.

“I guess so. I was so happy to be here! See Alaska,” Simon said.

“Well, we are seeing Alaska,” Larry reminded them.

They all fell silent. Larry drummed his fingers on the table. “So. You're going to go back and stay on the island, huh, Clara?”

“Yeah.”

“Just watch out. I mean really watch out. Not just for the killer—watch out for Kimball! He's looking at you like he's a wolf and you're a lamb,” Ralph warned.

“Ralph, maybe the guy just appreciates theater,” Clara said.

“He didn't pay any attention to me,” Ralph said.

“He might have realized you and Larry were a duo,” Clara told him.

“No, no, I'm not a duo with anyone and I'm heterosexual and I can tell you—wolf looking at a lamb,” Simon said, nodding his head sagely.

“Well, don't worry. I can't stand the guy,” Clara said. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah, but he's staying on
his
island, right?” Ralph asked.

Clara shrugged, feeling acutely uncomfortable.

“She's got Jackson and Thor—she'll be all right,” Simon said.

Ralph grinned. “Jackson—and Thor. So, last time, she gets the married agent. This time...hey, what do we know about this Thor guy? And who names their kid Thor?”

“He's of Norse descent,” Simon said. “Probably a common name. Like Jesus if you come from a Spanish-speaking country.”

“He looks like a Thor,” Larry said.

“You look like a Thor!” Ralph told him with pride and affection.

“Um,” Larry said, smiling. “No, but, I mean, he really looks like a Thor.”

“You two are kind of beautiful together,” Simon said. “Really,” he added, laughing. “You're both just exceptionally cool-looking people. And he's not married.”

“Guys, please!” Clara begged.

“Sure. Tell me that you haven't noticed the man!” Simon said.

“I've noticed the man. I noticed him—right after I noticed a body in the snow!” Clara reminded him.

Ralph waved a hand in the air. “Clara—bad things happen in life. But we move forward. We seize what moments we can!”

“That's kind of melodramatic,” Simon told him.

“Life is melodramatic!” Ralph claimed.

“Both agents are excellent—wait! All three agents are great. Mike Aklaq is cool, too,” Clara said.

“Ah, yeah, but it's different with you and Thor,” Simon commented, taunting her with a subtle smile.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Clara said.

“Well, of course she doesn't. She's Clara!” Ralph said. “Dear, dear, dear child! You never notice. Now, of course, you have noticed Marc Kimball because he practically drips slime when he's around you. But! You should see it when you and Special Agent Thor Erikson are together!” He demonstrated, flicking his fingers in the air. “Sparks! You share something.” He leaned toward her, his elbow on the table. “Let it happen, Clara, let it happen. I'm telling you...”

“Stop. We started off with him tackling me in the snow and he really hasn't been all that nice. Kind of a dickhead, really,” Clara said. “He's pretty cold. Hard-core FBI.”

“Damned good-looking dickhead,” Larry noted.

“I found him to be very courteous,” Ralph said. “Just passionate—which is very good. He's looking for a killer.”

“It is quite simply basic nature,” Simon told Clara. “Men are horrible because of biology—scatter as much seed as you can with anyone. Women are selective. They have only so many eggs—gotta get those puppies fertilized by the best there is. And I've heard that a man's scent is something that kind of warns a woman if he'd fight for her or not. Supposed to be huge in the chemistry of two people.”

“Sparks, sparks, sparks!” Larry said.

“And he does smell really good,” Ralph said.

“Guys! Stop with the smells and the sparks. The waitress is coming!” Clara said. And, with her cheeks reddening, she realized that she'd never been so happy to see food arrive.

But while the others forgot their teasing conversation, Simon did not. He reached across the table and took her hand.

“I'm being serious now. We like to tease you about Erikson, yes. But hang with him and Jackson, please. And watch out for Kimball,” he said quietly. “There's something about him...well, there's something about him that just isn't right.”

* * *

Jackson and Thor left the station.

A company car had been left for their use.

Thor slid into the driver's seat and looked at Jackson. “You have Clara's number, right?” he asked.

Jackson smiled. “I do. You're driving—I'll call.”

Thor listened as Jackson asked questions, since the phone wasn't on speaker. “An officer is still on duty in the restaurant? We'll be no more than another thirty minutes.”

Jackson nodded, repeated the questions and relayed the answers. “She's fine. She's having dinner in the Hawthorne's restaurant with her friends, the officer is great—and she's anxious to speak with us.”

“Does she know something else?”

Jackson asked the question and turned back to Thor. “She repeated that she's having dinner with her friends.”

She didn't want to speak in front of the others, Thor realized.

“We'll be there soon,” Jackson said.

“Let's go straight to her. I can go by my house to get a few things after we see her,” Thor said.

Jackson smiled slightly, looking down.

“She could be in danger,” Thor said.

“She didn't sound as if she was in any danger. She's at the hotel with three friends and an officer on duty. She'll be all right,” Jackson said.

“Let's get her anyway—it never hurts to make certain of anything.”

“Of course,” Jackson said. “I'm surprised Enfield didn't argue about her coming back out there with us.”

“I think you'd manage to one-up his authority if it came to that,” Thor said, glancing over at his old partner. Crow was a decade older, but he hadn't changed much. Even as a young agent, he'd been cool and cautious—able to act in the blink of an eye, but just as capable of thinking.

“It's not me,” Jackson told him, half smiling as he looked over at him. “The acting director of the Krewe—Adam Harrison—answers only to the director of the FBI. Adam was finding the right people to get things done around the country before he became official and started the Krewe. I was his first guinea pig. Adam had his eye out at all times for the right people. He is a bit of a red tape magician—when we need something, we turn to him.” He was quiet for a minute. “Adam knew about Tate Morley, and he knew about my role in that investigation and that I'd been partners with you. So, there it is.”

“Well—nice,” Thor told him. “I knew a bit about the Krewe. Good that you're here.”

“Right or wrong as far as the Fairy Tale Killer goes, it's good to be working this with you,” Jackson said. “And...I'm glad I'm here for Clara.”

Thor glanced at him quickly. “You are just friends, right? I mean, I'm not missing something here that I should be seeing. I heard that you were married to a fellow agent. I don't imagine the man I worked with not being...monogamous.”

Jackson didn't take offense. “We're just friends, good friends—I guess circumstances made it so. And yes, I'm married to a fellow agent, Angela Hawkins. She's a whiz at management, at finding what is needed, at sending the right agents out to the right place at the right time. When I need information that the local people can't give me in seconds, I always call back to the Krewe offices.” He hesitated. “I've actually thought about you in the last years, even discussed you with Adam. But while we work with a few satellite offices, Alaska wouldn't be in the mix right now.”

Thor was silent.

He thought that Jackson—and the mysterious Adam Harrison—might ask him into the unit.

It was something he would consider.

Except...

He kept thinking that he had to find the truth for Mandy, who had haunted their dreams, and for the other victims.

And most important...

There was Clara Avery.

They reached the Hawthorne. They stepped out of the car and hurried into the old hotel. It had been built in 1905 by an Emile Hawthorne, an old New Englander who had come to Alaska to work on the railroad line right after Seward had been founded. Hawthorne had fallen in love with the scenery—unbeatable almost anywhere, with the rugged mountains rising to one side and the glistening beauty of the waters of Resurrection Bay on the other.

While it didn't offer much in the way of security, the Hawthorne did have charm. The lobby offered the comforts of an old lodge—worn leather sofas and chairs, a massive stone hearth and tables where guests could engage in chess, checkers, cards and other nonelectronic games.

It was only two stories tall and had thirty guest rooms, but the restaurant, off the lobby, served locals as well as lodgers and tourists.

Thor made straight for the restaurant.

The cop sent to watch over Clara was rigidly on duty, staying just inside the restaurant, right next to the giant stuffed grizzly that stood as if he were a maître d', ready to welcome patrons. Thor and Jackson nodded to him; he gave them a thumbs-up sign and pointed to a table in the middle of the room.

Jackson went to speak with the police officer.

Thor paused a moment, watching the table group.

Clara was smiling at something Ralph Martini was saying.

Her smile was infectious, he thought. She was young and beautiful, in her late twenties, he thought, lithe and toned. There was something natural about her, as well. Or maybe
sincere
was a better description; perhaps both words applied.

But, he knew then, it wasn't really that at all. He felt something for her that he didn't remember feeling; somehow, he'd lost the ability to let himself become involved years before. He wasn't a fool or blind; she was lovely and arresting and the kind of woman to draw attention and desire without ever realizing the power of her appearance or character. Anyone would be attracted—like a moth to a pretty flame.

She wasn't just good-looking. She was somehow personal now, as well.

He shouldn't get personal; he knew that.

But he hadn't really gotten personal with Mandy Brandt. Actually, it had never been a matter of attraction with Mandy—he had simply liked her. And admired her. Her life had been filled with tragedy. Her mother dead of cancer when she was about five, her dad in a car crash when she was eighteen, and her only brother had been killed in the armed forces. She had told him once,
You can only cry so much before the soul is dead inside
.

That was because Mandy had been so worried about her friend—but in a very matter-of-fact way. She'd never suspected that she herself was the one Tate Morley had been after.

He hoped that her soul was alive and well now; he liked to believe that she was in light and happiness somewhere.

Still trying to help...and that would be why she had entered their dreams.

Clara Avery looked up then and saw him. Something in her eyes changed; she was actually glad, he thought. Then again, she might have been glad to see her friend—Jackson Crow.

The others at the table turned to see him and Jackson arriving, as well.

He kept his voice low and level as he greeted them all. “Everything all right here?”

“Right as rain,” Ralph said, rising to greet him and Jackson. “Officer Friendly over there seems to be a great guy. He wouldn't join us. Said he's on duty and eating a burger takes two hands.”

“Ah, well, he'll be off in a few minutes,” Thor said.

“I'll grab you a chair,” Simon offered.

He was about to say that they should get going, but Jackson sat down at the table then and suggested that they should get something to eat quickly. “You know the staff around here?” Jackson asked him.

Thor grinned. “Yeah, I do.” He'd eaten at the Hawthorne often enough. He knew Ali Norman, the waitress serving the table, because he'd helped out when her son had been arrested for drugs, getting him into rehab instead of jail.

Ali was quick to see that he and Jackson were promptly served the house specialty—venison stew—and to assure him that her son Tyson was doing well, working, and even engaged to a girl he had met while doing community service.

Thor told her how glad he was.

“Anything new?” Simon asked anxiously when Ali was gone.

“I'm afraid not,” Thor told him.

“The cop goes when Clara goes, right?” Larry asked.

Thor nodded. “I'm afraid that law enforcement is being stretched thin here.”

“We're good,” Ralph said. “The
Fate
has security. The ship is still undergoing some work before our appointed sailing time, but we've been told we're welcome to take our cabins. Most of the crew is already aboard. We're set to sail in less than a week.”