In the Shadow of Death (21 page)

Luck was with him when he searched the desk in the kitchen. There were several maps, one very similar to Chandler's, showing the lake, the roads and the track that led up to the Shadow Lake Mine.
The lake's about fifteen miles long,
Nat thought as he measured it by eye against the scale at the bottom of the chart.
And the north road that edges it stops after about ten. That X at the end of the road must be this cottage.
He walked to the window overlooking the lake, where he could see a watery sun trying to break through the clouds.
Yes, this cottage is definitely on the north side.
He went back to the map. He could hike back to civilization to get help, but that would take him at least two hours, and Kate could be dead by then. No, he would have to follow them up to the mine on foot. He squinted at the map.
The turnoff to the mine looks to be about five miles back along the road, and it's next to a stream! It should be easy to find.

Minutes later, his sandwiches in one of the big patch pockets of the slicker and the map in the other, he stepped outside. But before starting up the path, he quickly stowed his wet jacket and shirt behind the boat in the shed.

• • •

MAGGIE HAD SLEPT FITFULLY
, only drifting into deep sleep toward dawn, and when she woke it, was already seven-thirty. The morning was dull and grey and threatening rain at any moment, and she was no nearer to a plan for how to find Nat or Kate. She showered, packed her bag, then went downstairs to feed the two dogs and let them out in the yard before making herself a quick breakfast. It was not quite eight o'clock when she arrived at the stables.

Al was mucking out and looked up in surprise. “Thought you were leaving early.”

“Change of plans. Is your father around?”

“Probably still at the barn.”

“Thanks.” She met Hendrix coming out of his cabin.

“Thought you'd be gone by now,” he said.

“Mr. Southby stayed overnight in Williams Lake,” she improvised. “He's meeting with Brossard this morning. I'm to meet him later. Have you any idea where Kate's gone?”

“Riding.”

“But . . . ” she stopped herself in time.

“Yup. Went out real early.”

“But Ginny's still in her stall. I saw her.”

Hendrix shook his head. “You must've been mistaken.” He tipped his hat and started to walk toward the stables, then stopped and turned back to her. “I thought you said you and your boss were going to Horsefly?”

“Changed our minds. I'm picking him up in Williams Lake and then we're driving down to 100 Mile House to follow up a lead.”

“100 Mile House?” Hendrix sounded surprised.

“I wanted to tell Kate that we'd need the Jeep for a couple of days.”

Hendrix slowly stroked his chin. “Can't see that'll be a problem. I'll tell her when she gets back.”

“Thanks.” She felt his eyes on her as she walked down the gentle slope to where the cabin complex was partly hidden in the stunted pines. Once inside Nat's cabin, she packed his suitcase and toilet gear, then walked back up the slope to stow them in the Jeep. A piece of paper stuffed under the windshield wiper fluttered in the breeze:
GET OUT OR DEATH CAN BE ARRANGED FOR YOU TOO
.

She felt herself go cold as she reread the message.
How did it get here? And when?
Crushing the note in her hand, she climbed into the vehicle and drove to the front of the house.
Was it meant for me? Does that
you too
mean they've killed Nat and they're letting me know?
But she had watched them leave in the plane, and she knew they would have had to wait until daylight to take to the air again, and she hadn't heard a plane come in this morning.
Maybe they sent a message back by radio-phone to whoever it was on the dock.
She slipped out of the Jeep, her thoughts going back to the deaths of Chandler and Sarazine.
Maybe the
you too
referred to them and not Nat. What am I going to do?

Purposefully, she marched into the house. Kate had left a picnic hamper out for Maggie and Nat to take on their proposed trip to the lake. All Maggie needed to add was food. Rummaging in the fridge and pantry shelves, she soon had enough snacking food to keep herself alive for a couple of days, then filled a Thermos with the leftover breakfast coffee. Next, she found blankets and an extra flashlight. Making room for the picnic basket and her other supplies, she had to move a coil of rope from the back of the Jeep. About to throw it on the ground, she stopped. “One never knows,” she muttered and put it back.

Maggie had one last thing to do before leaving. She knew that all the party lines would jangle when she cranked the phone, but she had to risk it.

“Number please.” Maggie gave her office number and waited to be connected.

“Thank goodness you are calling,” Henny said, when she recognized Maggie's voice. “Your Mr. Spencer, he called in two times.”

“What did he want?” Maggie yelled over the sudden crackling noise on the line.

“He says his mother is coming from hospital on Monday,” Henny yelled back.

“Hospital! Oh, yes. Harry did say something about a hospital. What's wrong with the old . . . ” She caught herself in time.

“Mr. Nat didn't tell you? She had . . . what did he call it . . . ? Onions?”

“Onions? Wait a moment, this line is terrible. I'm sure you said onions.”

“Ja. That's right. On her feet.”

Then, in spite of all her worries, Maggie started to laugh. “You mean bunions, Henny.”

“Ja, ja, that's what I say. He wants you to look after the old lady. He has real work to do, he says, and he ask for your phone number.”

“You didn't give it to him, did you, Henny?”

“No. Mr. Nat said not to, so I don't.”

“Good.” She paused, phrasing in her mind what she wanted to say. “Henny, listen carefully. I want you to do something important. If I don't call you by midday tomorrow, you must telephone Mr. Southby's friend, Sergeant Sawasky.”

“Ja. I call Sergeant Sawasky. But tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Oh hell! You're right. But you'll find his home phone number on Nat's desk. Now listen, Henny,” she carried on, speaking slowly. “I want you to tell him Mr. Southby's going fishing for the missing link at Cloudy Lake. And then say ten twelve. Have you got that?”

“Mr. Nat's got time to go fishing?”

“Just tell him Mr. Southby has gone fishing to find the missing link,” Maggie repeated.

“Link? He is golfing, too?”

“Listen to what I'm saying, Henny.”

“I am listening. I call his friend now. I think boss is in trouble, ja?”

“No, Henny! I don't want you to call him till tomorrow, please.”

“Okay. Not until tomorrow, and I say he is gone fishing and golfing and then ten, eleven, twelve. He knows what that mean?”

“Not golfing!” Maggie shouted. “Oh blast. Listen to me, Henny! Just tell Sawasky that Nat's gone fishing on the lake and say ten twelve.”

“Ja. Okay.”

Maggie replaced the receiver.
She's going to get it all wrong!
But she gathered up her things, gave the dogs a last pat—hoping that Hendrix or Al would remember to feed them—and climbed into the Jeep. At the open gates to the ranch, she stopped to look across to the Guthries' dock, where several small boats bobbed in the grey, choppy water.
It was so pretty yesterday in the sunshine. But now it looks . . . sinister.
The Jeep bumped over the cattle guard, and Maggie swung the wheel to the right to follow the lakeside road to the Harkness ranch. She stopped at a point where she could see their dock. The plane hadn't returned. She put the Jeep in gear again and drove on to the ranch house.

“Well, hello,” Jerry Harkness said when he opened the door. “Come in.” He wheeled himself backwards. “What can I do for you?”

“We heard a plane last evening and assumed that it landed at your dock. We couldn't help wondering if it was Nordstrom. Nat wanted to ask him something, if he happened to be about.”

“Vivienne said he called in for a short visit before heading north.”

“You didn't see him yourself?”

“I play poker on Thursday nights. Over at Bill Fowler's place.” He smiled at the look on Maggie's face. “I can still drive, you know. Hand controls.”

Maggie blushed. “I'm sorry. Is Vivienne around?”

“You didn't see her? She said she was going over to see Kate this morning.”

“I haven't seen either of them. What time did she leave here?”

“Quite early. Around six-thirty, I think. I'm sure she said she was calling in to see Kate before going into Williams Lake.”

Maggie's thoughts went back to the threatening note.
Was Vivienne the one who'd left it? And was it her or maybe Jock Macleod or O'Connor who took the pouch of money from her room?
She returned her attention to Jerry. “Will you say goodbye to her for me?”

“You leaving?”

“Picking Nat up from Williams Lake before heading down to 100 Mile House for a couple of days.” She turned toward the door then stopped. “Where did you say Nordstrom had gone?”

“Shadow Lake. That's where the mine was. He built a cottage up there that he uses for fishing.” He wheeled his chair to the front door and opened it for her. “Hard to get to by road,” he said, “but a cinch if you fly in.”

“You've been there?”

“Just once. About ten years ago, when they were trying to talk me into investing in their mine. Beautiful country.”

“I bet it is,” she said under her breath as she climbed back into the Jeep. “Well, I don't have a plane, so the road it's got to be.”

• • •

HENNY SAT LOOKING
into space after Maggie's worrying phone call and thought about her boss, Mr. Nat, being in danger. What if Sawasky was going away for the weekend? Then she couldn't get the message to him until Monday, and by then it might be too late. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to the boss. She knew that it was up to her to take matters into her own hands. Pulling the Rolodex toward her, she found Sawasky's phone number at the police station and dialed.

“Vancouver Police Department,” the woman's crisp voice answered.

“I speak to Sergeant Sawasky, ja?”

“Who's calling?”

“You tell him, Mr. Southby's Henny.”

“And what is the nature of your call?”

“What you mean, nature? I have important things to tell him,” Henny answered impatiently. “You get sergeant on phone. Please,” she added, remembering Maggie's instructions to always be polite when using the phone.

“I'll see if he's in.”

“Why do you ask all those questions if you don't know he's in?” She heard a shuddering sigh on the other end.

“Give me your name and number,” the icy voice replied. “I'll ascertain if he's available.”

“I told you—Henny. Mr. Southby is my boss. Tell him it is very, very much an emergency.” The phone went dead and she had to wait another agonizing five minutes before the sergeant phoned back to her.

“What's up, Henny?” George Sawasky asked.

“It's Mr. Nat. He's gone fishing and golfing and Mrs. Maggie said to tell you that it was twelve something and I am very worried because . . . ”

“Whoa! Whoa! Henny. Let's start at the beginning.”

“Mrs. Maggie is upset and she is telling me that Mr. Nat has gone fishing at Cloudy Lake. Then she said tell you ten, eleven something.”

“Was it ten twelve?”

“Ja. That's right. Ten twelve. She said you know what it means.”

“Yes.”

“She says for me to call you tomorrow. But I am very worried, so I call today.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“Wait, I tell you.” She read from her notes. “Tell sergeant Mr. Nat is gone fishing at Cloudy Lake. He is finding link that is gone missing. You understand, ja?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Missing link at Cloudy Lake, you said?”

“Ja. That is what I say.”

Then it came to him. Shadow Lake and the missing link. Could be something to do with Guthrie's disappearance. Or perhaps she meant something to do with Smith's abduction. “How long ago did she call, Henny?”

“Ten minutes. I look at the clock when the phone rings.”

“Okay, Henny. I'll try to reach her before she goes.” But although he got through to the ranch house in record time, there was no answer. His call to Corporal Brossard took longer, and the reaction was not very friendly.

“I've enough problems with your two friends interfering, without the Vancouver police getting involved,” was his answer.

“Hey! Wait a minute. Aren't you forgetting something?”

“What?”

“Mrs. Spencer did find that money.”

“Which promptly disappeared,” Brossard interrupted.

“Then there was Smith's letter,” Sawasky reminded him. “And that letter, by the way,” he added sharply, “can bring me in on this investigation officially.”

“How do you make that out?”

“I was on the Smith abduction case when it went down. It will take five minutes to get my boss to assign me back onto it.”

“But finding that letter doesn't prove a thing,” Brossard insisted.

“Sure, but it's the first lead we've had in nine years.” Brossard made no response, and Sawasky added, “By the way, have
you
managed to find the missing Guthrie?”

“We're working on it.”

“Well, it looks to me as if the
interfering couple
have stumbled onto part of that mystery, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maggie's message to me mentioned a missing link. It can only mean she's onto something with regard to Guthrie or the Smith case.”

“I can't go rushing off to this Shadow Lake just on your say-so.”