Camera Never Lies (11 page)

If they didn’t already have one, I was sure pharmaceutical companies could make a lot of money on a drug that subdued crying in certain circumstances. “I take it they understood your plea and believed you.”
Please, God
.

“He said he might need to ask more questions.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“He asked how long I planned to be at the lodge, and I told him through the weekend.”

Relief overwhelmed me, but confusion followed. I turned my back to Mom so she wouldn’t see the troubled expression I knew was on my face. Why had they let her go? She’d said she wanted to kill the guy, had the motivation, and now he was dead. This wasn’t the end for her, I felt certain. Plastering a smile on my face, I spun to face her again.

She pressed a hand to her cheek. “Rene is still getting married, isn’t she?”

I nodded, but gently, so I wouldn’t jar the smile I’d weakly glued on. “I think it’s for good this time. Did they say what happened to Alec or who they think killed him?” They wouldn’t have told Mom, but I hoped she might remember if she’d heard anyone else mention something.

“They told me nothing. Do you think they suspect me?”

I wanted to encourage her, but I didn’t know enough about what the rangers were thinking. “It’s hard to say. But
you
know that you didn’t kill him.” If only that were enough.

“But what if they don’t? That happens all the time, you know? What if they end up thinking I did it?”

I pressed my lips together and hugged her. I would do everything in my power to make sure that didn’t happen. But I wouldn’t tell her about my private investigation yet. “They’ll find the real killer, don’t worry.”

“Until they do, you need to be careful. There was a gardener from the lodge looking for you. I told him I didn’t know you. After all, he was a complete stranger. Oh, and I almost forgot. The ranger said he hoped to have someone in custody by the end of the weekend.”

I drew in a quick breath.

They would have someone in custody by the end of the weekend?
I couldn’t believe she’d almost forgotten that small detail. Time wasn’t on my side.

But what else had she said? The gardener? How had he known to ask Mom about me? I could only assume that George had seen us together. Had he been watching us?

George proved to be ghostlike when it came to finding him. Despite the murderous look he’d given Alec, I liked him and hoped for a suitable explanation. But I reminded myself that meant nothing. Murderers were usually normal, everyday people. If society could tell by looking at a person or talking to them that they had killed someone, we’d have them all locked up today. So although I’d felt a connection with George, I kept the image of his murderous scowl in my mind. I hoped to ask him about it—if I ever found him. It seemed as if Alec was hated enough that if every photograph I’d taken had a shot of him in it, there would be someone scowling behind him.

If looks could kill and so forth. Looks couldn’t kill, but passion could.

I cringed as I thought of those who’d had a mad rage against Alec. Mom, Spencer, and George had all three shown a deep and potentially raging anger toward him. Peter had directed his passion elsewhere, but I wondered about a person who could think of a better way to kill someone who’d been murdered, like Peter had.

After searching the grounds George had shown me and asking several passersby if they had seen him, I hiked up a steep trail that looked like it would take me to a high point on the rim. I hoped to take a few snapshots, and possibly, I could see George from there.

Once again, the mesmerizing blue of the lake captivated me. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine Spencer enjoying the scenery with me.

Spencer
.

“Oh no!” I’d forgotten to meet him. What must he think? I worked my camera into the case.

“Heard you were looking for me.” George’s familiar voice startled me.

The strap around my neck caught my camera when I dropped it. I whirled to face his stern expression. “Well, um…yes. Because I heard you were looking for me.” I’d hoped to find him on the grounds near the lodge, not alone on the trail. The image of his menacing scowl was still vivid in my mind.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone with a killer on the loose.”

Could everyone read my mind? The thought almost paralyzed me, considering I’d been thinking of him as the possible murderer.

“Especially with you snooping around, stirring things up.” He picked up a stick and beat a patch of dusty earth.

A knot materialized in my throat. I swallowed. “What makes you think that?”

“If I know it, then so does the murderer.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I’m doing no such thing.” Snooping maybe, but not stirring things up.

George tugged his cap and gazed over the lake. “People usually don’t pay any mind to me. I guess you could say I’m invisible. That’s why I see things without them knowing I’m watching. I’ve seen you taking pictures and asking about the murder.”

A cold wariness gripped me. Did George know that I’d caught him on film scowling at Alec? “It’s just curiosity.”

“Wanted to warn you. Someone spotted you hiking up here. Folks call you
that photographer.”

The news stunned me. “I can’t be the only photographer here. That’s absurd.”

“No, but you’re the only one snooping around. You act like a reporter. Are you?”

“Look, I’m no reporter. I own a portrait studio on the beach, and I’m here for a wedding. I’ve told you that already.” Broaching the subject about his angry scowl now would be tough. This wasn’t going at all like I’d hoped.

A couple appeared on the trail, walking toward us.

Since George already considered me a snoop, I forged ahead. “I have a picture of you with Alec. You’re standing behind him and look like you could…well”—the knot in my throat grew bigger—”kill him. Why were you so angry with him?” I prepared myself for his reaction, thinking I could outrun him, if needed. He was much older, and besides, I felt safe because of the approaching couple. The precarious situation I’d put myself in was almost funny. Almost.

George’s expression remained calm, as though he wasn’t at all surprised by my question. “What makes you think I’ll answer?”

“For one thing, you came up here to warn me.” I relaxed a bit. He’d not reacted to my question as if he were a killer—like I knew what that should be.

“Remember when I told you that I wouldn’t stand by and let someone threaten to get me fired? Alec threatened me. I can’t lose this job, or my wife will leave me this time.”

“But why would he do that?”

“Because I saw something I shouldn’t have seen, like I always do. But this time, I got caught, like I was spying or something. Guests don’t like to think they’re being watched, especially by the lodge staff. Believe me, it’s best not to pay attention to them or their activities. That can only lead to trouble.”

I knew George’s words were meant for me. “Go on. I want to know what you saw.”

“A couple days ago, a young lady’s suitcase flew open, and her stuff flew out all over the place. I was going to help, but Alec got there first. Figured she probably didn’t want my dirty hands on her things anyway. I saw Alec pick something up off the ground and stuff it into his pocket. When he looked around to see if anyone had been watching, he noticed me.”

“Then he threatened you?”

“That’s right. He said he would complain about me, whatever it took to get me fired, if I didn’t mind my own business.”

“And you believed he could do that?”

“You don’t understand.” George stared at the ground. “I couldn’t risk it. But someone took care of Alec Gordon. So, I don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

With his straightforward way and his attempt to watch out for me, I could easily think of George as a father figure. My heart warmed at the thought. He reminded me of the father I never had, if I’d never had a father. He just couldn’t be the murderer. “Who was the woman he helped, do you remember?”

“She looked like someone from
The Addams Family
. But these days, that’s pretty common. You know…long, black hair. Everything black. Tattoos. Jewelry in places that weren’t meant to have it.”

My heart raced. Unless I’d missed someone, Emily was the only person I’d seen this weekend who fit that description. And in that case, Emily had indeed lied to me. Was what Alec had stolen worth his life?

“I like you. That’s why I’m going to say again, nothing is ever what it seems. Be careful.”

George liked me? So, was he the killer, and he was warning me so he wouldn’t have to kill me? My amateur investigation was a tangled web and getting more complicated by the minute. A pounding sensation spread up the back of my head.

I leaned against the railing at the edge of the rim and looked straight down the two-thousand-foot drop.

“It’s best if we’re not seen walking back together.”

“Why not? You don’t want anyone to see you talking to the nosy photographer?”

George chuckled, sounding far away.

I turned to see his expression, but he’d vanished from sight. How had he done that? I hiked down the trail, hoping to find Spencer and apologize for the delay in meeting him and to share what George had told me. His warning felt like a two-edged sword, but a gardener would more likely carry a shovel. Though I was glad he’d wanted me to be careful, I sensed there was more to it.

When I approached a well-canopied part of the trail that led back to the lodge, I came to a stop, wishing I’d paid more attention on the way up. For some reason, I couldn’t remember these densely knitted trees along the hike. I edged forward into the darkened cathedral-like area, trying to shove aside thoughts of menace and murder, as an irrational fear overtook me. Words I’d brooded over, spoken in connection with Alec’s murder, clashed in my head.

I want to kill the man! I told him to stay away from you…or else. Makes you wonder why someone didn’t push him off the rim into the lake instead. I’m not going to stand for someone threatening me. If I know it, then so does the murderer
.

I covered my ears, wanting to drown out the unspoken words. Another sound drew my attention, and I dropped my hands to listen.

A twig snapped from somewhere in the darkened forest, near the trail.

I ran.

CHAPTER
TEN

T
he trail ended, and what fear possessed me quickly dissipated upon seeing the busy tourist area. Feeling ridiculous for giving in to an overactive imagination, I stopped to catch my breath and mentally created a sticky note to take up running when I made it home to the beautiful Oregon coast. That is,
if
I made it home. Once my breathing returned to normal, I headed to the Terrace Café. Chances were Spencer had already left, but one could hope. Besides I was thirsty. Thoughts of a nice tall glass of pink lemonade taunted me.

Brightly colored umbrellas came into view as I approached the outdoor restaurant overlooking the lake. In contrast, Emily lounged at one of the tables, sporting gloom and darkness. She was easy to spot—something about that nagged me. My spirits sagged when I didn’t see Spencer, but I needed to push forward with the investigation. Considering what George had shared, I intended to pay Emily a visit next.

Though she wouldn’t like it, I planned to conduct an interview of sorts through the lens of my camera this time, falling back on one of Mom’s favorite sayings: “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” I noticed a perfect table, shaded by a tree rather than an umbrella, at the opposite end of the terrace. The tree would veil my covert observation.

The café was busy with all manner of tourists, lunching and cooling their thirsts amid the smell of grilled chicken and beef. On the far side, I made my way to the table I’d chosen without looking Emily’s way, hoping she’d not see me in the crowd. I typically blended in well. That’s why what George had said about me earning the nickname “that photographer” struck me as odd.

But I didn’t have time to worry about what people thought or said. I prayed I wasn’t following the wrong trail. I realized that once I prayed for direction, I could only trust I traveled the right path, unless the dreaded forked road appeared. If I came across that, which way would I choose?