Legend of the White Wolf (5 page)

   Officer Adams finished his preliminary cursory examination of the room, then faced Cameron. "And why were you here?"

   "Looking for friends of mine, fellow private investiga tors in a partnership, who haven't returned from a hunt."

   "With Back Country Tours?"

   "Yes. They made the arrangements with the staff here and are a week overdue back in Seattle. No word, except for a garbled call to our partner in Seattle, which isn't like them."

   She was impressed. If she worked for an outfit like that, she'd never expect one of her partners would come looking for her. Just a few calls made, and wait it out a while longer to see if she was just delayed.

   Neither of the officers commented concerning Cameron's story, though, which bothered her. She'd hoped they'd reassure him that his friends were okay. She truly thought they'd say something about a recent snowstorm that might have delayed them, or how bad communications were out in the wilderness, but they said nothing, both just seemed to stiffen a little.

   Officer Adams shifted his attention to Faith. "And your business here?" Curt, abrupt, businesslike.

   She hesitated. Everyone watched her, anticipating her answer. She was sure she'd alerted them something about her story wouldn't quite be on the up and up.

   Well, she could say the same about Cameron. The part about looking for his friends was probably true, but he wasn't just checking for the killer in the building either when he went to investigate. And she felt something wasn't quite right about the two cops either.

   "Can I see your ID again?" she asked the men.

   From their non-reaction, she figured she'd stunned them. Although Cameron managed a small smile.

   The officers exchanged glances, and then the one in charge, Officer Adams, pulled out his ID. After she looked at it, at him, and at the ID again, she nodded and handed it back. His face stern, he never broke a smile. But the other one, now he did. The smile showed dark amusement. He handed his ID over, made a point to touch her hand, and when she returned his ID, he managed to sweep his hand over hers, lingering a little longer, a little more invasive, as a prelude to something more.

   Cameron looked miffed, even stepped closer to her, and glowered at Whitson as if to remind him to act professional and stay away from Faith.

   Not needing the rescue, she tilted her chin up, gave Whitson a look like this was strictly business to her, when Officer Adams reminded her he was waiting for an answer.

   "I'm searching for a tour guide who took my father on a hunt last year," she told the officer. "I wanted to take the same trip he'd taken. The guide worked for Back Country Tours." She spoke matter-of-factly, as if she told the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.

   She thought about mentioning her father's research paper, that her former boyfriend had stolen it, and was in these parts close by, but she knew the police wouldn't be interested in any of it. But if they were, they'd ask what the paper was about, and she wouldn't be able to explain. How crazy would that sound? It was better not to bring it up.

   More than that, and for whatever reason, she didn't want Cameron to know she had a boyfriend. Well, he was an ex, but she hadn't officially told Hilson that. Although she was pretty sure Hilson knew already. And had planned it that way. Unless he was dumb enough to think she couldn't figure out who stole her father's flash drive and hard drive and then intended to come back to her. She couldn't forgive him though.

   Cameron's brows raised just a hint. And she was certain he didn't believe her.

   The officers again exchanged glances and Officer Adams said under his breath to Whitson, "Kenneth O'Malley's daughter."

   "You met my dad?" she asked, unable to contain her surprise.

   "No," Adams quickly said. "It's a small town. He was asking a lot of questions, which caught the police depart ment's attention. We discovered he was doing some kind of sociology study and that was the end of it."

   But they seemed to have recognized she was related to her father even before she mentioned her name. Or maybe she was just making more of their reactions and wasn't correct in her assumptions. So much for keeping her father's business here secret. At least they probably didn't think she'd totally lied. She did want to see where he'd gone on his trip here.

   But what really got to her more than anything, though, was neither asked who the guide was. Although maybe they'd talked to Trevor about him and already knew that he was her father's guide. Small town. Sure.

   "If we have any more questions for either of you, where will you be staying for the next several days?" Officer Adams asked.

   Cameron, being the gentleman he was, let Faith go first. She cleared her throat, dug around in her purse, then pulled out a piece of paper. Wrong one. List of what she wanted to do when she got here. She dug around a little more, found the slip of paper that she wrote Hilson's itinerary on—after having discovered the password on his computer, teach him to run off with her father's stuff—the receipt for breakfast, for the hotel, and yes! The information on her cabin rental at Nahamkanta Lake Rustic Resort.

   She handed it to Officer Adams, who jotted down the information.

   "No telephone service that far out. And cell phones won't work," he warned. "When you reach the trail head, you have to ski in, get in by dogsled, or snow mobiles. Snowshoes if you want to trek ten miles on the unplowed road."

   "Yes, that's what the clerk said. But they're the only other cabins near Baxter Park that still had a vacancy and that's hopefully where Trevor Hodges is camping. At least the hotel clerk said she thought he was when I called earlier. But I dropped by here first to speak to the staff that employs him to learn more of his current whereabouts in the event he moved camp, if I could."

   "You've made arrangements to get to the resort once you reach the trailhead?" Officer Adams asked.

   "Yes. I'm renting a snowmobile."

   Cameron smiled a little and she wondered if he thought she couldn't do this. Not that she was really a rustic type, but the place had two heated shower houses, flush toilets, and a hot tub. So it couldn't be all that rough. And she'd sledded before so no problem there.

   Cameron handed Officer Adams a piece of paper and the guy looked at it, then back at Faith. "All right." He jotted the information down in his notebook. "If we need to get in touch, we will. Have a safe trip."

   Officer Whitson gave her a slight nod of his head, as if sharing the other officer's sentiments. For her, not for Cameron. The officer didn't give him the time of day.

   Cameron escorted Faith outside, but not before she overheard Officer Adams tell Whitson, "She's a wanted woman, and you don't stand a chance."

   She wondered if the officer thought she and Cameron were already an item as Cameron walked her to her vehicle, which amused her and seemed to Cameron also.

   "What's the name of your cabin?" he asked, as they crunched along the crusted snow on the walk, his body touching hers in a possessive and provocative way.

   There was something about the way he moved beside her, as if she was truly with him, not like the way Hilson would have acted as though he just happened to be there walking in the same direction she was at the same time. She wondered if Cameron acted the same way with all women. Maybe he was a womanizer, well versed in how to make himself more attractive to the female sex. "Don't tell me you're staying at the same rustic resort."

   She slipped a little on an icy patch on the snow covered sidewalk, and Cameron's hand shot out to take hold of her arm. Hilson would have done the same, but then Cameron went a step further, pulled her in close to his body and wrapped his arm around her waist, making sure she didn't slide again. She hid a smile. If he slipped next, they'd probably both go down. But it was damned cold out, and she enjoyed the heat of his touch.

   "Seems we're looking for clues in the same direction. I'm at White Wolf Den."

   "The cabin I'm staying at is Black Bear Den. Are you using a snowmobile?" she asked.

   "Yeah, from Skidoo Rentals."

   "Guess we
are
headed in the same direction. Maybe we could have lunch together."

   Cameron smiled and the expression was as if he'd found out
her
itinerary beforehand and had this whole thing planned from the beginning, from handing out keys to his and her rooms, to leaving his own key by accident in his room. "I thought you'd never ask."

   "Yeah, well after you stood me up for breakfast…" She arched a brow at him.

   He gave her a warm squeeze and chuckled. "I knew I'd never live it down if I saw you again. You want me to lead the way?"

   "Sounds—" She spied a gray pickup sitting across the street at a barbershop. No driver in the vehicle, and it might not have been the one that she thought had been following her last night, but then again, maybe it was. She had the most awful urge to take a peek in the truck to see if the seats had white dog hair, or make that— white
wolf
hairs—on the seats.

   Cameron looked over at the truck. "Something wrong?"

   She took a deep breath. "No, no, lead the way." As tinted as the windows were, she didn't figure she could see inside all that well anyway.

   Again he considered the pickup, then patted her SUV. "All right. Don't lose me."

   "I don't intend to lose you." Flakes were already falling, and she was sure if they didn't hurry, they might be caught in the middle of the snowstorm. She definitely didn't want to be alone if that happened.

   Once he made sure she got into her vehicle all right, with the pretense he didn't want her slipping again, which was fine by her, he climbed into his rental car. But as they drove off, he inched past the gray pickup as if the speed limit were five miles per hour. She swore he was writing down the license plate number—she had done that too.

   When they reached the place for the snowmobile rentals an hour later, Faith and Cameron went inside a small grocery store next door to get provisions. Cameron was picking up a few items on another aisle, when Faith noticed how much the snow was falling. Too fast.

   Last time she was in a snowstorm, she'd been visiting her dad at Portland Community College, taking in the hilltop view as she enjoyed a hot cocoa with him in between his classes. The falling snow looked majestic, blanketing everything in a fresh coat of white. Beautiful, until they tried to leave after his final class that day and were trapped with tons of other vehicles attempting to return home in the storm. Pile-ups. Stuck cars. While she and her father had struggled to get snow chains on the tires. What a mess.

   "Hurry up, Cameron," she said, coming up behind him as he weighed the options of buying one package of tuna over another.

   "I always bargain shop."

   "That's great, but do it faster then. We've got to get out of here before we're stuck staying at the lodge in Millinocket for another night because of the storm. And who knows whose room we'll end up in this time if the same clerk is on the desk."

   He chuckled and tugged gently on the tassel of her blue and red striped ski cap. "Would be all right if we ended up in the same room again." He eyed the prices again on the packages of tuna. "If I don't choose the right tuna, I could be broke before I return home."

   She grabbed one of the packages from him. "Fine. I'll pay for it." Then she hurried to the checkout.

   He soon caught up with her with a basket loaded with a week's worth of goodies, and she eyed the snack foods and a couple of salmon steaks in the mix. "If you're so broke, why did you have that gigantic steak for dinner? And room service at that? Plus salmon also now?"

   He just winked at her. Yeah, he wasn't so broke. She thought it admirable that he bargain shopped, although about now, all that mattered was that they get on their way.

   Then they were off, leaving their rented vehicles in a parking area behind the snowmobile rental shop, bags and sleeping bags loaded onto their snowmobiles, the snow falling way too rapidly. But Faith was sure they'd make the ten-mile trek in time before they lost their way.

   She called her father, although she knew he'd still be sleeping at this hour and by the time she reached the cabins, he'd be in the middle of teaching Sociology 101 to a bunch of tired students in the early morning class, but she wanted to leave him one more message. "Dad, I'm off to the dead zone."

   She didn't mention how she'd found a body, or a hunk, or how the police officers knew of her father.

   She sighed and signed off with, "I love you. Call you later when I have a signal again. Don't work too hard. I'll get the flash drive back. And I'll be home as soon as I can. Don't worry."

   But now
she
was worried. She envisioned getting here, locating Hilson, having it out with him, and he'd have a conscience and give the research back to her. Now she was having doubts her plan would work. What if she couldn't find him? What if he refused to give the flash drive back? Or what if he got rid of it already?

   What then?

   And something she'd been avoiding considering— why did Hilson want the information so badly? And what had he planned to do with it? Plus, what was the research all about that made it so damned important in the first place?

AFTER ALLNIGHT SURVEILLANCE OF A RENTACOP ON THE graveyard shift at a warehouse, who was suspected of worker's comp fraud, Gavin Summerfield yanked his bedcovers to his chin at four in the morning in his tidy little condo in Seattle. He closed his eyes, wishing his P.I. partners would return to help run the business. Since Cameron had left, Gavin was being run ragged and he didn't think he could take much more of these kinds of hours.