If I Should Die Page 5

  They started walking again. “Adam loves this place,” Tim said, “and I’ve grown to love it. I know he’s quiet, but all this stuff that’s been happening is tearing him apart.”

  Lucy thought a conversation with Adam Hendrickson was overdue—perhaps without his half-brother Tim around.

  She said, “I think it’s a given that your saboteur is someone you or Adam knows, someone you’d recognize. Sean said the arsonist was a teenager. There can’t be too many in a town so small.”

  “Everyone in Spruce Lake goes to school in Colton. But maybe it’s not someone from town. There are a lot of small communities in the area, outside of what’s considered Spruce Lake. At least three villages of more than two hundred people.”

  “Whoever it is knows the area well,” Lucy said. “And they have a huge stake in making sure you don’t open this resort.” She stopped outside the cabin. “Can you put together a list of everyone you can think of who might have a reason—however lame it may sound to you—to stop the resort? Personal or financial.”

  “Duke already asked for the same thing, and I told him there’s no one.”

  “Either someone hates you—or Adam—so much they want to hurt you personally, or they have a financial interest in ensuring you don’t open this resort.”

  “Adam would have said something.”

  Another reason to talk to Adam alone. Maybe he hadn’t been as forthcoming with his brother as he should have been. Or he just needed to be asked the right questions.

  “What about your father? Any enemies? Close friends?”

  “None that I know of. My dad was stubborn, but everyone liked him.”

  Except Tim couldn’t truly know that, Lucy realized, if he rarely visited.

  She stopped outside her cabin. “Is the coroner coming here in the morning or going straight to the mine?”

  “They didn’t say. I suspect they’ll check the body first, then talk to us.”

  “I’ll meet them at the mine then. I’m hoping they’ll know who the victim is.”

  “Victim?”

  “The death may have been natural, there’s no way of knowing without an autopsy, but the position of the body was deliberate. I guess I’m wired to assume she was murdered.”

  They said good-bye at the cabin’s doorstep. Lucy stepped inside and glanced at the bed. Sean lay right where she’d left him, on his back, eyes closed. He still looked pale, but he didn’t appear to be in distress.

  “Sean, it’s Lucy. Wake up.”

  Sean moaned when he heard his name. “Ten more minutes.”

  “Good,” Lucy said. “You’re okay.”

  Sean felt Lucy sit on the bed next to him. He opened his eyes and tried to glare at her for disturbing his sleep but it hurt his head too much. His leg throbbed as if it had been stitched by Dr. Frankenstein, making his sore shoulder feel downright good in comparison.

  “Who beat me up?”

  Lucy sighed. “Are you trying to be funny or trying to scare me?”

  “I guess I’m not funny when I’m in pain.” He winced as he pulled himself up on the bed so he could lean against the headboard. Lucy put a pillow behind his head. He smiled. “Maybe I should get hurt more often, if you’re going to play Florence Nightingale.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes at him, but he saw a hint of a grin. “I don’t want to keep you up too long.”

  “I’m awake.”

  “You need to sleep.”

  Sean took her hand. “The faster we come up with a strategy, the faster I can go back to sleep.”

  “You’re a rotten patient.”

  “So you’ve told me.” Sean shifted to get comfortable. His leg itched, but when he touched it the pain shot up to his back.

  “The doctor left some Vicodin,” Lucy said.

  “Hell no. That stuff is nasty. Do you have any aspirin?”

  “That’s like using a water pistol to put out a fire.”

  “I’m not taking pain pills.”

  “Fine, Tylenol it is, and your antibiotics.”

  “Yes, Doctor Kincaid.”

  She shook her head and read the bottles that the doctor had left. Sean never tired of watching Lucy, even now when he was hurt and exhausted. Her black hair hung over one shoulder in long, silky curls, damp from the shower she’d taken when they’d returned. Her profile was aristocratic without being sharp. Her skin revealed her half-Cuban heritage, neither light nor dark, but a perfect blend. Lucy had no idea how beautiful she was or how much he loved her. He’d told her many times, of course. He couldn’t hold it back once he’d realized how strongly he felt. That she hadn’t yet admitted that she, too, loved him wounded his ego a bit, but he knew her feelings for him scared her. He’d seen it especially today, in the pit, when she’d realized his injuries might be serious.

  She handed him three Tylenol and an antibiotic. He took the pills and a swig from the water bottle she offered.

  “Learn anything interesting about what’s going on around here?” he asked.

  “We need to talk to Adam,” Lucy said. “He spent every summer here, but Tim hasn’t been here since he was sixteen, not until his father’s funeral last year.”

  “We should go into town tomorrow as well.”

  She glanced at his leg.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I doubt you’ll be able to walk.”

  “I didn’t say walk to town.”

  “Can’t you just take it easy for a day?”

  Sean took her hand and squeezed. “The kid on the ATV is in some sort of trouble. I can help him.”

  “That kid nearly killed you.”

  “He’s scared.” At the look on Lucy’s face, Sean quickly added, “I’m not saying he had no choice, I’m just saying I can get to him.”

  “You think if we just drive through town you’ll be able to spot him?”

  “Not really, though I might. But I want to have a drink at the local watering hole, talk to people, watch them, see what we can learn.”

  Lucy frowned. “That tone—what do you have planned?”

  “Nothing specific—yet.”

  “Now that the Sheriff’s Department knows about the vandalism, they’ll be on it.”

  “I haven’t seen a cop since we got here. They didn’t exactly rush over here after the arson fire, but I’m not going to step all over their investigation.”

  “All right, we’ll go if you’re feeling up to it. I don’t want you making yourself sick.”

  He ran his fingers down her cheek. “I’m fine, Lucy. Just sore. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Maybe not first thing—the coroner and a search-and-rescue team will be here tomorrow morning. To retrieve the body from the mine. Can you wait to go to town until I get back from there?”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Not back down in the mine!”

  “Tonight, I feel like shit. But tomorrow, it’s back to work.” He paused, seeing the worry in her eyes. “What about you? Sure, my body took a licking, but that dead woman really shook you up.”

  “I think she was murdered,” Lucy said. “Her body was posed. She was fully clothed, but something was wrong. If I hadn’t suddenly lost my nerve and run away, I might have noticed what struck me as off.” Lucy stared at a blank wall, but Sean knew she was picturing the morbid scene.

  “You’re cold.”

  She shook her head.

  “Then why are you shaking?” He pulled her down to lie at his side. The tension in her body was from more than the gruesome memory.

  He rubbed her back until she finally relaxed. When she closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder, he breathed easier. “What happened down there?” he asked quietly.

  Lucy didn’t immediately answer, but Sean knew she wasn’t asleep. Her heart was beating too fast, and her hand absently rubbed his chest.

  “If we hadn’t found you, you would have died.” Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence. “For a split second, I saw you instead of t
he woman. Lying in that alcove.”

  “But you did find me. And I’m not completely helpless.” She didn’t respond to his reassurance, and he kissed the top of her head. “Princess, I understand.”

  Lucy had been scared of losing him and she didn’t like being scared. She didn’t know how to interpret or respond to the complex emotions about their relationship. It was as if admitting she loved him would jinx it, or put one or both of them in physical jeopardy.

  Sean understood all this about her, even though she had never voiced her fears. They lived dangerous lives, and that wouldn’t change. Sean would no more tell Lucy to dump the thought of becoming an FBI agent and take a nice, safe teaching job than she would demand he quit Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid and sell computers.

  And even if they did take an easier road? Sean suspected trouble and danger would follow them—or they’d seek it out. Lucy could not turn away from someone in need, nor could Sean ignore someone being bullied.

  Lucy’s deep compassion for others was one of the many reasons Sean had fallen in love with her.

  Her breathing evened out as her body relaxed. “I love you, Luce,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

  SIX

  All the years I spent learning how to control my reactions, and in less than ten minutes Reverend Carl Browne had me enraged.

  “What the fuck were you thinking!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the large open space.

  We sat in a church pew in the chapel, just him and me, though now I rose in fury, standing in the aisle. If I didn’t get this anger out of my system, I’d kill him, and that would be disastrous.

  I simply couldn’t believe the pathetic reasons Carl gave for his decision to torch the Hendrickson place. It all boiled down to panic.

  “You were scared,” I continued. “You freaked out. If you were anyone else, you’d already be dead.”

  He bristled. “Remember who you’re talking to, little girl.”

  “Just because you were my father’s closest friend doesn’t give you a free pass to be an idiot,” I said.

  He reddened, his hair looking even whiter. Twelve years ago Carl might have been called distinguished; now he just looked old.

  This day had exhausted me. I’d spent twelve hours checking and double-checking on every cog in my operation. Amazingly, everything was running perfectly smooth, except for the issue with the Hendricksons. But I had figured out how to handle that, and while it would be some time before I exacted my revenge on the family, I could wait.

  Business took precedence over revenge.

  “I have a plan,” I told Carl, “and for it to work, you need to call off your dogs. No more petty vandalism and definitely no more fires.”

  “If the resort isn’t shut down by Sunday, we lose everything,” Carl said.

  I stared. Damn, I wanted to kill him. Just for stating the obvious, as if I were some kind of imbecile.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking down at him in the pew. “What would I do without you reminding me of my own business plan?”

  He didn’t flinch, nor did he look scared as he stared up at me defiantly.

  I slapped him hard. Not expecting it, he almost fell out of the pew. A red mark darkened his skin. A spot of blood welled on his lower lip.

  “This is my town, Carl. Mine. Just because I left doesn’t mean I handed it over to you. Remember, Preacher, I know what you’ve done, so don’t think one second about going against me.”

  If my first plan didn’t work, I had another. But I wasn’t about to strategize with Carl. He’d pissed me off. Instead I said, “The resort will be shut down before Sunday because the Hendricksons want to close it, or are forced to, but it will be done without the ridiculous shit you’re pulling.”

  “You’ve been gone too long.”

  “That sounds like a threat, Carl.”

  He hesitated. Good. Maybe he had finally realized I was dead serious. Maybe he saw in my eyes that I wanted to gut him.

  My cell phone vibrated. It was my stupid brother.

  “What?”

  “We have a problem,” he said with deep seriousness.

  “Oh for shitsake, don’t be so melodramatic! Spill it.”

  “A woman’s body was found in the mine.”

  I closed my eyes. I felt like I was on a roller coaster. “Don’t tell me it was the bitch.”

  “I don’t see who else it could be.”

  Was the universe conspiring against me? First Carl panics, and now my idiot brother calls me without even first verifying all the facts.

  “Find out if it’s her, then bring me the person responsible for fucking up a simple body dump!”

  I threw the cell phone across the church. It hit the large wooden cross behind the altar and fell to the floor, shattering in three pieces. “God-fucking-dammit!”

  Carl rose. “Watch your mouth in God’s house!”

  I really wanted to kill this fool. First for being stupid, now for daring to correct me. Instead I laughed. “That’s rich, Carl. You’ve broken more of the Ten Commandments than I have.” Smirking, I walked to the back of the church. Without turning around, I said, “Find out everything about the body in the mine. Who found her, if they know who she is, anything else the cops might know. Before sunrise. My patience has left the building.”

  SEVEN

  Jimmy Benson sat on a bar stool at the Lock & Barrel, his draft halfway to his mouth.

  I’m a dead man.

  He drained the rest of his beer and put down the mug. It hit the counter with a thud. He froze, eyes on the mirror behind the bar, searching for evidence that someone, anyone, was watching him.

  The Lock & Barrel was the only business in Spruce Lake open past six p.m., the only place to get dinner and a drink and talk. Even on a Wednesday night in a town of 386, the place was nearly half filled with two dozen patrons.

  It was soon to be a town of 385, Jimmy thought. Because he was getting out of Spruce Lake tonight one way or the other—on foot or six feet under.

  Was everyone looking at him, or was it his overactive imagination?

  Reggie, the Lock & Barrel’s longtime bartender, gestured toward his empty mug. After his shift, Jimmy usually had three beers, but he’d had only one since he arrived twenty minutes ago. He hadn’t even finished his shift; he’d left sick. After he’d gotten the call about the arson, he knew his nephew was in way over his head. He actually felt sick. But anyone who was watching would only notice he was nervous.

  He nodded at the barkeep. “Thanks.” He put a small handful of nuts in his mouth, being as casual as possible as he eavesdropped on Doc Griffin’s conversation with the waitress and two regulars. Not that he had to concentrate; Woody Griffin wasn’t keeping his voice down.

  Someone had found her body. Jimmy had heard it on the scanner this afternoon. He wished Woody knew more, because Jimmy had to know how this happened. But then Woody switched topics and talked about the fire and vandalism at the Hendricksons’ place. About how no one wanted outsiders here. The others nodded in agreement.

  Jimmy knew the truth. They all knew the truth, but wouldn’t say it aloud. Easier to act like rednecks than criminals.

  Jimmy picked up his fresh beer and sipped, leaned back, and saw Gary Clarke in the mirror. Standing across the room, staring directly at him.

  Jimmy looked away, but he still felt Gary’s eyes on the back of his head.

  The body had been found around noon, and Hendrickson would have immediately called the police. That meant the information had been out there nearly nine hours. Plenty of time for the wrong people to find out that Jimmy hadn’t followed orders. That had to be why Gary Clarke was here.

  The creaky front door signaled a new patron. Jimmy glanced discreetly at the mirror to see who entered. His pulse raced.

  Shit.

  Slipping off the bar stool, he casually walked toward the bathroom. But as soon as the swinging hall doors closed behind him he turned left, into the kitchen.

  “What’s up, Jimmy?” O
mar Jackson—the cook and only black man in Spruce Lake—smiled brightly.

  “Not much.” Unable to fake a smile, he kept walking. He didn’t know if Omar knew what was what, or if he was as ignorant as he pretended. Maybe he feigned ignorance to stay alive.

  Or maybe he was neck deep in the same shit Jimmy trudged through.

  Avoiding conversation with the cook, Jimmy exited out the back door, then walked briskly around the corner to his truck.

  As soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, the bar’s front door opened wide. Three men emerged and headed his way.

  Jimmy floored it. No use pretending. They knew he hadn’t made the body disappear. There was no way they’d let him live. They didn’t know why he’d survived this long. It was as if he was made of Teflon; he’d been told that now and again.

  He had known the risks when he put Victoria’s body in the mine. He was no saint, but he wasn’t a killer nor could he treat her body like garbage. So what if he’d disobeyed orders. He hadn’t believed she’d ever be found.

  Going home would put his nephew at risk. The only way Jimmy could protect his nephew was to disappear.

  He sped up, his old truck squealing in protest. He glanced in the rearview mirror.

  Gary Clarke’s brand-new black F-250 was gaining on him.

  Jimmy floored it. At first, his truck didn’t respond, then it lurched forward as he picked up speed with the decline in the road toward Colton.

  He might make it to Colton, but then what? Go to the police? He would have laughed if he wasn’t so terrified. He wasn’t safe in prison or out.

  He fumbled with his cell phone and dialed the only person who might be able to help. The only person he might be able to trust.

  “Jimmy? You can’t call me. Not now.”

  “Help me! Someone found her body! Now Gary and—”

  “I can’t help you.”

  “You have to! Dammit, you promised to protect me!”

  But the line had gone dead.

  He dropped his phone, sobs racking his body. His sister had asked him for one thing: to protect her son. The last five years he’d thought he was doing the right thing, keeping their enemies close, doing odd jobs, keeping the kid in school. The kid was going places.