Deadly Getaway Read online

  Sure, he hadn’t counted on the detective from Jersey being in the mix, but it didn’t matter now. They didn’t have a clue who he was or what he looked like.

  And a missing person on top of everything? How perfect was that?

  He bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle the laugh that threatened to blow his cover. He couldn’t have orchestrated things any better. Satisfied, he tightened the drawstring on his hood and began walking toward the small inn at the end of the alleyway.

  Chapter Six

  10:00 p.m.

  She hated seeing Mitch under so much stress. Hated the fact that the vacation they so desperately needed was turning into something out of a horror movie. But it was what it was. Hating it wasn’t going to change it. Elise knew she needed to support Mitch and Brad in every way possible. But it was hard.

  The power had been out for nearly an hour now. Mitch and Brad were talking to Dan Friar near the kerosene heater. The absolute certainty she felt about the serial killer’s hand in the skier’s disappearance was mirrored in Mitch’s face. He was painstakingly taking Dan Friar through every moment of the orienteering competition leading up to the time when the victim was first discovered missing.

  “What we need to do is gather as many volunteers as possible for a search party at daybreak.” Mitch’s words filtered through her thoughts, forced her to focus on the crisis once again. “Let’s meet at eight tomorrow morning, right outside the station.”

  “I think we should have everyone meet outside Sophie’s Place instead,” Brad suggested. “Being on a side path like this, most visitors have no idea where the police station is. But just about everyone can find their way to Sophie’s cooking.”

  Mitch nodded.

  It was obvious to Elise that his mind was already on to the next step. “Can I do something, Mitch?”

  “Brad, why don’t you give that pad of paper to Elise. We need to come up with a list of people to help with the search.”

  Elise took the pad and a pencil from Brad’s outstretched hand and scooted her chair closer to the flashlight.

  “How’ll we get word to everyone if we don’t have working phones?” Dan Friar asked.

  “Not a problem,” Brad said. “Sophie lives in an apartment above her restaurant. She serves breakfast starting at seven, no matter what the weather. She’ll cook by a propane grill if she has to.”

  “It still blows me away that you guys don’t have generators out here,” Mitch said, tapping a pen on the top of Brad’s desk.

  “We haven’t been doing the winter tourism thing for very long. And most of our locals want things to stay simple, rustic. And as stupid as it sounds, that means no generators.”

  “Do you really think many people will come out to a restaurant in these kinds of conditions?” Elise asked quietly.

  “My bet is that most visitors will be holed up in their hotel rooms, doing their best to avoid the snow. All of our hotels are required—in winter—to have a supply of nonperishable food and drinks on hand in the event of a storm like this,” Brad said. “But the locals, they’ll brave just about any storm you throw at them. And there’s two things you can count on around here regardless of the weather—Sophie’s coffee on a Friday morning, and the fact that she takes her break every day between two and four.”

  “Most of my orienteering club is staying at the same hotel I am. When I tell them about the search, they’ll want to help find Pete,” Dan Friar interjected. “And they already know where the restaurant is.”

  Elise looked down at her still-empty pad of paper and considered Dan’s words. If the group was so worried about Pete then why—

  “Dan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What time did the competition start this morning?” Elise asked, her mind suddenly reeling with questions.

  “Officially? About eleven thirty.”

  She felt Mitch’s eyes on her as she continued asking questions.

  “Then why did you wait ’til now to report him as missing?”

  “We figured he was just pissed at himself for losing and went back to his room.”

  “Was he the type to sulk when he lost?” Elise asked.

  Dan leaned back in his chair, fiddled with a paperweight on Brad’s desk. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and unsure.

  “Don’t know. He never lost.”

  “Never?”

  Dan shook his head slowly, exhaled loudly. “Never. He was a fierce competitor. And since these events are about friendly competition, he’d motivate himself by continually trying to beat his own time.”

  “Did the other guys resent him for always winning?” Elise asked, jotting notes on her pad.

  “You’d think they would, wouldn’t you? But no one did. Everyone liked Pete. He was a nice guy.” Dan turned his head and looked out the window into the darkness, his eyes tired and vacant. “Do you know what he was gonna do with the prize money?”

  Realizing Dan was talking as much to himself as them, Elise stopped writing and waited for the man to continue.

  “He was gonna take his wife on a second honeymoon. He’d been planning it for months. But he didn’t tell anyone except me. He didn’t want to run the chance someone would let him win. He wanted to win her that trip all on his own.”

  Elise rolled the pencil between her fingers, replayed Dan’s words in her mind as a new question popped into her head.

  “Why did he tell you?”

  “Because we’re friends. We hit it off the first time we met. I understood his need to leave work behind, and he understood my desire to grow this group even when the rest of the guys wanted things to stay the same.”

  Listening from the sidelines for much of the conversation, Mitch finally spoke.

  “So what made you decide he was missing?”

  “When he didn’t answer his phone or open the door for dinner. We stood outside his door and taunted him, tried pushing all the buttons we could think of to make him come out of his room. When he didn’t respond, I started to worry. He had heart problems, you know. We pleaded with the hotel manager to open the door and let us check on him. When she did, Pete wasn’t there.”

  “What kind of equipment did Pete have with him for the competition?” Mitch asked.

  “The standard stuff. Heavy waterproof parka, skis, a map of the course.” Dan closed his eyes as he continued to run through Pete’s inventory of gear. “He also had a thermos and that new high-speed compass he just got. The thing was a beaut.”

  “Were any of those items in the

  hotel room when the manager let you in?” Elise asked softly.

  Dan shook his head. “No. Not that we saw, anyway. His breakfast trash was still on the nightstand. And Pete is beyond neat. He’s a perfectionist.”

  Elise jotted a few more notes then looked back at Dan, saw the worry in the man’s tired eyes. Without thinking, she reached across the desk and patted his clenched hand.

  “Pray.”

  Dan nodded, his voice quiet. “I haven’t stopped since we realized he was missing.”

  Mitch cleared his throat and stood. “Can we count on you, Dan, to round up the orienteering guys for the search?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Perfect.” Mitch looked at Elise momentarily and gestured toward the pad of paper in front of her. “In addition to looking for Pete, we’ve also got to start thinking of ways to protect everyone.”

  He walked toward the open window and stood, looked out into the night for a moment before turning around. “Brad, let’s say our guy is here. Is there anyone, for whatever reason, who may be particularly vulnerable to a sicko like this?”

  She waited, her hand poised to write any names Brad would mention.

  “The only one that really jumps to mind is a guy who lives in a cabin out by the airport. He’s a recluse. You know, a hermit. I’ve been here for about five years now and I haven’t laid eyes on him even once. His name’s Fogarty. Old Man Fogarty.”

  Elise heard the snap of her
pencil, felt the splintered wood dig into her palm as Brad’s words washed over her like ice water.

  Friday, January 28

  Chapter Seven

  8:00 a.m.

  Mitch looked into the faces of the group assembled in front of him. Brad was right. Sophie’s Place had been the perfect way to get the word out on the search. The only dilemma now was how to find someone in the woods with nearly thirteen inches of snow on the ground and more falling every moment.

  “My name is Mitch Burns, and I’d like to thank all of you for coming out this morning. Officer Matthews and I need all the help we can get with the elements we’re facing.” Mitch cleared his throat. “Pete Garner has been out in this blizzard since yesterday morning. Time is not on his side.”

  The looks that passed between the men in front of him were a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. But Mitch knew that the best way to thwart panic was to share as many details as he could. Knowledge is power, as Aunt Betty always said.

  “I’ve got a photograph here of the orienteering group. Pete’s the third one in on the left. It’ll give you an idea of who we’re looking for, but I don’t think we’re gonna find many people wandering aimlessly in this weather.”

  Mitch turned and looked at Dan Friar. “Is there anything you want to share with these folks before we head out?”

  Dan Friar moved alongside Mitch and Brad. “Pete Garner is about my height. He’s got that salt-and-pepper hair and it’s receding along his part line. He’s about twenty pounds lighter than I am and is a fierce competitor. He was wearing a dark brown parka with black leather gloves the last time we saw him. He should have his compass with him, but in this snow he may have become disoriented.”

  Mitch searched the face of each and every man standing in front of them as Dan continued his description of Pete Garner. It wasn’t hard to pick out the orienteering club members. They were all huddled together, a unified look of determination etched in their faces. Only this time it wasn’t about finding the most points in the quickest time. It was about finding their friend.

  Mitch’s gaze fell on a well-built man standing just to the right of the orienteering members. He seemed to be alone—separate from the group of locals, not part of the orienteering club.

  Dan stopped talking and all eyes turned back to Mitch. He willed his gaze to move off the loner and back onto the group as a whole.

  “Sophie’s been generous enough to fill a thermos with hot coffee for each of us.” Mitch straightened his arm directly in front of him. “Everyone left of my arm will be searching with Officer Matthews. Everyone to the right will be searching with Dan Friar and myself. Each team has a set of whistles that are to be blown only in the event of an emergency, or if you find Pete Garner.”

  Sophie and Elise stepped out of the restaurant with an armful of thermoses for the searchers and began handing them out.

  Mitch took the opportunity to pull Dan aside and inquire about the red-haired loner. “Do you have any idea who that guy is?”

  “His name’s Mark. Don’t know him very well, except that he’s a firefighter from someplace out west. He showed up yesterday for the competition and ended up winning the damn thing.”

  “First impression?”

  “I’d say quiet, maybe a little standoffish.”

  Mitch nodded, watched the man take a thermos and move into his designated group. The one Mitch was leading.

  Dan’s voice continued in his ear.

  “But he does have one helluva temper, that’s for sure.”

  Mitch’s gaze moved off Mark and back onto Dan. “Why do you say that?”

  “See that guy over there?” Dan raised his hand and pointed to a short, stocky guy who appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties.

  Mitch nodded.

  “His name’s Josh. Got real pissy when Mark won yesterday. Started cursing and kicking at the snow. It was really kind of funny.”

  Mitch snorted. There were just some things you could tell about a person at first glance. And Dan’s description of Josh’s childish behavior came as little surprise.

  “What was his problem?”

  “I don’t know, but he was hollerin’ about his ex-wife and how she was draining him or some crap like that. You know, violin-playin’ stuff.”

  Mitch knew the type all right. Sounded like a few of the rookies in his department during the morning run.

  “Anyway, Mark got real angry when Josh started acting like that. Called him a sore loser, asked him if he wanted to make an issue of it.” Dan shook his head and lowered his voice. “We all told him to let it go, that Joshie Boy is just like that. But he just couldn’t seem to shake it off. And since none of us knew him, we didn’t worry about it too much. Figured he’d let it go, or else we’d all have a ringside seat for a doozy of a fight.”

  Mitch looked at Mark once again, studied the rigid way the newcomer held his shoulders. He was glad Mark was on his search team. It would be the perfect opportunity to keep an eye on him.

  “Are you ready to head out, Mitch?”

  A hand on his arm pulled his attention away from Mark.

  He reached for the thermos Elise held out for him and looked into her sunken blue eyes. She’d been so quiet, so withdrawn since they’d left the station last night. He’d heard her pacing in her room for hours after she shut the door. This whole situation had to be a painful reminder of the terror she’d endured last summer. A terror he’d promised himself she would never know again.

  Mitch pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll be okay, Elise. Just stay here with Sophie and keep your eyes open.” He pushed a strand of hair off her forehead and kissed her quickly. “I gotta go.”

  He fell in step with the members of his search party, a few paces behind Mark. Knowing his gun was in a holster beneath his coat helped. Especially now.

  ~ ~ ~

  His insulated gloves were little match for the biting cold. Two hours of searching had yielded nothing. The snow was mounting, making their efforts futile at best.

  Mitch looked around at the men assigned to his search party. Their failure to find any explanation as to Pete’s whereabouts weighed heavily on their faces. They needed a break of some kind. A footprint, a shred of clothes, the guy’s compass, something. But even if it were here, they wouldn’t find it. Not in all this snow.

  Mitch stopped beside an enormous fir tree and opened his thermos. He swallowed the last gulp of coffee, the now lukewarm liquid doing little to dispel the chill in his body. He had to wrap it up. The last thing they needed was to lose anyone else. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked over at Dan, who was standing just a few feet away

  “Dan, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to call it quits for now. Everyone needs to rest, warm up, get into some dry clothes.” He could sense the disappointment behind the man’s slow nod.

  Mitch looked down at his feet, at the thermos cap he’d just dropped. His hands were becoming numb inside the gloves, a sure sign that frostbite was just around the corner. He had to end the search.

  Sighing, Mitch bent down to pick up the green plastic cap. As his gloved hand brushed the wet snow, his gaze fell on a tiny scrap of brown material. He fell to his knees and began digging at the smaller pile of snow near the base of the tree.

  Dan dropped down beside him and began digging too.

  The biting cold that had made Mitch’s fingers so numb just moments earlier suddenly seemed powerless against the determination coursing through his body.

  Within moments the dark brown fabric removed any hope that Pete’s disappearance was an accident.

  The body of Pete Garner, a hideous shade of blue, sprawled out in front of them. The same parka that had once protected him from the elements had done little to shield him from the wrath of a killer.

  Mitch silently counted each blood-encrusted slash mark, choked back the bile that rose in his throat as he reached fifteen. Fifteen too many.

  He raised the whistle to his lips and blew.

  Chapter Eig
ht

  12:00 p.m.

  If only she could reach across the table and erase the fear from Mitch’s eyes, the same fear etched in the faces of the men slumped in chairs around them.

  Any hope the serial killer hadn’t reached the island was ripped apart the moment Pete’s body was discovered. The vicious stab wounds the men reported served as proof of a fact that could no longer be ignored or wished away. And with no power or working phones, they were all sitting ducks at the mercy of a maniac.

  Elise’s heart ached as she looked around at the small groupings of men throughout Sophie’s restaurant. They looked so cold and tired, the defeat on their faces unmistakable. Dan Friar’s tablemates were especially quiet. They’d known Pete the longest, felt his loss the deepest. Dan sat staring, his focus on nothing but whatever images he held in his head. Drew rested his head on his forearm, Austin stared into his coffee mug. Josh looked at the faces around him, then at the floor—a sequence he repeated often, interrupted only by an occasional shift in his seat or a clearing of his throat.

  She glanced back at Mitch. His uneaten sandwich sat on his plate. His eyes were cloudy, his thoughts a million miles away.

  She understood his fear, his grief. But she also knew he needed to regroup.

  “We’ll get through this, Mitch. By finding Pete so quickly, you’ve given yourself more time to focus and plan.”

  He nodded but didn’t speak.

  “I’ll help in any way I can. And Brad will be fine as long as he can follow your lead,” she continued.

  Mitch leaned across the table and spoke quietly. “That’s just it, ’Lise. Brad needs someone to take the lead and I’m not sure I can do it.”

  “Of course you can. You’re just tired, in shock. But with some food and a chance to sit, you’ll get it together. You have to, Mitch.” She hoped her words weren’t too strong. She knew the weight that was on his shoulders and didn’t want to add to it, but she needed his strength right now. And so did everyone else on the island.