I considered screaming, but the only people likely to hear me were Rob and Delaney. Under ordinary circumstances, Delaney would have been an excellent ally, but there was no way I wanted to endanger her or the baby. Or Rob, for that matter, who would insist on trying to rescue me. I didn’t want to orphan my new niece or nephew before they even entered the world. Okay, maybe I was doing Rob an injustice, but even under the best of circumstances he wasn’t all that great at dealing with crises. Especially crises involving deadly weapons.
“You found the exit,” Amber said. “Go on. Use it.”
She gestured with the gun, though she managed to keep the business end pointed right at me.
I looked back and forth between her and the thin place in the hedge. I didn’t much like the idea of leaving the hotel and hiking out into the golf course. The increasingly snow-covered golf course.
But at least if I left the patio, I’d be leading Amber away from Delaney and Rob. I could stay here and try to reason with her, get the drop on her—but I’d be distracted, worried every minute that one of them would feel the sudden need for fresh air, or want to play with the snow. Better to get far enough away that I had only myself to worry about.
So I slowly turned and began carefully slipping through the thin spot in the hedge. It was actually pretty easy. I could see what looked like freshly cut edges on some of the branches. She’d probably done a little strategic pruning to create her exit. At least while fumbling with the branches I managed to slip my phone into my pocket. I had no idea what I could possibly do with it, but it was potentially a tool. A weapon.
“Sometime this century,” she snapped from behind me.
I stepped out into the snow. It was around three inches deep, and still coming down. Not good—it meant that any tracks we left would start being covered over immediately.
“Keep your hands up,” she ordered.
Yeah, she probably didn’t want me shoving my hands into my pockets. She wouldn’t care if I started getting frostbite. A good thing I’d found Grandfather’s gloves.
I wondered if she was planning to shoot me, or if her plan was to hold me at gunpoint until the sub-freezing temperatures got me. The latter would be the smarter move—it might even look as if I’d wandered off for some reason and died by accident. Even Grandfather’s jacket would hold off the cold for only so long, and my feet were already starting to feel numb.
I needed to find a way to distract her. Throw her off balance. It was slow going, trudging through the snow. I had no idea how far she planned to make me walk before she did whatever she was planning. I should get her talking. We were far enough from the hotel that she probably wouldn’t worry about someone overhearing us.
“So killing Norton wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment thing, was it?” I asked, turning slightly to look over my shoulder. “You had to do a considerable amount of planning. Like bringing the burner phone with you.”
She started slightly at the mention of the burner phone but covered it quickly.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m good at planning. I had a couple of plans for bumping off Norton that would have worked just fine if the jerk hadn’t complicated things by getting himself thrown out.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, so you want to keep me talking to delay the inevitable.” She chuckled. “But we’ve got a little time, and I don’t mind telling you. They were good plans, and thanks to his stupidity, I never got to use any of them. You want to know what the best one was?”
I didn’t, actually, but I wanted to keep her talking, so I nodded.
“I got here a day early so I’d have plenty of time to learn my way around the hotel,” she said. “And I pretended to lock myself out of my room and borrowed a key card from one of the housekeepers to let myself in again. She was stupid, and let me take it with me, so on top of letting myself in I also used a little machine that I just happened to have to make a copy of her key card.”
“That you just happened to have,” I echoed. “Funny thing, that.”
“Does a nifty number on credit cards, too,” she said. “I’d have starved without it, these last couple of years. And I’ve practiced enough that I could do the cloning part really fast, so I just told her that she could stay there with her cart—I only needed her card to open my door and find my own card, and then I’d bring it right back. I even left the room door open and kept talking to her nonstop the whole time, so if she even remembers anything about it, I bet she’ll say the card was never out of her sight.”
“Pretty clever,” I said. And it was, although I had a hard time mustering much enthusiasm.
“So the plan was to fake a migraine,” she said. “And get some gullible soul to help me to my room. Then I beg her to give me one of my migraine pills, so I’ve got a witness to my taking it, and pretend to doze off.”
“Pretend?” I asked. “They don’t actually knock you out?”
“The real ones do,” she said. “Not the actual migraine meds, but the Phenergan they give you for nausea. And I’ve got some fakes that would fool most doctors, and that’s what my Good Samaritan would watch me swallow. Then as soon as she leaves, I sneak down to Norton’s room, lie in wait, bump him off, and make tracks. If possible, I use my cloned key card to hide the gun in someone else’s room, but if I can’t pull that off, I just drop it in the trash can in the little room with the vending and ice machines. And back in my room, I take the real pill, so when they come looking for me, I’m out like a light, and if they get really suspicious, I insist that they draw my blood and test it, and they’ll see exactly what I told them I took.”
She looked very pleased with herself.
“Weren’t you worried that people would be suspicious?” I asked. “Given how very much the scenario you just described resembles the murder you’ve already been convicted of?”
“That’s the genius of it,” she said. “If anyone even started to suspect me, I could wail about how someone has tried to frame me, because why would I even think of killing someone in the same way the prosecution claimed I killed my husband? Why would I be that stupid?”
“What were you going to use the burner phone for?” I asked.
“In case I needed to lure Norton to his room,” she said.
“And if they searched your room and found the burner phone?” I asked. “Or the fake pills, or the little machine you used to clone the housekeeper’s key card?”
“By the time they got around to searching me or my room, anything suspicious would be long gone,” she said, with a smirk. “I figured out a great hiding place for them. So you see—a really great plan. A pity the jerk got himself kicked out before I could pull it off.”
“You got him anyway,” I said.
“But it was a lot more trouble.” She sounded indignant, as if Norton’s unintentional sabotage of her original plot to kill him was a moral outrage, and possibly grounds to have his murder declared a justifiable homicide. “You can stop walking now. This is far enough.”
Far enough for what, I wondered. I turned to face her.
“How did you pull it off?” I asked.
“I did a good job of regrouping.” The self-satisfied tone was back—and she reminded me of someone. I tried to figure out who, in case it was a clue that would come in useful to thwarting her. “I called him—with the burner phone, of course—and told him I could get him back in the conference, but he had to do something for me. And I ordered him to pick me up right outside the hotel’s front gate.”
“And then you used the housekeeping card key you already had to borrow a maid’s cart and uniform,” I said. “And someone else’s hooded coat. And you trundled the cart out as if going to take care of something to the Madison Cottage, used your card again to let yourself in, left through the terrace, and took off across the golf course toward the gate.”
“Yeah.” She looked annoyed that I’d figured that out. “And I told him that I had some dirt on your family that would make your grandmother happy to let him back in, but we had to sneak over and surprise you all, or you’d never let us in.”
“And he fell for it.”
“Of course he did. Nothing made him happier than ruining someone’s reputation, and if he couldn’t find any real dirt, he’d make it up. I’m sure he was planning to use whatever I told him to get back into the conference, and then broadcast it to the world when he got home.” She grinned and nodded. Then she looked at her watch, blew out a breath in a gesture of impatience, and looked back at me.
I suddenly realized what she was waiting for.
“I get it,” I said. “You’re planning to use the sounds of the fireworks display to cover up the sound of the shot when you kill me.”
She smiled at that. How had I never noticed before how sly and nasty her smile was?
I wished I could look at my phone—since I never wore a watch, it was my usual means of telling the time. But did I really want to know how much longer she planned to let me live?
“So we hid his car down by the stream,” she went on. “Behind the self-storage place. And we started sneaking across the fields and through the woods like some kind of guerrilla fighters. Which was kind of fun for me, but since he was only wearing a light jacket, I don’t think he enjoyed it nearly as much. It was really satisfying, pretending to hear someone coming and telling him to freeze, and listening to his teeth chattering.”
She smiled a predatory smile, and I realized who she reminded me of: Lurk, the sleek miniature panther who was the smaller of our two barn cats. When Skulk caught a mouse, he dispatched it quickly and dragged it off into the shrubbery to consume it in peace. Lurk liked to play with his prey. But he was a cat. It was his nature. Amber was enjoying this way too much. She’d enjoyed killing Norton.
“Anyway, he was pretty miserable by the time we got to a good hiding place behind your barn. I told him we’d have to wait there a while, and he was so cold he tried to insist that we just barge in and confront you all. So I shot him.”
“Weren’t you worried about the noise of the shot?”
“I had a suppressor,” she said. “Which, in case you didn’t know it—”
“Is the correct term for what the general public calls a silencer,” I said. “I know. It doesn’t suppress all the noise.”
“Yeah, but I figured out there in the middle of nowhere, you probably hear hunters in the woods all the time,” she said. “And by the time anyone came out to investigate, I’d be long gone. And that’s what happened. I fished out his keys and went back to his car. I drove it back as close as I could to the Inn and abandoned it on a dirt road that didn’t seem to get much use. And then I hiked over the golf course to the Madison Cottage and sneaked back in with my housekeeper disguise. I’m kind of bummed that you figured out it was me. I didn’t think anyone would pay much attention to a housekeeper coming and going, but even if they did, I was sure they couldn’t figure out it was me. Not sure how you did.”
“I hadn’t really,” I said. “I just figured that the other people who had the most reason to dislike Norton all had little or no alibi for the time when he was killed, and would they really be stupid enough to murder someone then? I mean, I wouldn’t, if I were them. I’d wait until everyone else had gone to bed and either had no alibi or were alibied by someone the police might assume was willing to cover for them.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I figure either the redheads or the two nosy little old ladies will end up taking the fall for it. And for you. I’ll figure out which one fits better and plant the gun in their room.”
I mentally apologized to Lurk. Yes, he played with his prey, but he didn’t know any better. He was just carrying out the programming in his tiny apex predator’s brain. Amber didn’t have that excuse.
And she wasn’t an apex predator. Just a sly, nasty, greedy little gold digger.
Just then I saw the first few streaks of light soaring into the sky. The fireworks had begun.
Amber saw it, too. She frowned.
“Where the hell’s the noise?” she demanded.
“They’re silent fireworks,” I said. “Well, not completely silent. Quiet fireworks. Less traumatic for wildlife, pets, and people with PSTD. Most people don’t know that the really colorful fireworks don’t make a lot of noise, and—”
“Are they all going to be like this?” she asked. “No big rockets or anything?”
“All like this,” I said. “And what’s more—”
Okay, it was corny, but I faked spotting someone sneaking up behind her. She didn’t fall for it.
“Nice try,” she said. “Looks like I’ll just have to keep you here till you freeze to death. Which is taking way too long. I need you to ditch that jacket.”
“They’ll figure out you did it, when you show up with frostbitten toes.” Something caught my eye behind her. Something real this time. I tried not to react, but I couldn’t help it. “And another thing—”
“Oh, cut out the faking,” she said. “I’m not going to fall for it so—”
That was when Ruth leaped up out of the snow, landed on the small of Amber’s back, and tried to sink her teeth into the back of her neck, though she probably only got a mouthful of polyester and down. Amber shrieked and fumbled, flailing at her with her free arm and almost—but not quite, dammit—dropping the gun.
But the barrel was pointed away from me, at least for a few seconds, so I charged, bowling Amber over with a flying tackle and getting my hands around the wrist of her gun hand. Ruth let go of the down coat and got a better hold, this time on Amber’s other arm.
Amber was thrashing wildly, landing kicks on Ruth or me, whichever she could reach. I might have had trouble holding onto her gun hand without Ruth’s help. But I realized she was maneuvering to point the gun at Ruth. I shifted one of my hands from her wrist to the hand—if I couldn’t take the gun away from her, at least I could do what I could to keep her from firing. But Ruth, in her efforts to hang onto the left wrist, was gradually being pulled closer and closer to where Amber wanted her—in front of the barrel. Dammit, I couldn’t let Amber hurt Ruth! If—
“Drop the gun and put your hands up or I’ll shoot.”
Amber and I both froze.
It was Ezekiel’s voice, but his tone was so cold and hard that I almost didn’t recognize it. He had dropped to one knee and was reaching down to press something against the back of Amber’s neck. While I couldn’t see it, I deduced from Amber’s expression that it was a gun. I could see the thoughts crossing her face—the impulse to renew her struggles with me over her gun, followed by angry surrender.
She let go of the gun. I secured my hold on it, then rolled away from her. I stood up and put more distance between us. Ruth let go of Amber’s wrist but hovered next to Ezekiel, as if ready to spring again if needed.
“Don’t you realize it’s illegal for convicted felons to possess guns?” Amber snarled.
“I’m no longer a convicted felon,” Ezekiel said, in his ordinary, gentle tone. “And this was never a gun.”
He pulled his arm back and, with a flick of his fingers, aimed a tiny beam of light on the snow in front of her face, revealing that his weapon was one of Kevin and Casey’s promotional pens with the built-in LED flashlight.
Amber snarled and turned, leaping up toward Ezekiel. He dodged her, falling back into the snow.
“Stop that! And put your hands up!” I considered firing a warning shot, but decided it wasn’t safe. Even in this weather there could be someone else out here in the snow.
And just then Ruth lunged at Amber’s face, teeth bared. Amber froze again. So did Ruth, only inches from Amber’s nose—but she growled softly, as if saying, “I dare you to move a muscle.”
“This, on the other hand, is a gun,” I said. “Probably the one you used to shoot Norton. Try anything like that again and I’ll use it.”
Amber actually growled at that, causing Ruth to respond in kind.
“Lord, have mercy,” Ezekiel said as he awkwardly got to his feet. “I couldn’t figure out what was up with Ruth when she suddenly took off like a mad thing. Didn’t realize she had such good guard dog instincts. Maybe I should be training her to be a K-9 officer.”
Ruth, hearing her name in close proximity to the words “good” and “dog,” interpreted this as praise and wagged her tail—but without relaxing her vigilance.
“Meg, you keep Ms. Smith covered with that firearm of hers,” Ezekiel said. “While I see if I can figure out how to call nine-one-one on this newfangled gadget Festus got me.”
“When you’re finished with that, call Grandfather,” I said. “Tell him to bring some chicken jerky for Ruth.”
“I’ll do that,” Ezekiel said. “Of course, your mother must have nagged him about dressing properly for the concert—he’s all gussied up in a fancy suit instead of those safari clothes he usually wears. He might not have any chicken jerky on him at the moment.”
“Then tell him to drop by the restaurant and bring out a roast chicken,” I said. “Ruth deserves a T-R-E-A-T.”