Twenty-Seven

Smoke filled the building, stinging my eyes and burning my lungs. I propped Cody up, making sure he was safely inside the forklift. Holding him firmly with one arm, I gripped the steering wheel with the other. There was only one chance to get this right. If I missed, or if the fire hadn’t weakened the door enough, we’d crash and burn. It was a terrifying thought, but there was nothing else for it. I raised the fork to the level of a ramming rod and said a quick prayer. Then I stepped on the gas.

The forklift rocketed toward the blazing door. Anticipating the jarring impact, I stomped hard on the pedal and screamed.

We hit with a force like a compact car running headlong into a parked semi. A loud crash, a rush of swirling fire, a moment of weightlessness anchored by a white-knuckled grip, and more screaming. Then I felt the cool night air on my skin and opened my eyes.

I was still screaming. So were Tay and Hannah. Then I saw Jack standing beside them, and stopped. Relief swept through me at the sight of them all. My madcap plan had worked. Jack was beside the forklift the moment it came to a halt.

“Christ, Whit,” he cried, his face red and contorted with anguish. “You should have told me about the note!” That was all he said on the matter because his entire focus then turned to the unconscious boy slumped at my feet.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, lifting Cody down.

“Poisoned, I think. And beaten. He was convulsing and foaming at the mouth when I found him. I made him vomit, but he’s in a bad way.”

“I can see that. Christ, he’s not breathing. I’m going to start CPR. Tay, help me. Hannah, get the hospital on the phone. Whitney, are you okay to run?” I nodded, feeling I could run for miles with all the adrenaline pumping through my blood. “Good,” he said. “You’re the fastest we have.” He then tossed me his keys and sent me for his cruiser. The ambulance was coming all the way from Sturgeon Bay. Jack’s plan was to meet it on the road. It was the best plan we had.

I took the keys and ran, bolting down the gravel road and plunging into darkness. It struck me then that Cody’s attacker was still out here. Fear scoured my nerves once again, but I pushed it aside. There was no time to be afraid. A kid’s life hung in the balance. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I made for the lights of the inn.

I was halfway down the road when I saw the shortcut. It was a lit pathway connecting the orchard to the parking lot. Without another thought I turned off the road in favor of the narrow, winding trail instead.

It might have been a mistake. The trail wound through a wooded stretch, and although it was lit, dimly, with decorative lampposts, the thick pines that lined the path appeared black and spooky. It made me run even faster. Only when the trees thinned and I caught sight of Jack’s police-issue SUV in the parking lot did I breathe a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that was when I caught a whiff of cigar smoke.

“What’s the hurry, Ms. Bloom?” a languid, vaguely familiar voice said from the darkness. The voice startled me. And when I saw the shadow emerging from the pines, I grew scared. It was the shadow of a man, and it was blocking my path. I was running too fast to stop and was too afraid to try. I left it up to the spooky shadow to move, and it didn’t. I ran full-tilt into the solid, cigar-smoking form of Brock Sorensen. The impact sent us both reeling to the ground.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” I cried, scrambling to my feet. “What the devil are you thinking, jumping in front of me like that?”

“I … crap!” he breathed, grabbing his cigar from the walkway. He gave it a little flick, then put it back in his mouth. “I thought you’d stop,” he said, straightening. He took a puff and brushed the pine needles off his pants.

“Well … I didn’t. I couldn’t! And I’m sorry, but I can’t stand here and chit-chat. There’s been an accident at the processing shed. I have to get Officer MacLaren’s cruiser.”

“Jack? Is he okay?”

“Jack’s fine. It’s a young man,” I told him, and took off for the parking lot, aiming the key fob at the SUV as I ran. The doors unlocked. The lights came on. I jumped into the front seat, buckled up, and stuck the key into the ignition. I was just about to throw the car into reverse when Brock jumped into the passenger seat beside me.

Pulling the cigar from his mouth, he tossed it on the pavement and shut the door. “I’m coming with you.”

My heart was still racing, and I didn’t have time to argue. Every second I delayed was a second Cody couldn’t afford. Sorensen was the business manager, after all. He’d probably hired the kid to begin with and had every right to tag along. So why was I so unsettled by his presence? Because moments ago a boy had been beaten and poisoned, and the processing shed set on fire, and this man had been standing off the pathway in the shadow of the pines smoking a cigar. He’d looked unfazed.

What did I know of Brock Sorensen? What did any of us know of him? He was new to Cherry Cove and therefore a mystery. What if he was the man behind everything? What if he was coming with me to finish off the poor boy, silencing him once and for all? Everything was a possibility, and yet everything seemed so absurd. Besides, I didn’t have time to think on it further. Cody was dying. I threw the car into gear and stepped on the gas.

∞

The moment I pulled up to the burning processing shed, Jack gathered the young man into his arms and ran to meet us.

“Oh my God!” Sorensen cried. “It’s Cody Rivers!” He jumped out of the cruiser and ran to assist Jack.

The fire truck was just arriving when we left. Hannah and Tay volunteered to stay behind and bring everyone at the inn up to speed on what had happened. With Jack and Brock in the back of the SUV again performing CPR on Cody, I turned on the sirens and raced toward Door County General. The moment I spotted the ambulance on the highway speeding toward us I flicked my high-beams and pulled over. They knew we were coming. I prayed they were prepared.

“I’ll ride with the boy,” Sorensen volunteered, climbing into the back of the ambulance with the EMT. The pallor of his skin was ashen, and he looked scared … or perhaps, I mused darkly, it was guilt we were witnessing. I hated myself for doubting a man Dad had put his faith in, but I couldn’t help it. Somebody had pummeled Cody’s body and forced him to ingest poison. I had narrowly missed the killer. And then I found Sorensen lurking in the shadows off the pathway—almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“We’ll lead the way,” Jack told the driver. “I’ll call dispatch and have them contact the boy’s parents.”

Jack climbed into the SUV, made the call, and took the wheel. He pulled in front of the ambulance and turned on his emergency lights.

“Is … is that prudent, do you think?” I asked.

He looked at me as if I was from Mars. “We’re going eighty and the speed-limit is fifty-five. Yes, the lights are prudent.”

“No. I’m sorry. I mean, do you think it’s prudent allowing Brock Sorensen to ride in the back of the ambulance?”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“Because somebody found out about that note.”

“Yes. And unfortunately that somebody wasn’t me.”

“I’m sorry about that, Jack. It was wrong of me, but my point is that whoever knew Cody was going to talk to me went to extraordinary lengths to make sure he couldn’t. They were still in the building when I found him. I saw the would-be killer’s silhouette as he ran through the processing room just before it exploded in fire. He must have slipped out the back door, because when I tried to do the same it was blocked. Tay said one of the inn’s Gators was parked against it, trapping both Cody and me inside. I was making such a racket up front with the fire that she never heard the Gator. Now, to my point. The killer couldn’t have gone far on foot. Then, when I ran to get your cruiser, I stumbled upon Brock Sorensen lurking in the shadows by the tall pine trees—the ones flanking the parking lot. He was just standing there, smoking a cigar.”

“The man likes his cigars,” Jack said. Then, thinking, he added, “Wait. You think Sorensen was the person in the processing shed with you?” His ruddy brows furrowed at the thought.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to tell who was there. But what if he was? What if he was the one who beat and poisoned Cody? Wouldn’t he want to make certain the boy never talked again? Don’t you think it’s convenient that he offered to ride in the back of the ambulance with him?”

“Not if you consider that he’s also the business manager of both the inn and the orchard. He has a vested interested in this place and the staff.”

“But why was he in the orchard—that late at night?”

Jack thought a moment. “I don’t know.” His eyes shot sideways at me while he drove. “Do you think Sorensen poisoned and bludgeoned Jeb as well?”

“I have no proof, only suspicion. But think about it? He was at the inn last night. He has access to Dad’s office and the processing sheds. He could have put the poison in Jeb’s rum, knowing he’d drink it. Then he could have taken Dad’s croquet mallet and followed Jeb back to the processing shed. After Jeb drank the poison he could have clubbed him in the head and dragged him into the orchard. He’d have the strength to do it.”

“He would,” Jack agreed. “He could have done all those things, but what’s his motive?”

“That I don’t know, but he did tell me all about what’s been happening at the inn. He told me about the new software getting hacked, the rats in the kitchen, and the string of petty thefts. All of it seems to have started since he took over. Don’t you find that a little suspicious?”

Jack cast another quick glance my way, then fell silent. The knuckles of his hands were white as they gripped the wheel.

“Jack? Jack, are you okay?”

“No,” he replied very softly. “No, Whitney, I’m not.”