Against the Wild (23 page)

Dylan just nodded. He wanted to believe it. Maybe by summer's end he would. Dylan didn't think so.

Winnie met them at the mudroom door as Lane walked next to Dylan back to the lodge. Her face was still flushed, her body still humming. God, the man was amazing. She forced herself to focus on the robust woman in the doorway, hoped she couldn't guess what they had been doing.

Winnie's shrewd gaze ran over them and her mouth tightened. Clearly she hadn't been fooled. She was protective of Emily and Dylan. She loved them. She had a right to be. But she and Dylan were both adults. Both knew this would be over at the end of summer. Lane ignored a sharp pinch in her heart.

“Jacob Payuk just called,” Winnie said to Dylan, holding open the back door so they could walk in. “I told him you'd call him right back.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“Something about a meeting. I told him you'd phone as soon as you got back to the house.”

Dylan didn't waste time. Lane watched as he pulled out his cell and found Payuk's number. He pressed the iPhone against his ear. “Jacob, this is Dylan Brodie.”

The village elder said something, and Dylan started nodding. “An hour?” He flicked a glance at Lane. “That'll work. We'll see you then.” He ended the call, shoved the phone back into his jeans. “Payuk's set up a meeting. He's convinced the people responsible for the haunting scam to come forward. I guess this murder thing has got them scared. They don't want to turn up on the suspect list.”

She thought of Caleb. “I don't blame them.”

“Payuk wants me to bring you with me. I think he figures having a woman along will soften the situation, keep things from getting too heated.”

“I'd like to come.”

He turned to Winnie. “Where's Caleb?”

“He and Emily went fishing. They're on the dock out in front.”

He nodded. She could tell it bothered him that his daughter was so much more at ease with his friend than she was with him. Lane wondered how the two had grown so far apart—and what it would take to bring them back together.

“We'll probably be late for supper,” he told Winnie.

“I've got a nice baked ham, mashed potatoes, red-eye gravy, and some biscuits. You just deal with those fools in Yeil, and I'll keep it warm.”

“Thanks, Winnie.”

Dylan set a firm hand at Lane's waist, reminding her of their encounter in the cabin. Just thinking about it made her feel like blushing.

“We need to talk to Caleb,” Dylan said. “Let's go this way.”

Lane walked beside him through the lodge into the great hall. Moving beneath the wrought-iron chandelier, they made their way out the door. Eagle Bay stretched in front of them, the inlet calm, the blue sea barely lapping against the sandy shore in front of the lodge.

Lane spotted Finn, prancing along next to Emily. The little girl walked beside Caleb, who had a pair of fishing poles riding on one powerful shoulder.

“Catch anything?” Dylan asked as the two of them approached.

Caleb patted the canvas creel on his hip. “Couple of pinks, a little over three pounds, maybe. Be good to go with supper.” Caleb's smile faded. “How about you? Your fishing trip do any good?”

Dylan glanced back toward the house. “Come on in. We'll fill you in on what we got.”

Caleb nodded. “Let me get these cleaned and I'll be right with you.”

Emily clapped her hands for Finn to follow her, smiled at Lane, and rushed off to play in the side yard.

She and Dylan headed back into the great hall, walked over and sat down on the old sofa and chairs in front of the empty hearth. It was quiet in the cavernous room without the crew at work upstairs. The chaos would start all over again tomorrow, but even without much furniture, it was a good place to sit.

It was only a few minutes before Caleb walked into the lodge minus his fishing creel and came over to join them.

“We may have found something in town,” Dylan said, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Or more specifically
someone.
At the moment it's all just conjecture, but if the pieces keep coming together, we may have a suspect.”

Caleb sat forward in the overstuffed chair. “Who is he?”

“We don't have a name. Maybe by tomorrow we will.” Dylan went on to tell Caleb about visiting the murder scene, tracking the killer to the river. He explained their theory about the man's size and capabilities.

“I pretty much fit that description, too,” Caleb said darkly.

“Yeah, but you didn't kill anyone.”

“No.”

Dylan explained Nick's take on the crime, and the bartender's confirmation that a stranger fitting that description had been in Mad Jack's at least a couple of times in the last two weeks.

“Have you seen anyone around who fits our profile?” Lane asked.

“Besides yourself,” Dylan said with the hint of a smile.

Caleb just shook his head. “Doesn't ring any bells with me, but I haven't been spending much time lately in Waterside.”

Sensing the worry he was feeling, Lane reached over and touched his arm. “We've got a lead, Caleb. There's a chance he's the man who did it.”

“It's pretty slim.”

“It's more than we had before,” Dylan said. He looked down at his watch, told Caleb about the call he'd gotten from Payuk. “We've got to get going. We need to be in Yeil when these guys show up.”

“You want me to come along?” Caleb asked.

“I think it'd be best if you stay out of this. You've already got more on your plate than you can handle. We'll bring you up to speed when we get back.”

Caleb ground his jaw, finally nodded.

Lane reached over and squeezed his hand. “We're going to find him, Caleb. You didn't do it. Proof of that has to be out there. Sooner or later, we'll find it.”

Caleb didn't look all that convinced, but Lane gave him a smile she hoped would reassure him. She and Dylan left the great hall and headed out to the garage where his truck was parked.

A few minutes later, they were heading down the gravel road. Lane's adrenaline was pumping, her hopes once again high. She prayed at least one of Dylan's problems was about to be solved.

It was definitely Sunday in the tiny town of Yeil. Though the afternoon was waning, the sun was still bright, and people were fishing out on the dock or just sitting in folding chairs beside the water. A couple of aluminum boats floated in the sea, poles sticking over the sides.

The kids were riding their bikes up and down the streets. A boom box roared next to a man who worked under the hood of his car.

There was a church in town, such as it was, white clapboard with a bell on top and a wooden cross out in front. People were heading inside for the Sunday evening meeting. Aside from the glaciers in the distance and the forested hillsides, Lane thought the town looked much the same as a lot of rural mountain communities in America.

Payuk must have seen them drive in. He waited on the porch, a stern look on his dark, weathered face. As they climbed the steps, he wordlessly turned and pushed open the door, beckoning them inside.

Three people stood in the living room. Two young men and a young woman. The boys' appearance hinted at their Alaska Native heritage, black hair and dark skin, but their features were more refined, clearly several generations removed from full-blood Tlingit. The girl had light brown hair, blue eyes, and a pixie nose.

They were dressed more like college kids than locals, the boys in Nikes and Reeboks, Izod pullovers, and chinos. The girl wore a short white skirt, a red-and-white-striped top, and sandals.

Either boy was tall enough to have been the figure she had seen outside the window. It didn't really matter which one it was as long as the boys stopped terrorizing the people in the lodge.

With a shock, Lane realized she had seen the girl before. Her name was Heather and she came to the lodge once a week to help Winnie with the heavy cleaning.

Jacob Payuk spoke to the three young people standing rigidly in his living room. “You will say your names and what you have done.”

The tallest boy straightened. “My name is Alex Kramer. This is Jared Deacon, and that's Heather Nolan.”

“I've seen Heather at the lodge,” Dylan said. “My housekeeper told me she was a student at the community college in Ketchikan. What about you two?”

“We were born in Yeil,” Alex said. “We go to school with Heather, but we're home for the summer.”

“We didn't hurt anyone,” Jared said, a note of belligerence in his voice. “We were only defending our ancestors' honor.”

“We weren't the first to do it,” added Alex. “There were others before us. After the murders, everyone thought the lodge was haunted anyway. All we did was give them a few more reasons to believe it was true.”

“We couldn't let the crimes go unpunished,” Jared said darkly.

“I just made the rocking chair move,” Heather said, her blue eyes darting worriedly between Lane and Dylan.

“The hologram was a nice touch,” Dylan said. “Impressive. I guess you learned that at school.”

Alex shifted from one foot to another.

“I understand why you did it,” Dylan pressed on. “Jacob has told me the truth about Artemus Carmack and what happened at the lodge all those years ago. But that was then and this is now. I had nothing to do with the murders or the hanging of innocent men.”

The boys didn't reply.

“This ends now,” Dylan said, his blue eyes cold and unrelenting. “No more sneaking into the lodge. No more prowling around outside at night. If anything else happens— anything at all—I go to the police. Since they're currently looking for the man who murdered a young woman in Waterside, now would not be a good time for your names to come up.”

Payuk spoke directly to the boys. “Many years have passed since our great-grandfathers were wrongly accused and punished for a crime they did not commit. It is time to put the past aside and move on with our lives.”

Alex and Heather were nodding. Lane figured they wanted no part of Dylan Brodie. Clearly, Heather wasn't Tlingit. Likely, she was Alex's girlfriend, just helping her boyfriend out.

Jared still looked unconvinced, his jaw set, tight lines around his mouth.

Lane focused her attention on him. “Have any of you ever tried to prove Will Seeks and Thomas Shaekley were innocent of the crime?”

Jared scoffed. “It happened a long time ago. Tales handed down by our forefathers are all the proof we have.”

“Dylan and I were able to dig up the story of the murders—or at least one version of it. Maybe you could go online, do some research on Artemus Carmack. Find out what happened to him after he left Eagle Bay. Maybe he killed someone else. Maybe there's something out there that will help you prove your version of what happened is the truth.”

Jared was shaking his head. “I don't think it would work.”

But Alex had brightened. “It might be worth a try.” He turned in Lane's direction. “If you would be willing to help.”

Lane inwardly groaned. She should have known she was shooting herself in the foot with this idea. “I can tell you what I did. Give you some ideas where to look. Maybe you can find someone still living who was there that night or perhaps the child of someone who was there. Even if you can't completely prove Carmack's guilt, you could write about it, present the facts you
can
prove, or at least the facts as you know them. You could post the article online, at least stir up some doubt.”

“It would be a great service to our people,” Jacob Payuk said.

The three of them put their heads together and started whispering. When Lane glanced over at Dylan, those cold blue eyes had warmed, and approval faintly curved the edge of his mouth.

“We'll try it,” Alex finally agreed.

“I want your word,” Dylan said, putting himself directly in front of the boy. “I want to know that my family and friends, the guests who come and stay at the lodge, can feel safe.”

Alex shuffled his feet. “All right. We won't bother you anymore.”

Dylan drilled him with a look. “Your word this is finished.”

Alex straightened, took a deep breath. “You have my word.”

“On the blood of our ancestors, you have my word,” Jared added.

Dylan cocked an eyebrow. “Heather?”

“All I did was make the rocking chair move.”

“If you want to keep your job, you won't do it again.”

Her eyes widened. “You aren't going to fire me?”

“Not if you give me your word.”

“Okay, sure. I promise.”

“Good. Then we're finished here.” Dylan turned to the elder. “I appreciate your help in this matter, Jacob. I believe it serves all of us well.”

“I also believe that is true.”

Dylan set a hand at Lane's waist and started toward the door. She stopped long enough to scribble a note and hand it to Jared. “Here's my e-mail address. Drop me a note, tell how your research is coming. If I can help, let me know.”