Untamed: Duty Bound Book 3 (16 page)

Sometime during the night, the fire had died and Greta had ventured outside. Having seen no disturbance in the snow at the front entrance, Lucky had checked the back.

Greta’s elongated snowshoe tracks crossed over the prints of a hopping hare and entered the forest. Wider and rounder, Lucky’s snowshoes left different imprints in the snow.

The old woman wouldn’t have saved her life just to abandon her without an explanation…would she? The cave was her home. Every time they’d been in and out, Greta had taken every precaution to protect its location. At a loss to explain the old woman’s sudden disappearance or unusual behavior, Lucky followed the distinctive trail through the forest.

Birds she could see but not hear played between the branches, their presence soothing her troubled mind. She trudged through the snow for hours without encountering any human activity. The sun’s progression across the sky was her only bearing.

The snowshoe prints led Lucky in the opposite direction of the shed in which she’d abandoned the injured officer. A part of her had wanted to go back and spy on him to see if he’d been rescued, but Greta’s peculiar fate demanded her immediate attention. It didn’t appear anyone had lured the old woman away against her will, but she could have been victim of a malaise or an accident.

At every turn, Lucky expected to see Greta lying in the snow, hurt, unable to come home. The farther she advanced, the muscles in her legs stiffened and her stomach rolled. Skipping breakfast had been a bad idea, but Lucky hadn’t anticipated such a long expedition.

In the distance, something orangey peeked through the needles of the evergreens. Fear heightened her undamaged senses, and she slowed her approach. The light breeze carried the fresh, crispy aroma of winter.
No burning fire. No smoke dancing in the light blue sky.

She circled what looked like an abandoned hunter lodge. A cracked, brick chimney rose from the snow-covered roof and faded orange paint peeled from the exterior walls. At the back, a broken window was boarded with planks. The glass in the others was intact but frosty, making it impossible to peek through. Only one door led inside, and it hung slightly crooked in its frame.

No snowmobile tracks. No boot prints.
Except for Greta and her, the snow didn’t bear witness to any other intruders.

Greta’s steps stopped in front of the lodge, her snowshoes discarded in the snow under the window adjacent to the door.

Her heart thumped against her chest, reverberating to the tips of Lucky’s fingers. “Greta? Are you there?”

She counted to ten, then to twenty. When nothing moved, Lucky edged the door open. Her breath caught in her throat.

Lying on the floor amidst shattered dishes, Greta stared at her with empty eyes.

***

A man with grayish hair blocked the door, showing only a bare chest, bloodshot eyes, and a stubbly face. “Come back with a warrant. I’m sleeping.”

“Sun is up, Alistair.” Avery had spent the rest of the night reviewing the autopsy and police reports. Had he not fallen asleep on the couch with Snowflake or stopped by Foley’s cabin first, he would have paid Alistair an even earlier visit. “You can answer my questions outside, in your cabin, or at the detachment. The choice is yours.”

The man looked to be in his fifties. As he grumbled and cursed under his breath, someone giggled behind him, a youthful, high pitched sound that could easily be mistaken as a cry for help.

“Move aside, sir.” As he issued the warning, Avery took a step back and rammed the door with his shoulder.

Foley’s former neighbor landed on his naked butt with a thud. A teenage girl wrapped in a sheet yelped.

“I heard you call for help, young lady. I’m Constable Stone. Are you okay?”

Her mouth covered with her palm, the girl glanced back and forth between Alistair and him. Each sweep of her head widened her eyes.

“She didn’t say a word.” Blood spurted from his nose, dripping down Alistair’s chest, but he didn’t seem to care. He grabbed the television stand and propped himself up. “I’m gonna sue your ass off for that”

“Be my guest.” With his boot, Avery kicked the door shut and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. No need to draw his gun. The guy wasn’t concealing any weapons. “I’m arresting you for solicitation of a minor and I’m arresting her for prostitution. You can both file your complaints from jail.”

As the man proclaimed both their innocence with more unsavory words, the girl dared him to check her winter coat hung by the door.

Glancing back and forth between a pink coat and the two underdressed occupants, Avery discarded the cuffs in his jacket and dug for the teenager’s wallet. He found it in the inside pocket.
Chloe McTavish. Nineteen years old.
To Avery’s relief and disappointment, the driver license appeared genuine.

“Happy now?” She mocked him with a satisfied expression, rubbing Avery the wrong way.

“Nowhere does it say you’re not a hooker. I can still arrest you both and we can sort out your occupation at the detachment, or—” His gaze settled on Chloe McTavish. “I can pretend you have lousy taste in men, which isn’t against the law, and you can go take a long shower while Alistair and I have a friendly chat.” Avery tossed her the wallet. “What will it be,
Chloe
?”

She turned on her heel, huffing and puffing, then stomped around the corner.

“Now that you have no witness, you gonna beat me up, is that it?”

“No.”
Some people watch way too much television.
“Have a seat on the couch, Alistair, and place a cushion on your lap. I’d rather not be traumatized for life.”

The guy sneered, but he still complied. “For a cop you have a lousy sense of humor. What do you want?”

“Last November, you found Noel Foley’s body in his cabin. Do you recall that day?”

Alistair gripped the cushion with both hands. “I try not to, but yeah, I do. Why?”

Between the walls of the cabin, water rushed through noisy pipes.

“Take me through what happened that day, would you?” Arms crossed over his chest, Avery leaned his back to the door. A not-so-subtle hint that he wasn’t leaving until he got the entire story.

“I’d gone hunting with him that morning, but we didn’t shoot anything. He was my only neighbor, you see, and he had no family left, not since the death of his younger cousin. I kinda took him under my wing. A few hours later, I heard a gunshot. I wanted to know what he’d killed so I went to check it out…” His head swayed sideways. “I found him sitting on the floor near the fireplace, his rifle on his lap, a dirty rag in his hand, and a hole in his chest. A big bloody hole the size of my fist. I called you guys right away.”

If they hadn’t shot anything, Noel would have had no reason to clean his rifle. “Did Noel appear drunk? Did you see any booze near his body?”

“Course he died with a bottle. His no-good mother was an alcoholic. He hadn’t been sober since the day he was born. You’re not trying to pin his death on me, are you?”

“No.” The man looked like a shady character, and his attitude grated on Avery’s nerves, but he didn’t fit the profile of a killer. “When you found Noel did you notice anything unusual? Anything out of place? Anything that made you pause? And I’m not talking about the blood.”

“I…I’ve seen him clean his rifle. Every time, he’d checked twice to make sure it wasn’t loaded. Didn’t matter how drunk he was. Maybe he didn’t look too closely…oh…and the rag was in his right hand. He was a lefty. I thought that was weird, but then his flask was on his left side.”

Alistair shrugged the inconsistency away, but it gnawed at Avery’s brain. “Did you share your observations with the officer in charge?”

“And get involved? You’re kidding, right? I don’t trust any of you, not after what Noel told me.”

The pipes rattled, and the water stopped running. “And what did Noel say?”

“He said someone killed and framed his little cousin for murder—that he could prove it, but you guys wouldn’t listen.”

The report taped under the seat confirmed Abbott had listened to Noel’s claim, and they’d both conveniently ended up dead.

“Thank you, Alistair. You’ve been most helpful.”

He sprung to his feet, dropping the cushion on the floor. “That’s it? You’re not arresting me?”

“No, but I’ll give you a free piece of advise. Next time, put some clothes on and try answering the door with ‘What can I do for you, Officer?’ instead of ‘Come back with a warrant.’ It’ll save you from an unpleasant interrogation.” Avery tipped his cap. “Have a nice day.”

***

Sunlight shone through the open door and onto Greta’s body, giving a golden tinge to her ashen face. It accentuated the faint smile lingering on her blue lips.

The woman who’d rescued her lay dead on the floor of a broken-down lodge. Had Greta been in her bed, Lucky would have believed she’d peacefully died in her sleep.

The body, which showed no sign of external injury, had lost its warmth. Lucky gently closed her friend’s eyelids, adding a touch of finality to the surreal scene. Greta had abandoned her, and yet all she felt was sadness.
I must be in shock.

She waited for her terrible predicament to sink in, for anger to rise, and for panic to sweep her off her feet. As the minutes trickled by, her perspective didn’t change and despair didn’t swallow her. Instead, fleeting images of another dead body flickered at the edge of Lucky’s mind.

“I hope this is a one-time occurrence, that I’m not in the habit of stumbling onto corpses.”

What am I supposed to do?
Without a cell phone and without knowing the direction of the nearest town, Lucky had no means of contacting the authorities.
Even if I carried a cell, I wouldn’t hear a thing.

“Why did you come here, Greta?”

The tattered furniture and rusted cooking tools scattered inside the lodge suggested someone lived here a long time ago.

It was possible the place had held a special meaning for Greta, that she’d known the former occupants, but it was also possible she’d felt unwell and sought refuge in the first place she’d found. Regardless of the reasons that had brought her here, Lucky couldn’t abandon her. Greta deserved a proper burial.

The best solution would be to bring her body back to the cave and bury her there. Using twigs and branches, Lucky could craft a stretcher and pull it behind her. First, she needed rope to bind the material together.

As she searched the lodge, she remembered Greta’s snowshoes. The leather straps would work perfectly.

She shut the empty drawer of a wobbly dresser, turned toward the entrance, and gasped in shock.

A tall, imposing silhouette blocked the door. He held a pair of snowshoes in his hand.

Her snowshoes.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Avery paused in the doorway of a ransacked shack he’d come upon when leaving Alistair’s cabin.

“Hannah?”

The woman who’d escaped his search stared at him like she’d seen a ghost. At her feet was the body of another woman—an older woman who wore similar attire to the one who’d smacked him across the head.

“I didn’t kill Greta. She was dead when I found her.” The quivering in her voice heightened her melodious accent.

“I’m not accusing you.” The frightened look in her eyes unnerved him. “Hannah, I—”

A noisy engine, growing louder by the second, disrupted their eerie encounter. Avery glanced through the door he had yet to close. A black snowmobile zoomed through the landscape, leaving behind a white cloud of powdery snow. The rider headed toward the lodge. As he neared, Avery made out the RCMP logo on the hood.
This isn’t good.

Impervious to the disturbance, Hannah hadn’t diverted her gaze from him.

No one can know she’s alive.
Not yet. Not until he identified the culprits.

“Hannah, I need you to trust me.” He bridged the gap between them and pressed the snowshoes against her chest. “Hold on to them and don’t make a sound. You’re in grave danger. You need to hide.”

When her eyes grew wider and her mouth opened, he braced himself for a flow of objections. To his surprise and satisfaction, none manifested. She simply hugged the snowshoes.

“He can’t see you…” Avery scanned the cabin. The cupboards weren’t deep enough. The storage box where the previous occupant had stacked wood had no lid. The bathroom was out of the question.
That’d be the first place my colleague searches.
A gutted mattress lay in a corner near a slanted couch missing a leg. He’d been ready to remove the cushions and gut the bottom when he caught sight of an iron hoop pinned to the floor. “Come with me.”

His hand spooning her bent elbow, he directed her toward the hardware sticking out inches from the couch. Grabbing the hoop with his free hand, he pulled. The hinges of the trap creaked, and a gaping hole appeared at their feet. There was a ladder going down what appeared to be a cellar or storage space.

Hannah took a step back. Afraid she might bolt, he reached out and cupped her face. She stilled, and their gazes locked. Confusion swirled in her beautiful blue eyes.

With his glove, he couldn’t feel her cheek, but he imagined her skin to be soft and warm. “I need you to go down there and stay still until I get you.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Avery registered the silence surrounding the cabin. “Go.” He brushed her forehead with his lips, then nudged her down and closed the trap.

His mind reeling from the gentle kiss, Avery crouched by the body of the older woman. What bloody possessed him to—

“Stone?” Cooper barged in, his gun drawn. “You’re supposed to answer when I call.”

I was busy.
“Next time, try shouting louder than your engine, would you?”

His colleague holstered his weapon. “If I were you, I’d be more careful. Friendly fire is just as deadly.”

Thanks for the warning.
“What are you doing here?”
Spying on me?

“I’m on break. I was enjoying a quiet ride in the forest when I saw your Ski-Doo parked outside what is supposed to be an
abandoned
lodge.” Squinting his eyes, Cooper looked down at the body. “Who is she? And what are you doing here?”