On Thin Icing (21 page)

I took more newsprint and wadded it into tight balls. This time I placed six balls under and around the logs. Then I struck the match against the box and carefully lit each ball. The newsprint flamed to life.

There was no kindling in the cabin, so I kept balling up paper and adding it to the fire. After a few minutes the logs finally caught. I knew they weren’t going to last for long. I was going to have to trudge back to the lodge for more firewood. There was no way two logs would keep the cabin warm for the night.

I added the rest of the newsprint, and shut the door to the woodstove. As much as I wanted to curl up on the couch with a hot mug of tea, waiting was just going to make things worse. I tugged on my coat and gloves, and stepped into my ice-cold boots.

Had Mercury simply forgotten my cabin, or were all the cabins like this? If so, it was going to be a long, cold, miserable night. The lodge was the only bright spot in the otherwise black forest. It looked like something out of a postcard with its snow-covered roof, smoke circling from the chimney, and golden light radiating from the windows.

I followed my boot prints back from where I’d just come. At least the lodge looked welcoming. I shined the flashlight on the snow, and stepped carefully.

All of a sudden I heard a bang behind me. I jumped and dropped the flashlight.

What was that?

A tree limb falling?

Maybe it was a giant clump of snow sliding off the roof.

I reached for the flashlight. Another bang reverberated against the evergreen trees.

Was that a gunshot?

Every muscle in my body tensed.

I froze.

Bang! Another shot sounded.

That was definitely a gun. Who was shooting?

I picked up the flashlight and shone it in the direction of the gunshots. It created a spotlight on the trunk of an evergreen tree, but I couldn’t see anything. My heart thumped in my chest as I directed the light from tree to tree. There was nothing out there. At least not that I could see.

Time to get moving, Jules, I told myself. I started toward the lodge. That’s when I heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow behind me.

Chapter Twenty-three

Run! I commanded my legs to move.

Was whoever had been shooting coming after me?

I hurled my body forward.

The footsteps came faster.

Why was someone chasing me?

My breath caught in my chest. Pain seared my lungs. From the combination of the cold and the thin atmosphere, I couldn’t fully catch my breath.

“Hey!” someone shouted behind me.

I didn’t stop.

The lodge was about forty feet away. I could smell smoke from the chimney. I was so close to safety.

My assailant shouted again. “Stop!”

I ran faster, nearly falling on the slippery uneven snow.

I scrambled up the lodge’s porch. My feet slid from underneath me. I landed on my butt.

The next thing I knew someone pulled me up from my shoulder. I let out a scream.

“Are you okay?” Dean Barnes held my coat by the shoulder. A hunting rifle hung over his arm.

“Were you shooting out there?” I tried to pull away from his grasp.

He kept a firm grip on my coat. “Following my favorite country pursuit—target practice. I saw your light flash. I thought something was wrong.”

“Something
was
wrong! You scared me to death. Why are you shooting in the dark?” My legs felt shaky.

“It’s a hobby.” He released me. Snow covered his knee-high British hunting boots and was spattered on his trousers. He must have been deep in it.

“A hobby? Shooting randomly in the woods is a hobby?”

Dean shifted the rifle on his arm. “It is in the English countryside where I come from. We have shooting parties on Sundays. I’m a skilled hunter. You were in no danger. Although the winter fox that happened by … he’s another story.”

My mind couldn’t keep pace with the questions forming in it. Dean was skilled with a rifle. He was older, but he was in good shape. Could he have killed Tony? Thomas said Tony was shot with a hunting rifle. Why was he outside shooting in the dark, when all the other board members were bonding with Carlos over delicious wines?

“Why aren’t you inside?” I asked.

“I’m nursing a bit of a headache today. I decided it might be better if I didn’t indulge this evening.”

“So you’re shooting in a snowstorm in the dark?”

“You make that sound so uncivilized. Practicing hunting targets, that’s all, my dear.” He tapped a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck.

“You were target shooting at night, in a storm?” I repeated the question. Dean’s story was highly unlikely.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Shooting at night adds a certain challenge.”

“But anyone could have walked by. You could have shot one of the board members on their way back to their cabins.”

“Nonsense. I was out of range of the cabins.” He pointed behind us. “I was shooting targets when I spotted a sly fox disappearing into the forest.”

“How did you get to me so fast, then?”

“Don’t let these old knees fool you. I can keep up with the young chaps when we’re on the scent of a fox. I saw your light. It was the only light in the darkness so it wasn’t hard to find you.”

Dean sounded sincere, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Target shooting in the dark didn’t make any sense to me. I’d have to ask Thomas if that was a thing.

“I do apologize if I scared you. To be frank, I have a bit of cabin fever. I needed a break from the lodge.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Dean had been chasing me. If I hadn’t made it to the lodge, what might have happened?

The front door swung open at that moment. Thomas looked surprised to see us standing there. “Hey, what’s going on? I didn’t know the party had moved outside.” He looked from me to Dean. I noticed his eyes linger on the rifle. Thomas kept his tone playful. “Are you bringing new meaning to serving fresh food? Going out to shoot breakfast?”

“I wouldn’t put that past some chefs.” I laughed. “Especially up in Portland. I can imagine that concept really taking off.”

Thomas smiled then he returned his gaze to Dean. “What’s going on with the rifle?”

Dean told Thomas the same story he had told me. When he finished, Thomas frowned. “Target shooting is illegal on this property. You can’t use that here.”

“I didn’t know that,” Dean replied, putting his other hand over the gun.

“And you have a license for that, right?”

Dean nodded. “Yes, of course I have a license.”

“I’m going to need to see your license and ask you to secure the weapon in your cabin.” Thomas turned to me, “Sorry, Jules, I’m afraid that means no fresh meat for breakfast tomorrow.”

“I guess I’ll just have to make do with pastry.”

“Let me walk you back to your cabin,” Thomas said to Dean. “We’ll take a look at your license and then we can call it a night, what do you say?”

Dean agreed. He apologized again for scaring me, and left in the darkness with Thomas. I could tell that Thomas was equally suspicious, and I had a feeling he was planning to check more than Dean’s hunting license.

The board was tasting an after-dinner port when I walked past the dining room. Carlos gave me a suggestive smile and held up the bottle. Lance grabbed my arm as I tried to sneak past him into the kitchen. “Darling, your husband is absolutely the most charming man on the planet.” His words slurred as he spoke. Obviously he’d been enjoying every stop on Carlos’s world tour of wines. “You two could do this. This could be your thing. Carlos talks wine and you delight everyone with pastry. It’s a brilliant idea. Absolutely brilliant. In fact.” He paused and swayed slightly. He braced his hands on his chair to steady himself. “We should do this as a fund-raiser at the theater one night. I can see it now, ‘OSF and Ashland take you on a world tasting tour.’”

“That could be fun,” I replied. I wondered if Lance would even remember his brilliant idea in the morning. His paper crown was tilted on the top of his head, and his cheeks were flushed with color.

He clapped his hands together. “Everyone, I’ve just had the most brilliant idea. What if we re-create this magical evening back in Ashland? Carlos, what do you say, would you be up for a wine-tasting tour at OSF?”

Carlos looked at me. “If Julieta would like that, yes of course.”

“Julieta would
love
that.” Lance blew me an air kiss. “Right, Julieta?”

“We’ll have to talk about it,” I said.

“Talk! Who needs to talk?” Lance said to the board. “Let’s vote right now. Who wants to do a wine-tasting night like this in Ashland?”

Everyone raised their glasses and shouted yes, in unison.

Lance gave me a smug look. “There you have it, darling. We’ll figure out all the details in the morning. Ta-ta!”

I gave him a thumbs-up and headed to the kitchen.

Sterling was stacking clean plates in the cupboard. “What are you doing here? You’ve been gone for what, twenty minutes? Couldn’t handle being away that long?”

“No, not at all. I was looking forward to curling up on the couch in my sweats with a hot cup of tea, but there’s a small problem. My cabin doesn’t have any firewood.” I didn’t tell him about Dean. There was no need to worry him.

“I thought Gavin and Mercury restocked all the cabins earlier?”

“Me, too. But they missed mine. That’s why I’m here. You haven’t seen her by chance, have you? I checked the bar. She’s not there and I didn’t see her in the dining room, either.”

Sterling shook his head. “No. She hasn’t been in the kitchen all night. Maybe you can take some of the firewood out by the main fireplace. I think they’re on their last taste of port. Once they’re done tasting wine, everyone should head back to their own cabins, right?”

“Right. That’s a good idea. I don’t know where else Mercury would keep the wood, and I don’t really want to have to search around in the dark to try and find it.”

“Do it, and go get into your sweats,” Sterling commanded.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” I backed out of the kitchen.

Carlos was pouring the last of the port, and Lance was trying to rein in the raucous board members. I didn’t make eye contact with either of them while I loaded as much firewood and kindling as I could carry and headed for the door. I practically sprinted back to my cabin. I knew that Thomas had accompanied Dean, but I didn’t want to take any chances with another run-in.

My pathetic two-log fire had burned out. I dropped the kindling and firewood on the floor and started from scratch. This time I layered newspaper, kindling, and three smaller logs. It caught with the first strike of the match, and within a few minutes the fire was crackling and actually pumping heat into the cabin.

To celebrate my success, I filled the teakettle with water and set it on top of the woodstove. In addition to the terrible coffee I’d made this morning, the cabin also had a selection of teas and packets of hot chocolate, just like the variety we’d made for Lance’s guests this afternoon.

I opted for an herbal mint tea. While I waited for the water to boil, I made my way down the dark hallway and dug through my suitcase for a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. I opted for a Southern Oregon hoodie that Mom had given me. Too bad Sterling wasn’t here. He would appreciate that I owned a hoodie.

The cozy warm sweats felt soft on my skin. I padded back down the hall and curled up on the couch. It was mesmerizing to watch the flames on the candles and fireplace flicker against the reflection of the shadowy windows.

My encounter with Dean ran through my head. Why would he bring a hunting rifle to a retreat with theater people? And why would he be shooting it in the middle of the night? Could he have killed Tony? It was certainly a possibility, but there were two things that bothered me. First, did he have the physical strength, and second, what possible motive could he have?

The teakettle let out a low whistle. I pushed to my feet and removed it from the stove. With a steeping mug of mint tea in my hand, I curled back up under the blanket. There was one thing I was happy about, and that was the possibility that Thomas might shift some of his focus away from Carlos and onto Dean.

A knock sounded on the sliding glass door. I held the lantern up. Thomas stood with an armful of firewood. I set the tea on the coffee table and opened the door for him.

“What’s all this?”

“I heard that you needed more wood,” he said. “Where do you want this?”

“That’s so nice of you. You didn’t need to do that.”

“Already done.” He pretended to drop the wood. “Unless you want me to ditch it in the snow.”

“No, no, come in. You can put it by the fire. Thank you.”

Thomas stomped his boots. “Should I take these off?”

“No, it’s fine. Just come in. That looks heavy.”

“Please.” Thomas did a half curl-up with the stack of wood. “I used to be all-state in football, remember? This is nothing.” He stacked the wood next to the fireplace and flexed his muscles. Thomas and Carlos couldn’t be more opposite in appearance. Thomas, unlike some of his friends, had maintained his football physique. With his broad shoulders and sandy hair, he could blend in with Andy and his teammates at Southern Oregon University. Carlos, on the other hand, had a slender sculpted frame and a casual European sexiness that American men just didn’t have.

Why was I comparing them? What was wrong with me? “You want some tea?” I asked Thomas. “I just made myself a cup.”

“Sure. I won’t turn down an offer for a warm drink. It’s freezing out there.”

“What’s your pleasure?” I asked, showing him an assortment of teas.

“How about passion fruit. I’m a fan of passion.”

“Good to know.” I poured hot water into a mug and added Thomas’s tea bag. Was Sterling right? Was Thomas crossing a line?

“What did you find out from Dean?” I asked, bringing Thomas his tea. He stood in front of the woodstove warming his hands. I returned to my blanket on the couch.

“Not much. He did have a permit for the gun at least.”

“Have you ever heard of someone target shooting at night? I mean, is that even possible?”