Sea to Sky (2 page)

Alora drew her breath in sharply and seemed to recoil. She raised her hand to the side of her face and leaned in toward Hunter’s shoulder. “I’ve got to go,” she said in a hurried whisper. “Come with me.” Her other hand fumbled along Hunter’s arm, and squeezed his wrist. “Please.”

Hunter nodded. He knew she’d had a good reason for changing her phone number last summer, and assumed it was a stalker, although he hadn’t asked her, hadn’t wanted to pry, and right now was not the time to ask. He glanced over at the watching woman and sensed that her attention, too, was focused on the man in the leather jacket. Hunter slapped a twenty on the table and got to his feet, standing between Alora and the man who seemed to scare her. He kept that position as they walked toward the entrance. She shrank into herself and kept her head down and turned away, her upper body frozen as if she were carrying a cup brimful of scalding tea. She almost walked right into a little girl, less than three years old, who stopped short and was bumped from behind by a boy a couple of years older.

“Alora? Is that you?”

Alora jerked upright and gasped. Behind the two children stood a woman of about sixty, with a confused frown on her face. She was a pleasant looking woman, well groomed and wearing a ski sweater, black pants and moccasin boots. There was an older man at her right elbow, with a strong, narrow face and a military hair cut, a look of surprise on his face. “We startled her,” he said, putting his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Hello, Alora.” Neither his voice nor his face held a smile. The two of them, husband and wife, were clearly not pleased to see her. The children looked up at the cluster of adults in confusion.

“Well, well. Look who’s here.”

Hunter heard the voice and felt the presence of the man behind him but didn’t turn around. He kept his hand on Alora’s elbow and could feel it start to tremble as she turned to face the voice. “Mike.” She nodded, her voice firmer than Hunter would have expected, then acknowledged the two older people in turn. “Beth. John.” She took a deep breath before saying, “Nice to see you”, which was obviously a lie.

“It’s been a long time,” the woman called Beth said. She smiled sadly and sighed. “I hope you’ve found what you were looking for,” she said, unable or unwilling to hide the bitterness in her voice, and bent to the children. “Let’s go find your mom,” she said, and led them into the restaurant. John, the older man, nodded to Alora and started to follow his wife.

Hunter stepped back so he could see the man Alora had addressed as Mike. The man tried to stare Alora down with an acerbic smile, but she wouldn’t look away. He didn’t even acknowledge Hunter’s presence. “Nice to meet you, Mike,” Hunter said, offering his hand, and Mike seemed to notice him for the first time. He sized Hunter up, eyes moving from his sheepskin jacket to his jeans and boots, but didn’t reach for his offered hand. Hunter noticed that the older man had stopped just behind Mike’s back and half turned around to watch.

“You fucking her?” said Mike, his eyes back on Alora.

Hunter felt heat rise up his neck and into his face. He usually had a long fuse, but men like Mike had a way of shortening it. “Say that again,” he said, low and even, “and I will knock your teeth down your throat.” That forced Mike to turn away from Alora and face Hunter.

The older man behind lifted his hand. “Mike,” he said. There was a note of warning in his voice.

“Not your business, Dad.” Then to Hunter, “You’re lucky my family’s here. Watch your back, cowboy.” The words smelled of alcohol. He nodded to Alora. “I’ll be seeing you,” he said. “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

Alora turned and began to walk away. “You hear me, bitch?” Mike raised his voice after her.

Hunter took a step toward him, but Mike’s father had grabbed Mike’s arm and yanked him around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

Mike shrugged off his father’s hand. “I said it’s not your business,” he said, took one last look at Alora’s retreating back, and sulked his way back to his table. Hunter and the older man watched as he yanked out his chair and sat down, waving off his wife’s questions, then grabbing the black apron of a passing waiter. His wife and his mother both looked uncomfortable, and both turned their attention to the two children, trying to act as if nothing was wrong.

The older man looked at Hunter and smiled apologetically. “Stress,” he said. “He has a stressful job.” He looked toward Alora, who stood waiting in the lobby for Hunter, and regarded her for a moment with a puzzled frown. “She left him, years ago. I guess he’s a little bitter about it.”

“I won’t make trouble unless he does,” said Hunter. He took one last look at the man in the leather jacket, nodded to the older man, and walked away.

“Thanks very much, Tom. I owe you,” said Hunter into the phone in Alora’s hotel room, then turned to Alora. She had been pacing between the window and the bed, rubbing her hands together with a soft swishing sound. As Hunter dropped the phone in its cradle, she stood still and inhaled deeply. “He says they’ve had a cancellation and he’s had them save the room for you. Not much of a view from that room, he says, but I’m sure you’ll feel more at ease.”

“Thank God!” She exhaled and managed a smile. “If I’d had to stay here and risk running into Mike every time I left my room, I probably would’ve left Whistler on the next bus.” She shook her head and shivered, as if she’d tasted something foul.

“How long before you’re ready to go?” Hunter asked. “I’ll go get my car.”

“No!” She grabbed for his arm as he turned toward the door. She seemed embarrassed, and hurried to add, “I’ll just be a minute. I’m not scared, really. At least, I shouldn’t be. I can’t imagine he’d try anything with his mom and dad here, not to mention his wife and kids. Poor woman. Did you see her?”

Hunter smiled sadly, nodding.

“And I sure feel much safer with you around.” She pulled a suitcase from out of the closet and opened it on the bed. “You’re staying at that hotel too, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m actually sleeping in Tom’s spare room. He just lives a few miles away. Tom’s an old friend of mine from the RCMP, retired like me but he got hired on as head of security for the Chateau Grande Montagne here.” Hunter smiled. Thomas Halsey and he had worked together on a number of cases. They’d spent more than a few evenings, along with Hunter’s best friend Ken, buying each other drinks and talking shop — shop and life and the pain of life — until after midnight, losing track of time until one of them looked at his watch and they all realized they were in trouble with their wives. Tom was the lucky one. He still had his wife. Or his wife still had him.  “He loves to ski. Working at a Whistler hotel is his dream job.”

“And you’re a trucker,” she said. She was taking items from the closet and folding them to fit into the suitcase, but paused to face him. “Is that your dream job? Why aren’t you working at a fancy hotel in a nice resort?”

He shrugged. “I’m not the fancy hotel type,” he said with a wry smile. He had walked out on his dream job five years ago, never really thinking of what he was going to do after that, what his life was going to be like after leaving the RCMP. After his resignation, Hunter had the urge to go for a long solitary drive. He shared a table with a driver at a truck stop restaurant where he’d stopped for coffee. The driver was giving up life on the road and selling his truck. You have to like being alone, he’d told Hunter. The rest was history. “And I guess I’m restless. Just the thought of staying in one place all day makes me feel caged up. Driving from place to place, a change of scene and weather from day to day, it suits me just fine.”

“Did you split up with your wife before or after your career change?” She threw the question over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Hunter winced. One personal question always led to another and he didn’t like to talk about himself. “Before,” he said.  To forestall more discussion of his own past, he turned the tables. “So tell me about you and Mike.”

She came back into the room carrying a soft-sided case with zebra stripes and a small white hair dryer. “I was young and horny, he was charming and sexy, the usual story.” She tucked the dryer into her suitcase and zipped up the zebra case, dropping it into a large leather satchel.  “It was all roses and champagne until we got married, then it was like he figured he’d bought himself a woman and had the receipt to prove it. He didn’t want me seeing my friends or even my family, gave me the third degree every time I walked in the door: who did I see, what did I do, why was I eight minutes late. He hit me once — just once, I’m proud to say — and I had the good sense to know that if I stayed, it wouldn’t be the last time.” She zipped up her suitcase and then surveyed the room, looking for items she might have missed. “I walked out on him, left in the middle of the day while he was at work, with the help of a good friend. I took my dishes and books and every scrap of clothing out of there.” She picked up her satchel and Hunter grabbed her suitcase. “Was he pissed!”

“Has he threatened you?”

She waved her free hand in front of her face. “I’ve lost count. The first time he found me, I was at work. I was a teacher, for God’s sake, in front of a class of twelve-year-olds. Didn’t faze him a bit. Came up to my desk and grabbed me by the hair like a caveman. One of the kids ran to get the principal, the principal called security, and I got a restraining order, but I also got the boot from my job. Too risky for the kids, they said.” They walked out into the hall, the door closing behind them with a soft click.

“I’m sorry …” he started to say but she waved him off.

“I didn’t like teaching anyway. I do like law.”

Hunter pushed the down button and they watched the little light above the elevator start to move. “He’s like a recurring nightmare,” Alora continued. “I was glad to hear he’d married. With another woman in his life I thought he’d lose his obsession with me, but it doesn’t look that way. He found me last summer, I guess you figured that out. I had to change my phone number. Thank God he at least respected the new restraining order and hasn’t bothered me at work. I guess he’s mellowed, at least a little.” The elevator opened, a small Asian couple moved their wheelie bags to make room for them, and they stepped inside. Alora frowned. “Does a restraining order from Los Angeles have any effect here in Canada?” she asked.

“Don’t worry,” said Hunter. He picked up both the suitcase and the satchel as the elevator doors slid open. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.” He wasn’t sure he could do that, but he would certainly try. First he had to get her settled into the Chateau Grande Montagne. Then he would get Tom Halsey to make sure her room number wasn’t released to anyone making inquiries about her. He would do a little unofficial investigating about Mike and the reason why he was here, see if he could establish some kind of schedule for the man, so he could make sure Alora didn’t run into him anywhere. Tom had said he’d do what he could to help, and that he knew the head of security for the Coast Peaks Hotel. An introduction from Tom would make things easier.

“I can bring the car around while you check out,” said Hunter. He nodded toward the lobby doors. The outside lights illuminated specks of snow swirling against the night sky. Alora looked around the lobby, then peered in the direction of the restaurant. From the lobby, only the restaurant’s reception area and part of the mahogany bar could be seen. There was no sign of Mike. Hunter could tell she was nervous, although he was sure she was safe here in the lobby. “Or if you don’t mind the snow…”

“I don’t mind the snow,” she said. “After all, that’s why I’m here. No snow in L.A., remember?”

He nodded. “Okay,” he said. He looked at her boots, then showed her his own. “You’ll have to hold me upright, anyway. These boots aren’t made for walkin’ at Whistler, that’s for sure.”

Hunter strolled over to the restaurant entrance while Alora took care of business at the hotel desk. He could see the table where Alora’s ex and his family sat, all busy with the food in front of them. As if he could feel Hunter’s eyes on him, Mike glanced toward the door. His father followed his glance and they both stared at Hunter, who smiled slightly and nodded, then turned his gaze toward the watching woman at the corner table. She was still there, and she, too, had her eyes on Hunter, but quickly lowered them to her book. Who was she watching? he wondered. And why?

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    TWO

Meredith Travis watched her target leave the restaurant with his family. It was eight o’clock, and she could tell that the kids needed putting to bed. Both of them had been rubbing their eyes and pouting, whining a little and fighting with each other. The two women had them by the hands, gently pulling them out into the lobby ahead of the men. Meredith was sure that her target habitually abused his wife, emotionally if not physically. Although she smiled and laughed and appeared to carry her share of the dinner conversation competently, she had a sad, resigned air about her, no challenge in her facial expressions, as if she had been defeated in battle, a prisoner of war. No surprise. If her target had been stupid enough to antagonize a man as powerful as her client, he was stupid enough to mistreat women. Meredith sympathized with her. She hoped that what she had been hired to do would ultimately help the poor woman.

It had been a long day of travel. For some reason, she‘d been unable to sleep on the morning’s flight as she’d intended to, so Meredith was already tired, but she knew she couldn’t retire to her room. Not now, and not until midnight or maybe later. She would have to keep watch for her target in case he left his room, see what he was doing, who he was talking to, drinking with, spending any time at all with. In the space of a few days, she would get to know him better than anyone else knew him in the present, even, she liked to think, his wife or his parents. For their own peace of mind, his family needed to see more good in him than bad, but she had no such weakness. She put her powers of observation, research skills, and psychology degree to work in concert to accomplish her assigned task and satisfy her client. This was her bread and butter, but it was also her passion, her art. She knew she was good at it, one of the best. She would not only have a complete picture of his current behavior, she would be able to predict his future behavior. She wished it was something that she could write about, or film, or somehow get recognition for, but to keep doing her job she had to remain discreet.

Meredith didn’t wait for the server to bring her bill, but tucked the book she’d used as a prop into a capacious bag she pulled from under her chair, gathered up her coat and went to the restaurant reception desk where she could keep uninterrupted watch on the lobby in case the target didn’t take the elevator with his family. Based on the confrontation she’d witnessed between her target and the man in the sheepskin jacket, she knew he was a dominant, aggressive male. Not the kind to tuck himself in with his wife and kids early in the evening. He’d also knocked back several mixed drinks during dinner. The conference he was attending wasn’t due to start until Monday, but like some others she’d seen arriving, he had opted to come early and spend the weekend enjoying the resort. She gathered he was a skier, and was looking forward to shadowing him on the slopes. That would be challenging. If she had any luck, he would be a good skier. Meredith loved to ski. Another thing she was good at.

“Should we charge this to your room, Miss …?” asked the server. 

“Clark. Stella Clark,” she said, shaking her head. She held out an American twenty, along with a five. “You take American dollars?”

“Of course.”

“Keep the change,” she said. The change was an average size tip, not too little, not too large. The less everyone noticed her, the better. She usually liked to pick an occupation that gave her an excuse for poking around: photojournalist was the one she liked the best. Travel writer would work well for Whistler, or sports magazine writer. Even a women’s magazine might like an article on life at the resort. However, she needed to stay close to her target, which meant a cover that allowed her to attend the conference he was here for.

She was registered at the conference as Stella Clark, Senior Purchasing Agent for a brand new company called Tamblyn-Brown Manufacturing, headquartered in North Carolina. She’d begun work on her cover story as soon as the client’s retainer check had cleared. The world of purchasing agents and managers, or supply professionals, was relatively large, but she didn’t want to take any chances of sitting beside anyone who might blow her cover by recognizing it as either a real or a fake company, or a real or fake address. A startup company that was still seeking a building site was the best option, and a certain air of secrecy would be understood. She picked a relatively common product: decorative light fixtures. She wasn’t looking forward to sitting through hours of seminars and speeches, but she was looking forward to acting the part. She settled into an armchair with a view of the hotel and parking elevators, as well as the hotel exit, pulled a copy of Purchasing magazine out of her bag, and tucked the bag out of sight under the chair.

Less than fifteen minutes after the target and his family had left the restaurant, Meredith watched him exit the elevator, cell phone to his ear. He hailed a bellman. “How far is it to the Grand Mountain? Can I walk?”

“You mean the Chateau Grand Montagne?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

When the bellman told him it was about a twenty minute walk, he glanced out at the swirling snow and said, “Get me a cab, would you.”  Into the phone he said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” and flipped it shut.

Meredith made her way toward the restaurant entrance, putting two chatting couples between herself and the target. She watched from there until his cab pulled away, then walked as casually as she could over to the bellman and asked for a cab for herself. She pulled on her coat, dark side out, and slipped into the shadows to wait for the cab to arrive. By the time the cab pulled up, she had her hair tucked into a black fleece beret and was wearing oversized glasses with dark frames. The cab had to wait briefly for a car to unload in front of the hotel, so Meredith sank into the back seat and took advantage of the hotel lights to study her reflection in a compact and apply some red lipstick. Her Bohemian look. Plain Jane to bored cosmopolitan in under a minute.

It took only minutes to reach the other hotel, passing lighted chalets and dark stands of tall evergreens, all glimpsed between a swirling veil of weightless white dots. She didn’t waste any time getting inside the hotel, but as she feared, the target had already left the lobby. The lounge was her first stop, and she lucked out. He was sitting with two men near a large four-sided fireplace, and the server had just set down a double whiskey, then a small decanter of water, in front of him. One of his companions, a dark-haired man in a navy cable-knit sweater, was drinking beer, a Stella Artois. The other man had a dark complexion and neatly combed grey hair. He wore a beige cardigan with buttons that gaped across his belly. Whatever he was drinking was mixed with Coke.

The lounge was spacious and high-ceilinged, with subdued lighting and a glossy black Steinway grand in the corner opposite an immense bar of polished granite with a black iron foot rail. A female pianist wearing a green satin blouse was playing a jazz piece that Meredith didn’t recognize. Meredith spotted an empty chair by the darkened window; close enough for her to hear the conversation, but behind the target so she wouldn’t be noticed. Perfect. She breezed past the target’s table with her face turned away, toward the bar, but before she had time to sit down, the target turned in her direction and shouted, “Hey!”

Meredith didn’t miss a beat. There was no reason for him to recognize her, so she glanced at him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, then followed his gaze to a table in the shadows just behind her. A man sat there opposite a blonde wearing designer jeans and a short leather jacket the color of butter that probably cost as much as a flight on the Concord. A bottle of wine, the neck wrapped in a white napkin, chilled in a bucket on their table and there was half a glass in front of each of them. She couldn’t see the blonde’s face, but the man was good looking, even by Meredith’s standards, with an air of “just off the slopes”: tousled hair, a five o’clock shadow and a ski sweater that showed off his broad shoulders. He didn’t look happy to see Mike Irwin.

“Brent, you son of a bitch!” yelled her target, a hostile tone to what for some might be considered a jovial greeting.

Meredith turned her face toward the window, but watched the couple behind her out of the corner of her eye. The blond twisted toward the voice for just an instant, just long enough for Meredith to see that she was about half the age of her companion, her face very pretty and tastefully made up. Then she, too, turned her head toward the window, raising a hand to the side of her face as if to keep from being recognized. The man called Brent set his jaw but didn’t acknowledge Irwin.

“Don’t ignore me, you prick.” Irwin threw back his chair and stood up, glaring at Brent. His companions looked at one another, obviously uncomfortable, and Irwin seemed suddenly aware of their presence. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I’ll catch you later,” he said, then with a malignant smirk, “after your Viagra wears off.”

The man with the highball laughed coarsely and raised his glass. “Good one, Mike. He’s with Phoenix in Riverside, isn’t he? Carruthers. Hand tools?”

“Used to be,” said Irwin. “Got his ass booted out of there for screwing the boss’s daughter. Looks like he hasn’t learned his lesson.”

“He and Mike worked together there,” added the man in the navy sweater. “Isn’t that right, Mike?”

“Fuck him,” said Irwin. He picked up his whiskey and drained the glass, then looked over to where the server stood at the bar, but the server was facing the bartender. Irwin watched him for a moment, his hand half raised to beckon him over, but the server didn’t turn around. “I’ll go get us another round,” he said, pushing his chair back.

Meredith could hear the couple behind her whispering. “Go now,” the man was saying, urgency in his voice. “I’ll see you back at the hotel.” The young blonde swept past Meredith leaving a faint wake of floral perfume and moved swiftly and soundlessly across the lounge, but Irwin intercepted her on his way back from the bar, stepping quickly to stand in her way.

“Too late, sweetheart. I know who you are.” She brushed past him and he called out to her back, “… and I know who your daddy is. In fact, I’ll be talking to him on Monday.” He laughed, as he sat back down at the table. “Carruthers is fucked,” he said. “Second job in a row he’s started banging the boss’s daughter. What was he thinking?” He turned around and tossed the same line over his shoulder at the man seated behind Meredith. “What were you thinking, Brent? You’re fucked.”

The man in the navy sweater hoisted his glass in the direction of Brent Carruthers. “What’s your secret, pal? My boss’s daughter looks right through me every time she stops by the plant.” He gave an awkward laugh and lowered his voice so Meredith could barely hear. “Hot young chick like that, might be worth it, don’t you think?”

“No woman is worth losing your job over,” said Irwin, dismissing his companion with a shake of his head. 

Meredith heard Carruthers pull the bottle out of the ice bucket and refill his glass. She permitted herself a faint smile as she studied the menu. Carruthers was obviously a bigger man than her target, not rising to the bait. For some reason, she thought of the expression, “Don’t get mad, get even,” and she wondered what Carruthers could do for payback if Irwin followed through with his threat.

Irwin’s table had settled into sports talk. She couldn’t afford to tune it out, but it took an effort of concentration to follow what they were saying. She caught herself staring out the window and thinking about her plans for the next day when she heard Irwin raise his voice, “Well, well, well. Can’t get enough of me, can you, monkey?”

She glanced toward him and saw the couple from the restaurant at Coast Peaks Hotel standing just inside the entrance, the woman searching her companion’s face. The man in the sheepskin jacket and cowboy boots nodded and guided her past the long bar to a table against the wall on the far side of the room, far from Irwin’s table. Irwin’s eyes followed them. The man pulled out the chair facing the wall for his companion to sit down, and then slid into the seat across from her, with his back to the wall. While she shrugged off her jacket, he sat stone faced, his eyes fixed on Meredith’s target.

Meredith shivered involuntarily. His stare was intense and somehow threatening. Irwin must have felt it, too, for she noticed he had looked away, but seemed agitated. Meredith looked back toward the far table and felt a little shock go through her. The man in the sheepskin jacket was now looking right at her. He nodded once with a crooked smile.

He’d recognized her. Damn.

“I can’t believe he’s here, of all the places in Whistler he could have gone to meet his cronies.” She snorted softly with a wry smile. “Just my luck, I guess. Great vacation.”

“He can’t hurt you here,” Hunter said, picking up the little leather folder that stood open in the center of the table. “You can take away his power over you by not letting him scare you. Right here, right now, you’re safe.”

Alora closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then her shoulders relaxed and she settled back into her chair. “You’re right. I can’t let him spoil my evening.”

“What’ll you have?” Hunter checked out the drink menu, flipping through several pages of wines and cognacs. “Still want that dirty martini?” He thought that carrying on as if everything was normal would take her mind off of her ex-husband and allow her to ignore him. It seemed, though, that she needed to talk about it.