Sea to Sky (8 page)

“You’re talking about the man you had the fight with last night? Just off the top of my head, from what I observed last night, I’d say he’s a man with narcissistic personality disorder, bordering on sociopathic. If he can’t attain what he believes he’s entitled to by working for it, he’ll find another way to get it, even if it means engaging in illegal or immoral activity. He lacks empathy, can be cruel, but is not necessarily prone to excessive violence, since he’s not much of a fighter.” She shrugged, a cold smile playing on her lips. “Sorry. I guess I should have used the past tense. Does that help?”

“And your client’s interest in him?”

“Who said my client was interested in him?” She tilted her head, looking him up and down. “Who‘s the woman?”

“Uh-unh.” His turn to smile.

“Okay, don’t tell me. Let me guess.” Her expression turned almost coy. “You and he were fighting over his ex.”

He didn’t change his expression.

“Ex what doesn’t really matter,” she continued. “Girlfriend, wife — aha! The ex-wife. I’ll bet it’s her.”

Hunter hid a smile. Without openly admitting it, she had just revealed that she was aware that Mike had an ex-wife and he would bet that she was also aware of the restraining order against him.

“My turn,” he said. “Your client. I doubt that it was anyone wanting information about Mike’s personal life. So … my guess would be either his employer or a prospective employer.” He tapped his lips with a forefinger. “Wait a minute … a prospective employer would be more likely to check references, talk to former employers, clients, co-workers. That wouldn’t take any kind of clandestine spy, now would it?”

The woman pressed her lips together, then lifted her chin and said, “Spy?”

“Would you prefer undercover operative?”

She laughed. “That sounds much more respectable.”

“So,” Hunter continued, “that would mean his current employer suspected him of something and wanted it confirmed. Am I right?”

She smiled and looked at the floor.

“DND and aerospace contracts worth millions of dollars,” he continued. “That would certainly make Blue Hills Industries a target for industrial espionage, wouldn’t it? Did Blue Hills executives suspect Mike Irwin of selling secrets?”

“All you’ll get from me is my name, rank and I don’t even have a serial number.”

Hunter scooped up his jacket from the floor and turned toward the door. His hand on the door handle, he turned and smiled at her.

“What’s your real name, Stella?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He knew it wouldn’t come.

Hunter ransomed his car from the underground lot. It was getting close to 10:30 and he wasn’t ready to return to Tom’s empty chalet for the night, so he decided to return to the Chateau Grande Montagne to see if Alora was still up. He didn’t see her in the lounge, and the restaurant was almost deserted, so he pulled out his cell phone.

There was a message. He had forgotten that he’d missed a call.

It was from Chris, his ex-wife. “I left a message on your home phone, but haven’t heard back so I assume you’re on the road again. That means you also didn’t get a message from Helen. Helen Marsh. She’s been trying to reach you, and I guess it’s urgent. It’s about her son, Adam. I said I’d try to get hold of you and give you her number.”

Hunter’s gut dropped. He hadn’t spoken to Helen for years, but that didn’t mean she didn’t cross his mind. Often. Chris had left Helen’s number, but it was a 403 number, which meant she was still in Alberta, which would make it an hour later. He decided to retrieve the messages from his home phone first.

It was the same silken voice he remembered, but there was no mistaking the anxiousness in its timbre.

“Hunter. It’s Helen Marsh. Are you there?” There was a pause, as if she were waiting for him to pick up the phone. “I know it’s been a long time, and I wouldn’t be bothering you but Adam, my son… Ken’s son. He’s gone missing. It’s not like him, Hunter. The police here in Calgary… they think he’s just a runaway. He’s never done anything like this before. Please, can you help? Call me just as soon as you get this.” She left her number.

Hunter stood for a moment, staring at his cell phone. Calgary was over six hundred miles away. What could he do from here?

Hunter found a quiet table in the lounge, with his back to the wall. He listened again to Helen’s message and noted her number down on the back of an old business card he found tucked behind the drivers license in his wallet. As the phone rang, he turned over the card. It was the one Alora had given him in L.A., with the name and number of her law firm.

“Adam? Is that you?” It was Helen’s voice.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Helen. It’s Hunter.”

“Oh, thank God!  I’m beside myself, Hunter! Adam’s gone missing.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time. I’m so happy to hear your voice. I heard about you and Chris. I’m sorry,” she said again.

Hunter caught himself on the verge of apologizing back to her about the death of her husband, his best friend. He’d done it over and over already, and it was old news now. There was no sense bringing it up. “I’ll do what I can to help find Adam. Tell me about it.”

“He’s been gone since Wednesday, hasn’t called, didn’t say goodbye.”

“Where was he on Wednesday? Was he at school?”

“Yes. I was at work, as usual. I do the books for a small restaurant chain. Ever since he turned twelve, either he goes to hang out with a friend after school or lets himself in at the townhouse until I get home from work.”

“You and he live alone?” Hunter was almost afraid to ask, but he needed to know.

“Yes, of course. Adam’s been my whole life since Ken… you know… he’s generally a good kid, but…” She paused.

“But?”

“Of course, Ken’s death — Adam’s been moody sometimes. Last fall he became friends with an older boy who failed a grade. His name’s Nathan LeBlanc. Adam started to change.”

Hunter had heard the same story repeatedly when he was on the force; good kids, bad crowd. He could almost guess the rest, but asked, “In what way?”

“He started being less respectful. He got his nose pierced, and a skull tattoo on his… My God, Hunter, he’s only fifteen! He’s too young to know what this could lead to. I can’t let his life go off the rails!”

“Did you have an argument?” He spoke gently, trying hard not to let it sound accusatory.

“Not you, too!”

“Helen, I have to know everything. What did you argue about?”

He heard her take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Of course you do.” She paused, then said, “Nathan told Adam he was quitting school. He said he was sick of the cold winters in Calgary and had friends who lived in Vancouver. He told Adam he should come, too.“ Another pause. “I grounded Adam on Tuesday night. I think he went with Nathan.”

“Have you talked to Nathan’s parents?”

“He lives with his grandmother, and yes. Nathan’s gone, too. I think Adam went with him to Vancouver. That’s why I called you.”

“Can you find out the names of the boy’s friends in Vancouver, where they live?”

“His grandmother doesn’t know.”

Hunter knew she would want him to go to Vancouver right away, and didn’t want to have to tell her that was impossible. “I’ll need photographs…” he began, and looked up to see Alora walking toward him with a big smile on her face. She wore skinny jeans and a plaid shirt with the top buttons undone, no coat or boots, so she must have come down from her hotel room.

“There you are!” she said as she approached the table. “Buy me a drink, handsome?”

Helen was just asking about where she could fax the photographs and stopped short, “Who’s that?”

Hunter held his hand up at Alora. “A friend,” he said into the phone.

“A girlfriend? Of course. I — I’m sorry. I should have thought. You can’t just drop everything for me.”

“It’s okay, Helen. Of course I’ll help in any way I can. It’s just that I’m not at home right now and it could be a day or two…”

“Yes. Yes, I see.” Her voice was more subdued. “I was thinking maybe I should go to Vancouver myself, anyway.”

“No. Don’t. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He was sure she wouldn’t even know where to start looking, and could put herself at risk. “You have to stay home where he can call you if he needs to, or in case he comes back.”

Alora had stood beside the table for a moment, looking confused, and now shrugged and started walking backwards, putting some distance between them. Hunter beckoned her to return.

He gave Helen his boss’s fax number and asked her to send photos of both Adam and Nathan, along with any other information she could get hold of, to Elspeth Watson at Watson Transportation. “I’ll call you as soon as I receive them,” he said.

“Thank you, Hunter. God, it’s good to hear your voice!” and she hung up.

“Did I interrupt something?” Alora seated herself across from Hunter just as a young man in a white shirt and black slacks arrived at the table to take their drinks order. She wondered who this Helen was, but asking outright would sound too much like a jealous girlfriend question.

Hunter closed his phone and put it in his jacket pocket, then took his jacket off and hung it on the back of his chair. “An old friend,” he said, “needs help finding a runaway teenager. Her son.”

“As if you need something else to worry about at the moment. Who is she?”

“Just a friend.” He looked her straight in the eye as he said it, and she took it as a warning to drop the subject. She couldn’t help thinking that ‘a friend’ was exactly what he’d said to his other ‘friend’ on the telephone about her. His expression softened, and he said, “How are you doing? Did the police search your hotel room?”

“That they did. They rummaged through all my luggage and left things strewn over the bed. It makes me feel violated, at least my privacy. I hope that Mounties keep their hands clean.” She said it with a wry face, but had felt embarrassed about strangers pawing through her underwear, not to mention the negligee she had purchased especially for the trip. She was beginning to wonder if she would even wear it. Hunter had been running hot and cold — make that lukewarm and cold — and she had no idea how he really felt about her.

“No gun?”

She detected the hint of a smile on his lips. “Not in my room. How about yours?”

His smile widened and he shook his head.

“I felt so creeped out by the search that I called the Coast Peaks to see if they still had my room. They did manage to find one for me, so I’m moving back there tomorrow.”

Just then the server arrived and set down their drinks, beer for him, red wine for her. They picked up their drinks and clinked glasses across the table. She was considering whether or not to say some variation of “to us” when he beat her to the toast.

“Here’s to a quick solution to Mike’s murder so we can get back to our own lives,” he said.

She put her glass down without taking a sip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. I’m not comfortable with being a murder suspect, are you?”

“But getting back to our own lives? Honestly, Hunter. Has anyone ever told you that you can be an insensitive jerk?” She lifted her chin up and looked away, then sighed heavily and picked up her wine. Now she did have an idea of how he really felt about her — or how little.

Hunter had hung his head. “Yes. My ex-wife used to say it all the time. I guess I have a way with words. A bad way.”  He smiled at her and shrugged apologetically. “I really didn’t mean it like that.”

Alora couldn’t help but think it was a Freudian slip. What the hell was the matter with her? Here she was practically throwing herself at a truck driver. She rolled the stem of her wineglass between her thumb and forefinger, turning it around and around on the smooth tabletop.

“I’m sorry,” he added.

“Sure.” She took a sip of wine. It was a Napa Valley merlot, and its rich warmth immediately brightened her mood. Mike was dead. She could stop hiding and go ahead with being an attractive young L.A. lawyer. Her future held infinite possibilities, a promise of freedom she hadn’t experienced since before Mike. “Did your Mountie friends tell you anything about Mike’s murder? They were definitely not open to answering any of my questions. I don’t even know how he was killed. Was it a gun?”

“They’re not sharing anything with me, either, but I believe that was what they were searching for.”

“Like we’d be stupid enough to bring the murder weapon back to our rooms.”

He looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed, a hint of a smile. “What would you have done with it?”

“Okay. Whoever did it had to have skis on, right? I don’t know whether he…”

“Or she…”

“Or she,” Alora paused, tilting her head, “could have jumped from the lift right after the murder or risked riding right to the top and just skied like stink out of there before anyone could get a good look at him. Or her.”

Hunter had leaned back in his chair and was watching her closely. When she hesitated, he said, “Go on.” She couldn’t help wondering if he really thought she had done it.