Donuts and Danger, page 11
“I'm not an angel,” Collin promised. “But I am tired. I do need to rest for a minute.”
“Rest until morning light, and then we'll see what happens,” Claude ordered. “I'm not going to let you go back out into the cold. End of story.”
“End of story.” Samantha held onto Collin's arm even tighter. “You're staying here.”
Collin didn't object. While he was a tough woodsman, he wasn't invincible to the cold and snow. “Alright.”
Sarah checked the front door and then listened to the howling winds raging outside. “If we're cold and tired, so are our enemies. I think everyone will stay inside for now. We'll wait until morning to go back out. We'll leave out right before morning light breaks and use the darkness to our advantage.”
Bethany had no problem with Sarah's plan. She slowly slumped down against the north wall of the cabin and rested. “Avalanches, wolves, crawling through attics, dropping from windows, and I think Uncle Riley is crazy. My mother would have me admitted to a mental hospital.”
Amanda plopped down next to Bethany. “Welcome to Alaska,” she teased and then nudged Bethany's shoulder. “Good thing you have me, now. Uh, mind if we barter over your snack bar?”
Sarah rolled her eyes and then found a place to sit down. “Who wants to pull first watch?”
“I will,” Collin volunteered. “I'm used to going without sleep.”
“I'll stay up with Collin,” Julie added. “We'll watch in pairs.”
“Works for me.” Claude and Samantha found a place on the floor, leaned against each other, and rested. A few minutes later, two heavy snores hit the cold air.
“Bless their souls,” Amanda whispered.
“Yes, I know,” Bethany whispered back. “They've been so brave. The sad thing is Claude is still kicking himself for breaking the Snow Cat you and Sarah arrived in. He and Sam are saving up for a new one. All the poor man wanted to do was have some fun and have a good time.”
“A new Snow Cat, huh?” Amanda soaked in Bethany's words and then grew silent as her mind drifted off.
The cabin grew silent. Bethany slowly allowed her eyes to close, knowing that Sarah was doing the same. Julie and Collin found a place to rest and sat down next to each other. Bethany thought, I don't know who the mystery woman is, but whoever she is, come morning I'm sure we're going to find out, because come morning, James Wilson and Nathan Porston are going to be out searching for us.
Chapter Fourteen
James stormed around an empty guest room and then made his way back downstairs into the front room of the lobby. Nathan could be anywhere. They have him, or do they? Is Nathan dead, stuffed in a closet somewhere? Has my prey managed to find the missing money and leave? Is the game over? Countless questions ran through James's worried mind as the dimming sunlight came in through the windows of the front lodge. He hurried back into the back office and grabbed a crossbow that had a powerful hunting scope attached to it. “I'll check the storm, search the cabins, the snowmobiles. Yes. That's what I'll do. It's not likely anyone is hiding upstairs. They could be after the money.”
Even though James had worked as a corrupt cop, he still carried solid, skilled training under his belt. James Wilson wasn't an inadequate fool. Or was he? Had James completely underestimated Sarah Spencer and her friends? The hard answer to his question was yes. “If Sarah Spencer isn't the reason for Nathan's disappearance, someone else is. I—” James stopped speaking into thin air and fought to calm his mind. He was the type of man who prided himself on his high intelligence that could work through any dire situation. “Nathan was right, this is all Linda's fault. I should have killed her sooner rather than later.”
Upstairs, Nathan Porston let out a moan. Rose bent down and flashed a bright pen light into the man's face and waited. When Nathan's eyes fluttered open, Rose bent down even lower. “If you speak, if you say one word, you will die,” she warned, speaking in a low, threatening voice.
Nathan only saw darkness at first. After a few minutes passed, the darkness cleared just enough for his eyes to make out a dark shadow bending down over his body. He tried to move his arms but quickly realized that his wrists were handcuffed together. “Who… Who are you?”
“Rose Arnold,” Rose answered, keeping her voice low. “Does my name sound familiar, Mr. Porston?”
“Rose Arnold…” Nathan struggled to keep his eyes open. The back of his head was screaming out in pain. “The woman who worked at the bank?”
“The woman you tried to kill,” Rose corrected Nathan. “And why? Because I was trying to find out if you were my father. As it turns out, James Wilson is my father, right? Don't lie to me.”
“I…” Nathan could barely force his eyes to remain open as he stared up at a dark shadow. “Ms. Arnold, what is this all about?” he asked, dropping into victim mode.
“You tried to kill me, either you or James Wilson. I intend to find out why,” Rose demanded. “All I was trying to do was locate my father.”
“You, Ms. Arnold, you are an FBI agent?”
“I was,” Rose responded harshly. “I was an FBI agent. I'm no longer working for the Bureau. Let's just say that after it was found out that I was after James Wilson, certain people inside the Bureau wanted me dead. James Wilson has been on the radar of some very dangerous men for quite some time. Of course, James Wilson isn't his real name, is it?”
Fear and panic—the usual reactions when a person was pressed down into a pit of uncertainty—began screaming in Nathan's mind. Rose Arnold was supposed to be dead. Rose Arnold was supposed to be under the ocean with the sharks. If Nathan remembered correctly, his brother had drugged the woman and dropped her body off into shark-ridden waters ten miles off the coast of southern California. How was Rose alive? “How are you here?”
“Let's just say I'm a very good swimmer,” Rose answered, keeping her voice low. “And let's just say that a very nice man and woman who were on their honeymoon spotted me in the water and pulled me into their sailboat, saving my life.”
“Ms. Arnold, I had nothing to do—”
“Then why didn't you report my death to the police? Please, don't go that route.” Rose's voice turned bitter and hard. “James Wilson is my father, isn't he?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Nathan answered. And the truth of the matter was, Nathan didn't know what Rose was talking about. Did James have a daughter? It was possible. James never talked about his personal life to anyone. “I'm speaking the truth.”
Rose lowered her face even closer to Nathan’s. “James Wilson killed my mother. His DNA matched blood samples taken from my mother's body. That's why he fled London, escaped to Los Angeles, changed his name, and vanished. But I found him. I found Lionel Wallace, or should I say, I found James Wilson. Lionel Wallace is officially marked as dead.”
“Ms. Arnold—”
“It took me a lifetime, but I discovered the truth. All I want is a confession.” Rose knew James was her biological father. The only problem was, the evidence she had managed to gather supporting her theory was feeble at best. Yes, she had clear and direct evidence supporting her claim that James had murdered an innocent woman who had just given birth to a sweet baby girl. A lifelong journey filled with joy and love had been cut short by the edge of a sharp knife. Once someone—namely Nathan Porston—confessed that James Wilson was indeed her father, she would kill the man. “I should kill James Wilson right now. I know he killed my mother.” The end for James Wilson had arrived.
Yes. All Rose wanted was a confession. One simple confession. She wanted to know why James Wilson, a man who was supposed to be her father, destroyed two innocent lives. She wanted answers before putting a bullet into the man. While Rose didn’t think of herself as a killer, she still had to put James Wilson into his grave.
“I don't know—”
“But you know twenty million dollars in stolen bank money is missing, right?” Rose asked. Nathan tensed up. “Let me put it this way,” Rose whispered, “a man named Edward Kriech buried the stolen bank money on this mountain. I have the map. Before you ask, I've had every word James Wilson has spoken for the last year recorded and hidden away. I tapped everyone he came into contact with. I know all about the bank robbery. And trust me, Mr. Porston, I have some very interesting conversations between James Wilson and Linda Porston that will make your blood turn cold.”
“I, Ms. Arnold—”
“If you help me, I'll turn the money over to you. You can take the money and vanish. All I need is a confession,” Rose insisted.
“But I don't know,” Nathan nearly cried. “That's the truth and…” Nathan immediately kicked himself. Rose had opened the perfect door for escape, and he’d slammed the door shut. Stupid! Or was he being stupid? Maybe Rose wanted him to confess and then she would kill him? Nathan didn't know.
Rose clenched her teeth and then backed down. Nathan was telling the truth, or was he? There was only one way to find out—the hard way. Rose slid back to a black bag sitting on the floor. With two steady hands, she unzipped the bag and fished out a cold syringe. “Mr. Porston, this is what we call a truth serum. We're about to see if you're telling the truth or not.”
“No…” Before Nathan could plead for his life, Rose injected the serum into the side of his neck and waited.
As Rose waited for the serum to take effect, James moved outside into the storm carrying his crossbow in his left hand and a loaded gun in his right hand. A pair of night vision goggles allowed him to see through the darkness. James turned toward the row of empty cabins that sat north of the lodge, walking through snow that was growing deeper by the minute. The storm was getting worse. James knew he was properly dressed against the weather, but properly dressed or not, the winds were hungry and sharp, cruel and soulless. In a matter of minutes, James knew the winds would begin cutting through his clothing like little sharp razors slicing through a warm blanket. He had to hurry.
James reached the first cabin, found a ton of snow piled up against the door, and then scanned the storm. No one was in sight. The row of cabins stretched out like a long black line. James stared down the line with uncertain eyes as the winds howled and screamed at him, blowing blinding snow into his vision. “They have to be somewhere. They were too tired to leave the resort. The Stewarts were far too exhausted. It's not likely they stayed in the main lodge, and they might be after the money.”
In life, criminals always believe they are smarter than the cops—and in some rare cases, a criminal was able to commit a crime, outsmart the cops, and escape without a trace. But, in life, criminals were real people, flesh and blood, who were imperfect and susceptible to mistakes and miscalculations. Yes. Criminals got hungry, grew tired, needed water and sleep, felt all the varying emotions throughout life's journey. James Wilson was a prisoner to that truth. He wasn't perfect, nor the cleverest man who had ever lived, even though James considered himself above average. In reality, James had a bad habit of acting without thinking—only to cover his errors later on once he was pushed into a corner. Of course, James carried himself in a distinguished manner at all times. But when the shovel met hard snow, even a man like James succumbed to simple, raw, human confusion, anger, and desperation.
James stared at the long row of dark cabins. Why would Sarah and her gang hide out in such an obvious location? Were they armed? Most likely Sarah now had Nathan's weapon. James was certain he had managed to disarm Sarah and her friends before taking them upstairs to the guest room. Of course, if James had been smart, he would have checked them for hidden weapons—but that would have meant getting close enough to be attacked, and six against two were not good odds. “They're not in the cabins. I need to go check the snowmobiles.”
Ditching his intent to check a row of empty cabins, James turned west and hurried into the storm to check on two hidden snowmobiles. As he did, Rose began working on Nathan.
“Is James Wilson my father?” she asked in a stern voice.
A groggy, drug-induced Nathan Porston could only stare up at Rose, lost in a world of blurry darkness that felt strange and alien, a world where he had lost self-control, a terrifying world. “I don't know,” he answered, slurring over his words like a drunk.
“Is—” Rose began to demand but stopped when Nathan's body suddenly let out a violent jerk and then went limp. “No, no!” Rose threw herself down over Nathan's body. Nathan stopped breathing. “He's gone into cardiac arrest.” One of the dangerous side effects of the serum Rose had injected into Nathan was the risk of a heart attack. The serum caused the heart to race at a dangerous pace—it was a risk Rose had been willing to take.
Instead of trying to save Nathan, Rose backed away, stood up, and brushed off her knees. “You were telling the truth, Mr. Porston. Now you can join your daughter.” Rose quickly removed a black ski mask with a quick hand, revealing a face that was extraordinary in beauty and intelligence. But unlike Linda Porston or any other beautiful yet manipulative woman, Rose carried a conscience inside of her heart that created a moral compass for her to follow. The world only saw a blonde beauty through eyes that were shallow and cheap. Rose saw a woman who fought her way through life with sharp claws and clever formulas. Even though Rose felt her heart’s desire to turn dark and deadly, she kept fighting the good fight, staying on the side of the good guys, until the so-called good guys had turned on her. “Enough of this. I can't wait any longer. James Wilson has to die. I wanted to know the truth, but I think I know, I just needed to hear the words.”
Rose drew in a few deep breaths of cold air and then put back on her ski mask. It was time to track James Wilson down and kill him. Only, perhaps Rose would make the monster himself confess to the truth first? She worried that James would speak lies to save his miserable life, but time was running out. She wanted a confession, and she wanted James Wilson dead. “I'll take the stolen bank money and vanish after I kill James Wilson, or should I say, Lionel Wallace.”
James had no clue that Rose Arnold was coming for him. He struggled down a narrow path lined with deep snow—a path that stretched a good half mile southwest of the resort—and found his way to two hidden snowmobiles that were sitting under white tarps tied down with heavy rope. He moved one tarp and checked a white and blue snowmobile. The machine seemed in order, yet something seemed off. What was it? At first James didn't know. Then he looked down at a black leather seat. The blowing snow was creeping under the tarps, accumulating on the vehicles’ seats. The seat of the second snowmobile had at least a foot of snow resting on it, but the snow on the seat in front of him had been disturbed.
Someone has been here…
James threw down his crossbow and yanked a key out of his coat pocket as quickly as possible and tried to bring his snowmobile to life. The snowmobile didn't even let out a cold sputter.
“No!”
The second snowmobile offered the same response. James kicked the machine and then snatched up his crossbow. “They've been here, and they disabled the snowmobiles. Now I'm on foot. This storm will kill me. I have to get back to the lodge, I need to think.”
James hurried back into the storm, footing it back toward the lodge. While James hurried away, Rose checked the downstairs area of the lodge, found all the rooms empty, and then located melted snow near the front entrance. “You went into the storm, perfect. I'll see you soon,” Rose whispered as she checked a deadly gun resting in her right hand. “I'll see you real soon.”
Chapter Fifteen
“It'll be light soon,” Collin whispered to Julie. “We—”
Before Collin could finish his sentence, the front door to the cabin burst open. The lock attached to the front door wasn't strong enough to fight against a heavy body being thrown against the door at full force. James Wilson crashed through the front door and landed face down on the floor.
“Don't move!” Rose yelled, appearing in the doorway like a flash of lightning.
Sarah was awake, but before she could react, Rose kicked the front door closed. “I'm not here to hurt anyone,” Rose called out as Claude and Samantha jerked awake. Amanda and Bethany, like Sarah, were already awake. “I'm not your enemy, he is!” Rose kicked James in the side.
“Please!” James begged for his life in a voice that clearly told Bethany and Sarah that the man had been badly beaten.
“Shut up!” Rose lost her cool. “This man killed my mother, Detective Spencer.” She focused her attention directly on Sarah. “I have his confession on tape. I want you to make sure he rots in prison. Death is too good for him.”
Bethany watched a shadowy figure lower her right hand—a hand that was holding a gun. What is going on? Who is this woman?
“Who are you?” Bethany asked.
“Who I am isn't important. Who James Wilson is, is very important.” Rose kicked James again. “Nathan Porston is dead. He had a heart attack while I was questioning him. I injected him with a serum that is designed to make people talk. The serum caused him to go into cardiac arrest. I take full responsibility for that, but I doubt anyone will hire a team of bounty hunters to hunt me down over the man's death.”
“Please,” James begged again, spitting blood from a badly split lip out of his mouth. Rose had really given him a good old-fashioned butt-whooping. And why not? Sometimes it was healthy for a woman to vent with her fist.
“Detective Spencer, I could have killed this man, but I didn't. I have clear evidence that he killed my mother. The evidence is in the room holding the body of Nathan Porston.”
Rose spoke in a way that only a trained cop could. Sarah and Bethany recognized that fact immediately. “Alright,” Sarah spoke in a calm voice.
“Make sure this man rots,” Rose ordered Sarah and prepared to leave.
“Will you be taking the stolen bank money?” Sarah asked.
Rose paused. She was wearing a pair of night vision goggles that allowed her to see everyone as clear as day. Seven people, two men and five women, were all nestled together in a tight room with their hands down. If anyone moved, Rose knew she could gun that person down in a second. “Yes,” she offered an honest answer. “I didn't get what I came for, that man isn't my father. I truly, deep down in the pit of my heart, thought he was.”
