Deadly Fate (Krewe of Hunters #19)(43)

And most important...

There was Clara Avery.

They reached the Hawthorne. They stepped out of the car and hurried into the old hotel. It had been built in 1905 by an Emile Hawthorne, an old New Englander who had come to Alaska to work on the railroad line right after Seward had been founded. Hawthorne had fallen in love with the scenery—unbeatable almost anywhere, with the rugged mountains rising to one side and the glistening beauty of the waters of Resurrection Bay on the other.

While it didn’t offer much in the way of security, the Hawthorne did have charm. The lobby offered the comforts of an old lodge—worn leather sofas and chairs, a massive stone hearth and tables where guests could engage in chess, checkers, cards and other nonelectronic games.

It was only two stories tall and had thirty guest rooms, but the restaurant, off the lobby, served locals as well as lodgers and tourists.

Thor made straight for the restaurant.

The cop sent to watch over Clara was rigidly on duty, staying just inside the restaurant, right next to the giant stuffed grizzly that stood as if he were a ma?tre d’, ready to welcome patrons. Thor and Jackson nodded to him; he gave them a thumbs-up sign and pointed to a table in the middle of the room.

Jackson went to speak with the police officer.

Thor paused a moment, watching the table group.

Clara was smiling at something Ralph Martini was saying.

Her smile was infectious, he thought. She was young and beautiful, in her late twenties, he thought, lithe and toned. There was something natural about her, as well. Or maybe sincere was a better description; perhaps both words applied.

But, he knew then, it wasn’t really that at all. He felt something for her that he didn’t remember feeling; somehow, he’d lost the ability to let himself become involved years before. He wasn’t a fool or blind; she was lovely and arresting and the kind of woman to draw attention and desire without ever realizing the power of her appearance or character. Anyone would be attracted—like a moth to a pretty flame.

She wasn’t just good-looking. She was somehow personal now, as well.

He shouldn’t get personal; he knew that.

But he hadn’t really gotten personal with Mandy Brandt. Actually, it had never been a matter of attraction with Mandy—he had simply liked her. And admired her. Her life had been filled with tragedy. Her mother dead of cancer when she was about five, her dad in a car crash when she was eighteen, and her only brother had been killed in the armed forces. She had told him once, You can only cry so much before the soul is dead inside.

That was because Mandy had been so worried about her friend—but in a very matter-of-fact way. She’d never suspected that she herself was the one Tate Morley had been after.

He hoped that her soul was alive and well now; he liked to believe that she was in light and happiness somewhere.

Still trying to help...and that would be why she had entered their dreams.

Clara Avery looked up then and saw him. Something in her eyes changed; she was actually glad, he thought. Then again, she might have been glad to see her friend—Jackson Crow.

The others at the table turned to see him and Jackson arriving, as well.

He kept his voice low and level as he greeted them all. “Everything all right here?”

“Right as rain,” Ralph said, rising to greet him and Jackson. “Officer Friendly over there seems to be a great guy. He wouldn’t join us. Said he’s on duty and eating a burger takes two hands.”

“Ah, well, he’ll be off in a few minutes,” Thor said.

“I’ll grab you a chair,” Simon offered.

He was about to say that they should get going, but Jackson sat down at the table then and suggested that they should get something to eat quickly. “You know the staff around here?” Jackson asked him.

Thor grinned. “Yeah, I do.” He’d eaten at the Hawthorne often enough. He knew Ali Norman, the waitress serving the table, because he’d helped out when her son had been arrested for drugs, getting him into rehab instead of jail.

Ali was quick to see that he and Jackson were promptly served the house specialty—venison stew—and to assure him that her son Tyson was doing well, working, and even engaged to a girl he had met while doing community service.

Thor told her how glad he was.

“Anything new?” Simon asked anxiously when Ali was gone.

“I’m afraid not,” Thor told him.

“The cop goes when Clara goes, right?” Larry asked.

Thor nodded. “I’m afraid that law enforcement is being stretched thin here.”

“We’re good,” Ralph said. “The Fate has security. The ship is still undergoing some work before our appointed sailing time, but we’ve been told we’re welcome to take our cabins. Most of the crew is already aboard. We’re set to sail in less than a week.”

Thor wasn’t sure why that wasn’t a comforting thought. If she sailed, Clara would be far away. Far away from Seward, murdered women and, hopefully, the killer.

No, this killer—this killer had to be caught before the week was up!

“So, you three are going to board,” Jackson said. “That’s a good choice.” He looked at Clara. “You’re sticking with us for the time being?”

Clara nodded.

“Crazy!” Ralph said. “The killer was after the television people—and maybe us.”