Deadly Fate (Krewe of Hunters #19)(62)

She pulled at the neckline of her windbreaker.

“I guess it is a little cold,” she said. “But I like it out here. I’ve been here with Mr. Kimball a few times before. I’ve never seen much of Alaska—just the airfield and then a car and a boat and Black Bear Island.”

“The island is special, though. I mean, usually. You can see moose and caribou and black bears and brown bears—including grizzlies—out here,” Thor said.

She nodded. “I know. I woke up one morning and a moose was looking right through my window! I didn’t try to go near it. Mr. Kimball said they can kick the life right out of you.”

“That’s true. They are big and powerful. But, they’re not vicious animals. Give them their distance, and you’ll be just fine. Like, don’t try to tug at one or rope it in,” he said.

She didn’t smile. She looked at him gravely. “Oh, I would never!” she said.

“So, I guess you work closely with Mr. Kimball,” he said, casually leaning on the porch rail as well and looking out over the night.

“Closely?” she asked.

“You’re his assistant, right?”

She glanced toward the house, as if fearing that the walls had ears.

“He’d never bother to see what I was doing,” she murmured, and then looked at Thor. “Minion. I’m just a minion,” she said.

“Ah, but you flew here with him,” Thor said.

She made a sound in her throat. “With him? No. I was in my seat in the front of the airplane. I assume he was sleeping in back. I didn’t actually see him until he got in the car at the airport.” She shrugged. “If he’s sleeping, the steward doesn’t even come in the back. I get a loudspeaker announcement that says we’re taking off and to buckle up, and then that we’re landing, and we should buckle up.”

“Really?” Thor said.

“He’s like that. When he doesn’t want to see anyone—he doesn’t. I never know when he’ll pop up, or what he expects I should have known, or whatever.”

“You’re the one who informed him about the situation, though, right?”

She laughed. “I was in an office. I don’t know where he was. I called him on his ‘red’ phone, though, and he did answer right away. Then I called the pilot. And the plane arrived and I don’t even know when he got off the plane. I just met him in the car.”

“Why do you work for him?” Thor asked her.

“Money,” she said flatly. “I need the money.”

“Surely there’s something else you could do.”

“Maybe. But, you might have noticed—I’m just not that charming. I clam up in an interview. I just sit there and freeze. I’m actually shocked that he hired me,” she said.

“If you found a job where there was mutual respect, Emmy, you would probably find out that you had more confidence.”

“Great. Find me a job.”

“Let me think about it,” he told her.

Once again, he looked out on the landscape, feeling a tinge of guilt. He’d come to get information from her, because she was a little mouse. He’d gotten some details, and now he wanted to turn her into a lion.

But, he still needed more information.

“So, Emmy, in truth, you really don’t know that Marc Kimball was even on the plane you took to get here, right?”

She looked at him, puzzled, and then she shook her head, laughing a little. “Agent Erikson, you’ve got to be kidding. He would never, ever have put me in his private plane by myself. Oh, no, if he were just sending me out here, I probably would have been on a mule train.”

“But you never saw him before you left New York, or on the plane?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. But I’m used to that. I’m just the hired help. But then again, no one really sees Marc Kimball—not unless he wants to be seen.”

*

“You’re alone,” Amelia said to Clara. “You really shouldn’t be. I was alone. And...you don’t know what’s coming. Suddenly, he’s behind you and his hands are around your neck and you’re fighting and kicking and screaming, but...he’s strong. You can’t breathe—he has your windpipe. And the harder you try to fight, I think the faster you use up your air. It’s horrible...so horrible. Everything starts to go dark, and your lungs are burning...and, you really shouldn’t be alone. That’s how he gets you.”

“Amelia,” Clara said gently. “I’m not alone. There are many people here. There are cops here, Mike Aklaq is here, and Jackson! And Thor.”

Amelia sat at the foot of Clara’s bed. Clara leaned against the rustic, raw wood dresser.

Amelia smiled, her expression a strange combination of wickedness and wistfulness.

“You’re alone. In a room. Talking to a ghost,” she said. “I’m grateful that you are talking to me. I want to believe that you’ll find my killer and help me—without dying yourself. But, frankly, as far as the not dying yourself goes, I don’t think you’re doing very well.”

Clara was surprised to feel somewhat irritated by the ghost of a young woman who had been brutally murdered. “I’m doing all right, I think—since I am alive,” she said, and quickly regretted her aggravated response.