Deadly Fate (Krewe of Hunters #19)(81)
Thor had also known that Jackson was going to see to it that Clara arrived safely back at the port at Seward, and aboard the Fate. He’d been in constant Wi-Fi contact with Jackson, who’d assured him all was well and that a rehearsal was in full swing.
What he hadn’t known was that Marc Kimball and his little Emmy were leaving, as well; according to Magda, Kimball never told her what he was doing until he did it, but he’d had a private launch take him and Emmy back to Seward. Thor had assumed Kimball would still be on the island, watched by the police—and far from Clara Avery and the others.
Thor didn’t like it that Kimball had disappeared.
“Important man, you know,” Magda told him, removing glasses from the dishwasher. “He says so himself,” she added. Magda wasn’t much on betraying emotion, but there was definitely a dry note in her voice. “He said you can’t trust the police or the agents—he’s safest back in the city. Seems he tried to leave altogether, but as important as he is, he’s been asked to stay for the moment. Your boss—some guy named Enfield—saw to it that he can’t fly his plane out.”
Thor nodded, lowering his head to hide a smile. Enfield was a good man; he didn’t give a damn if you were rich or poor—an investigation was an investigation.
“Well, if no one knows where he is, he could head to Anchorage and get on a commercial flight.”
Magda sniffed. “That man on a commercial flight—they don’t make a class of flying that’s ‘first’ enough for him.”
“So, where do you think he went?”
Magda paused in her task and turned around to look at Thor. “I have no idea. The man tells us what he wants when he wants it. Most of the time, we don’t hear a word from him. When he bought the place, he gave us explicit instructions on what kind of water he drinks—some brand-label stuff, and it’s no better than what we use!—and how he likes his bed made, all kinds of little things. Never to call him direct... We’re servants, Special Agent Erikson, and that’s it.”
“Sounds like a hard man to work for,” Thor said.
Magda shrugged. “He’s a pompous bastard, is what he is. But there’s one good thing about him.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s almost never here. Justin and me, we put up with him for about a month a year, altogether. We call the cops on kids maybe three or four times a year. Other than that, we live in heaven. Crystal pure water, lots of wildlife...and a quick ride over to Seward when we need to shop or feel the whim for a dinner out or a movie...not many of those I want to see these days! Salmon jumping...whales here and there...a moose at my window now and then. I love my life, sir, that I do. And if it comes with a pompous ass for a few days here and there, so be it.”
Thor nodded. “Well, then, let me thank you for all the meals here and all you’ve done for us and the people affected by this.” He paused and asked carefully, “You’re not afraid of being out here now?” he asked. “Cops will certainly be around awhile longer, hunting, searching, but...”
“You might not have noticed something about me,” she said lightly.
“What’s that?”
“I’m not exactly a young beauty. Of course, come to think of it...Becca Marle wasn’t exactly a beauty. But, that Natalie Fontaine—she was an attractive woman. And Amelia...she was gorgeous. I still think it’s the pretty, young ones that he’s after. So it seems. Or, hell—those that make reality TV. Quite frankly, how anything you can just turn off could piss someone off so much, I don’t know. But, hey, this guy is deranged, right?”
“I’m not a psychiatrist,” Thor told her, “but in my mind, yes, anyone who can do such a thing to another human being is seriously deranged.”
“And you know who this guy is, right? You’d think you’d just pick him up on the street,” Magda said, shaking her head. “The Coast Guard is patrolling, there are cops everywhere—you should have gotten him by now. I mean, where the hell has he been staying? Even such a guy has to eat, right? If he’s on the island, why hasn’t he been caught by now?”
Justin Crowley, lean and all-American Gothic, walked in as she spoke, a hard look on his face. “Magda, how can you ask such a thing?” He looked at Thor apologetically. “This is, in truth, the last frontier. I don’t think that anyone has ever explored all the ragged edges, the caves, caverns—or even the forests.” He looked at Thor. “I’ve been around a fair amount now, but when I’m not with a cop looking for an obnoxious teen, I don’t go far from where I should be,” he said grimly. “You’ve seen for yourself, Special Agent Erikson. Finding anything on this island...” He paused, shrugging. “Hell, Kimball owns it—and I doubt he knows that much about it.”
How much did Kimball know about the island? Had he discovered some secret nook or cranny among the many caverns and caves carved out by ice that others had yet to discover?
Day had waned to evening; Thor was exhausted. He was suddenly determined to find out exactly where Kimball had gone. He reminded himself that he couldn’t harbor suspicions on the man because he outright disliked him.
But logically, Kimball stood in the line of possible Tate Morley accomplices.
And if they could get the accomplice, they could get the man.