Deadly Fate (Krewe of Hunters #19)(83)

She looked over at Jackson worriedly.

“It will ring again,” he said.

He was right. The phone began to ring.

“Let it ring several times. Not too quickly,” Jackson said.

Sixth ring. Jackson nodded.

She answered it. The man she believed to be Tate Morley began to speak, furious and cursing and spitting words.

“How dare you—how dare you! Every state in the Union wants me. You’re behaving as if I’m not the most important person in the world, and you know that I am. You know that you need me—any contact with me.”

Clara glanced at Jackson, shaking, but ready to do her best. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re talking to me because you believe we can’t get an exact fix on you through my phone. I don’t know if we can or can’t. I know that all you want to do is taunt me. Well, I don’t want to be taunted. You’re being rude and obnoxious and full of yourself. I think you’re a bitter little prick of a man who’s a sociopath and a psychopath all rolled into one.”

“Oh...oh...oh! Miss Avery. You do have claws. Nice survival instincts. I almost wish I was still the Fairy Tale Killer. What a beautiful Sleeping Beauty you would make! Or, if I had to stretch—I mean, no one’s hair is that long these days—you might be Rapunzel. You do let down that long hair, don’t you? Ah, but you’re not with lover boy right now, are you? You see, I know where Thor is and I know that you’re with Jackson Crow. Yeah, like I said, I see all! I’ve not decided exactly where I’m going next...there are still a few tasty ideas rolling about in my mind! You shouldn’t make me mad.”

She glanced at Jackson, not sure who he was now on his phone with—and really having no idea if anyone could trace this kind of cell phone coverage in any way, shape or form.

“You’re a cruel human being. You’ve stolen all that matters in any way—you’ve stolen life. You’re horrible, worse than the lowliest crawling bug, because even a bug does good things, and you...”

He broke in. “Oh, really? I’ve ended some bad TV!” he said, and seemed to think that his words were hilarious. He started laughing.

“Well,” he said finally, and she could hear a deep inhale, as if he was trying to get over his spurt of mirth, “you don’t need to try to pinpoint my location, Miss Avery. I’ll be happy to tell you where I am,” he said.

“And where are you?”

“Closer than you can begin to imagine!”

*

Because communication could be so patchy—even with Wi-Fi and their walkie-talkies—Thor wanted to see Mike Aklaq before he left the island.

He had the feeling that the killer was no longer there. He held the firm belief that the actual killer was Tate Morley—whether he had been abetted by Becca Marle or someone else, Morley had done the killing. He’d had an accomplice who had known Alaska, known the Alaska Hut and Black Bear Island. He was able to come and go easily. With the amount of law enforcement officers looking for him, he should have been caught by now. He knew how to disappear at will. Be here when he chose, escape when he chose. He wasn’t using the docks; that meant some kind of a small conveyance he’d been able to pull up onto the shore—and hide.

That meant a cavern.

Though how he was managing to come and go was a mystery, Thor wasn’t sure solving it would help, except that he’d quit being torn as to where he’d best be putting his own efforts. Thor knew how good an agent his partner was, but he still wanted to see him before he left. Because while his gut told him that Morley was no longer here, the latest victim had not been discovered long ago.

Taking one of the snowmobiles, he headed past the forest toward the southern tip of the island where the icy cliff jutted up from the sea and an ancient wall of ice had carved out the peculiar landscape.

He could see that there were snowmobiles and the larger snow sleds used by the forensic teams present at the base, closest to the shore and cavern entrances. Men and women in uniform moved about the area, looking like ants from a distance and growing larger as he approached.

One of the crime scene investigators he knew waved to him and indicated that Mike was in one of the caverns. Thor waved his thanks and hurried on down.

The cold here seemed to be exceptionally fierce; people breathed as if they were dragons as they worked, spouting steam rather than fire.

He almost slid down one icy ledge, caught his balance and righted himself, and arrived at what might be considered “the ground,” where the ice crunched beneath his feet. He could see Mike was back speaking with a few of the officers—asking them, Thor was certain, to see that no crevice remain unseen.

“Thor—thought you were leaving,” Mike said. He smiled suddenly. “You have to trust someone, my friend. You can’t be everywhere.”

“I am leaving. I’m going to find Kimball,” Thor told him.

“Kimball is off the island?” Mike asked, surprised.

“Apparently, he left with the others. None of us can be trusted. He wants the protection of being in the city. Or so he told Magda.”

“Maybe he is afraid,” Mike said with a shrug. “Hey, the man is an ass. You know as well as I do that being an ass isn’t illegal.”

“No, but something about him...”

“He treats people really badly.”