CHAPTER THREE
Alex’s day was off to a rough start. She’d already taken three cancellations over the escaped convict news and had to postpone her morning jog to wait for the plumber. That left a lot of pent-up energy with nowhere to go.
Already grumpy, the last thing she needed was guff from the fix-it guy. Sixty minutes late, and then he rolls up in some fancy rental car?
“You’re late,” she greeted when he got out of the car. “Lyle said you’d be here an hour ago. And what are you driving?”
The man looked over both shoulders. “Are you talking to me?”
He was handsome but apparently a little slow on the uptake.
“No, I’m talkin’ to that tree.” Alex waved toward the empty woods. Besides missing her run, she also hadn’t eaten yet. The combo resulted in a sharper-than-usual tone. “You’re late, and I’m on a schedule.”
“Huh?”
“Follow me, and I’ll show you what needs to be done.”
“I’m here to—”
“Uh, I think I know why you’re here. I’m the one who called you.” She huffed and jogged down the stairs. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning. Let’s get moving.”
“What is happening?” the man muttered before addressing her again. “Look, I’m here to—”
“Fix the sink. Yes. Get the toilet up and running. I know.”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Wrapped up in her own problems, she was only half-listening. “Look, I’m already stressed about this inmate thing. Three cancellations so far this morning. Can you believe it? Like some murderer is going to show up in Green Valley Falls. Pft.”
“I don’t know who you think I—”
“Less talk. More action.” She clapped her hands briskly. “Come on. I’ll walk you up there. Don’t you have tools or something?”
The man stared dumbly as a beat-up old pickup pulled into the space next to his. A burly man got out.
“Sorry, I’m late. Alex?” he said to the stranger, incorrectly assuming he was Alex. Sometimes it was a pain having a man’s name.
The rental car guy held up both hands. “I’m not Alex.”
“I’m Alex.” She looked between the two men. “Who are you?” she asked the man from the pickup.
“Name’s Hugh. Lyle sent me over to check the plumbing and fix the sink.”
“Oh,” Alex said and turned to the bearded man. “Then who are you?”
“I’m just trying to rent a cabin,” he said, voice laced with frustration.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“Wha…?” he started, then heaved out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. “Never mind. Do you have any openings or not?”
It only took her a second to recalibrate and snap into polite manager mode. She’d had cancellations because of the fugitive, but didn’t want to rent those. If the authorities recaptured him soon, campers might still want to salvage their reservations.
The only option was cabin twelve. It was last on the list for a remodel, but they hadn’t gotten to it yet. She’d been holding off on renting it, but if this guy was desperate enough…
“The only thing I have open is one that’s waiting on some repair work. But if you’re okay with a weak roof and a bad paint job, I can put you in cabin twelve.”
“Sounds fine.”
“You.” Alex pointed at Hugh. “The rec cabin is up that path. It’s the bathroom on the right with issues. Get started, and I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hugh saluted, grabbed his toolbox, and headed toward the trail.
“And you,” Alex said, voice softening. “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. Come with me, and we’ll get you signed in.”
He paused as if rethinking his decision. But after a second, he held out a hand, indicating she lead the way.
In the tiny office, she jiggled the mouse, and the computer came to life. “Is it just you? And how long do you want to stay?”
“Just me, and a week or so.” Pale green eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, she got lost in them.
She blinked hard and refocused. “Uh, name?”
“Kevin McHale.”
“Hah, like the Boston Celtics Hall of Famer?”
He did a double take, obviously surprised—maybe a little impressed?—that she knew that. She shrugged. “I’m a big Celtics fan.”
“Hmm.”
“Okay. Cabin twelve.” She pulled up the input form. “I’ll even give you a discount since the place has some issues. How’s twenty bucks a night off sound?”
“Sounds great. Do you take cash?”
Her eyebrows perked up, and he addressed the unspoken question.
“My wallet was stolen at the airport. All my cards were in it. I don’t have any ID either.”
“How’d you get cash with no debit or credit card?” she asked.
“Hid it in my suitcase.”
“They let you rent a car with no ID?” His story was fishy, and red flags were climbing the mast.
“I’d pre-booked and prepaid. Picked it up without even talking to an agent.”
“How you gonna get home?” she challenged.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to make some calls.” He met her gaze and didn’t blink.
She stared at him a second longer. He had all the right answers, but something still felt off. In the end, renting the cabin won out over her doubts. She had to make up for the cancellations somehow.
“Fine. Here’s the key. Cabin twelve. Follow the signs from the parking lot.”
“Thanks.” He took the key and jutted his chin at the poster tacked to the wall behind her. “What’s all that about?”
It was a list of the campground rules, starting with the no-devices commitment. If he could read, it was obvious what it was. She bit back a sarcastic remark.
“We have a no-internet policy,” she said. “This is a Wi-Fi-free camp, and cell coverage comes and goes with the wind.” She withheld the fact that his cabin had some of the best reception on the campground. “Is that gonna be a problem?”
“Are you always so snooty?”
Ah. He was right. This was no way to treat a guest. She looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and counted to three.
“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge this morning. Not your problem though.” Her apologetic smile seemed to appease him.
“I saw some canoes tied to the dock. Those for anyone?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “We don’t take them out of the water until November. The oars and life jackets are in the boathouse. Let us know if you need anything. My assistant takes over the office at noon, and I’m always around somewhere.”
He nodded as he walked out.
Alex sighed. His story didn’t add up, but she had other things to worry about. She jogged to the rec cabin to check on Hugh. The contractor had come through, brought double the workers, and built the whole thing in only five days. Just like he promised.
It was a simple structure, basically a giant rectangle, with a couple of bathrooms and a small kitchen area. The pièce de résistance was the massive stone fireplace at one end. She still couldn’t believe how gorgeous that had turned out.
This week, they were returning to install the bookshelves and storage cabinets. After that, she’d have the furniture delivered and finish decorating.
She envisioned a cozy space campers could hang out during inclement weather. Or as a gathering room for business groups or family reunions. She’d fill it with books, board games, puzzles, and simple craft projects. During the busy season, she would host weekend cocktail hours here.
Hugh was on his back, chest-deep in the cabinet, fiddling with the pipes under the kitchen sink.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Good,” he said without leaving his task. “Bathroom’s all set. Gimmie an hour and this’ll be up and running too.”
“Great,” Alex said. “I’m gonna take a quick run, but I’ll be back in a few. My assistant, Lauren, should be here soon if you need anything.”
“All right. Thanks.”
Out on the wrap-around porch—another favorite part of the cabin—she threw a leg onto the railing and bent to stretch. The trail encircling the lake was almost exactly two miles. Alex ran it almost every day, sometimes twice, depending on what she planned to eat for dinner.
She plugged in her headphones and set off, the trees enclosing her within minutes. Running had started as a way to justify extra calories, but had quickly become an addiction. Withdrawal symptoms included surliness and shortness of temper.
The daily routine allowed her to clear and soothe her mind. Tree roots, rocks, and fallen branches made the trail uneven, and staying upright required vigilant focus.
As she came around the backside of the property, she slowed to a jog approaching cabin twelve, her guard still up regarding its occupant’s suspicious story. It was very rare to get walk-ins. In fact, in all the time she’d been in charge, it had never happened.
The guy was handsome, she couldn’t deny that. But handsome men were just as prone to mischief as anybody else. She’d have to keep an eye on him.
As she walked through the parking lot, she spotted him out in the middle of the lake, canoe floating adrift while he took pictures.
When Alex got back to the office, she found Lauren glued to the computer monitor.
“Have you seen this?” Lauren asked. “They still haven’t caught this guy.”
“Yeah. We had three people cancel over it.”
“Uh, make that five. Two more in the last thirty minutes.”
“What? Why? The prison’s fifty miles from here.”
“The news is reporting the theft of a rental car from a hotel in Concord and a robbery in Northfield where the perp took a wad of cash. Authorities think it’s him, and that he’s headed this general direction.”
“Great.”
“Um, what if he does come this way?”
“There’s a gun under the counter. Don’t use it unless you have to.”
“Shhh. They’re talking about it again.” She had a newscast tab open on the computer and turned up the sound.
“Last reports were that he stopped by the Peaceful Dove campground in New Hampton, but sped away when the owner tried to confront him. If you see him, do not engage and call the authorities immediately.”
A photo flashed onto the screen, and Alex slapped a hand to her mouth.
“What?” Lauren asked.
“That looks a lot like the guy I just checked into cabin twelve.”
“What?” This time, the word came out louder and higher-pitched.
“I’m gonna go over there and get the license plate. You wait here.”
“Don’t do it, Alex. It’s too dangerous.”
“It’ll be fine. He’s in a canoe out on the lake. I won’t get near him. I promise.”
Alex ran back the way she’d come, double-checking that he was still out on the water. Once she got to cabin twelve, she used her phone to snap a picture of the license plate and then approached the car. The tinted windows made it impossible to see inside though.
Checking her six and seeing nothing, she climbed the porch steps. She had a master key, but didn’t need it. The door was unlocked. Just a quick peek might prove or disprove her hunch.
The first thing she noticed was a wallet! He’d lied about his being stolen. Or he’d stolen this one. She grabbed a wooden spoon from the canister on the counter and used the end of it to flip open the wallet.
“Brody Collins?” she said aloud. Another victim of the escaped con? This was above her pay grade. Time to call for reinforcement.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed the sheriff’s personal cell. Nick Walker was the sheriff, but also Tess’s brother and Faith’s husband. In a small town like Green Valley Falls, everyone knew or was related to everyone else.
“Nick,” Alex said, grateful this cabin had good cell coverage. “You gotta come out here. Cabin twelve. I think the runaway fugitive’s here.”
“What makes you say that?” Nick asked.
“This guy came by unannounced this morning to rent a cabin. He has a rental car and a beard.”
“That’s hardly proof he’s the escapee.”
“He also paid cash. Said his wallet and ID were stolen. But…I’m looking at a wallet right now,” she said triumphantly. “I don’t think it’s his though. Picture’s off and the name’s different.”
“Alex, please tell me you’re not in his cabin.”
“Um…”
“I’m on my way,” Nick said, engine revving in the background. “Get out of there.”
“Don’t worry. He’s out on the lake. Since I’m already here, should I look around? Find something he touched and bag it for evidence?”
“No.” Loud sigh. “Just go.”
“Fine. I will. Hey, bring Faith so I don’t have to rehash the whole story later.”
“Alexandra Gray!” Nick’s exasperation was palpable over the phone. “I’m not bringing Faith. Leave that cabin right now.”
“All right. All right. Hurry.” She hung up.
There was a little time. If she could find more evidence, it would help Nick with his case. At the very least, she should hide the kitchen knives. No sense in giving this guy a weapon, especially if Nick was about to confront him.
She replaced the wooden spoon, opened the freezer, and tossed in all the knives from the knife block. Then, feeling how heavy the block was, threw it in too for good measure. How many times had she heard of someone dying of “blunt force trauma?” Better safe than sorry.
Just as she turned to go, the front door swung open. She screamed.