We murmured agreement. I took a cookie and crunched it quietly.
“This mystery is getting very twisty,” Vi said. “Maybe we should all list our theories and figure out which one is best.”
I was already shaking my head. “No, you said we can’t work together,” I said.
“We shouldn’t put a small wager between solving the mystery and not . . .”
“What wager?” Mac said.
“I’ll tell you later,” I said.
Mac held my gaze for a moment, but backed off. He probably was still feeling guilty for the AAPD file he had stashed in his room. I was not above using his guilt to avoid a full-fledged fight right in front of my family. And I knew the last thing Mac wanted was my family even more involved in our relationship. I was good as long as I stayed near them.
Mac stood up and pulled me to a stand beside him. “Clyde and I are going to go talk through a few things. We’ll see you all at dinner.”
So much for safety in numbers.
Seth gave me a sympathetic smile and then focused on devouring the cookies.
28
I shrugged into my jacket and followed Mac out into the wind and snow. It was an unpleasant sixty seconds as we ran toward the hotel. I dreaded the conversation to come, but didn’t want to dawdle in the storm.
“We’d better go tell the knitters that you’ve been found,” Mac said. “Vi made a big deal about going in search of you two.”
Lucille rushed to the door when we entered the library and gave me a brief hug. “We’ve been so worried. Did one of the dogs run away? Did you get lost in the snow?”
“No, Mom, I’ll tell you about it later,” Mac said quietly. “Seth and the dogs are fine as well.” Mac raised his voice so the rest of the group could hear him. “Everyone is fine, and back inside safe and warm.”
The knitters thanked Mac for coming to tell them, and told me they were happy no one was hurt.
We said we’d see them at dinner and turned toward the lounge. Mac and I sat in our spot by the fire.
He put his arm around me and rested his head on top of mine.
We were quiet for a while. Even though we’d argued earlier, I snuggled as close to him as I could get and allowed myself a moment to enjoy feeling safe and happy.
“I think I aged five years in the hour or so we were looking for you,” he said. “I’ve never known anyone to get into so many dangerous predicaments.”
“‘Predicaments’? You’ve been talking to the old ladies too much,” I joked. “Next thing, you’ll be calling Seth a whippersnapper.”
With my head against his chest, I heard the low chuckle and knew he wasn’t really mad.
“He is a whippersnapper,” Mac said. “I liked it better when he called me Detective and acted afraid of me all the time.”
“You did not,” I said. “Plus, he’s spending too much time with your mother to be afraid of you. You should hear the stories she’s been telling him about your younger days.”
Mac groaned. “How am I supposed to keep my air of authority with that going on?”
“You’ll just have to terrorize your junior officers and leave it at that.”
“Speaking of officers, I’d better let Pete Harris know about the phones you found.”
I sat up and turned to face him.
“How do you think it relates to Clarissa’s murder?” I asked. “It has to be a staff member using that room. Does that put all the guests in the clear for her death?”
“I think we need to seriously consider one of the Garretts as the murderer,” Mac said.
“I was thinking the same thing. Linda seems devastated by her death, Jessica not so much, but one of them must be involved with the cell phones,” I said.
“I agree,” Mac said. “I suppose it’s possible that a staff member knew about the secret room and decided to use it to hide the phones, but the Garretts are right up there on my list.”
“It’s less likely it was a knitter since none of them are from here. They are at least innocent of stealing the phones,” I said. “Unless the two things aren’t connected at all. . . .”
We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I was happy to be sitting with him, discussing the case, but I was still annoyed that he’d been snooping on me behind my back.
Mac turned toward me. “Clyde, I’m sorry about the file. I didn’t think I was betraying any trust by looking at it.”
“How did you see it then?”
“I wanted to see if there was any truth to your impression that you had done something wrong”—he held up his hand when I started to interrupt—“and there wasn’t. You acted just as you should have.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me.” Mac took my hand, but more gently this time.
“I shot that boy because I sensed a gun. I felt that he was a threat, but didn’t have any proof. After all the years of telling my family I want nothing to do with psychic input, during an emergency situation, that’s exactly what I relied on and it was wrong. As usual.”