Torture would mean killing others.
Theory! he mocked himself. He’d been irritated with Clara for her assumptions, but all this was simply what he believed—conjecture, until they had proof.
“That’s theory, too, at the moment,” he said quietly. “We’ll get you back to the mainland now, Miss Avery. I’m going to explore your suppositions as well as my own, I promise.”
She turned away for a minute and then looked back at him. “You’re staying here? To search the island?”
“Yes—since it’s quite possible there is someone else out here.”
“I’ll stay, too.”
“There’s no reason for you to do so.”
“Oh, yes, there is.”
“What?”
“I am not going to be alone when a ghost comes back!”
He smiled at that. Maybe she was right. The ghost might be the one element that could give them something that was fact rather than theory.
“The problem is, we can’t be with you—even here on the island. I plan to head out on a snowmobile and cover all the territory, all the nooks and crannies—”
“But you can’t look at night,” she told him.
“You know, ghosts can come by daylight, too.”
She had a stubborn look about her then. She stared at him and then winced and looked down. “I’m not as terrified in the daylight as I am at night.”
“Night is only about three hours this time of year.”
“Twilight comes in the early hours—and at night.”
He turned away from her. There was really no reason she couldn’t stay. He knew well that Marc Kimball would be more than happy if she did. And the Alaska Hut would require the presence of officers for at least the next twenty-four hours.
“All right,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“All right. If you want to be here, you can.”
She let out a sigh of relief. “The others have gone, right? My only problem is that I don’t have any clothing... I don’t have...my things.”
“So, I guess you’ll have to go back.”
“But you don’t have clothing or your things!” she said. “You’re going to have to go back, too. And Natalie Fontaine was killed, same style more or less, back on the mainland, and there will be some kind of meeting or briefing and—”
“You’ve been watching too much television,” he said.
She smiled; it was a beautiful smile. “But, I’m right!” she said.
“Right about what?” Jackson said as he came around to meet them. He looked from Clara to Thor.
“What’s going on?” Jackson asked.
“Clara wants to stay on the island,” Thor told him.
Jackson seemed to weigh the information. “Might be for the best,” he said.
“Might not. This is an island. Even with law enforcement running around, we’re not on the mainland. We don’t have the same access to services, we don’t—”
“You just said all right,” Clara reminded him.
He shrugged, looking at Jackson.
Thor knew what they were both thinking.
Why not? She was the one the ghost of Amelia Carson seemed to be trying to meet.
She was also right about the fact that they would travel back to the mainland that afternoon to meet with Enfield, the Alaska State Troopers and the Seward police. But first, they were going to spend a few hours scouring through the forest themselves.
“Let’s head back to the Alaska Hut, regroup with a few of the officers there,” Jackson said.
He couldn’t argue.
“I have the team combing anew for fingerprints,” Jackson told him as they headed to the snowmobiles. “I’d bet if there was someone running around in there, they were wearing gloves, but we never do know. They’d fine-tooth-comb everything from the tree to the windowsill and beyond again.”
“Thank you,” Clara told him.
“Of course. It’s an investigation,” Jackson told her, smiling grimly. “So...we head back.”
Clara had ridden behind Jackson on a snowmobile to reach the Mansion. She climbed on behind him once again.
He geared his snowmobile into action.
They passed the area where the two halves of Amelia Carson’s body had lain; the body was gone now, but crime scene tape remained.
It was an exasperating puzzle. No prints leading to the body; no prints leading away.
Her remains found just after the decapitated body of her producer.
Hating reality television was one thing...
Could that have something to do with these horrible crimes?
Seriously, that would be taking it to the max when all you had to do was change the channel.
When they reached the Mansion, to Thor’s dismay, Marc Kimball was standing on the porch, a cup of coffee in his hands, as if he had been awaiting them.
Apparently, he had been.