He followed close behind her as they headed to the front to meet up with Jackson.
“Don’t think the place is far from your house, Thor, not by the addresses we have,” Jackson said.
“The McGinty place?” Thor asked. One of his closest neighbors—close being about ten acres away—was old Theodore McGinty. He left during the summer to visit his daughter in Fairbanks and always liked to rent his place.
Jackson raised an eyebrow and rattled off an address. “Is that the McGinty place?”
Thor nodded. “Yeah, it’s an old cottage—nice little place. Old, but he has the best heating system in the world and all kinds of computer gadgets and a great entertainment center.”
“We’ll see if Miss Shaw has checked in. You know this young woman, right?” Jackson asked Clara.
“Yes, not well—not like the guys. But we met at the auditions for the show and had a meeting after the casting, along with a blocking rehearsal and some readings of the script,” Clara told him. “She’s very nice, a petite dark-haired woman.”
“But you do know her well enough,” Thor murmured. “That’s good.”
They reached a black sedan. Thor slid into the driver’s seat. Jackson opened the passenger’s door for her in the front and slid into the back himself.
*
They drove through the town of Seward. Clara had gotten to walk a great deal of it; Seward was a wonderful small town, offering so much in a compact area. Floods throughout the years had been devastating, but Seward meant to thrive. The drive from Seward to Anchorage was supposed to be one of the most scenic to be found. She was fond, however, of the town itself, where many of the buildings were in different and complementary pastels, which seemed to be—along with the shimmering water, the cruise ships and other vessels at port, and the fantastic mountains—uniquely Seward. Uniquely Alaska.
Thor was driving quickly but skillfully, making good time.
She leaned forward. “You’re afraid for Connie?” she asked. “But...”
“It’s not a rational fear—it’s just a situation we should check out,” Jackson said.
“Well, we’re driving awfully fast,” Clara said.
“We’ll just make sure everything is all right,” Thor said.
She knew that neither of the men thought that everything was going to be all right. She felt her own stomach pitch.
They left the city behind, remaining beneath the shadow of snow-tipped mountains, hugging a road that cut through dense forest. Thor then turned down what looked like little more than a dirt road. In a matter of seconds, a little cabin appeared, with a board porch and a cheerful striped umbrella over tables on the veranda.
It seemed that the motor was still running when Thor and Jackson stepped out of the car; both men jumped out quickly and headed for the door to the cabin. Clara followed them up the steps to the porch.
Thor tapped hard at the door. “Miss Shaw? Miss Shaw?”
A frightened whimper came back to them. “Who is it? Who’s there?”
“FBI, Miss Shaw. Are you in distress, is anything wrong—”
“Connie, it’s me, Clara Avery, and these men are FBI,” Clara called.
The door swung open. Connie Shaw stood there in purple sweats, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her features drawn and pale. She threw herself in Clara’s arms.
“Connie, what happened? What’s going on?”
“Someone was out there—someone in back. I... I’d left the back door open. I was out on the porch, looking up at the mountains. There were deer, two of them, right back there! I came in for my phone and I heard someone...whispering my name!” Connie said, her speech hurried and barely coherent.
Jackson was already gone, heading around back. “Stay with her—I’ll go through the house to the back!”
“I’m not a chicken, not a chicken, not a chicken, but... Not right, not just a person, not just a visitor... He was there, he would have gotten in... I’m so scared!” Connie babbled. “I got here and heard about the murders—Natalie Fontaine...Amelia Carson... I didn’t think they’d be after us...but I’m so scared. I thought...well, their kind of reality TV, they might have really pissed someone off, but I just act on a stage... I don’t do anything evil to anyone, except, you know, maybe by accident and that wouldn’t be evil or mean, just...”
“Connie, calm down. It’s all right,” Clara said. “Sh. These men are FBI. You are all right now.”
She wondered if she had been like this—this hysterical, this scared—when she had found the body of Amelia Carson.
Yes, yes, she had been.
She swallowed hard. Two very competent, strong, well-armed members of the FBI were with them. They were all right.
No, not really, the killer was still out there.
They wouldn’t be all right, none of them—not even the big, strong members of the FBI—if this killer wasn’t caught.
She mentally renewed her passion to do whatever was necessary to help.
She also heard Ralph’s voice in her head.
Sparks!
Sparks...flying between her and Thor Erikson.