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The much touted sixth sense in humans being more evident in the relating of incidents after the fact than the experiencing of them, he didn’t feel her. He secured the fender and, with the tu
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The Lorelei coasted almost to a stop. Then, to the port side, the concrete slab hove into view. Scotty had misjudged and A
Within seconds he reappeared, the bundle under his arm, and stepped onto the quay. A
In the Lorelei s bow, in a compartment under the bench, she found the District Ranger’s briefcase. Inside, amid brochures and charts, was a loaded.357, handcuffs, and a canister of Mace. Despite the sinister cast of the night, the.357 seemed too melodramatic. As nearly as she could tell, Scotty wasn’t armed. A
Overhead, silver flickered by in scraps and fragments where the moon poured through the overcast. A
Once they were in the trees, the darkness was absolute. Hand extended like a Hollywood rendition of the blind, A
The glare of an intruder light ignited the fog and she moved more confidently toward it. All residence areas were kept safe from the magic of the night by the intrusive glare of blue floodlights. This one marked the enclave of the seasonals.
From the porch of the house where Tinker and Damien roomed, a yellow light softened the heartless glow. A
She forgot the cold, her fear. Careful of the placement of each foot, but moving quickly for all of that, she crept to the corner of the house. A scraping sound followed by a thump a
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Silently, she turned the knob. When she was sure the latch was clear, she opened the door and stepped inside. The light switch was to her left. With the palm of her hand she shoved it on.
Scotty was crouched beside the bunk beds. In front of him on the floor was the package. A
“Howdy, Scotty, what’s happening?”
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An instant later her mind refocused and she took in the situation as a camera would take a still shot. Near her waist, Butkus’s dark hair beaded with condensation from the fog; one booted foot trailed, the other, coiled beneath him, was lost from sight. His arm was locked behind her back, his shoulder wedged under her rib cage.
When the trailing foot recoiled, Scotty would lunge again, cracking her ribs and maybe her spine against the door.
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A little pain goes a long way. Even through his alcoholic haze, he had to be feeling the bite of the compliance hold. “Let go. Let go,” she repeated clearly and she pushed harder. She could feel him becoming paralyzed. “Do as I say. Do it. Let go.”
His arms dropped. He tried to say something. It could have been the word “Okay.”
Still holding his head between her fist and the gouging thumb, A
Scotty did it. She followed, pressing till he was facedown on the worn linoleum. “Hands on the small of your back. Cross your wrists. Hands back.”
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Less than a minute had elapsed since she had entered the room. Her heart was pounding and her vision growing fuzzy. A
The National Park Service would not be anxious to believe breaking and entering to further an employee’s blackmailing another employee to keep her from exposing God knew what. If Scotty pieced together a good story-a practical joke, climbed in the wrong window-A
“Jesus, Scotty, what the hell is going on?” she asked peevishly.
“None of your goddam business,” he said from the floor.
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“You can’t prove I know a goddam thing about those two.”
“Then tell me what you know about the late De
No answer.
“Where’s Do
“The hell I will.” He began to struggle, trying to sit up. A