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He jumped to his feet. “I know! I don’t give a good goddamn about any rumors. I told you everything I know. Now, unless you plan on sleeping up here, you better get your ass in gear. It’s a long hike down, and it gets dark fast in winter.”
He wasn’t exaggerating. Sunset in February was five pm. We’d have to move fast to reach the bottom before we lost the daylight.
Simon didn’t speak again. But I could almost hear him thinking.
I didn’t press him because I knew enough now to get the answers I needed. I had my starting point, and it was only a matter of time and patience. I’d start with the resort records and go from there. Nineteen years was a little tricky as far as locating personnel files, but not impossible.
So long as you don’t lose your balance, it’s always faster going downhill than it is climbing up, and we made good time.
Halfway down the mountain, we spotted someone coming up the path toward us. Someone in an olive-green army jacket with a rifle slung over his shoulder.
Was February hunting season in New Hampshire? I didn’t know.
Simon swore softly.
The man raised his hand in greeting, and I recognized George the bartender from the Swiftwater Pub.
My heart sank as the pieces fell into place. Some of the pieces. Because George, like Simon, had been in his teens at the time of Deirdre’s accident. But George had arranged for Simon to lead me up this mountain, George had the best chance of anyone of drugging my drink Friday night, and George knew exactly what cabin I’d be sleeping in—assuming I made it that far.
He was smiling as he approached us, and Simon stepped in front of me and yelled, “Are you out of your goddamned mind?”
George, bright-eyed and cheerful, brought up his rifle and called, “Get out of the way, Simon.”
“He doesn’t know anything!”
“He does now,” George pointed out, which was true.
“You arenotdoing this,” Simon told him.
“Get out of the way, or I’ll shoot you too.”
Simon spluttered, “You’re going to shootme? You reallyareout of your mind.”
“Your choice.” George continued to level the rifle at us.
My heart was banging in my chest as I weighed my chances of making it into the trees before he fired. I didn’t think they were high. But I was also afraid George was going to lose patience with Simon any second now and shoot us both.
I called, “Why did you send me that letter? Did you want to get caught?”
“Are you— That was awarning! Which you should have listened to!”
“Why the hell would you be so worried about me? I don’t know anything Hastings PD doesn’t know.” Which probably wasn’t true, since according to Rory, HPD had said the suspect in Deirdre’s case was dead.
Meaning HPD believed there was only one suspect.
They’d got it wrong before. No reason to believe they didn’t continue to get it wrong.
“Bullshit,” George called back. “Nobody knows I was there that night. It’s not likeIworked there.”
“Will youshut up,” Simon cried. “He only knows about Milo.”
“Uh…hello?” George retorted. “I think he’s got a clue now.”
“How do you think you’re going to explain this?” I asked. “At least five people know I came up here with Simon.”
George said promptly, “Hunting accident. You won’t be the first to get mistaken for a deer.”
“George, this isn’t going to work,” Simon said desperately. “The chief knows about Milo, which means he has to have suspected Chris.”
