Deadly Fate. Heather Graham

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      A deeper chill settled over Clara. That was it—of course. They were all suspects.

      No, no, no. These men couldn’t possibly believe that she—or Ralph, Simon or Larry!—could have had anything to do with these horrendous murders.

      Jackson would quickly set him straight on that!

      But what about the film crew? She couldn’t believe they had anything to do with the murders. They’d all been too shocked, stunned and horrified when they’d been told that it was not a prank any longer, that people were dead.

      But it was an island. And the only people here were her cast mates and the crew working for the film company.

      And, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Crowley. The caretakers for the estate.

      Had they been interviewed? Clara hadn’t even seen them yet, though she knew that Larry had gone to find them and that they had been at the Alaska Hut.

      But, no. Impossible. She’d met the couple. They were in their late sixties or early seventies. Mrs. Crowley was an attractive, slim, gray-haired woman who was, admittedly, a little odd. She was coldly—but perfectly—courteous while making sure people, even Natalie Fontaine, understood that even though she was there to oversee and facilitate, they needed to help themselves and be self-sufficient if they needed something.

      Mr. Crowley matched his wife; he was still fit as a fiddle.

      And strong.

      Strong enough to wield whatever weapon it took to cut a woman in half?

      No, Mr. Crowley was a little weird, but to her, at least, he had been as nice and cheerful as a department-store Santa.

      She shook her head and let out a long breath.

      Maybe she could be helpful—state some simple facts.

      “It is an island, Agent. It’s also heavily forested and has a ragged coastline with caves beneath ice and snow. It has little peaks and valleys. I believe there are survival caches left in various places around the island. Someone could be hiding out in the trees. Someone in a small boat could make it from the mainland in about fifteen minutes—that’s about how long it took to get here when the captain the company hired brought me out. He left me at the dock, but there are a lot of shallows and little beachy areas around the southern and western sides. A person—or persons—could easily come and go from a zillion little hidden coves.”

      “Yes,” he acknowledged. “Someone could be hiding. But we have had the state police out looking and they’ll continue to look. The thing is...”

      He paused and glanced toward Jackson.

      “The thing is it might well be someone sitting among you like your best friend,” Jackson Crow told her. “So, be careful.”

      “Exactly,” Thor Erikson said quickly.

      “Jackson,” she said, “you know Ralph, Simon and Larry!”

      “Yes.”

      “I trust them with my life!” she said.

      “Thank you for your help, Miss Avery,” Erikson told her. His ice-colored eyes fell on her and she realized that his tone had been somewhat gruff. Maybe, despite his calling in life, he’d been just as thrown as she by the girl they’d found dead in the snow. “Send Simon Green in, if you will.”

      “Certainly.”

      She turned to leave the room, but paused, looking at Jackson. She impulsively hugged him again and said, “Jackson, thank God you’re here!”

      And thankfully, he hugged her back.

      “We’ll catch this man, too, Clara, or die trying,” he promised her softly.

      She gave him a nod and a weak smile.

      She didn’t look back at Agent Viking, but left the room, ready СКАЧАТЬ