Witness Pursuit. Hope White

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      Cassie pulled out her phone to call Becca, her best friend. Becca had helped Cassie get the job as a property manager for Echo Mountain Rentals, which rented out private cabins to vacationers in the Cascade Mountains. Perhaps Becca had dealt with this type of situation and could offer advice.

      No, if Cassie wanted people to think of her as independent, she needed to act more and ask less. She decided not to bring in the fresh linens and toiletries until she’d resolved this issue. Who knows, she might even have to call security.

      “Be strong,” she coached, but she abhorred conflict. If she were to keep this good-paying job, she’d have to do the uncomfortable tasks like kick out renters who’d overstayed their welcome. She straightened her shoulders, marched to the front door and eased it open. “Hello? It’s the property manager.”

      Silence.

      “Anyone here?”

      Nothing.

      She sighed with relief. Perhaps the door didn’t latch properly when the renter vacated the premises.

      Her gaze drifted to the picture window and the incredible view of the Cascade Mountains. She would miss these mountains when she left on her travel adventures overseas where she’d discover new mountains and beautiful places in foreign lands.

      But she wasn’t there yet.

      To get the cabin ready for tomorrow’s renters, she pulled her phone out of her purple bag and opened the checklist. She glanced toward the back of the house and noticed the patio door wasn’t locked.

      “Not a very responsible renter,” she said to herself. She’d let Mr. Anderson know not to rent to that woman again. She crossed the room and locked the door.

      Turning her attention to the kitchen, Cassie got busy with her assignment. Her report needed to be filed tonight, and if anything was damaged they’d send maintenance to fix the problem before the next renter checked in.

      To help her focus, she plugged earbuds into her phone and hit Play. This was the perfect job for Cassie, and she couldn’t thank Becca enough for recommending her to her boss. The money earned during the high season would pad Cassie’s bank account so she could escape Echo Mountain sooner rather than later.

      Starting in the kitchen, Cassie turned the appliances on and off—the toaster, blender and microwave. She checked the garbage disposal and oven. All seemed in working order.

      During a break between songs, she thought she heard something. It sounded like scratching. Another song started, and Cassie hit Pause. Pulled out the earbuds.

      Scratch, scratch, whine.

      She followed the source of the sound into the master bedroom.

      Whine, whine, scratch.

      It was coming from the closet. Thinking a critter might have sneaked in through the open door, she grabbed a pillow off the bed, ready to shoo it out of the house.

      She took a deep breath, counted to three and slid the door open.

      A flash of fur dashed out of the closet.

      Cassie gasp-shrieked, startled by the sudden movement of a little dog sprinting across the room. She caught her breath, her gaze trained on the terrier mix scurrying into the master bathroom.

      “Where did you come from, Dasher?” The name seemed appropriate, although not so much his presence. Whispering Pines was a no-pet property. Cassie followed him, stepped into the bathroom doorway and froze.

      A limp female body lay sprawled across the edge of the Jacuzzi tub.

      “Oh no, ma’am?”

      Cassie rushed to the fully clothed unconscious woman. As she knelt beside her, Cassie noticed blood trailing down the side of the woman’s face. Had she hit her head? Cassie felt for a pulse, but couldn’t find one. The dog barked frantically as if trying to revive its master.

      “Gotta get help.” Cassie ran into the kitchen, the dog practically underfoot. She could barely think over the constant barking, so she picked up the dog to soothe him. “It’s okay, buddy,” she said, stroking his head.

      She grabbed her smartphone off the counter, and with trembling fingers she called 911.

      “911 Emergency,” the operator answered.

      “My name is Cassie McBride. There’s a woman, she’s injured, maybe dead I’m not sure, in Whispering Pines cabin on Reflection Pass Drive.”

      “What’s the address, ma’am?”

      “I... I... Hang on a second.” Cassie fiddled with the phone, opening a map program. Becca had given her landmarks, not an actual address, when she’d asked Cassie to cover for her tonight.

      The map program was taking too long to load. A woman could be dying in the next room.

      She held the phone to her ear once again. “Just take the first right after Craig’s Gas and Grub on Highway Two, then a left at the blue bear mailbox and you’ll see the cabin up ahead.”

      “Ma’am, we need an address.”

      “I don’t have it. I’ll have to call my manager and call you back.”

      “Ma’am, I need you to stay on the line. Give me your manager’s phone number.”

      Cassie rattled it off.

      “We’ll get in touch with him,” the dispatcher said. “Please tell me what happened.”

      “I’m a property manager and was checking one of our rentals and I heard scratching. It was a dog and he ran out of the closet and into the bathroom and when I followed him, I... I found an unconscious woman. You need to send someone, quick!”

      Cassie hoped she was making sense, but adrenaline flooded her brain and jumbled her thoughts. She took a few steps into the main living area, hoping the peaceful view would ground her somehow. She glanced out the window...

      And spotted a man heading toward the cabin carrying a shovel over his shoulder.

      She dropped to the floor, clutching the little dog.

      “Someone’s here,” she whispered into the phone.

      “Who’s there?”

      “A man, he’s coming toward the house with a shovel. What is he doing with a shovel? Oh my God, he dug a grave, he dug a grave and he’s going to bury her.”

      “Ma’am, please stay calm.”

      “I need to get out of here. I’ll leave the line open, but I can’t talk. And don’t talk to me because he might hear you.” She pocketed the phone and crouch-walked across the living room, carrying the dog under her arm like a pro quarterback clutching a football.

      She swallowed her panic, her fear. Maybe he wasn’t a killer preparing to dispose of a body. Maybe he was with maintenance doing a little grounds work. No, he wasn’t in a dark green uniform. He wore jeans, a black СКАЧАТЬ