Death's Last Run (33 page)

MARTHA

It's over,” Ted's voice screeched through the phone.

Martha rubbed her eyes. She should have taken an Advil — or twelve — before bed. “What's over?”

“Sacha's killer has been caught. It was Inspector Norris, Whistler
RCMP
.”

Sobriety hit fast. But her headache remained. “Why are you talking like your voice got caught in a bicycle chain?”

Ted laughed. “Are you drunk?”

“No. Asleep. Thanks for calling, Ted.”

“My pleasure. And have you seen the ratings? Kearnes is falling fast. You were right to leave out the part about his being a newlywed at the time of your affair. The press has done the math themselves and they're loving every minute of this story.”

“Forgive me if I'm not feeling quite as celebratory as you are just now.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course . . . what this arrest means . . . can I help in any way?”

Martha shook her head — both a wasted gesture and a painful one. The clock on her bedside table read one a.m. She must have only been out for a couple hours after coming home from Fraser's and rolling onto the bed. “You're doing a great job, Ted. Just give me the night to sleep on the news. I'll be gung ho to keep fighting in the morning.”

CLARE

Clare opened her eyes, though her lids wanted to stay shut. She saw the pastel walls, the steaming plastic mug on the tray beside her bed, the fir trees out the window, where the sky was dark.

With effort, she turned her head to see Noah sitting on the other side of the bed, closest to the door.

“Are we still in the hospital?” Clare asked.

“It's a clinic. But yeah. How are you feeling?”

“What time is it? Is it still Saturday?”

Noah nodded. “Ten-thirty. Are you groggy, or do you feel okay?”

Clare remembered the sound of the helicopter landing just outside Chopper's house. In her fugue, she had even laughed out loud at the play on words — a chopper to save her from Chopper. She remembered paramedics rushing through the front door, followed by Noah close behind. And the ride down from the mountain to the village health care center.

“I've always wanted to ride in a helicopter,” Clare said. “Actually, I'd like to fly one, but I guess I should take lessons first. Why is this tube in my wrist? I don't remember them putting that in.” Clare pushed at the edge of the tape that was holding her
IV
tube in place. She would have peeled it off, but her hands were covered in bandages.

Noah pulled her hand away gently. “The nurses will pull it out when it's time. Does your head hurt? Or feel weird?”

Clare sighed. “My head's fine. I could use a coffee, though. Why are my hands covered with gauze?”

“Frostbite,” Noah said. “God, I feel terrible. I should have come with Chopper up the hill to rescue you. I wanted to, but he pointed out it would be awkward if he had to put you on his sled and drop me halfway up the mountain.”

“I'm fine.” Clare looked at her hands. They felt tingly, but not painful. “What you did was great. Coffee?”

“Yeah. Okay. I'll ask the nurse. Clare, I would have walked the other halfway up — I didn't care about that. I only stayed down so I could confront Norris, make sure his boys didn't conveniently let him slip arrest. Fuck, I hate them both so much right now.” Noah shook his head. “Look what they did to you.”

Clare lifted her arms — they moved slower than she told them to, but she was regaining control fairly steadily. “I'm really fine. And can I not have hospital coffee? It's so weak, it's like tea, but more awful.”

Noah stood up and walked toward the window. Clare liked the sight of his ass in his dark denim jeans. Toned and cute. He leaned a shoulder against the sill and gazed out for a moment before turning back to Clare. He said, “You need to learn to take action, not just let stuff happen to you. You got Norris by fluke — you wouldn't have known he was the killer if he hadn't been trying to kill you.”

Clare's impulse was to tell Noah to fuck off and do his own job. But she could see he was worried about her. “I can see why it looks like a fluke to someone who doesn't get my strategy.”

Noah shook his head. “Strategy involves planning. What you do involves . . . waiting for something to happen. It's dangerous. You nearly died tonight. Twice.”

Clare sighed. “Look, I'm not knocking
your
style, even if I do find it way too forced sometimes.”

“Forced?”

“You go in with a plan,” Clare said. “You don't give yourself room to roll with things.”

“
Roll
with things? No, you're right, I do prefer a plan. It's why I get results.”

“I get results, too,” Clare said. “Norris is in jail, yes?”

“You only got lucky that he came after you.” Noah smacked his forehead. “Sorry, maybe lucky was the wrong word.”

Since Noah didn't seem to be moving to get her that coffee, Clare moved to reach for the tea beside her bed. She tried to move her shoulder, though, and couldn't. “God, this is annoying. I can't wait until I can move again. Do they know what Chopper drugged me with?”

“No.”

“Is it the same drug Sacha and Richie were on when they were killed?”

“No, pretty sure that was Ambien. Norris' wife has a heavy prescription.”

Clare frowned. “I still don't like Norris as the killer.”

“No? I don't like the Ambien and pocketknife Norris had when we arrested him. He was going after you to kill you.”

Clare swallowed hard. “Someone in Kearnes' camp was egging him on. And pretending to be
DEA
. Or something. I don't have the whole story.”

Noah laughed. “Strong drugs you've been taking.”

“Chopper and Norris both told me parts of this. I think Norris' mystery contact told him to kill Sacha. If my brain was working better, I think I could solve this right now.”

“Norris was grasping at straws to get you to swallow the Ambien. He would have slipped it into a drink.”

“No, he wanted me in handcuffs.”

“Handcuffs? Rest, Clare. The killer is caught. It's a solid close on a high-profile case and the credit will be largely yours. Sorry I knocked your skills. It's just . . . I was scared shitless that I'd never see you alive again. Scared enough to trust Chopper.” He shook his head. “You should never trust the other guy your girlfriend is sleeping with.”

Clare gave him a faint smile. She liked the sound of
girlfriend.
“I'll take credit when the case is over.
Shared
credit. I wish I still had that bear cam footage. I'm sure it could have helped us put this together.”

“You mean Sacha's documentary?”

Clare nodded.

“We have that. Well, the
RCMP
does. Richie Lebar saved every file to his home computer.”

“Have you watched it?”

“No. It was password-protected, but our guys cracked it easily in the lab. I hear it's enough to put most of these people in jail. If only we can find that bastard Chopper.”

“He's not a bastard.”

“He drugged you and abandoned you in the middle of nowhere. In my books, he's a bastard.”

“He saved my life today. I hope they never catch him.”

“They?” Noah's eyebrows lifted.

“Fine. We.”

Noah snorted. “You should worry about developing Stockholm Syndrome.”

“At least I don't get so caught up in my cover role that I murder people because I'm in love with them.” Clare tried to clap a hand to her mouth, but her arm moved too slowly to make that work. “I did not mean for that to come out.”

Noah's brow lowered. “How do you know about that? Bert said it was in the vault.”

“Amanda told me. I'm so sorry, Noah. I have to learn to think before I talk. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine.”

“Clare, leave it.”

Clare felt tears form behind her eyes. Man, this was fucked — all these chemicals in her body were seriously messing with her emotions.

“Norris had something else that nails his coffin: three plane tickets, one-way to Buenos Aires.”

“Three?”

“Him, his wife, and his kid. Leaving Monday morning.”

“Wow. If he hadn't tried to kill me, he probably would have made it.”

“Who knows? The important thing is, Norris is safely behind bars.”

Right.
Where Clare could visit him, to talk further. She wanted that
DEA
/Kearnes story.

“I'm going for a cigarette,” Noah said. “You mind? If you want, I can ask a nurse if we can get you outside for one, too.”

Clare looked up at Noah, surprised. She hadn't had a cigarette since she'd thrown her pack away in Chopper's place, and she'd forgotten to be edgy about it. “I think I might have quit.”

Noah gave her a look like the world must have turned upside down.

“I have to stop in Toronto on my way back to New York. You want to come?”

“You talked to Roberta?” Noah lifted a corner of the sheet and started playing with Clare's foot, rubbing it. He pulled up a chair and sat down — apparently the cigarette could wait.

Clare smiled at his touch. “It's not going to be a fun trip. I understand if you say no.”

“Of course I'll go.”

Clare felt a tiny piece of ice melt inside her. “You will?”

Noah pressed Clare's middle toe mound right where it always gathered stress. “Bert wants us back in New York for official debriefing, but I'll clear a stop in Toronto with him. Then maybe we can go back up for a longer visit.”

“Why don't I stop in alone on the way to New York?” Clare said. “A quick stopover to see my dad in the hospital. In case . . . you know. Then maybe we can drive up together, so I can have a real visit with my mom. Not that I want one, but . . .”

“Trust me,” Noah said. “I understand guilt. Jewish mother, remember? I think you've met her once or twice.”

Clare laughed. She actually liked Noah's mom — she was smart and she served fabulous takeout from their local Upper West Side delis. But Clare knew why she drove Noah crazy. “You don't have to stay the whole time.”

“I'll stay for as long as you need.”

Clare wanted to punch him, for being so damn nice. Couldn't he just pick a personality and run with it? “Thanks.”

WADE

Wade clutched his phone to his ear. “What?” he said to Chopper. “Seriously, you're breaking up. Where the hell are you?”

He stepped away from the bar. Surprisingly, Jana had shown up for work, as scheduled. She said she needed the distraction, and he could sure use the help — the place was still packed with tourists and locals alike.

“Chopper, did you say Lucy is the undercover?”

“Yeah. I would have told you this afternoon but I was too busy freaking about finding Norris. Look, you're going to be fine. Norris is in jail and I'm bailing. They got nothing on you. If they accuse you of anything, deny it.”

“Are you not coming back?”

“Not for a bit. I'll be in touch to keep tabs on the investigation. If they can indict me, I'd rather be in the back country than in jail. If they don't have anything, I'll come hang in civilization.”

“I guess I understand.”

“Also — listen, I wasn't going to give this to you, because I thought you were better off without that bar. But I have cash — you can take what you need to save Avalanche. If that's what you want.”

Wade laughed mirthlessly. “This place has no value without the possibility of the band reviving. That's the whole reason I opened . . . you know,
if you build it . .
.”

“You're the creative genius, Wade — you always were.” It was harder and harder to hear Chopper. The signal was fading into nothing. “Screw the bar and play your music. What will it take? Just money?”

“Yeah.” Of course it was just money, separating Wade from living his dream. Wasn't that always the case?

“So here's my prescription: Go to rehab first. Go somewhere nice — there's more than enough cash for a month in one of those celebrity havens in Malibu — because trust me, your life will look better with no booze in it. Then, take the rest of the cash that you need to make your music.”

“Why are you being so generous?”

“Because if your friends aren't there when you need them, then what the fuck's the point? My cash is in . . .”

Of course the phone cut out. Story of Wade's fucking life. Whatever. He didn't need it that night. Chopper would call again soon.