Кей Хупер - Chill Of Fear

Nate didn't want to admit that the two aces he was counting on were one obsessive FBI agent with an even older murder to solve and one fragile guest and maybe-psychic who, if Nate was any judge, was about a whisper away from some kind of breakdown.

So all he said was, "We have to try, Miss — Stephanie. Now, obviously, it'll be better if we can conduct our investigation and interviews as quietly as possible. Which means keeping things inside The Lodge as much as we can. We don't want to be transporting employees back and forth from here to the police department, do we?"

"That has the nasty ring of a threat, Nate."

He lifted both eyebrows. "Not at all. Granted, without more evidence than I have that a crime was committed here, I don't have the legal authority to force you to turn over a room or cottage or other adequate space to me so that I can set up and conduct interviews here at The Lodge."

"No, you don't. And after ten years, I doubt a judge would grant you the right to do that."

Nate kept his tone pleasant. "But I doubt any judge in the county would forbid me to investigate this crime, especially given that it's the murder of a child. So you can have it one of two ways, Stephanie. Either I ferry employees back and forth — in police cars — from here to the station to be interviewed, for however long that takes, or else you do set aside a space for us to do what we have to do quietly and discreetly here on the grounds of The Lodge."

She didn't like either of the alternatives, but she knew damned well she was stuck with them.

Discarding her manager's hat for a moment, she said, "You really believe that child was murdered here?"

Nate hesitated, then said, "It gets worse. Another child was murdered here twenty-five years ago, and there could be more."

"What? Jesus."

"I guess they didn't tell you about any of that when they hired you." It wasn't a question.

"We didn't really discuss the history of The Lodge. That history, anyway. Twenty-five years ago? And you think that is related to this? Two murders that occurred fifteen years apart?"

Nate sighed. "It's reaching, I admit. But it's not unheard-of for a serial killer to operate over that span of time."

Even more startled and dismayed, she said again, "Jesus. Serial killer?"

"Just a possibility. But one I have to investigate, surely you see that?"

"All I see is a hotel on the front page and empty of guests," she said. Then she grimaced. "Sorry. I know that sounds callous, especially with children dead. But...if this boy was killed ten years ago, and nothing like that has happened since, then—"

Nate hated to do this to her, but interrupted to say, "In the last twenty-five years, we have here at The Lodge or in the area three children dead of illnesses, one reported runaway, two so-called accidental deaths, two undoubted murders — counting what we found today — and two unsolved disappearances of children. We also have at least two adults who disappeared without a trace while they were staying here."

It took a full minute before Stephanie could say, "How much of that happened since the little boy?"

Nate ran through the facts in his head — the ones Quentin had provided — and said slowly, "One kid disappeared nine years ago; two of the ones who died of illnesses died six and eight years ago; and the runaway was seven years ago. So, since Jeremy Grant disappeared, we have four kids dead or missing."

"You said some of them died of illnesses. Can't we discount those? I mean... You know what I mean."

"I know. And, no, we can't discount them. I'm told in all three cases the attending doctor ascribed the deaths to some kind of fever, which is why the police weren't involved at the time."

"Wouldn't that fall under the definition of natural causes?"

"Not necessarily. I'm also told some poisons would present that way." He was hoping she wouldn't ask who'd told him all this.

Stephanie propped her elbows on her blotter, rubbed her face with both hands, and muttered, "Oh, shit."

Nate felt more than a twinge of sympathy for her, helped along by the fact that she really was a very attractive woman. He'd always had a soft spot for brown-eyed blondes, especially when they were nicely woman-shaped rather than absurdly thin, as fashion so often pushed them to be. And she wasn't wearing a wedding or engagement ring. As soon as those thoughts occurred, he reminded himself that his first marriage had ended badly and that he liked living alone and being unattached.

He did.

He was almost positive he did.

But when she uncovered her face, he couldn't help but notice that her brown eyes were both intelligent and humorous, even now.

"So, Nate, you seriously believe that we might have a serial child-killer who's been operating here at The Lodge or at least in the area for the past twenty-five years?"

He yanked his mind back to work, hesitated, and said, "I believe it's possible. And, to complicate your life even more, you have a guest staying here who also believes it, and he's had experience with just this sort of thing."

She frowned. "The FBI agent?"

"You knew he was staying here?"

"Well, yeah. He has his weapon, and when he checked in he was good enough to inform us of that as well as furnish his badge number so we could verify his identity."

"Which you did?"

"Standard procedure. Somebody walks in here carrying a gun, I sure as hell want to know they're legit. So, yes, I personally called to verify Agent Hayes's identity." She frowned again. "Is this why he's here? Was he expecting to find skeletal remains in one of our gardens? Because I was told he was here on vacation, nothing more."

"Call it a busman's holiday." Nate sighed. "Quentin was a kid staying here twenty-five years ago when that first little girl was murdered. He never forgot it. And it never sat right with him that the case went unsolved. The last ten or twelve years, he's been coming to Leisure pretty regularly, looking for whatever information he could find on that and the other deaths and disappearances possibly connected to The Lodge."

Shrugging, Nate added, "And so he's pretty much the expert on all this. Carries the facts and details in his head."

"Sounds like a man obsessed."

"You could say that. I have."

Stephanie nodded slightly. "He'll be helping you investigate this child's death? All the deaths and disappearances?"

"Unofficially. Although he's going to tap Bureau resources to help us out with DNA and that sort of thing. The Leisure Police Department isn't really equipped to handle the kind of forensics work we're likely to need in investigating old crimes."

"I see. Well, I understand the point you made earlier about keeping this investigation as quiet as possible. Needless to say, I agree with that. So I'll allocate a room for your interviews, and I'll make available to you those employees who were here during the times you're investigating. I assume you'll provide a list with the relevant dates?"

"Of course," Nate responded, thinking of the busy night ahead of him.

"All I ask in return," Stephanie continued, "is that you do keep your activities as low-key as possible and don't disturb my guests any more than you absolutely have to."

"Agreed."

"I assume you mean to start first thing in the morning?"

Nate nodded. "Jeremy Grant was in the ground out there for ten years, so one more night isn't likely to change anything. The remains are on their way to the state medical examiner. So, yeah, we'll get started on the interviews in the morning. Plainclothes, no uniforms. We will do our best not to disrupt your routines any more than necessary."

"I appreciate that. And Agent Hayes?"

"Agent Hayes will be approaching you for permission to go through old employee records and other paperwork stored here at The Lodge. I'm asking that you grant that permission."