Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

Abby beamed her appreciation. “Thank you.” She looked warily over at Trevor and the sheriff. “What about…”

Tracie placed her hand on Abby’s arm. “Mitchell Adams is part of our investigation now. Trevor is going to go with Sheriff Jacobsen to take him in. You two can come back to the station with me. We’ve called in a team to check out Scott’s brakes and investigate the crash, so for right now, this driveway is a crime scene.” Her eyes followed the driveway up the hill. “Fortunately, I believe the snowbirds who live at this address have gone south for the winter, so they won’t mind us blocking their driveway.”

Abby nodded and started back toward the truck, then remembered something very important. “The phone.” She turned to face Tracie. “We need to get Mitch’s cell phone. He was on the phone with the people who have Marilyn-his phone should have a record of the call.”

“Of course,” Tracie agreed. “We’ll have a crew out here quickly, and they’ll check the vehicles for anything of importance. I’ll alert them to the significance of the phone. But for right now, I need you two to come back to headquarters with me so I can take your statements.”

Abby repeated the one-sided conversation she’d overheard as close to verbatim as she could recall. Tracie went over her statement several times. To her understanding, Scott was in another room, giving his version of what had happened. And though she didn’t know if Scott would appreciate it, Abby went ahead and explained how his family’s land fit into the picture. She’d only promised to keep it a secret unless his life was in danger. In her opinion, they’d crossed that line. He might be furious with her afterward, but she’d prefer that to him ending up dead. The authorities needed to know what they were up against, or at least be aware of the possibilities.

To her relief, though her story was slightly confused and certain parts were admittedly conjecture, Tracie seemed to think her theories about Mitch were plausible. More important, the other woman understood Abby’s insistence that Mitch be questioned as quickly as possible. Every moment they wasted put Marilyn’s life in greater danger.

As Tracie had promised, the Coast Guard station had hot coffee. Abby sipped a little, mindful that she’d want to be able to fall asleep if she ever got the chance. With any luck, Mitch would tell them where they could find Marilyn, and they’d have her back before morning.

“The good news,” Tracie concluded, after recording Abby’s thorough statement, “is that it sounds as though Marilyn is still alive, and possibly being held somewhere here on the mainland. If her kidnappers are waiting for a signal from Mitch before they act, then we just need to get information on her whereabouts from him before he gives them other instructions.”

Abby agreed. “I just wish I knew what Mitch was referring to when he told them to wait for his signal. He may have been talking about waiting to take her back out to the island, but I don’t know. It almost sounded as though they were headed out there already, because Mitch was so insistent on making sure Scott died first. I think the signal was for them to kill Marilyn.”

“In that case, we’ll have to get Mitch back here in a hurry and put the pressure on him to share what he knows. Marilyn’s life may be in imminent danger. I wonder if Trevor and Sheriff Jacobsen have brought him back yet.”

As the two of them talked, Abby became increasingly aware of activity in the hallway and adjoining offices. Though she couldn’t make out any words, she heard raised voices, and several people hurried past with intent expressions on their faces. Finally Tracie stood.

“I’m going to see what all the commotion is about.”

Abby hovered in the doorway as the other woman approached a nearby Coast Guardsman.

“What’s going on?” Tracie’s question carried down the hall.

“They’re sending another team out to the scene,” the Coastie explained briefly.

“To the scene of the accident?” Tracie clarified.

“To the scene of the shooting.”

“Shooting?”

“Yes. Didn’t you hear? Trevor was bringing in a suspect. When he tried to escape, Trevor shot him. He’s dead.”

At the Coast Guardsman’s explanation, Abby hurried forward. “Shot him? Mitchell Adams is dead?”

“Yes, I believe that was the name of the deceased.”

Even as the officer confirmed it, Abby looked down the hall and saw Scott standing in a doorway just beyond her. His expression was hollow. Abby wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him, but he stepped back inside the room and closed the door after him.

Abby looked to Tracie. “Now it’s more important than ever that we get that phone. It may be the only link we have to Marilyn and her kidnappers.”

Tracie nodded and turned to the Coastie they’d been speaking with. “Gary, have you heard anything about the cell phone Mitchell Adams had been using?”

“Cell phone?” Gary looked thoughtful. “The sheriff was talking about that, too. Seems to me they couldn’t find it. Ben and Clint were part of that investigation. I’ll give them a call.”

“Please do. Let me know right away what you find out.” Tracie led Abby back to the office where she’d taken her statement. “That phone can’t be lost,” she muttered.

Abby felt a horrid sense of desperation. “He was on the phone at Greunke’s. At least, he was talking to somebody. Maybe I only assumed he was on the phone.” She looked up at Tracie. “We need to get back to Greunke’s and talk to the waitress. I never actually saw Mitch while I was there, but she did. Maybe he wasn’t on the phone. It could have been a radio, or someone could have been there in person, even though I only heard Mitch’s voice.”

“Sounds like this waitress is the best lead we’ve got right now,” Tracie agreed and looked at her watch. “We’ve got five minutes before they close at midnight. We’d better hurry.”

As the women stepped into the hallway, the door down the hall opened and Scott stepped out. “What are you up to?”

“Tracie and I are going to go talk to the waitress at Greunke’s,” Abby explained quickly, taking in the frustrated tension that radiated off her friend. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“I’m supposed to stick around to identify Mitch’s body when they bring him in.”

“That won’t be for a while,” Tracie spoke up. “They’ll have to do a thorough evaluation of the scene. In the meantime, we have to hurry before this waitress leaves work. It won’t take long. Why don’t you come with us?”

“You know, maybe I should,” Scott agreed.

Once Tracie had notified the others that Scott would be leaving with them, Abby and Scott piled into the Coast Guard truck and Tracie drove them the few blocks to Greunke’s. Abby extended a tentative hand toward Scott.

He took her hand and squeezed it, though his eyes continued to stare out the window at the spitting sleet.

A moment later, they arrived at Greunke’s. Tracie pulled into the graveled parking lot, and they hopped out and hurried toward the front door, where the neon Open sign flickered and died.

Tracie reached the door first, and pulled it open to reveal a startled Deb, keys in hand.

“Sorry, folks, I was just locking up,” the waitress apologized.

“Actually, Deb, we’d like to ask you a few questions about a man who was in here earlier,” Tracie explained.

Abby stepped forward. “The man with the red Escalade, the one I asked you about when I was in here,” she clarified.

“Oh, you mean the guy who ran out without paying?” Deb opened the door a little wider and stood back for them to come inside. “What do you want to know?”