He turned back to look at Hannah, a frown creasing his brow. “Why did you want to speak to him, Hannah?” He said “vye” and “vant”.
“We believe Amy may’ve had a personal relationship, a romantic involvement with Grady. We’re still trying to piece together her last movements before she went missing.”
“Grady and Amy? A romantic relationship? Nein, I think that is unlikely. He did not seem her type.” Gunter took Hannah’s hands in his own. “Besides, you should really put this thing to rest. Let it sleep, ja. It is not good for Al that you keep digging this up, Hannah. It makes it difficult for him to say goodbye to his niece.”
“Well, we—” Hannah started to explain but Rex coughed and stood up. He stepped forward, holding out his hand to Gunter. “Yes. Well, we had better be going. Thank you for your time, Dr. Schmidt. Interesting place you have here. I feel like we have met somewhere before.”
“Thank you.” Gunter stood and reached forward to shake Rex’s hand. “And, no. I would remember meeting a man such as you. Hannah did not mention your last name.”
“Logan.”
“I see. Well, nice to have met you. I must get back to my guests now.”
“Actually, before we go, Hannah was hoping to say hello to Dr. Gregor Vasilev…” Rex turned to meet Hannah’s eyes. “Right, Hannah?”
She was quick to pick up on his cue. “Ah, right. Yes. Is he available?”
Gunter was now doing little to hide his increasing agitation. “Hannah, you really must call ahead. Friends are always welcome but at some times we are busier than others. We are extremely busy at the moment. Gregor is prepping for a patient as we speak.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. He…he hasn’t hurt himself has he, Gunter? I thought I saw he had a black eye.”
Gunter laughed. The sound was flat and dry as a desert. He took Hannah by the elbow and started to steer her toward the exit. Rex took the unsubtle hint and fell in step.
“This is precisely why we have this spa secluded and security tight. You see, Hannah, I performed a minor facial surgery on Gregor. He had some skin damage from the sun. What happens with this kind of cosmetic surgery is it can make bad bruises and people like you come asking embarrassing questions.” He held the door open for them. “I do not want my guests, or my colleagues, to be faced with uncomfortable questions. They come here to be treated and heal in peace. No questions. And then they go home whole and beautiful.”
Hannah smiled. Rex saw it was strained. “Well, Gunter, I’m suitably chastised. Thank you again for your time.”
Rex held the passenger door open for Hannah. “I think we touched a nerve somewhere there, partner.”
“I just don’t get it, Rex. I’ve never seen Gunter like this. I guess we should’ve called ahead. And this stuff about Gregor’s face, I don’t buy it.”
Rex fired up the engine of the SUV, waved to the guard as they drove through the big gates. They swung slowly shut behind them.
“I don’t buy it either, but I’m not sure what to make of it yet.” He turned to steal a look at her in the seat beside him. She looked tired, wan. She’d been through a lot. He really should get her back to the hotel to rest. Only trouble was he didn’t want to leave her anywhere on her own at the moment. “Tell me what you remember about this accident involving Grady Fisher.”
“Well, I don’t think I was working at the
Gazette
yet, at least not full-time. I remember reading about it.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “You know, Rex, I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but we could look at the archives at the newspaper office.” She checked her watch. “We could probably head over there now and catch Al before he clocks out for the day.”
“I think you’ve had enough for one day, Hannah, you need to give those aches and pains of yours a rest. A soak in the hot tub would do you good.”
“No. Let’s do this now. I won’t sleep until I find out. Now that I think about it, there was something odd about one of the accidents on the highway last year. I want to take a look at the files.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?”
“Tenacious.” She offered him a grin.
“Okay, tenacious. We’ll head over to the
Gazette
now, on one condition.”
She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “And what might that be, Dr. Logan?”
“You let me buy you dinner. There’s this little place I’d like to try—”
“Rex, don’t do me any favors. I just want to get this thing over with.”
He turned onto the highway and headed back toward town. “It might do you good to put business aside tonight. Enjoy a nice meal and get some good sleep. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”
Rex took the turnoff into White River village. He needed to get hold of Margaret back at the Toronto office and ask her to dig up some information on Dr. Gunter Schmidt and the White River Spa. He’d throw Gregor Vasilev into the mix, too, and see what she could find out about him.
He mulled over the facts as he pulled into a parking space under the windows of the
Gazette
office. Two men with injured faces, Gregor Vasilev and Agent Ken Mitchell. Both with a limp. Had one of them attacked Hannah? If so, why?
Right now his money was on Mitchell. He’d never trusted him as an agent. Rex had found his name in Amy’s apartment, in the library book on biological weapons. Mitchell’s special interest was biological warfare intelligence. He’d been on the mountain when Amy’s body was discovered. Amy must’ve had dealings on some level with Mitchell. Rex had also seen Grady Fisher’s name in Mitchell’s hotel room, scribbled on that piece of paper. Grady had also turned up dead.
But the plastic surgeon, Dr. Gunter Schmidt, Rex knew him from somewhere, and the sensation did not sit easy in his gut. The man left a bad taste in his mouth. And his cohort, Dr. Gregor Vasilev, what was he hiding?
He felt Hannah watching him. He turned to meet her gaze. He wanted to hurt the bastard who had attacked her.
“Rex.”
“What is it?” He placed his hand on her knee, couldn’t help himself. She was looking so pale, fragile.
“I need to go into the
Gazette
on my own, by myself.”
“Hannah, you’re not safe right now—”
“Look, I know you don’t want to let me out of your sight. I appreciate your concern, but you can wait just outside. I’ll have Al and the others for protection inside. How’s that?”
Those wild-honey eyes were pleading. She really meant what she was saying. She seemed to be having enough trouble explaining his presence to her White River acquaintances as it was. Perhaps she needed a little space, a few minutes alone with Al, her colleagues.
He looked up at the
Gazette
windows from the parking lot. He could see the door from here. He shouldn’t be doing this. That’s why operatives couldn’t afford personal attachment. It clouded judgment. They made mistakes. He hoped he wasn’t making one now. “All right.” He gave her knee a squeeze. “You can report back to me over dinner.”
Hannah opened the car door, looking relieved to have won some space.
“Oh, Hannah.”
She ducked her head back into the car. “What?”
“No more than one hour. Any longer than that and I come looking for you.”
“Margaret, my sweet, you’re still at the office.”
“Don’t try honey talkin’ me, Dr. Logan. Having a good time in White River? Come to think of it, I don’t think you’re the type to have a good time anywhere. What can I do for you?”
“Before we go any further, can you connect the device?”
Rex engaged the scrambling device on his own phone. He needed to be sure Margaret’s end of the conversation stayed secure. He didn’t plan on discussing sensitive information, but still, he wanted to be sure what he did say stayed between the two of them. If the feeling in his gut was right, there was something big going down in this little ski town.
“Done.”
“Good. Listen, I need you to hunt out some background information on a Dr. Gunter Schmidt. He’s a plastic surgeon here at the White River Spa.”
“Ah, yes. Heard of him. There was an article on the spa in
Chatelaine
about two months ago.”
“Well, I need a check run on his background, anything that relates to his past. Get Scott on it if you need a hand. Also, I want you to see if you can get anything on a Dr. Gregor Vasilev. He also works at the spa.”
“Spell that for me.”
He did. “And while you’re at it, can you run a check on who owns the spa? I’m particularly interested in the names behind what I’m told is an East German company that has held the property for the last decade or so. That’s about all for now.”
Rex kept his eyes trained on the
Gazette
door as he spoke. He knew there was no back entrance to the office.
“Oh, and, Margaret, get Scott to give me a call on a secure line. There’s someone else I need information on.”
He flipped his phone shut. He needed Scott to see if he could find out exactly what the CIA was up to in White River. Agent Ken Mitchell in particular.
The
Gazette
door swung open and Rex stiffened. He relaxed when he saw it was Hannah. She was carrying a black bag. There was a fresh bounce in her movement as she came down the steps. Soft color flushed her cheeks. Her eyes sparked with animation as she yanked open the car door.
“Have I got some interesting stuff!” She climbed into the seat, giving a little gasp as she twisted round to reach the seat belt. Her rib was still giving her trouble.
“Well, what is it?”
“Not now, over dinner. I’m starved.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would say you look positively smug. What’s in the bag?”
“Amy’s stuff, things they found on her body. The coroner’s office sent it up. Al said we could take a look. He wants answers as much as we do, you know.”
“What’ve you told him about us?”
“Nothing. I mean, I told him you were an old friend…lending a hand.”
She was avoiding contact with his eyes. She was looking out the window at the mountains washed in the peach and amber tail of the day’s sun as it dipped behind the opposite peaks.
“And I told him I took a tumble while jogging over the weekend and that I needed a couple of days off to spend some time with my old friend.”
“Thanks.”
She turned to face him. “For what?”
“Calling me a friend.” He didn’t know why it mattered to him, but it did.
The evening chill had crept from shadows and crevices the minute the sun turned a blind eye on the valley. Rex placed the soft fleece over her shoulders and slipped an arm around her waist, escorting her up the cobbled path toward the little stone steps of Ma Maison. She didn’t protest and that pleased him immensely. It sent a spurt of warmth through his chest. He felt an urge to protect, to comfort. She fell in step beside him, her body moving in concert with his as they walked. The sensation was intimate, satisfying.
Rex could smell garlic, butter and oregano. The warm scents of country French cuisine called out to them, luring them through the open doors, in from the brisk evening. As they climbed the steps, Rex saw that herbs frothed and spilled out of green window boxes under long narrow windows flanked by shutters.
For a moment everything seemed perfect. He was escorting his woman into a fine little French restaurant for a candlelit dinner.
Only, she wasn’t his woman. It was a fragile facade. One that would crack, splinter into delicate shards the moment either one of them started to talk of the future. Or the past. But right now, in this moment, it was perfect. It made Rex want to think about tomorrows.
But a life of love and tomorrows was not for him. His life was the Bellona Channel. Tomorrow a new assignment. Another country. No room for love. Never had been. Well, thought Rex, that was not strictly true. There had been room once, a cavernous hollow he’d felt as a child. It had been a vast ache for the love of his father, the love of a family. But he’d learned early it was not to be. He’d learned early how to slam the door on that aching vault of need.
He looked at the woman beside him. It disturbed him greatly that being with Hannah made him poke about in those painful wounds of his memory. He couldn’t afford to dwell there. He needed to stay focused. Needed to keep her safe. And then his job here would be done. They’d both be free.
He watched them go into Ma Maison, arm in arm. This would make things easier. Dr. Logan clearly had feelings for McGuire. The cold Bellona agent
did
have a weakness. He could use her to flush him out. He had to get them both out of the village and into the mountains. Out there he could take care of them. Before the buyers started arriving. By the time their bodies were found, the deal would be wrapped, the players long gone. Everything would be set in motion. There could be no turning back.
And he had a plan.
But it would have to wait until the boy came home.
Chapter 9
“
B
onsoir,
Hannah, how lovely for you to come. I have not seen you in Ma Maison for, oh, it seems like years already.”
The buxom woman hugged Hannah, squeezing the breath from her. She scrunched her eyes in pain as those large arms crushed her injured rib.
“Isabelle, they’re going to have to put you on the wrestling team.” Hannah’s laugh was breathless. “Got a table for two?”
Isabelle gave Rex the once-over, approval registering in her twinkling eyes. She threw Hannah a knowing grin and obvious wink. “
Mais, oui.
It is good to see you out with a date, Hannah. Come this way. I have a nice secluded spot for your evening.” She led the way through the tables to a little alcove set in a bay of windows overlooking the herb-filled courtyard.
Rex guided Hannah through the tables, his hand at the small of her back. He could feel her muscles move along the base of her spine as she walked.
Isabelle gestured to the table. “And how is Daniel?”
Hannah went rigid under his hand.
“Uh…he’s well. Everyone is well. Thanks, Isabelle.” Her tone brooked no further discussion.
“Well then, I will leave you to enjoy your dinner,
bon appetit.
” Isabelle gave Rex a warm, conspiratorial smile and turned and made her way back to the door to greet an older couple.
Rex pulled out a chair for Hannah. “Who’s Daniel?”
She sat, placing the bag of Amy’s belongings carefully beside her on the floor. Her eyes were wide gold pools, picking up the flicker of the candle flame on the table. She looked like a wild animal, cornered.
“He’s…he’s family.”
She was hiding something. Not trusting him. But then, who was he to talk about being open. Trusting Hannah, telling her the whole truth, would mean betraying the Bellona Channel and the men and women who upheld its values. He’d shared too much already.
But it ate at him. Was Daniel a lover? He took a seat opposite her, shelving the subject, for now.
“So you’ve dined here before? I’ve been eyeing it since I arrived in White River.” Rex opened the menu. “What can you recommend?”
Her eyes softened in relief at the change of topic. The mellow candlelight played on the velvet of her skin. Sitting there, across from him, she was just as she had come to him in his dreams.
“I haven’t eaten here in ages, but the seafood is still supposed to be excellent.”
Who brought you here to Ma Maison last, Hannah?
he wanted to ask her.
What are you doing in this ski town in the Coast Mountains? Why did you leave CNA so suddenly? Who is Daniel?
What mysteries was she harboring? Rex figured from what Isabelle had said, Hannah hadn’t been on a date for a while. He’d hoped she would’ve moved on after he left her in Marumba. Found someone, settled, had a family. He wished for her the things he didn’t dare to wish for himself. She was a woman who deserved the best, deserved it all. But a secret part of his soul was guiltily satisfied she hadn’t. That secret part of him jealously wanted her for himself.
Rex ordered a crisp, dry Riesling and a seafood platter for two.
The sommelier filled their glasses and Rex raised his in a toast. “To solving the mystery.” And to moving on.
She lifted her glass. “To finally wrapping things up.”
She was right. He’d come full circle, from Marumba to White River, to finally wrap this thing up. It wasn’t just Hannah. He had a sense that what started going down in Marumba would play out the notes of its finale here in the Canadian mountains, a full six years later.
The pale-gold liquid swirled against the side of her glass as she lifted it to her lips, taking it in. His stomach did a lurching swirl of its own as he watched her lips, lush against the rim of the wineglass. She set her drink on the table and looked out of the window. He followed her gaze. Darkness was coaxing shadows into the courtyard. Little candles in jars shivered and flickered outside in the evening mountain breeze.
“You don’t go out much.”
She turned and faced him. “Is that a question or a statement?”
“Both.”
She turned away from him, her attention back on the winking lights outside. “I’m busy. I have commitments.”
“You’re single.”
She flashed a warning look at him. “Another statement?”
He reached out, gently took the tips of her fingers in his hand. “Is there a man in your life, Hannah?” Rex knew better than to tread here. Yet the woman in front of him was a drug. He was the addict slipping deep into the abyss. The more he saw, tasted, the farther he slid, the more remote his control.
She looked down at his fingers touching hers. She was staring at the silver ring. He wondered if she remembered. He’d never taken it off. During that heady time with her in Marumba, she’d intoxicated him beyond sound judgment. He had thought he would get a copy of the ring made for her in platinum. She deserved the finest. God, he had thought to make her his forever. He had never been able to bring himself to take the little silver ring off.
She looked up from the ring, at him, her eyes shimmering in the glow of the flame. Her voice was smoky, thick and heavy with emotion. “I had a man. Once.” She bit the bottom corner of her lip. “I loved him.”
He felt his muscles react, his jaw set. Her comment pierced to his core.
She turned her hand to face upward under his, running her soft fingers along the underside of his palm. His stomach dipped. The sensation was exquisitely sensual. It roused the serpent of desire that lay coiled in the pit of his belly. Rex sucked in air, slowly. Very slowly.
She held his gaze with those glimmering pools of emotion.
“Rejection is painful, Rex. No matter what form it takes. It breeds a kind of hate.”
He knew it well, the hate that cloaked the pain of rejection, had known it most of his life.
He gripped her fingers, hard. She recoiled in surprise. But he held on to her hand, pulling her closer as he leaned in toward her. “God, I’m so sorry, Hannah. I never wanted to hurt you. I…I never knew.”
One tear slipped from her left eye. The candlelight caught its shining trail down her cheek. When she spoke, her voice was soft. So soft. “You never knew what, Rex? How much I once loved you? How I bled when you left?”
He clenched his teeth, fighting at the dam of emotion swelling in his skull. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Her eyes didn’t leave his. They bored into his, searching for answers. Answers he couldn’t give.
Then she pulled her hand suddenly out from under his. “Look, Rex, I don’t want to talk about the past. Or the future. I don’t want to talk about me, any more than you want to talk about you. So let’s stick to the business at hand, okay?”
“Hannah, I—”
“Do you want to know what I found at the
Gazette?
”
Rex drew air in through his nose, sucking it deep down to his gut as he mentally swept his mess of emotions back into a black corner. “Right. Business. Let’s get this over with.” He took a swig at his wineglass. “The sooner the better. What did you find?”
She crossed her arms on the little table covered in white damask, her hair a shining fall over her shoulders. Her jaw was set firm. She cleared her throat, but still the pain lingered in her eyes. When she spoke, the smoky thickness of emotion still threaded her voice. “It’s pretty astounding, really.”
“Well, you going to share?”
She reached down and pulled a Manila folder from the bag at her feet. “I printed out the article and photo that ran in the
Gazette
at the time of Grady Fisher’s accident.” She opened the folder and pulled out the copy. “Sven was right. Grady doesn’t look like he’d be Amy’s type. Kind of scrawny intellectual. Amy had a thing for athletic, macho males.”
Hannah laid the printout on the table. “The reason I didn’t remember more about the canyon accident was because Grady Fisher went off the road the day after Amy disappeared. We were all so engrossed in the search-and-rescue efforts I guess no one really paid a whole lot of attention.”
“So Grady Fisher disappeared the day after Amy Barnes went missing? Now, that
is
interesting.”
He watched her smooth out the paper on the table with those beautiful hands.
“Al had a journalism student helping out as part of a work experience when Grady’s accident happened. He put this story together.”
She took a sip of her wine. “And there’s more.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a stapled document. “The RCMP initially suspected drunk driving. That’s what the student reported in his story. However, he did send for a copy of the coroner’s report. It must have arrived some weeks after he went back to school. It ended up getting filed and forgotten in all the turmoil. No one ever followed up with another article.”
Rex looked at the document in her hand. “You got the coroner’s report?”
“Yes. And guess what? Toxicology tests showed virtually zero blood alcohol content. Grady Fisher reeked of booze at the scene and apparently there was an open whiskey bottle found in the car, but there was not enough inside him to legally declare him an impaired driver.”
Rex whistled softly through his teeth. “This is looking serious, Hannah.” It smacked of a setup. He’d seen this kind of thing before. Perhaps Fisher’s death was no more accidental than Amy’s. “Do you know if anyone got prints from the whiskey bottle?”
“There’s no mention anywhere of prints in what I could find at the office. But police did find a vial with traces of something called GHB back in Grady’s apartment.”
“Gamma hydroxybutyrate? It’s an anaesthetic and hypnotic. Like Rohypnol, it’s being used more and more frequently as a recreational drug and has been implicated in date-rape cases.” Rex took a sip of his wine. “Liquid GHB is common in some club scenes, but when mixed with alcohol, or taken in too high a dose, it can result in breathing difficulties, coma and death. It’s got a host of trendy names, one of them Grievous Bodily Harm.”
“Well, apparently routine forensic toxicology tests don’t look for drugs like that.”
“Right. But if Fisher’s blood alcohol was so low, they must have tested for other routine drugs.”
“They did. But according to the report, there was no trace of the usual suspects—cocaine, morphine, codeine or cannabis. After they discovered the vial, police did ask for a special benzodiazepine analysis but nothing was found.”
“Well, those tests might have shown if there was GHB in Grady’s system, but only if they were done in time. How long did it take to find his body?”
“A full day after his car apparently left the road. Actual cause of death was head injury and blood loss.”
“So it was many hours before they ran those tests. You see, that’s the trouble with stuff like Rohypnol and GHB. They have a short half-life and you have to take body fluids within a relatively narrow timeframe to detect them. The way I understand it, inactive metabolites can be detected in blood only for about four to six hours after administration.”
“You know your stuff, Doc.”
“I head up a pharmaceutical division, I should know my stuff.”
“Right.” Hannah reached for her wine. Rex was pleased to see a healthy sweep of color brushing those aristocratic cheekbones.
“The coroner did note that Grady’s employer indicated he’d been having substance abuse problems and that he hadn’t been himself a few weeks prior to the accident. But he said
if
drugs were a factor in the actual accident, there was no forensic evidence to confirm this.”
“So the bottom line is Grady Fisher’s death was ruled accidental, like Amy’s?”
“You got it.” Hannah gathered up the report and printouts as she saw two servers approach bearing the Ma Maison specialty. “Ah, the food. Good, I’m absolutely starved.”
One of the waiters set a burner on the table and lit two little tea lights. The other set a platter on top of the burner. Steam spiraled from the lobster, a fiery coral in color. It was set amongst prawns, oysters, mussels and thick fillets of succulent white fish. There was garlic and herb butter, lemon wedges and little finger bowls.
Hannah peered at him through the gently curling steam. A hint of a smile tugged at her lush lips. “Rex, this was a good plan.” She shook out her napkin and set it on her lap. “I think I must be drooling.”
She reached for a prawn, split the skin and dipped the white meat into the lemon and herb butter. He watched as she savored it, licked the juices from her lips and reached for another. It drove a hunger of his own, one quite unrelated to prawns drenched in garlic and herb butter.
He squeezed lemon onto the oysters. “Looks like I better tuck in before you polish it off without me.”
“Mmm.” She reached for her glass. “Oh, the other thing the student dug up during an Internet search was an old Orange County newspaper article. Seems Grady Fisher had a bit of a shady past himself. According to the article, Grady was charged in California several years ago for drug possession, but the charge never stuck.”
“So the theory that he was abusing drugs fits. Interesting stuff, Hannah. Well done…partner.” He raised his glass.
She grinned at him, her lips slick with sauce.
He paused to split open a prawn. “What was found with Amy’s body?”
“Not much. It sure looks like she wasn’t going on a hike, though. She had a flashlight and a reporter’s notebook with her. It has notes in it from the last couple of interviews she did before she went missing. Nothing really stands out as unusual. But, on the inside cover, there is a telephone number for the White River Spa with Grady Fisher’s name. Next to his name are the words ‘Grizz Hut, 5 p.m., to trail, meeting, BW. Urgent.’”
“Grizz Hut, that’s the cabin up near the glacier where she fell?”
“Yes. Grizzly Hut.”
Rex lifted the bottle to top up Hannah’s glass. She moved her hand over it. “No, no, thank you.” Her eyes trapped his. “I’ve had way more than I need. We missed lunch, you know. Wine’s going straight to my head.”
“Sorry, that’s my fault.” He topped up his own drink. “Years of bad habit. I tend to ignore my own hunger until it’s too late.”