If I Should Die

NINE

Hands clasped firmly in her lap, and resisting an overwhelming urge to pace, Lucy sat stiffly on the worn couch in Tim Hendrickson’s living room while Deputy Sheriff Tyler Weddle asked her questions. Sean sat next to her, watchful and protective, but he was keeping his mouth closed—which was rare, but probably a good thing since she was about to throttle the cop.

“Ms. Kincaid,” Weddle said, “I understand you were highly stressed when you were in the mine. Your boyfriend was injured, you were—”

Lucy interrupted. “I know what I saw.”

“There was no body down there.”

“There was no body there today, but it was there yesterday. You need to get a trained crime scene team down there to look for trace evidence.”

“I think you watch too much television.” Weddle exchanged a smug glance with Ken Hammond, who stood next to Tim by the front door.

Lucy bristled. “I have—”

Sean cut her off. “You’re out of line, Deputy.”

Lucy frowned. She didn’t like being talked to as if she were a fool. She had seen a body. She could close her eyes and picture the woman: dark blond hair; extremely pale skin with a blue tinge; white blouse and dark slacks, and something else … something that flitted in and out of her mind as soon as she attempted to focus. But it was the deceased’s arms crossed unnaturally over her chest that had Lucy the most intrigued—and concerned.

The deputy questioned, “And someone went down there and did what? Moved the body? To where? Why would someone do such a thing?”

Sean said, “It’s no secret that I fell down the mine shaft. Word travels fast in a small town. Maybe whoever was hiding the body felt the need to move it.”

“That’s a bit of an assumption,” Weddle said.

“Hardly.” Sean leaned forward. “There was a body exactly where Lucy said it was.”

Lucy knew Sean was irritated that the cops were treating her as if she were crazy, and she wasn’t tickled about it either, but she put aside her frustration and tried to see it from their point of view. She was a stranger, she’d been through a traumatic incident, and she seemed to be seeing things that simply weren’t there.

“I apologize.” Weddle didn’t sound at all sincere. He stood. “I’ll contact the sheriff and give him your statement. He may send a team down there, or maybe not. The mine is extremely dangerous. There are exploration shafts that go down a hundred feet, caved-in ceilings; it hasn’t been maintained in forty years. But he’ll probably want to at least check out where you thought you saw the body.”

“Where I did see a body,” Lucy said.

“That’s what I said.”

“They need to search thoroughly,” Lucy pushed. “They only did a cursory inspection—”

Hammond said, “There were some signs that someone had been down there recently, but nothing significant. I’m not going to put anyone at risk—we need a current map of the mine and additional team members.”

“The lighting was poor, but if you—”

“Ms. Kincaid,” Weddle interrupted. He took a step toward her, intentionally crowding her as a method of intimidation. “We’re going to check out your claim, but we must follow safety protocols.”

“I understand,” she lied. Every muscle itched to defend herself. “I can look at missing persons pictures, see if I recognize her,” she offered.

“I’ll have the station shoot you over what we have. But there’s no one local who’s missing, and no lost tourists. Probably a waste of time.”

“It’s my time to waste,” Lucy snapped. She rose from the couch, and brushed past the cop.

“I’ll let you know if anything turns up,” Weddle said. “About the body or the arsonist.”

Lucy didn’t have any confidence in Weddle’s ability. Surely, the sheriff would show more professionalism when he read the report.

Tim walked Weddle and Hammond outside to their truck.

As soon as they were safely out of earshot, Lucy said, “Sean—”

“I know what you’re going to say, Luce. But until we know what’s going on with the vandalism, we need to keep a low profile. Announcing you work for the FBI or trained as a forensic pathologist doesn’t equal ‘low profile.’ ”

“It’s murder, Sean! The police need to make that young woman’s death a priority.”

“I agree, but let’s see what they do in the next twenty-four hours before we blow our cover. Give them time to do their job. You said the body could have been down there for months—another day isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

Even though she understood his reasoning, Lucy didn’t agree with Sean. They were in Spruce Lake because of the vandalism. Now that there was an arsonist endangering lives, the gravity of the situation had increased. If word got out about their credentials, it could spook the saboteur into hiding—or possibly even escalate the sabotage. But that didn’t mean the police couldn’t uncover their identities with a little looking—an Internet search would easily yield Sean Rogan at RCK East, a private security company, and Lucy’s involvement with a couple of FBI cases might have her name popping up in the media. Lucy didn’t think that just because Spruce Lake seemed to be living in the past, the authorities didn’t have basic tech skills and an Internet connection.

“Luce?”

“You’re right,” she said.

“I have a feeling your mind is working overtime.”

Before Lucy could respond to Sean’s comment, Tim stepped back inside the house. “I think they’re taking you seriously, Lucy.”

“I hope so.”

“You didn’t tell them why we were here?” Sean asked.

Tim shook his head. “As far as anyone in Spruce Lake knows, you’re friends of mine. End of story. I didn’t lie, didn’t expand. But the cops have your names and addresses.”

Sean nodded. “That’s the police—unless the conspiracy is huge, our information shouldn’t get out of the Sheriff’s Department.”

“In a town this size, anything’s possible,” Tim said.

“Let’s keep our cover for the next couple days and see what happens. If it gets out quickly, then we’ll need to rethink our strategy.” He stood and stretched, then tried to hide his limp.

“It’s a little early for dinner,” he continued, “and I have some work to do. If you’ll excuse us, Tim.”

“Of course.”

Lucy and Sean left, but instead of going to their cabin, Sean led the way to the lodge. The scent of wet, burned wood still clung in the air. “I saw Adam go inside when we drove up with Weddle,” Sean explained.

They found Adam Hendrickson upstairs in one of the rooms, salvaging what he could after the fire in the kitchen.

“Adam,” Sean said, “we need to talk.”

“Sure.” He sniffed the mattress deeply. “I can’t tell if I’m smelling smoke in the mattress, or if that’s just because I can’t get the stench out of my nose.”

“Give it a couple days. We can move everything to one of the other cabins, air things out, see what can be saved.”

“This is going to delay the opening. Why would someone do this?”

It was a rhetorical question.

Sean pulled over a straight-back chair and sat, his leg throbbing. “Tim said you were close to your dad, closer than he was.”

Adam shrugged. “I spent every summer here, even after my parents divorced. Dad didn’t talk much, but he was one of those guys who didn’t need to. You felt like he just knew everything under the sun. I was raised in Syracuse, but Spruce Lake is my home.” He paused. “He’d talked about turning this place into a family camp, but he never got around to it. I think he enjoyed having the lake to himself.”

“Did your dad have any enemies? Anyone who—”

Adam shook his head and leaned against the wall. “Everyone liked Joe Hendrickson.”

“Maybe it dates back further. When he was younger. Or his family.”

“Like the Hatfields and McCoys? The only thing along those lines might be that my grandma—she died when I was little—was a Kelley. Her family owned the mine until they sold to the government, then had a lease to keep mining. The Kelleys used to own all the land around here, but sold most of it off.”

“Who owns the mine? The federal government?” Lucy asked.

“As far as I know. Or New York State. We’re northwest of what most people consider the Adirondacks, but we’re technically in the same mountain range as the state park.”

“It sounds like the Kelleys made a good deal,” Sean said. “Get paid for the land by the government, but still be able to mine and pull out resources.”

“I really don’t know,” Adam said.

“Maybe someone held a grudge, doesn’t want you to be successful? Did anyone lose big when your family sold off the other parcels?”

“No—the thing is, my grandmother sold the land to people who’d been paying rent for years to the Kelleys—sold it cheap, too, from what my dad said, telling people all the rent they’d paid over the years could be used toward the purchase.”

“When was this?”

“Before I was born. I was three when she died, and in her will she forgave all the outstanding loans. My dad was the same way, you can ask his best friend, Henry Callahan. The big ranch you passed on your way here? That’s Henry’s place.”

“Would you introduce us to Henry?” Sean asked.

“Sure, why?”

“At this point, I don’t know. Someone is trying to shut you down and I want to find out if it’s personal—against your family.”

Adam looked stunned. “Personal? I don’t believe that.”

“Can we talk to Henry Callahan tonight?”

Adam nodded, but now seemed preoccupied. “Sure. I can arrange that.”

“Someplace out in public,” Sean added. “See if we garner any interest from strangers.” It was time they shook things up and see who reacted.

Lucy was quiet as they walked back to the cabin.

“Tell me why you’re ticked off,” Sean said when he opened the door.

“I’m not.”

“Is it because I want to go public? Meet with Callahan and push some buttons?”

“No.”

He didn’t push. He crossed over to the desk in the corner and booted up his computer. Lucy stood at the wall of windows overlooking the lake, arms crossed over her chest. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her chin tilted slightly upward, the posture she assumed when she was trying to form an argument.

He sent an email message to his partner Patrick, Lucy’s brother, giving him a rundown on what happened as well as a request for some needed research. As he typed, he watched Lucy’s mouth turn down. She was ready. He suppressed the itch to smile. He knew Lucy well.

She said, “A dead body trumps arson.”

“You think we should have shown our cards.”

“Weddle treated me like an idiot. I don’t think they’re going to take this seriously, no matter what Tim said. Why on earth would Deputy Weddle think I’d lie about seeing a dead woman in the mine?”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“And someone moved her. That means someone who knew we found the body went there last night to get her out. Why?”

“To cover up a murder?”

“Exactly. Yesterday I wasn’t sure if her death was natural or inflicted, but I wasn’t thinking straight. There is no logical way for her to naturally die in that position. Maybe she was killed in or near the mine, and it was the only place the killer could think of leaving her. Maybe it was an accident—and someone panicked and didn’t want to go to the authorities.”

“Tim said no one in town is missing.”

“No one from Spruce Lake is missing. What about the surrounding areas? Potsdam or Canton? A camper from last summer? Spruce Lake is small, but the highway winds through the state park and could bring people from all over passing through.”

“What do you want to do?” Sean asked, though he knew the answer.

“Go back down in the mine, first thing in the morning.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“I’ll understand if you’re not ready—”

“I’m not letting you go alone.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Fine.” It hurt like hell. “What do you expect to find?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Or maybe a clue to her identity. How she died. How she was moved. Who she was. A confession etched on the wall of the tunnel, I don’t know. I just feel like I need to go down there and do something.”

And that was the crux of the problem, Sean realized. Lucy felt helpless and her need to find justice for the dead woman—to give her family peace—overrode the details of the plan. If she didn’t search for answers, she wouldn’t be able to put it to rest. The woman would be on her mind, a tragic puzzle with no solution. Even if Lucy went down in the mine and found nothing, at least she would feel that she had done everything she could.

“All right,” he said. “We go down first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you. And—would you mind if I asked Patrick to pull all missing persons in the area? Not just St. Lawrence County, but all of upstate New York? Maybe the adjoining states?”

“Already done.” He grinned at the surprise on her face and leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lucy stared at him with such a quizzical expression that Sean laughed.

“You never have to hold back with me, Luce. Your mind is a computer. You go through all the arguments you can think of to get your point across, and then bring them up one by one until you get your way.”

She looked both confused and sheepish, not sure if what he’d just said was a compliment. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Brainstorm with me. Give me all your ideas, the good and the bad, and we’ll go through them together. You don’t have to justify your reasons for anything, not to me.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

“Yes you were. Maybe you don’t see it.”

She shook her head and turned away.

What had he said wrong? He wanted Lucy to know that he knew her, how she thought, how she felt, so she never felt that she had to put on an act for him. She didn’t have to sell him on her ideas. With her family and her colleagues, she was always hesitant to stand by her theories, though she was rarely wrong. Sean wanted her to have the confidence she deserved without tacit approval from Patrick or the rest of her family, or even him.

He stood and limped over to her, his leg stiff from sitting too long.

“You can say anything to me, Lucy.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“Good.” He kissed her, a long, soft kiss that generally was a prelude to taking her to bed. He wished they had more time alone—she was still preoccupied, and it felt important to find out what she was thinking. “Luce, I mean it.”

“Sometimes I think you enjoy this game of yours a little too much. Trying to read me, so proud when you get into my head. And you’re good at it. Really.” But she wasn’t smiling, and Sean felt a chill run down his spine. “I like that you understand me, and I love that you’re so supportive. But sometimes I feel manipulated, like a puppet, when I explain something you already figured out.”

“I don’t mean to—”

“I know you don’t.” She squeezed his hand. “If I thought you were doing it to make me feel foolish, I wouldn’t be here. You know me, Sean, better than anyone. Which is kind of scary considering we haven’t known each other for long. So think about that—knowing me, how I would feel if someone was manipulating me.”

Sean realized he had made a critical mistake with Lucy. “Sweetheart, I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, right?”

She smiled and nodded, but Sean saw that she’d put her shields back up, the invisible barrier that he hated. She should never feel defensive around him.

He wanted to push. Instead, he said, “I think it’s time to go into town and see what crawls out of the woodwork.”