have been much farther out. In reading the Moosehead Lodge brochure in his room, he’d learned that there were seven cabins on the property.
But what if he was wrong? Aaron couldn’t chance it. He listened carefully as Joanna went up the slope to the college kids’ cabin. He was certain Doug wasn’t there—it was too wooded, too steep. They’d been able to drive the snowmobiles up to the door of the cabin yesterday.
If Chapman hurt her, Aaron would kill him. He didn’t want to kill anyone. He only resorted to violence when he had no choice. It was never his fault when he had to kill.
Worse than killing Doug, though, was that Joanna would learn his true identity if there was a confrontation. Aaron couldn’t have that. Last night they’d bonded over tea and conversation. He’d relished every moment of their time together. Every word they shared. Her large brown eyes watching his, her delicate hand playing with her hair, twirling the ends round and round her finger. She was truly interested in what he had to say, touching his hand in sympathy when he’d told her about losing Rebecca.
“I love you, Joanna,” he murmured into the quiet, cold morning.
Doug could ruin everything. It had been smart of Aaron to let Joanna and the others see Doug’s mug shot. That meant Aaron could force him to stay away. He might have to get out of going with Joanna to meet the Boy Scouts, as much as he hated the idea. He’d miss the opportunity to bond with her as they’d done last night. But he had to tell Doug that Joanna knew what he looked like. Doug had to stay away. Far away.
He knocked on the door of the honeymooners’ cabin. He heard, “Who is it?”
He recognized that voice.
“Doug?”
The door opened. Doug stood in the entry half-naked. His face was flushed, a fresh set of scratches on his chest. A bruise covered one cheek and he had another on his side.
Behind Doug was a man, facedown, dried blood on the back of his T-shirt. He wore sweatpants. On the bed a woman quietly sobbed, a scarf tied around her mouth. Her hands were tied to the bedposts with fishing line. Her wrists bore red welts and cuts that continued to bleed. She was naked and the bed was bare. Dark bruises marked the inside of her thighs, blood was smeared on the mattress.
“What have you done?” Aaron shut the door firmly behind him. There was a simple bolt lock. He slid it closed.
“Is that food? Great. I’m famished.” Doug took the box from Aaron’s hands and sauntered over to the table, oblivious to the dead body he had to step over to get there.
“Dammit, Doug! I told you to stay put.”
“Shit, I was going stir-crazy. Flat-out insane.”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”
“I felt like I was back at Quentin. I had to get out.” Doug opened the box. “Hot coffee.” He poured from the thermos into a cup and breathed in the rich scent. “Good stuff.”
“Do you realize they’re going to find out what happened here?”
“We’ll be long gone.” He gulped the coffee.
“The owners come to the cottages every day to bring food and supplies. And when the snow lets up—”
“Anyone comes, I’ll pop them.”
“You can’t kill everyone! Let me think.”
“You think, I’ll eat.”
Aaron looked at the woman on the bed. She wasn’t blindfolded. Not only could she identify Doug, she could now identify Aaron. She’d have to be killed. Aaron didn’t relish the thought, but he’d make Doug do it.
Then tomorrow, he’d make a point of going out with Joanna again. He could delay the discovery of the bodies until he took Joanna away. He had wanted more time—at least a week—to win her heart, but now he realized he’d have to work faster. Especially if the Sheriff was on his way to the lodge.
It would work out, he convinced himself. After all, she’d been very attentive to him last night. And today, asking him to join her while delivering meals to the guests, and then to help the Boy Scouts. Wouldn’t
But what if he was wrong? Aaron couldn’t chance it. He listened carefully as Joanna went up the slope to the college kids’ cabin. He was certain Doug wasn’t there—it was too wooded, too steep. They’d been able to drive the snowmobiles up to the door of the cabin yesterday.
If Chapman hurt her, Aaron would kill him. He didn’t want to kill anyone. He only resorted to violence when he had no choice. It was never his fault when he had to kill.
Worse than killing Doug, though, was that Joanna would learn his true identity if there was a confrontation. Aaron couldn’t have that. Last night they’d bonded over tea and conversation. He’d relished every moment of their time together. Every word they shared. Her large brown eyes watching his, her delicate hand playing with her hair, twirling the ends round and round her finger. She was truly interested in what he had to say, touching his hand in sympathy when he’d told her about losing Rebecca.
“I love you, Joanna,” he murmured into the quiet, cold morning.
Doug could ruin everything. It had been smart of Aaron to let Joanna and the others see Doug’s mug shot. That meant Aaron could force him to stay away. He might have to get out of going with Joanna to meet the Boy Scouts, as much as he hated the idea. He’d miss the opportunity to bond with her as they’d done last night. But he had to tell Doug that Joanna knew what he looked like. Doug had to stay away. Far away.
He knocked on the door of the honeymooners’ cabin. He heard, “Who is it?”
He recognized that voice.
“Doug?”
The door opened. Doug stood in the entry half-naked. His face was flushed, a fresh set of scratches on his chest. A bruise covered one cheek and he had another on his side.
Behind Doug was a man, facedown, dried blood on the back of his T-shirt. He wore sweatpants. On the bed a woman quietly sobbed, a scarf tied around her mouth. Her hands were tied to the bedposts with fishing line. Her wrists bore red welts and cuts that continued to bleed. She was naked and the bed was bare. Dark bruises marked the inside of her thighs, blood was smeared on the mattress.
“What have you done?” Aaron shut the door firmly behind him. There was a simple bolt lock. He slid it closed.
“Is that food? Great. I’m famished.” Doug took the box from Aaron’s hands and sauntered over to the table, oblivious to the dead body he had to step over to get there.
“Dammit, Doug! I told you to stay put.”
“Shit, I was going stir-crazy. Flat-out insane.”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”
“I felt like I was back at Quentin. I had to get out.” Doug opened the box. “Hot coffee.” He poured from the thermos into a cup and breathed in the rich scent. “Good stuff.”
“Do you realize they’re going to find out what happened here?”
“We’ll be long gone.” He gulped the coffee.
“The owners come to the cottages every day to bring food and supplies. And when the snow lets up—”
“Anyone comes, I’ll pop them.”
“You can’t kill everyone! Let me think.”
“You think, I’ll eat.”
Aaron looked at the woman on the bed. She wasn’t blindfolded. Not only could she identify Doug, she could now identify Aaron. She’d have to be killed. Aaron didn’t relish the thought, but he’d make Doug do it.
Then tomorrow, he’d make a point of going out with Joanna again. He could delay the discovery of the bodies until he took Joanna away. He had wanted more time—at least a week—to win her heart, but now he realized he’d have to work faster. Especially if the Sheriff was on his way to the lodge.
It would work out, he convinced himself. After all, she’d been very attentive to him last night. And today, asking him to join her while delivering meals to the guests, and then to help the Boy Scouts. Wouldn’t
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