Read Online Never Hug a Mugger on Quadra Island by Sandy Frances Duncan, George Szanto - Free Book Online Page B

911.”
    They arrived at the car. Kyra told Noel about the B&B reservation. “Oh,” he said. After finger-dashing around a Campbell River lodging site he’d found them two possible B&Bs. Now Kyra—or Linda—had one-upped him. He closed his laptop.
    Jason got into the front seat, Kyra in back. Cindy slumped down beside her. Can’t be twenty yet, Kyra thought, but what a drawn, weary face. “He’s a strong young man, Cindy. Give him time to pull through.”
    Cindy nodded. “I hope.”
    The tension between Cindy and Linda still echoed in Kyra’s memory. “Being with him lends him your strength. But he needs time to find his own strength too.”
    â€œI know.” She sniffed. “I do know.”
    Jason turned to the back seat. “Which way, Cindy?”
    Cindy gave directions—back out to Dogwood, a left, pretty soon a right on Merecroft. Just before the end of the road Cindy said, “Over there.” They pulled up in front of a cedar-shingled house set back from the road. To one side stood a small cabin.
    â€œNice place,” said Kyra.
    â€œThanks,” said Cindy. She got out. “Thank you.” She started from the car, turned, said to Jason through the open window, “He’s going to be fine.” She nodded to herself. “Just fine.” Quickly she headed toward the house.
    â€œMake a U-turn,” Jason said. Noel did. After a couple of minutes he pointed his thumb over his shoulder “That’s the Beaver Lodge Forest Lands beyond there. Lots of trails and deer. A few bears, occasional cougar.” A couple of silent minutes later he added, “We’re close. Take the next left.”
    Noel turned on a road called McPhedran. Another turn, Evergreen. The homes looked middle class, some upper middle. He wondered about the economy up here now that the Elk Falls Pulp Mill had shut down, any logs left shipped out raw, no value-added wages here. Most of the fish canneries had closed, too few salmon to keep the locals employed. The Honda reached the end of the road, cement blocks blocking auto entrance.
    Jason pointed to a closed yellow gate. “Back in there.”
    Noel read, ACCESS TO TWINNED HOLDINGS PIT . “What’s that mean?”
    â€œNo idea. But this is where the old lady found him. Her dog, really.”
    â€œAny way of talking with her?”
    â€œDon’t know where she lives.”
    Noel and Kyra got out, stepped around the gate, and studied the area. They saw trampled ground desiccated from lack of rain. Tacked to a scrawny maple, a piece of yellow crime-scene tape. They walked to a point where the old road curved. Only the privacy of the area spoke to Noel. He took pictures, to keep the crime scene in their minds.
    As if reading his thoughts, Kyra said, “Out of sight from any houses.”
    â€œYeah.” Noel started back. “I’d like to ring some doorbells.”
    At the third house a woman in shorts and an oversized shirt opened the door. No, she hadn’t seen anything the night of the attack, just the Mounties’ flashing lights. The woman with the walker? Sure, Sarah McDougal, lives three houses down with her daughter. They thanked her.
    Jason said, “I’ll wait in the car.”
    â€œJason.” It was almost as if Jason was undermining them. “We have to ask you some questions. Stuff we need to know.”
    Jason shrugged. “Ask away.”
    â€œHow well do you know Derek?”
    â€œWhat’re you talking about?” His voice held tight.
    â€œDoes he share things with you? His plans? His feelings?”
    â€œWe talk about what he wants to do.” He laughed, grimly. “Sometimes about what he doesn’t. About what he’s done that he’s glad he’s done. That the sort of thing you mean?”
    It’s going to take a while, thought Kyra. “What about Cindy, for example. How he feels about