so they can install them before the Tuesday morning shift. Even leaving Sunday night was stretching things, and I would’ve given the load to Samuels if you hadn’t promised to make the deadline.”
“Right.” Hunter paused to think.
“So what’s the problem? Don’t tell me you’re in love.” Even though El had never met Alora, she’d known of her since the previous summer when Hunter had recruited Alora to be the defense lawyer in Los Angeles for one of El’s drivers.
Elspeth Watson routinely said things to him that he would never accept from others. He considered her more of a friend than a boss, but he never underestimated her power over his livelihood. He pictured her, old stained blue jeans, steel-toe sneakers and an oversize navy polo shirt, sitting at her computer with her little dog, Peterbilt, in her lap. She was a big woman with a big voice and, as tough as she might come across, an even bigger heart.
“I’m a murder suspect,” he said.
There were fifteen seconds of silence at the other end of the line, followed by, “Come again?”
“I’m a murder suspect, El. Alora’s husband showed up here in Whistler, and this morning he was found dead.”
When El responded, it was almost a whisper. “You?”
“Of course not!”
“Alora?”
Hunter realized he couldn’t answer her question. “I don’t think so,” he said.
“Then who?”
“If I knew don’t you think I’d tell the police?”
“Then find out. You need to be free to pick up that load tomorrow night.”
Hunter laughed. “Might take me longer than that, El. I’ll line up a substitute driver for my rig.”
“Who?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Not Sorenson.”
“Why not Sorenson?”
“Why him?”
“He’s the only driver I know hard up enough to drive up here to pick up my keys. I should’ve left a set with you at the yard.”
He heard El sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Why not?”
Kelly sat in one of the two armchairs positioned in front of the gas fireplace in the hotel room, and Mike’s father, John Irwin, was in the other. Mike’s mother, Beth, sat at the end of the bed, watching the two children play. Corenna was turning the pages of a cloth book and pretending to read, while Jordan was coloring cartoon characters, being very careful to keep his crayon within the lines.
Kelly sighed deeply. She wished they could just leave this place, but the police had asked them to stay for a few days. “We may need your help with our investigations,” the Mountie had said. Kelly felt an almost unbearable yearning to be home, but when she pictured the house she had shared with Mike in Pasadena, she realized she had no desire to return to it. Her mind searched its rooms, and every room held derision and criticism from her late husband. She knew she should pretend to care who had killed Mike, especially for the sake of his parents. “I feel like I’m in a bad dream,” she said, staring into the fire.
She felt her father-in-law’s eyes on her, but he didn’t speak. Beth did. “You know you’re like a daughter to us, Kelly,” she said. “You and the children can stay with us until you get your bearings. We’d love to have you, all three of you.”
“Yes,” said John. “It would be a comfort to us, after losing Mike, to have you and the children nearby. Your father was my best friend, and we promised each other we’d watch out for each other’s family if anything happened to one of us.”
Kelly nodded. “I remember Dad saying that,” she said. “I thought he’d be happy to know that I’d married your son…” She didn’t finish the thought aloud, but was aware of a glance that passed between Beth and John. “I’m sure he…,” her voice faltered, and she held her breath, her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob. “I’m sure he was.”
“Corenna and Jordan,” she continued, looking at John, “are a little bit of both of you, you and Dad. I’m sure Dad is happy about that.”
Jordan looked up from
“Right.” Hunter paused to think.
“So what’s the problem? Don’t tell me you’re in love.” Even though El had never met Alora, she’d known of her since the previous summer when Hunter had recruited Alora to be the defense lawyer in Los Angeles for one of El’s drivers.
Elspeth Watson routinely said things to him that he would never accept from others. He considered her more of a friend than a boss, but he never underestimated her power over his livelihood. He pictured her, old stained blue jeans, steel-toe sneakers and an oversize navy polo shirt, sitting at her computer with her little dog, Peterbilt, in her lap. She was a big woman with a big voice and, as tough as she might come across, an even bigger heart.
“I’m a murder suspect,” he said.
There were fifteen seconds of silence at the other end of the line, followed by, “Come again?”
“I’m a murder suspect, El. Alora’s husband showed up here in Whistler, and this morning he was found dead.”
When El responded, it was almost a whisper. “You?”
“Of course not!”
“Alora?”
Hunter realized he couldn’t answer her question. “I don’t think so,” he said.
“Then who?”
“If I knew don’t you think I’d tell the police?”
“Then find out. You need to be free to pick up that load tomorrow night.”
Hunter laughed. “Might take me longer than that, El. I’ll line up a substitute driver for my rig.”
“Who?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Not Sorenson.”
“Why not Sorenson?”
“Why him?”
“He’s the only driver I know hard up enough to drive up here to pick up my keys. I should’ve left a set with you at the yard.”
He heard El sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Why not?”
Kelly sat in one of the two armchairs positioned in front of the gas fireplace in the hotel room, and Mike’s father, John Irwin, was in the other. Mike’s mother, Beth, sat at the end of the bed, watching the two children play. Corenna was turning the pages of a cloth book and pretending to read, while Jordan was coloring cartoon characters, being very careful to keep his crayon within the lines.
Kelly sighed deeply. She wished they could just leave this place, but the police had asked them to stay for a few days. “We may need your help with our investigations,” the Mountie had said. Kelly felt an almost unbearable yearning to be home, but when she pictured the house she had shared with Mike in Pasadena, she realized she had no desire to return to it. Her mind searched its rooms, and every room held derision and criticism from her late husband. She knew she should pretend to care who had killed Mike, especially for the sake of his parents. “I feel like I’m in a bad dream,” she said, staring into the fire.
She felt her father-in-law’s eyes on her, but he didn’t speak. Beth did. “You know you’re like a daughter to us, Kelly,” she said. “You and the children can stay with us until you get your bearings. We’d love to have you, all three of you.”
“Yes,” said John. “It would be a comfort to us, after losing Mike, to have you and the children nearby. Your father was my best friend, and we promised each other we’d watch out for each other’s family if anything happened to one of us.”
Kelly nodded. “I remember Dad saying that,” she said. “I thought he’d be happy to know that I’d married your son…” She didn’t finish the thought aloud, but was aware of a glance that passed between Beth and John. “I’m sure he…,” her voice faltered, and she held her breath, her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob. “I’m sure he was.”
“Corenna and Jordan,” she continued, looking at John, “are a little bit of both of you, you and Dad. I’m sure Dad is happy about that.”
Jordan looked up from
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