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Looking frustrated, she slipped the envelope back into her bag. “Back to square one, then. Crap.”
“Not necessarily. This is potential evidence that Lila was right and he and Ruth were in love.”
“Lila’s always right about things like that.”
Sam was starting to grasp Molly’s incredible loyalty to her friends. “Then maybe they didn’t want her falling for an outsider. Another thing—Daniel was one of the people in town pushing for more summer traffic. It would have helped his smoothie business.”
Molly pulled a skeptical face. “None of those things seem murder-worthy. Everyone liked Daniel. Even the Chilkoots liked him enough to hire him, if that CK scribble meant Chilkoot.”
Sam sucked in a breath. “Maybe he saw something incriminating out there.”
She nodded slowly, then shook her head. “Maybe, but I saw him not long before the avalanche, and he showed no signs of urgency.”
“He was acting normal. Agreed. I’ve heard the same thing from everyone.”
“So maybe he saw something but didn’t know what it meant. But they knew, so they had to make sure he didn’t tell anyone.”
They both went quiet, turning all the pieces over in their minds.
“There was that note about Ice Falls,” Sam said. “But we don’t even know if the note was from the same day. It could be completely unconnected.”
“What about the other notes on his receipts?”
“Check for ED? I mean…All I can think of is erectile dysfunction.”
She laughed. “Let’s assume it’s not anyone’s private business.” She stood up and tightened her towel around her body. “We’re probably overthinking all of this. His notes, his relationship with Ruth. It could be a simple reminder to write a check to someone with the initials E.D.”
“Eddie Delano. Runs the Caribou Grill.” Sam scanned through his phone and tapped out a text. “I’ll find out if Daniel ever gave him a check.”
A split second after he sent the text, his phone pinged. “Holy shit.”
“What? Is that Eddie?”
“Bradley. James Marsh just fingered Luke Chilkoot for the murder of Daniel O’Connor and the trafficking of Elias. They’re going out there to arrest him right now.”
After a restless night of checking his phone for updates every time he woke up, Sam finally got a response from Agent Bradley.
Luke Chilkoot’s not talking. He’s being transferred to a holding cell. We’re preparing to raid the compound.
I might be able to get him to talk.
Not your job.
Right. He was strictly surveillance, freelance only. How could he forget? He didn’t like the feeling of being shut out. Kicked to the curb. It was such a helpless position.
Frustrated, he rolled out of bed and stalked to the window. Drawing back the drapes, he saw his truck still there, dewdrops studding the gray metal of the hood. Even though it was barely six, the light of an overcast morning filled the parking lot.
“Any news?” Molly’s husky voice made him turn her way. She was pulling herself into a sitting position, her hair a torrent of burgundy red, like waves tumbling off a…
Ice Falls.
What did Ice Falls have to do with all of this?
“Hang on,” he murmured to Molly, while he sent another text to Agent Bradley. Did you bring up Ice Falls?
No answer from the agent. Maybe it wasn’t his place to question the great ready-to-retire FBI agent.
“Luke’s in custody, but he’s not saying anything. They’re sending a team out to search the compound. I guess our part is done.”
