Relatively Dead (31 page)

“How did you find out about the syndicate?”

“My grandson was naïve enough to tell me about it. I asked him what he was doing for a job. He wanted to get my approval. He tried to convince me it was on the up and up.” Jason snorted. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

I put more pieces together. “You killed Timothy first, hoping your grandson wouldn’t pursue the syndicate in the U.S. and it would evaporate. However, Ponzi schemes don’t just disappear. It was harder for you to kill Jason. But he didn’t listen to you and you had to do it before
he
smeared the Boyd name.”

“When have the young ever listened to the old? Our wisdom gets lost each generation. Jason was smart but he was a fool. He wanted the quick win. He wasn’t willing to work for success. He devalued the freedom my generation and generations before me have fought for. Freedom isn’t license.”

“You were at the party where Jason was killed, but you must have been in disguise because nobody recognized you.”

“I’ve been undercover before. I’m good at disguises. Nobody but Jason knew who I was. I told him we had to talk. He wasn’t in a mood to listen. He told me I was an old fart and didn’t understand the world, anymore.”

“You shot him as he climbed down the ladder. Where’s the gun you used? Why didn’t you bring it with you today?”

“You’ve made things too hot for me. I had to get rid of it. I haven’t bothered to get another one yet.”

That was a relief. I wished I had
my
gun. I’d returned it to Kyle before I left Los Angeles. Another thought occurred to me. At first I didn’t believe it, but then I knew it was true.

“You killed Tom, too. You pushed him off the train station platform. Why did you do that? He wasn’t involved in the syndicate. He doesn’t even have the Boyd name.”

Jason shrugged. “I killed him because I didn’t want to kill you. I like you. You’ve got the hot blood I had when I was young but seems to be missing from other members of the family. As long as Tom was in the picture, you were going to be there, trying to figure out his involvement in the murders.”

“You followed me around because I was following Tom?”

“Once you were absolutely certain he wasn’t involved, you would have become suspicious of
me
. I killed Tom hoping you’d go away. It almost worked.”

Tom died for me. That made the money I gave his mother seem a paltry sum. I realized I was facing a trained killer.

“Was it you who tried to run me over in the motel parking lot?”

Jason laughed. “If I’d meant to kill you I’d have succeeded. I wanted you to think the man who sent you the threatening letter—Tom—did it. I wanted to scare you off. But you don’t scare easily.”

“Y
ou
sent the letter.”

Jason just smiled. I couldn’t believe I’d misread him so badly. “You pretended to work with me. We interrogated Marcia together to throw me off the scent.”

“And so I could find out what she knew.”

“How many other people have you killed?”

“That’s classified information.”

He was serious. His mindset was something I hadn’t encountered before. The government had made him into a monster. A trained monster. But maybe that could help me.

“Your other murders have been carefully planned—planned so you’d get away with them. If you’re planning to kill me, you’re being a bit haphazard. Somebody’s going to figure out we were up here together.”

Jason grinned and took a few steps toward me. I retreated, accordingly.

“You’re wrong. You see, I was never here. Nobody saw us together. I have a separate hiking permit, on which I put a false name. You should know about using false names. You’ve done it often enough.”

“I told people where I was going and who I was going with.”

“And I’ve put together an alibi that will prove I had an emergency and never came to Palm Springs or rode the tram.”

This was exasperating. He had an answer for everything. “The police will find the email.”

Jason nodded. “In your car. Except that it won’t be there. I’ll take your key and find the car in the tram parking lot, even if it’s not a red Porsche. There aren’t that many cars there on a weekday in spring, and a rental key has the make and license information attached to it. If necessary, I’ll just press the panic button.”

I knew he wouldn’t do that, because it would attract attention. However, finding the car would be easy. I’d parked it near the steps to the tram building.

“Other people have copies of the email.”

Jason hesitated just for a second. “You know, I don’t believe you. On the phone, you described the special paper the email was printed on, so I know you have the original. I know you got it from Evan, and I seriously doubt he made a copy. He just wants to wash his hands of the whole business. And you’re too secretive to give a copy to anyone else.”

He really didn’t believe me even though I’d told the truth. I’d left a copy with Frances, because of her interest in the case. But I wasn’t going to use her name. He might hunt her down, too.

CHAPTER 33

Jason started walking steadily toward me. I was used to him approaching a few steps and then stopping, so I was a little slow on the uptake. When I realized he wasn’t going to stop I started retreating faster, but I slipped on a patch of snow. I stretched out my hand and stopped my fall by bracing it against a rock, but that allowed Jason to get close enough to make a grab for me.

He got hold of a loop on my pack that stuck out behind, and pulled. I quickly slipped the straps off my shoulders and ran a few steps. Jason was left holding the pack. It had my water and food and cell phone in it. I ran a few steps more. I wasn’t going to let him get that close to me again. He handled the pack, disdainfully, and then tossed it aside. He looked up the trail at me.

“There’s no point in you trying to get away. I know these mountains like the varicose veins on my legs. I’m also in excellent shape. You’re still recovering from a sprained ankle and miscellaneous other injuries. You’ll save us both a lot of time and trouble if you don’t play hard to get.”

That was incredible. He was asking me to let him kill me. As disheartening as his speech was, it steeled my determination not to let him do it. He appeared to be stopping to catch his breath. That was a good sign. I walked slowly away from him, hoping he wouldn’t follow, at least for the moment.

Every step I took up the trail was a step away from the tram and safety. I was torn. I could go off the trail and try to get around him, but then he would have a real advantage over me.  I knew Jason was a lot more experienced than I was at bushwhacking, and the snow made it that even more hazardous. His boots were a lot better on a slippery surface than my running shoes. Even without the snow, I would likely get tangled in bushes or stopped by rocks. One more slip and I would be a goner.

No, I had to stay on the trail and continue upward. To what? Drifts so deep I could no longer negotiate them? Or the top of the mountain? Where would I go from there? Jason had mentioned large rocks at the top. Maybe I could lose him in the rocks. I had to have something to hope for.

While I was thinking I continued walking slowly up the trail, constantly turning my head to see where Jason was. He was still standing and watching me. Maybe I could sneak away from him. Then he started coming after me with his long strides. I sped up, suddenly panicked. It dawned on me how serious this situation was.

I was tempted to run, but after a few running steps I slowed to a fast walk. Running uphill would only get me out of breath, especially in the rarified air of the high altitude, and make me easy to catch by Jason with his steady pace. In addition, it greatly increased my probability of slipping and falling. No, I had to match Jason’s walking speed, which was difficult to do because my legs were shorter.

I saw a sturdy but lightweight stick lying on the trail. I scooped it up as I went by. Now I had a weapon.

“That thing won’t do you any good.” Jason’s voice was contemptuous. “I’m highly trained in hand-to-hand combat. You can’t hurt me with a twig.”

Thanks for the warning.
However, I noticed when he talked while he was hiking his speech was inhibited by his heavy breathing. The climbing was affecting him, and perhaps the altitude, also. For myself, I hadn’t noticed any effect from the altitude yet. No lightheadedness. My breathing was at least as good as Jason’s. There was a twinge in my ankle from time to time, but so far it hadn’t slowed me down.

Fortunately, the trail was well marked, even in the snow. It was mostly clear of branches. There were also a few footprints of previous hikers showing the way, although they were at least a day old as I could tell by melting that had taken place. I kept hoping to see fresh footprints, but so far in vain. I knew Jason was counting on us being alone.

I had to take a hefty step up to climb a rock that was part of the trail. The step was easier for Jason because of his long legs, but I was correct in thinking I was more agile, because I was able to climb it like a mountain goat, springing up, whereas Jason looked ponderous when he attacked it, as I saw when I looked back at him.
Call us even on that one.

I turned my head to look ahead and saw a large tree lying across the trail in front of me. Whoops. The trail wasn’t completely clear. The tree had obviously fallen during a recent storm. It was too large to climb over quickly. Jason would catch me easily while I was attempting that. It was also too long to go around in a hurry, and that approach presented the usual arguments against leaving the security of the trail.

I was almost to the tree and still hadn’t made a decision about what to do. Was this it? Did life end with a whimper rather than a bang? The bottom of the tree trunk wasn’t flush against the trail. There was a gap between it and the snow that covered the trail. The gap wasn’t large enough for me to squeeze through. How deep was the snow? I couldn’t tell and I didn’t have the luxury of finding out.

I dove for the gap, determined to burrow my way through the snow. I squeezed my body underneath the log, flailing my arms and legs like a drowning swimmer, and then got stuck. My face was in the snow and my rear-end was held fast by the tree. I figured I had about five seconds to get out of this mess before Jason grabbed my legs and pulled me back.

I frantically crabbed sideways and found a slightly larger opening. Again I windmilled with all my appendages. I’d started moving when Jason grabbed one leg. I kicked as hard as I could in the cramped quarters, freeing my leg, and then scrambled forward, kicking my legs both for propulsion and to keep Jason from grabbing them again.

I popped out the other side of the tree, panting and shaking, and stood up. When I put my foot down I realized I’d lost a shoe. Jason’s grip had loosened it, and I’d kicked it off. I was dead without that shoe. I plopped down on my stomach again and looked back through the gap I’d just negotiated. All I saw was snow. Where was it? Did Jason have it?

Sweating despite being covered with snow, I crawled a couple of feet back into the hole and then stopped, trying to focus in the darkness under the tree. It was hard to stay still, not knowing what Jason was doing. Then I saw the shoe, half buried in the snow. I reached for it, but it was just beyond the length of my arm.

As much as I didn’t want to go farther under the tree, I slid forward until I could grasp the shoe. I started pulling it out when something tugged it the other way. Jason. He must have seen what I was doing and discovered the shoe. I yanked on the shoe as hard as I could, almost losing my grip. He still had hold of it. I yanked again, let up, and then quickly yanked twice more. I must have caught him by surprise and had a superior grip, because I pulled it away from him.

I quickly backed out of the hole. Jason had stood and was climbing over the large tree trunk. It must be almost six feet in diameter. He was too big to fit underneath, especially wearing his pack. In addition, that would have made him vulnerable.

I had to get my shoe on before I did anything else. My foot was wet and my hands were cold and wet. I took off my gloves and tugged at the shoe with all my strength. My cold fingers lost their grip a couple of times. Finally, with a supreme effort I slid it over my heel.

Slightly relieved, I stood, face to face with Jason, stamping my foot to make sure the shoe was on all the way. He was struggling with the tree. Suddenly I hated him for what he’d done. If only I had something to hit him with while he was off-balance. I’d dropped the stick when I went under the tree, and I didn’t see another appropriate one nearby.

The best strategy continued to be retreat. I went up the trail, intending to put as much distance between Jason and me as I could before he got over the tree. I glanced back every few seconds while brushing the snow off my clothes. By the time he was on his feet on the trail again I was forty or fifty yards ahead of him. In addition, he stopped to catch his breath before he came after me. The exertion was getting to him. This heartened me.

I was determined not to lose my lead. I kept going at a steady pace, slogging through the snow but watching my step. No more slips. My feet were very cold and wet, especially the one that had lost the shoe. I remembered a triathlete friend of mine telling me that wet feet were the norm for a triathlete, but wet and cold at the same time? If my feet lost their feeling would I still be able to walk?