That's what she was afraid of as she headed to the lodge with Cameron to see Charles Roux, when all she wanted to do was find Hilson's cabin and give him a big piece of her mind.
Cameron escorted Faith to the main lodge, despite her telling him he didn't need to take her all the way there. But he seemed on edge and wanted to speak to her privately. She assumed it had to do with the reaction she had when she heard Hilson was staying in one of the other cabins, but Cameron hadn't wanted to bring it up in front of the police.
"Do you know either of the men who are staying at the other cabins?" he asked her, his voice hushed as he walked her up onto the lodge's porch.
Yeah, she guessed right. What would he think? He might be pissed that she didn't tell him she and her boyfriend had just split up.
"Hilson Snowdon is my ex-boyfriend. I didn't know he was here."
Cameron stared at her for a second, his face wearing a mask of disbelief. "This was recent? That the relation ship was dissolved?"
He seemed more than troubled by the news, as if he had more of a long-term interest in her. No, that wasn't it. Something else seemed to be eating at him.
Cameron added, "If he's followed you here, I assume he wasn't the one to do the ditching."
That came out harshly. And the notion suddenly dawned on her that he might have had a relationship that ended badly for him recently, too. Great. She hadn't intended to hurt anyone, but she couldn't deal with this right now.
Cameron seemed cold and distant, while the police officers watched them both with too much interest, and although she didn't think they were close enough to hear the conversation, they seemed to be trying anyway. Hell, her affairs were her own and had nothing to do with Cameron's problems in the least.
"Our relationship was… complicated. And for your information, he left without a word a couple of days ago."
"A couple of days ago?"
"Yeah, Cameron. Why don't we just leave it at that for now?" She hadn't meant to sound hurt and angry. But she couldn't help it. Cameron's whole expression was one of accusation. That she'd pushed Hilson away somehow maybe. Either that or Cameron didn't care for the fact it had been recent and Hilson was here, as if he had followed her and was still in love with her. But she didn't want to explain that he'd stolen her father's research in front of the police officers, who wouldn't do anything about it anyway. All she needed was for Hilson to turn up dead, and then they'd figure she really was the guilty party, as mad as she was at him for stealing her father's flash drive.
But then she wondered if Cameron's reaction wasn't tied to worrying if the dead man was one of his partners and in some bizarre way, he was unloading on her. Pretending that his tone didn't bother her, she said, "I'm sure your friends are safe."
"I believe you're right." But he didn't sound convinced, which made her think he probably had a better take on the situation than she did. "Stay with Charles here at the inn, and I'll be back in a while, Faith."
To talk more about her relationship with Hilson? No thanks.
He turned and headed off to where the police officers waited with their snowmobiles. He didn't look back at her, or even make eye contact with her one last time, as if she'd already vanished. His attitude? He'd made a mistake in getting to know her even for the brief interval they'd been together; time to cut his losses and run.
Faith rubbed her arms in the winter chill, ground her teeth in frustration, then waited until Cameron was out of sight. She had half a mind to dump his bags onto the porch, move him out of her life pronto, take care of business, and return home just as she intended. She didn't need any more drama in her life that involved men with an attitude.
Hell, she had enough problems.
Then, for a minute, she was torn. Talk to Charles Roux and find out Hilson's cabin name, or find it herself? She figured she might as well talk to Charles. But after she walked inside, she found the lodge empty. Figuring he must be out with the dogs or doing something else for one of the guests, she left the lodge.
With no time to lose, she headed for the tree-lined path beside the lake, leading to the other cabins, determined to discover which one Hilson was in, and have her say with him, confiscate the flash drive, and now, maybe even return to Millinocket before it got too late today.
She trudged through the knee-deep snow, some in drifts as high as her shoulders, not that she'd traverse those. Past her place, she finally reached the White Wolf Den, marked by a carved painted wolf sign that looked like the wolf that had attacked Cameron. Which brought to mind Cameron's wolf bite—she still couldn't believe he could heal that fast.
She peered into the windows of his cabin. The place was dark, and when she tried the door, she found it was locked. She continued on past it, winding her way through the spruce trees until she reached the next cabin, also facing the lake. She was glad her place was closer to the main lodge and shower facility. What would other guests do if they had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?
The next cabin, complete with a tower, was called the Eagle's Nest. She went up to the door and knocked. No answer. She peered into the window, hoping she wouldn't see the occupant, Leidolf Wildhaven, staying here, instead of Hilson Snowdon. The living room, kitchen, and dining room looked unoccupied. But then Hilson was a neatnik, so it still might be his place.
All she needed to find was his bag, clothes, anything to identify this was his cabin.
She reached for the doorknob, but something flashed by her in the woods. Something. Everything was so white, surely she would have seen if it was a person dressed in something other than white. But nothing. She didn't see anything but the snow-covered firs. Barely a whisper of a breeze caressed the snow-laden limbs. And everything was silent. At least in summer, the lake water probably rippled on the shore, but now it was solidly frozen. Eerily silent.
Although she was bundled to the hilt, she suddenly felt cold, chilled, like when she thought the gray pickup had been following her. And then she realized she hadn't spoken to Lila about who might own the pickup. One of her employees? Or maybe Kintail, since Faith didn't figure anyone else would run around with a wolf attached at their hip except for the owners.
She stood frozen on the porch, watching for any movement in the woods. Nothing. She took a deep frosty breath and turned back to twist the doorknob when she saw movement inside the dark cabin. She pulled her hand away from the door and froze.
Whoever it was had headed out of the bedroom and paused in the darkness as if he suddenly realized a woman was peering in at him. Even in the low light, she could see a mouthful of white teeth. She didn't think it was Hilson. The guy was as tall as Cameron, but not as tall as Hilson. And he appeared to be the same build as Cameron, not as husky, as far as she could see in the dim light. She whipped around and meant to leave and look for the next cabin when the occupant of the Eagle's Nest opened the door in such a rush, she gasped.
"Well," the man said, his voice deep and charming, "to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
Faith turned and faced the man occupying the Eagle's Nest cabin, his chestnut hair tinged red, green eyes full of mystery and intrigue.
His mouth curved up a trace, but at the same time his eyes darkened a bit, and the next question from his lips pinned her with accusation. "Are you lost?"
Chapter 8
THE BODY WAS LYING FACEDOWN UNDER A SPRUCE, HALF buried in snow. He was the right build and was wearing a gray-green parka that could mean the man was either of Cameron's friends. His heart beating faster than he wanted to admit, Cameron came around to the right of the man to see his face.
He was a stranger, a beard covering his cheeks and chin, now matted with snow, his pale brown eyes life less. Cameron took a deep breath, relieved it wasn't Owen or David. "Not either of my partners."
"So are you certain you've never met Miss O'Malley before?" Officer Adams asked, slanting a glance at Whitson, while a couple of investigators were searching for clues in the snow farther away.
Cameron ignored the question as he leaned over to get a whiff of the dead guy, although he thought Adams's inquiry odd. Like he really wasn't as interested in him identifying the body as he was prying into Cameron's relationship with Faith.
He considered the dead man further. He was too frozen to decay, but he smelled like a wolf. Which didn't make any sense. For one, why could Cameron smell such a thing, unless it was because of being bitten himself and the close encounter had given him a new awareness? And why would he know that it was a wolf smell and not some other? But he didn't smell exactly like the one he'd had the run-in with either. Something different about him, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.
"See anything?" Adams asked, drawing closer.
"No, I just… nothing. He's not either of my partners, so if you're done with me, I'll head back to the lodge."
"Which wolf bit you?" Adams asked, the question so out of the blue, Cameron stared at him blankly.
Then he gathered his wits and responded. "He was one of Lila's wolves. An Arctic white wolf."
Adams shook his head. "Size? Male? Female? Shorter hair, longer? Full coat? Raggedy? You're a former police officer. What made him different from the others?"
Cameron was used to analyzing people's looks and behaviors, but wolves? "How would I know? He was big. Maybe bigger than the others but they weren't around at the time so I could compare them. He had a thick coat that made him appear as though he was older, more mature, if that's what you mean. Not a juvenile. Otherwise, they all looked the same to me. No different markings. All pure white. But if you must know, I was concentrating on his bared teeth, not checking if he had balls, when he lunged."
Officer Whitson bit back a chuckle, while Adams gave his partner an annoyed look. "Did the wolf… was he attempting to kill you? Or did he just bite you and then run off?"
"I didn't ask, but the way he lunged at me, I'd say he went for the throat—for a kill—but I blocked his teeth with my arm. If Faith hadn't clobbered him in the hip with a snow shovel, he might have eventually given up on my arm and gone for the jugular again. So yeah, I think he intended to kill me, not just play with me."
