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She rolled her eyes, reminding me of an adolescent. For someone who didn’t feel, she was exhibiting all kinds of anger.

  "Here's an interesting passage." I read aloud. " 'Allison Crane thinks she's some kind of fuck-goddess. Ms. Passion Unlimited. Why doesn't she just buy herself a vibrator and spare the rest of us her pathetic extremes?' " I looked up. "You ever find yourself the recipient of these extremes?"

  "Have you?" she retorted.

  Touché, I thought. One point for Holly.

  "Seems to me, for someone who claims not to feel, you've got an awful lot of anger. Let's see. Oh, here's a delightful passage: 'I'd like to yank Fay by that ridiculous ponytail and swing her against the wall. The way she follows Allison around is enough to make me puke.' Oh and let's see. You call Reeva 'a bull dyke with bad hair,' Lacy 'the Bouncing-Wonder,' Karen 'a robotic reptile' and Sabrina, let me find this. Yes, here it is; 'a squirmy psychopath with excessive hormones.' Seems like you've got a thing against hormones, Holly. But then again, I suppose hormones might actually interfere with your quest for numbness. Tell me, what'd you do with the book on mushrooms? Hide it after you finished making your little Hollytov Cocktail?"

  "Is that supposed to be funny? Forgive me for not laughing."

  "Where is it?" I wasn't smiling.

  "I lent it to someone. Anything else you want to know?"

  "Who?"

  "You're the detective. Find out."

  "Tell me this, Holly. I'm just curious. Why do you stay with Women On Top? It's clear you like no one. And I don't see anyone falling over herself to get close to you. What's in it for you? Besides Allison's money."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" She had folded her arms in front of her and was sitting cross-legged on the bed.

  "I think you know what I'm talking about. Allison' s inheritance."

  Holly stared at me for a moment, then tilted her head back and laughed. "You think I know something about something that I don't," she said. "God, if you're the only hope Allison has, she may as well kiss it good-bye." Her laugh was genuine. Her eyes were even tearing.

  "Cut the act, Holly. I've already talked to your ex," I lied. "Hard to believe you've ever been with someone, but she just happens to be the one who drew up Allison's will, as you and I both know. She talked to you about the money. You know how much, and you also know that once Women On Top gets it, you'll have control of it." I hoped my lying eyes weren't giving me away. All I had was Allison's earlier mention that her attorney, Kate Monroe, had been Holly's lover. The rest was pure conjecture.

  "You're full of shit!" she spat. "God, I can't believe this. Kate Monroe never told me anything. And she wouldn't lie, either. I think you're the one who needs to cut the act, Cassidy. If that's even your name."

  With a sinking feeling, I realized she might be telling the truth. "Who'd you lend the book to?" I asked.

  "Reeva," she said. "Are you through?"

  "For now, Holly." I tossed her the journal. "You're a good writer," I said. "And an intelligent, good-looking woman. If you ever get your shit together, you might be a decent person. Think about therapy, Holly. It's time to let some of that anger out." I hoped I sounded as patronizing as I felt.

  I shut the door behind me just as the journal slammed into it, missing my head by a fraction of an inch. I smiled. It looked like the anger was starting to let itself out after all.

  Outside, the clouds continued to crowd together, bulbous and purple. A distant rumble rolled through the gorge from the west, promising thunder and lightning. I pulled my jacket close and dug another square out of my pocket. I peeked at it, then headed for Karen's cabin.

  I nearly collided with Lacy, who was jogging up the path.

  "Cassidy! They said you were feeling better. Are you coming?"

  "Coming where?" I asked.

  "It's Thursday. The big race!"

  "In this weather?" I looked skyward.

  "They say it won't rain for another few hours. We should all be back by then. Come on!"

  So that's what Holly had been dressed for, I thought. "What time does it start?"

  "About fifteen minutes. Everyone's already over at the lodge. I just came to get Holly. She said she'd enter this year."

  I looked down. I was wearing my gray sweats and tennies, and I'd strapped my shoulder holster over the sweatshirt where I could reach it easily under my windbreaker. I hadn't wanted to interview my suspects empty-handed. Now I was glad I'd brought it along.

  "I'll be there," I said, wondering if she'd be able to talk Holly into racing. I was afraid I may have dampened her good spirits.

  The idea of putting my body through a race was not appealing. My thighs still ached and my arms were weak with fatigue. I felt as if I'd had the flu and now that the scrape on my cheek was discoloring, I looked almost as bad as I felt. But if Allison was racing, I really didn't have a choice.

  The crowd was impressive. Most of the women at the retreat had come out despite the gloomy weather, and it took me a while to realize that they weren't all racing. I glanced around anxiously for Allison. She had been out of my sight too long. I was still looking when Billie tapped me on the shoulder.

  "I'm glad to see you both in one piece this morning," she whispered.

  "Have you seen Allison?"

  "She's getting her vest. They already called your name. Come on." As we walked, Billie explained the set-up. "There'll be another heat tomorrow," she said. "Half of us race today, half tomorrow, and then on Saturday there'll be a showdown between the top three racers from each day. The winner gets the whole week paid for!"

  "But not everyone's racing?" I noticed that only twenty or so women were wearing the little vests being handed out.

  "It's the first fifty to sign up. They've only got twenty-five sailboats, so it's limited. Good thing Allison signed us all up when she got here, huh?"

  "The whole group from Women On Top is racing today?"

  "Yes," she whispered. "Which means whoever's trying to kill Allison will be here too. I tried to talk her out of racing today, but she wouldn't even listen. She's not in a very good mood today. Is everything okay with you two?"

  I managed a feeble smile. "Terrific."

  Billie raised an eyebrow, but when I didn't elaborate, she shrugged. "Come on, let's find out what your emblem is." Billie's vest was orange and had a unicorn on the front. She put her arm around me and steered me toward the steps leading up to the lodge, where Buddy, still wearing his cowboy hat, was calling out names and Stella handed out vests.

  Fay Daniels walked past in a vest adorned with a raccoon. "They've called your name twice," she said over her shoulder. Allison walked up behind us and fell in step. Her vest had intertwining hearts on the back and I couldn't help smiling at the irony. When I tried to catch her eye, she looked away.

  "Cassidy James. Last call for Cassidy James!" I waved my hand at Buddy, and Stella handed me an orange vest with a butterfly across the back.

  "Good luck!" Buddy said, winking at me. I waved again, and headed toward the starting line with Allison and Billie.

  "What have you been up to?" Billie asked. "We were getting worried, weren't we, Allison?" Allison looked off toward the lake as if she were suddenly interested in the view.

  "I was doing rule-outs," I said. "And making an ass of myself." I fingered the four remaining names in my pocket and looked around. Karen and Reeva were at the start of the line, talking to two young women wearing bathing suits and sneakers. They must be freezing, I thought. Or maybe I was just getting old. Even Reeva was only wearing a body shirt tucked into jeans. I stuck my hands into my jacket pockets and looked around until I finally spotted Sabrina sitting on a rock, waiting pensively for the race to begin.

  "Here comes Holly," Billie said.

  Sure enough, Lacy and Holly were making their way to the starting line. Lacy was her usual exuberant self and Holly was lagging behind. But I noticed something different about her, and it took me a minute to figure out what it was. Her smirk wasn't gone, but it didn'
t have the same degree of superiority it usually had. She wasn't smiling, and I couldn't say she looked radiant, or even happy, but somehow, without the full-on smirk, her whole face seemed to relax into something softer and more likeable. A kinder, gentler Holly, I thought, smiling.

  Buddy had taken up a megaphone and was shouting directions into it like a cheerleader. The group immediately fell silent.

  "First off, you gotta keep your vest on the whole time. You lose it, you're outta the race and you gotta pay for it. 'Cause Stella here made them herself and she don't want to make no more." This was met with chuckles. "Second, you gotta find the boat with the sails that match the vest. You take someone else's boat, you're automatically disqualified, and they have the right to take your boat instead. Third, if you lose a boat, it'll cost you whatever it takes to fix it. So don't go leaping out onto the island before you've pulled the boat safely ashore."

  He paused, hitched up his jeans, then went on. "Okay. Once you get to the island, and after you've secured the boat, you gotta find the flag with your emblem on it. Now I know some of you are gonna complain that yours was harder to find than someone else's, but that's just the luck of the draw. They're all in plain sight and easy to find if you know where to look. Under no circumstances are you to touch someone else's flag. If you're caught doing that, and someone reports it, you'll be disqualified. Once you got your flag, it's smooth sailing back to this side. But you gotta dock your boat properly before you take off running. There'll be someone at the pier watching to make sure your vests match your sails, so don't even think about just leaping out and taking off. You gotta tie 'em up." He took a breath. "Finally, you ain't finished till you cross the finish line, right back here, with your flag in hand, and it better match your vest. Any questions?"

  "Is there a prize for last place?" someone asked. People chuckled and Buddy rolled his eyes.

  "Well, looking at the sky, I'd say whoever's last is likely to come in a might bit wet. You ladies ready?"

  People moved up to the starting line and all talking stopped. Despite myself, I felt a familiar sensation in the pit of my stomach, and I realized, somewhat embarrassed, that I had butterflies. Just like in high school before a track meet, I thought. Only this time I wasn't competing for any medal. I was trying to keep Allison Crane, and maybe myself, alive.

  The gun sounded, and more than a few women shrieked. We'd been expecting the pop of a starter pistol, but Buddy had fired a real gun into the air. Good way to get the old heart pumping, I thought, taking off with the others.

  It didn't take long for the runners to separate themselves into groups according to speed. Billie and Sabrina were in the front with about four others, and it took every ounce of self-discipline I had not to charge up there alongside them. My competitive nature was almost getting the best of me. But Allison was a decent runner, and we were in the second group, not far behind the frontrunners. After that, the field dropped off, and when I turned around I could make out Karen and Holly in the group behind us, but there was no sign of Reeva, Fay or Lacy.

  "You can go on ahead," Allison said. She still hadn't graced me with a look yet.

  "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay where I am." The truth was, I was sore as hell and even running at this speed, I was hurting.

  "Suit yourself." She was clearly mortified about what had happened last night, but what could I do? I was mortified myself.

  "I think I just ruled out Holly," I said.

  "Bully for you." She picked up speed. She had long legs and took graceful strides.

  I'd always been a sprinter, and it was hard to pace myself beside her, especially after the ordeal in the water the day before. I tried to match her rhythm, but doing so reminded me of the night before, and I nearly tripped. I wasn't sure, but I thought a smile might have crossed her lips.

  "You know how to sail?" she asked. At least she was starting to talk to me.

  "I've done a little. I mean I know what the mainsail and the jib are. I know the difference between jibing and coming about. Sort of. To tell you the truth, it's been a while."

  "There's no jib on these little boats. You've got one sail, and if you forget the difference between coming about and jibing, you're likely to get knocked out of the boat by the boom."

  "That thingie the sail's attached to?" I asked, trying to make her smile.

  "What's the matter? Don't they have sailboats on that lake of yours?"

  "They've got them," I said. "I just don't happen to own one." We were coming up to the pier, and Allison was starting to breathe heavily. So was I, but I was doing my best to hide it.

  "Okay, so tell me. What exactly is the difference between jibing and coming about?"

  She looked at me, finally, and smiled. "You'll figure it out." Then, with a burst of speed I didn't know she still had, she surged ahead of me, sprinted down the length of the pier and leaped into a boat. I was still looking for the butterfly when the intertwined hearts flapped in the wind, caught it, and Allison sailed off without me. So much for protecting her, I thought. I'd be lucky if I was even able to catch up.

  Chapter Twenty

  My boat had a small basin and a slightly rounded V-hull. There was a single sail attached to a movable boom and it didn't take me long to remember how the "boom" had gotten its name. Every time I moved the tiller in an attempt to point the little boat in the right direction, the damn thing came swinging around, threatening to knock me into the water. By the time I got the hang of it, most of the other boats were well underway Finally, the wind picked up and I was able to catch a gust and start making some headway.

  I wasn't the only one having trouble maneuvering her boat. In fact, if I hadn't been so intent on catching up to Allison, I'd have gotten a kick out of the yelps and curses scattered across the lake. Even though the island was directly across from the pier, not more than a couple of miles away, the boats were scattered far and wide. In a motorboat, it would've been a straight shot. But tacking back and forth while fighting the swirling gusts that changed direction without warning was indeed a formidable challenge. The boats that had gotten off early seemed to be faring much better. Those of us with a late start were struggling with the sudden shifts in the wind.

  I tried to keep my eye on Allison's boat, but there was so much movement back and forth that I kept losing her. "Come on, Cassidy," I chastised myself. "You live on a lake, for God's sake. How hard can this be?" I hunkered down, squeezing the tiller between my arm and body, and pulled the sails tighter. This was called trimming the sails, I remembered. Well, if I trimmed them anymore, I'd be in the water. As it was, the little boat was heeled and I was slicing through the water at an alarming clip.

  The island was egg-shaped, its highest point in the very center, with white sandy beaches exposed along its banks. In the spring and winter when the lake was higher, these beaches would be underwater, but at this time of year they provided nice moorings.

  I'd imagined that there would be one particular spot where all the boats would pull up, but as I got closer to the island, I saw that the boats were scattered along the shore wherever someone could manage to land.

  The wind was less fierce closer in and I cruised the shore, scanning the sails that flapped above the boats on the sandy beach. When I finally spotted the intertwined hearts, I headed straight in. Once I'd gotten the hang of it, I decided sailing was more fun than I'd remembered.

  Allison's boat was off by itself, but she was nowhere in sight. Terrific, Allison, I thought. You hire me to protect you, and then you get your feelings hurt and ditch me.

  I pulled my little boat up onto the bank beside hers and studied the sand for footprints. She'd headed straight up the bank and into the thick stand of cedar and fir trees that crowded the tiny island. I followed her footprints until they disappeared.

  "Follow your instincts," I told myself. "Just pretend you're Allison and do what she'd do." I looked around and took a deep breath. Then I headed east.

  The first flag I found bo
re a bumblebee emblem and was stuck between two branches of a pine. I passed it by, thinking that if it weren't for the fact that someone was trying to kill Allison, this race would be something I'd enjoy. The person who'd really enjoy it was Maggie. Maybe next year we'd come up here together, I thought, searching the forest for signs of my client.

  I could hear the rustling of leaves and the crunching of twigs as women scoured the forest in search of their flags. Occasionally, a triumphant yelp could be heard, and I knew someone had found theirs.

  Suddenly, a branch snapped right in front of me. "God, you scared me!" someone cried. It was one of the bathing suit-clad women that Reeva had been ogling earlier, and we'd nearly collided coming around a tree at the same time from opposite directions. "Have you seen a frog on a toadstool?" she asked, still holding her hand to her heart.

  "Not back that way. So far, I've only seen a bumblebee."

  "Oh, well. Say, I just saw a butterfly like you're wearing right back there. Through those trees and to the left."

  "Thanks," I said. "Have you, by any chance, seen Allison Crane?"

  "Nope. But if I see her, I'll tell her you were looking for her. See ya." She veered off to the right and disappeared into the forest.

  I went toward the spot where she'd seen my flag. Sure enough, lodged between two rocks was a pointy-ended wooden pole with a flag that matched my emblem. I retrieved it and continued my search.

  Overhead, the sky rumbled, a low angry growl that shook the ground. Seconds later, a fat raindrop plunked me on the head. Others fell, hitting the trees around me, and then it started to rain in earnest.

  "It's raining!" I heard voices yell in the distance.

  "Let's go back!" another voice shouted.

  I joined the chorus of voices, calling Allison's name. I waited, then called again. There was no response. I'd hiked up to what seemed the center of the island, and from where I stood, I could see half a dozen participants scurrying toward the beach, none of whom I knew. The victorious shouts I'd heard each time someone located her flag grew more and more infrequent, and I decided to head back toward the boats. Most likely, Allison had found her flag and was already halfway back to the pier by now. I wasn't looking forward to sailing back in the rain, but from the look of the sky, it wasn't going to get any better. The sooner I got back, the better.