the fact she and Mitch had huddled together in that little tent twice.
The first night had passed while they had edged away from the river and seen that glorious sunset and hiked to the blueberry bush and gotten some rest. Then only one more long, light-filled day had passed before they finally crossed the river at the gauging station. It was now the second night. She was so tired and full of Christine's good food, her body was aching for bed. Yet her mind was still alert. Coffee and chocolate always got to her like that, but her anger over what had happened--and the panic someone might try to harm her again--beat any other stimulant, however exhausted her body was.
Could Vanessa and Jonas be somehow working together? They had seemed to be sticking tight when everyone had greeted them. But they, too, were rivals, so why would they be in collusion? Besides, surely they were smart enough to know that once a criminal told someone of the crime, or had someone abetting it, secrets would get out. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, as the old saying went.
Besides, she couldn't just suspect the two obvious people. Christine seemed possessive of Mitch and moved on deer's feet. If anyone could have sneaked up behind her on the ridge path, it could have been her, because the woman knew she was there then. Spike could also resent her. He might be afraid she'd hurt someone he obviously looked up to. Perhaps he was afraid that if she and Mitch reconciled, she'd get him to move back to Florida. She had to learn more about his staff from Mitch, if he wouldn't just defend them.
She finally climbed out of the shower and toweled off. She'd shampooed her hair so she blasted it with the blow-dryer, still thinking, agonizing. Yes, this twilight--she couldn't think of it as night--must be the end of Thursday, and they weren't supposed to leave until next Tuesday morning, so she and Mitch had four full days. Graham had called the time left a "few days." She had to move quickly, not waste even one day recovering. It was high time to find a killer who now might want to correct the problem of her surviving the river.
Though the bed beckoned, Lisa pulled on her bathing suit--she'd looked like one big bruise in the steamy bathroom mirror--because she knew Mitch was going to soak in the lodge's large outdoor hot tub and she needed to talk to him. She didn't want anyone--including him--to see her knocking on his bedroom door. If others were in the spa, it would just have to wait. Taking a fresh towel and donning the thick, white terry-cloth robe the lodge provided, she went out and down the hall.
Through the next room's closed door, Lisa could hear Vanessa talking, but to whom? Cell phones didn't work here, and no room had phones, though, ironically, since the great room downstairs was equipped with Direct TV, the guest rooms offered Internet service. Could Jonas be in there with Vanessa?
If she had to pick one or the other as her number-one suspect, she'd choose Vanessa, but Jonas was desperate for the promotion because of his financial obligations with his sick son. He didn't know it, but she'd seen him playing online poker on his laptop one time when she went into his office to ask him a question. And she'd accidentally taken a call for him once from a collection agency. So how desperate was he to make senior partner? Did he see her and not Vanessa as the front-runner?
She stopped in the hall, tempted to put her ear to Vanessa's door, but then realized she was not talking to someone, but chanting some hip-hop song in Spanish. The woman who had clawed her way up from a Miami barrio was proud of being fluent in her native language--such a help in a South Florida law firm--but not proud of the tough past she tried to hide. Her father was in prison, and she was twice divorced before she was thirty. Talk about ambitious men having starter and trophy marriages on their way to the top--don't mess with Vanessa Guerena and, unless you're a useful or wealthy man, get out of her way!
Lisa went downstairs and out onto the stone-flagged patio that overlooked the lake. It was under the wooden deck above, which was really on the first floor, for the land sloped down