solved. Sorry to deny you the pleasure, Orleg."
"Don't overestimate your importance, lawyer."
"Don't underestimate my resilience."
He stepped away before there could be any response. As he did, the speaker crackled to life.
"Central. Dillsboro One. Suspect fled with captive. Deputy down, but okay. Attacked by a dog the suspect has in his possession. Cars in pursuit. But suspect has a lead, probably still heading north on Highway 46. Alert who you can up ahead."
The dispatcher acknowledged the report and Hayes heaved a silent sigh of relief. Where a few minutes before he'd hoped Lord would be found, now he realized that would further complicate matters. He needed to be the one to find him and apparently Lord was not trusting the locals. These fools thought Lord had a hostage and was fleeing. Only he knew Lord, Thorn, and the woman were all on the run.
And they'd have to get off the road fast.
Lord would most likely assume Orleg and Droopy were working in conjunction with the sheriff, so he wouldn't contact local law enforcement again. He would probably find a place to hide, with the others, at least until he could think the situation through.
But where?
He assumed Lord knew nothing of the area. Michael Thorn would know the surroundings intimately. Perhaps there was a way to learn something.
He left the dispatch room and walked to where Mrs. Thorn and the secretary sat. The wife was occupied out in the hall with another female deputy, so he said to the secretary, "Excuse me, ma'am."
The woman looked up.
"I heard you tell the sheriff that Lord and his companion were at Mr. Thorn's office today."
"That's right. They came in yesterday. Then, back today. They actually spent the day with Mr. Thorn."
"Do you know what they were discussing?"
She shook her head. "They stayed in his office with the door closed."
"This is terrible. Inspector Orleg is so upset. One of his men was killed in Moscow. Now a deputy here."
"Lord said he was a lawyer. He didn't look like a killer."
"Who does? Lord was in Moscow on business. No one knows why he shot the policeman. Something was happening. Same is probably true here." He let out a breath, ran a hand through his hair, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "This area is so beautiful. Particularly this time of year. A shame something like this has to spoil it."
He moved toward a coffeepot and poured a cup into a stained mug, offering some to the secretary, who waved the offer off.
"I come up here from Atlanta occasionally to hunt. Rent a house in the woods. Always wanted one myself, but couldn't afford the luxury. Did Mr. Thorn have one? Seems like everybody has a cabin around here." He came back to where she sat.
"His cabin is lovely," she said. "It's been in his family for generations."
"Near here?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested.
"An hour north. He owns about two hundred acres including a mountain. I used to tease him about what he'd do with that mountain."
"What did he say?"
"Just sit and look at it. Watch the trees grow."
Her eyes dampened. This woman had obviously been close to her boss. He sipped his coffee. "That mountain have a name?"
"Windsong Ridge. I always liked it."
He slowly stood. "I'll leave you be. You're upset."
She thanked him and he walked outside. Orleg and Droopy stood puffing cigarettes.
"Come on," he said.
"Where are we going?" Orleg asked.
"To solve this problem."
FORTY-EIGHT
AFTER LEAVING THE DOWNED DEPUTY,LORD QUICKLY ABANDONEDthe main highway and steered east on a county road. A few miles later he turned north, following directions to the land Thorn's family had owned for close to a hundred years.
The mile-long dirt road wound through foothills and across two rock-strewn streams. The cabin was a one-story rectangle, built of pine logs bound together with thick mortar in colonial style. The front porch held three rockers with a rope hammock suspended from one end. Cedar shingles on the gabled roof looked new. A flagstone chimney rose from one end.
Thorn explained this was where Alexie and Anastasia first lived after arriving in North Carolina in late 1919. Yussoupov had the cabin built on two hundred acres of old-growth forest, with a mountain, that a century before had been christened Windsong Ridge. The idea was to provide a place of solitude for the heirs, far away from anyone who might associate them with the Russian royal family. The hills of Appalachia offered the perfect setting, while providing a climate and scenery not unlike home.
Now, sitting inside