This day had gone from bad to insane.
An untasted mug of coffee clutched in her hands, Sunny sat in a sterile interrogation room at the military base’s Office of Special Investigation with her interrogator—Special Agent Steve Lasky. In his fifties, the agent had a shaved bald head, piercing eyes, and nicotine-stained fingertips. As best she could tell, the Office of Special Investigations—OSI—was an air force branch of military intelligence. Since Wade had become involved in the incident on the mountain, the OSI entered the ongoing investigation.
Along with how many other law enforcement branches?
Jotting notes on an old-school steno pad, he sat across the table from her, his black suit coat sliding open to reveal his gun in a shoulder harness. From what she’d seen, it seemed to be a fifty-fifty split in the OSI of uniforms and civilian clothes.
He caught her shift in attention to his weapon and eased his jacket back over the gleaming silver gun. “And you were chosen to escort the couple”—he referred to his notes on the steel table—“Ted and Madison for what reason?”
“I’m the town’s guide. I also offer survival and fitness training.” This tiny room with no windows and recycled air threatened to choke her. “Hiking, trekking, mountain climbing, riding snow machines… It’s what I do.”
“Right…” He made a note, absently patting his jacket as if looking for a pack of cigarettes. “And all of the other people, you were their trail guide as well?”
“Some, not all. Depends on the weather. I do the walking and snow machine escorts. When the weather permits, the Everett brothers drive their snowplow down the trail.”
“Everett brothers?” He glanced up.
“Twins. Flynn and Ryker.” Big blond lugs with smiles as wide as the Alaska landscape. “Their father heads the town council.” With every word she felt like a Judas sharing all their names, exposing their town, but good God, who could ever have imagined such a large-scale horror?
Lasky nodded toward the TV screen bolted to the ceiling. The screen, now blank, had scrolled morgue shot after morgue shot earlier, each one a horrifyingly familiar face. “I need to know exactly which ones you escorted and which ones they drove out.”
She weighed his request and decided that much she could do. Hopefully, the more she complied, the less he would delve into other areas of their lives.
Image after image of frozen, lifeless faces reappeared on the screen until all eleven plus Ted and Madison were lined up together like a page in a tragic school yearbook. “Ted, Madison, Cheryl, Gregory, Lee, Hope went with me. June, Rose, Marvin, George, and the three O’Brien brothers rode with one of the Everett twins.”
And others had left, close to as many as filled the screen now, their faces unaccounted for. Were they frozen out there too? What else would the National Guard uncover?
The coffee mug rattled against the metal table as her hands trembled harder.
Agent Lasky shoved his chair back. “That’ll do for now, Miss Foster. If you’ll sit tight, I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” He started for the door.
“Am I under arrest?”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because it feels like I’m being held prisoner here.”
Those too-perceptive piercing eyes had her fighting the urge to fidget in her seat.
“We ruled you out as a suspect early on. Your survival knife doesn’t match the wounds. And all the cuts were made by a right-handed person.” He nodded to her hold on her mug of coffee. “You’re obviously very left-handed, something we determined the second we had you sign in.”
His words reassured her and chilled her at the same time. Everything he’d said and done had been an interrogation technique. What else had he ferreted out of her without her realizing it? “Thank you. I think.”
“You’re welcome. You’re free to go. With Deputy Smith out of the picture, there’s nothing to fear. Is there?”
God, she was beginning to really hate those open-ended probing questions of his. “I appreciate your help, Agent Lasky.”
Scratching over his cigarette pocket again, he nodded brusquely. He opened the sealed metal door with a sinister hiss, leaving her completely alone in the freaky small room.
Could the deputy really have been a serial killer as Agent Lasky seemed to believe? If so, how had he figured out where she was, much less followed her all the way to Wade’s so quickly?
The car crash appeared to have been an accident at least. The driver of the car shouldn’t even have been behind the wheel at fifteen years old. He’d said Chewie running out in the road freaked him, then he’d lost control of his car and hit the deputy.
The deputy, someone in uniform she should have been able to trust, had pretended to be her ally for the past two years as she passed over dear friends into his care. God, was there anyone she could she trust anymore? Certainly not some slick-suited agent she didn’t even know.
Acid frothed in her stomach as she thought about how close her sister had come to being among those dead faces. What if Misty tried to strike out on her own before she could get back? Sunny pushed aside her coffee. She couldn’t risk putting anything in her stomach anytime soon. At least the deputy had been stopped, and their friends would receive a proper burial. If he’d acted alone as the authorities seemed to believe, her sister was safe.
However, the longer she sat here, the more she feared there could be something more, some terrible threat still lurking in their closed-off community. Sure, those dead bodies, the retrieval, the questions, would eventually lead authorities to investigate her village.