A Second Chance at Murder Read online

Todd started down the trail. Their cameraman was stuck in the middle, filming Todd as he left, then panning over to capture Cooper and me.

  Todd yelled back at us, over his shoulder, “Hurry up, Cooper!”

  Cooper noticed my limp. “What is it? Are you hurt? Hold up, Todd.”

  “You got to be kidding me!” Todd complained. “What? You’re going to want to stick around for a medevac for her now? Leave her behind or we’re gonna be in dead-last place and you know what that means!” With that, Todd spun on his heels and disappeared out of sight.

  Cooper put an arm on my shoulder. “Lean on me, girl. If I have to, I’ll carry you down the hill.”

  “You can’t do that Cooper. You’re already in last place. Let me give you the chalice. I’ll have them call for medev—”

  “Wha’?” Cooper screeched. “What you gonna call for a medevac for, when you got ol’ Coop! Come on, girl. You know how many training runs I did in the NFL with three-hundred-pound men on my back? Why, a little nothing waif of a girl like you, ain’t gonna slow down ol’ Coop.”

  He swooped me over a shoulder and started jogging down the trail.

  Oh, my goodness!

  There was no way we’d make it down the six-hour hike like this, I thought. But when Cooper showed no signs of stopping, I revised my initial thought. There was no way I’d make it down the six-hour hike like this.

  “You’ve got to put me down,” I said, finally.

  “Nah. I’m good,” he said.

  We were closing in on Todd.

  “Put me down!” I insisted.

  “No,” Cooper said. “Not until we get in front of the others.”

  Silently and without Cooper noticing, I lifted the flap on his knapsack and dropped the chalice into it.

  Todd looked over his shoulder as we approached. “I should have known,” he said, snidely. He pointed ahead. “The rest of the gang isn’t that far ahead of us. I can hear them every time I hit a switchback.

  On the next turn, we caught up with Parker and Victoria. They were silent when we joined them, although Victoria gave off a serious hate vibe.

  We stopped to rest and Cooper finally put me down.

  “I’m feeling better now,” I lied. “Thank you for helping me.”

  Cooper gave me a warm smile and winked.

  We all started off together down the trial and finally caught sight of Double D, Helen and Eric, and my Dad. They were trotting along slowly, looking worse for the wear.

  DeeCee grumbled when she saw us. “I’m so sorry, Daisy, but I have to rest!”

  Double D stopped by a creek to wet their hair and cool down. Helen and Eric continued walking slowly, but Dad ran toward me.

  “Georgia! Oh, my goodness!” He embraced me. “I heard about your near miss.”

  I filled Dad in as we walked. We were all in a clump now, except for the mother-son team and Double D, who were lagging behind. As we proceeded down the trail, they dropped out of site.

  The heat of the day had receded and we hurried to make it down to the end of the trail before dark. Since we were with the others I hadn’t had a chance to tell Dad that I had given the chalice to Cooper, but I was sure he wouldn’t mind.

  In the distance we saw the crew bus and a blue tarp laid out. Painted on the tarp was a bull’s-eye and standing on top of the tarp was Harris.

  Cooper and Todd took off in a full sprint. Victoria and Parker followed suit, but weren’t as quick. Dad eyed me. “Are you in pain, honey?”

  I nodded. “I need an ice pack and pain relievers in a big way, but I’ll live.”

  “Well, we certainly don’t have to run,” Dad said. “We’ll have a two-hour advantage tomorrow, and Lord knows, I need it—”

  “Dad, I gave the chalice to Cooper. I’m sorry.”

  Up ahead we saw Cooper and Todd reach the finish line first. Moments later Parker entered the bull’s-eye circle and Victoria trailed.

  Dad smiled and grabbed my hand. “You don’t have be sorry, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

  We walked the rest of the way in silence and stepped into the bull’s eye.

  Harris, the host, clapped his hands. “Georgia! Gordon! Welcome to the finish line. I’m happy to say you are the third team to arrive and are therefore safe from elimination. However, I understand you have the chalice, so you’ll enjoy a two-hour head start tomorrow!”

  “I don’t have the chalice,” I said.

  The others, who were standing off to the side, suddenly came to attention.

  “Did you drop it?” Harris asked. He attempted to look concerned, but with all the Botox he’d had, his face didn’t quite cooperate. “I understand you had a little excitement after finding the chalice.”

  “I didn’t drop it,” I said. “I gave it to Cooper.”

  Victoria shrieked and looked ready to cry.

  “What are you talking about, girl?” Cooper asked, surprised.

  “Without your help, I wouldn’t be standing here, Coop. Check your bag.”

  Cooper shrugged off his knapsack and peeked inside. “Well, I’ll be!”

  Harris clapped his hands again, this time repeatedly in unrestrained host delight. “Why, how very generous!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cheryl preening. She’d be happy about today. She’d use the clip of me hanging off the cliff to garner new audiences far and wide. My giving Cooper the chalice was icing on the cake to her.

  Dad and I moved to join the others by the side of the tarp and waited to see who would emerge from the dirt trail next. The sun began to set as we waited. On the side of the crew bus was a red clock that kept track of the time. So far the other groups were seventy-two minutes behind us and counting.

  Finally, we heard voices and footsteps. From the trail emerged the mother-and-son team and Double D. All were struggling. DeeCee and Daisy had their arms linked and were running together as if in a sack race. Helen hobbled along, looking like she had blisters on her blisters. Eric trotted along the quickest, but still looked exhausted. Both teams moved forward neck and neck, screaming at each other.

  Eric grabbed hold of his mom to try to usher her along, but he tripped her up and she fell.

  There was a loud gasp from the cast. We knew all too well how exhausted Helen was.

  Eric scooped her up, but DeeCee and Daisy crossed to the finish line.

  They collapsed onto the tarp with Harris clapping his hands in childish delight. “DeeCee and Daisy, welcome to the finish line. I’m happy to say you are the fourth team to arrive and are therefore safe from elimination. You will begin tomorrow’s challenge exactly”—he glanced at his watch for dramatic effect, although we were all keenly aware of the red clock that hung on the crew bus—“one hour, seventeen minutes, and ten seconds after team three begins.”

  DeeCee squeezed Daisy’s hand. “One hour! See, we’re not all that far behind!”

  “Which will be exactly three hours, twenty-one minutes and twenty-seven seconds after team one begins,” Harris clarified.

  DeeCee’s shoulders dropped and Daisy buried her head in her hands.

  Helen and Eric lumbered into the circle.

  Harris put on his serious host face. “Helen, Eric, We’re so happy you made it down the trail safely. But I’m sorry to say, you are the fifth team to arrive and are therefore eliminated.”

  Helen and Eric embraced each other. Helen was in tears and kept apologizing to Eric.

  My heart sunk. Even though I hadn’t really had time to get to know them, I knew losing was tough. And likely Eric would have enjoyed winning the prize money to help welcome his new baby that was on the way.

  “You can take a moment and say you’re good-byes,” Harris said.

  Eric said, “Thank you, everyone. We’ve really enjoyed the experience. Don’t feel bad for us, please. My wife’s at home a
nd she’s expecting our first baby. It’s really a blessing to be able to go home and be with my family.”

  Helen looked at Eric and squeezed his hand. “You’re right, honey. You’re so right. We have to get out of here while we can. What with all we’ve seen in the short time we’ve been here, we’re lucky to be alive!”

  Eleven

  I fell into an exhausted heap on the bus and tried to tune out Cooper’s over-the-top reenactment of our adventure. As far I was concerned, he was my MVP and was entitled to any and all hero worship.

  When we arrived at the bed-and-breakfast, everyone piled out of the bus and into the bar. I wanted to make a beeline for my room, but ran into Sergio waiting for me at the bar. “Georgia, do you have a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”

  Apprehension jolted through me, the exhaustion I’d been feeling only moments ago, evaporated. “Yes! What is it? Have you located Scott?”

  Sergio shook his head.

  Suddenly the senora who owned the B&B scurried out from the kitchen, a cordless phone in her hand. “¡Ay! ¡Señorita Georgia, teléfono!”

  My heart raced. The only person calling me here would be Scott’s mother. Could she have had news from him?

  I turned to Sergio. “Excuse me. I have to take that call. It’s probably Scott’s mother.”

  He waved and nodded, indicating I should take the call. The senora handed me the phone and pointed in the direction of the small room that Sergio and Montserrat had set up as a makeshift office. I crossed the dining hall and entered the quiet room, but when Sergio followed me, I regretted telling him it was Scott’s mother on the phone.

  I covered the phone’s mouthpiece with my palm. “Uh . . . can you give me a minute?” I asked Sergio.

  He frowned. “I have some questions for her, too.”

  I hesitated. I wanted to speak with Bernice in private, but I knew it was probably important for Sergio to speak with her, too. I nodded, then put the receiver to my ear.

  “Hi, Bernice.”

  “Georgia!” The older woman said, “So good to hear your voice. I got your message. How’s the show going? Is Scott giving you problems? You know, sometimes he’s just like his father was—”

  “Bernice, have you heard from Scott?”

  “Heard from him? No, what do you mean? That boy doesn’t call me. I’m just glad that you two hooked up, otherwise I’d never have news from him,” she said.

  I knew that wasn’t true, Scott called his mother several times a week. But I also understood she would have liked to talk to him every hour. Sergio quirked an eyebrow at me, as if hoping I’d report Bernice’s every word to him. Instead, I turned my back to him, in an effort to get some privacy.

  “Bernice, Scott left the show. He walked off the set the other night. He didn’t say anything to me, but then he sent an email to my dad saying it was over between us.”

  Bernice clucked. “Over between you? Why, that no-good . . . He’s just like his father—” Her voice broke off and she choked back a sob.

  “Do you have any idea where he could have gone? I’m worried sick about him.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “No,” I repeated, more or less for Sergio’s benefit.

  “You could ask that girl,” Bernice said suddenly. “Maybe he went to visit her.”

  My stomach dropped.

  What girl?

  I bit my lip and waited for Bernice to continue.

  After a moment, Bernice said, “There was a girl in Spain he was interested in, way back when. It was nothing serious. Not really. But I know they were still in touch and he got pretty close to her when he was writing that book.”

  The room seemed to spin and I grabbed for the office chair that was near me.

  Sergio made a face, unhappy with my silence. “Que?” he asked.

  I held up a hand to wave him away and sat in the chair.

  “It was nothing serious,” Bernice insisted, but her voice got high-pitched and I doubted her sincerity. “He visited her a few times, that’s all. Maybe he needed to see her one last time.”

  “I understand,” I said, although I didn’t.

  Why wouldn’t Scott have told me he’d been to Spain before?

  Why had he been secretive about a past relationship?

  “Do you remember her name?” I asked, fearful of the answer.

  Please, God, don’t say Annalise Rodriguez.

  I pressed a hand against my temple. If Bernice spit out the name of the dead woman, I thought my head might split open.

  “Uh . . .” She hesitated. “Oh, my memory fails me sometimes. I used to have the best memory for details and things. I could recite all of Shakespeare’s sonnets, but now. Pfft, I’m lucky I remember to take out the trash, you know, honey? Anyway, even if I did know her name what good would that do? You can chase the boy down, honey, but if he’s not ready to commit . . . well, some men aren’t meant for—”

  “Was it Annalise Rodriguez?”

  At the mention of the dead woman’s name, Sergio stiffened.

  “Annalise? Now, let’s see. Let me think. An-na-li-se Rod-ri-guez,” she said slowly to herself.

  My breath caught.

  “I don’t think so,” Bernice said. There was so much hesitation in her voice, it was little consolation. After a moment she said, “I’m sure I can find her name somewhere, if I look around a little.”

  “Could you?” I asked. “It’s important.” A thought struck me. “Bernice, what book was he working on when he was in Spain?”

  Sergio said, “The one he published under a pen name.”

  “What?” I felt stunned for a moment. The headache that had been threatening suddenly burst through and my temples were on fire. “Scott doesn’t use a pen name,” I muttered.

  “What’s that, honey?” Bernice asked.

  “Did Scott use a pen name?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah, of course,” Bernice said. “Didn’t you know? Scott writes under the name Matthew Barrett . . .”

  Matthew Barrett?

  Matthew Barrett was one of the top thriller writers in the U.S. He sold millions of books each year, yet Scott was broke. Or that’s what he’d told me. I felt like my world was crumbling in on itself.

  Bernice continued chatting along, “. . . he published an entire thriller series under that name. In fact, the book he was working on when he went to Spain was Spanish Moon, the first one in that series about that separatist group they have up there. What’s their name?”

  ETA.

  Oh, no.

  Scott had been researching ETA on a trip to Spain!

  Sergio watched me. He frowned. “You didn’t know Scott had a pen name?”

  “Anyway, honey,” Bernice said. “Don’t let that boy get you too upset. He’ll figure out soon enough what a jewel he’s lost and then he’ll come crawling back. Although, his father never did figure out—”

  “Bernice,” I interrupted. There was only so much I could take. I couldn’t listen to her recount tales about her failed marriage.

  Why did I ever think love would work out for me?

  “Thank you so much for all the information. Please call me back if you remember the girl’s name.”

  “Oh, I will, honey. Don’t you worry! Chin up! And if Scott does come begging for forgiveness, tell him to call his old ma!”

  I hung up before Sergio could ask her any questions. My head was buzzing and I felt nauseous. I needed time to regroup before Sergio started grilling me. I buried my head between my knees and took a few deep breaths.

  Sergio remained quiet and watched me sympathetically for a moment, then asked, “What did she tell you about Scott’s time in Spain. Do you know who he visited here?”

  “She couldn’t recall the woman’s name. She’s going to search for it and call me back.”

 
Sergio looked at me, an unreadable expression on his face. “You’ll give me her name as soon as you have it,” he said.

  “Of course,” I lied.

  Nothing made sense anymore, but I knew I needed time to sort through things before handing the Spanish police any information that could damage Scott. Whether Scott was a liar or not, he wasn’t a killer. Of that I was sure . . .

  Wasn’t I?

  Ugh! I was always one step behind.

  “What do you know about Scott’s politics?” Sergio asked.

  “I suppose I didn’t really know Scott one way or the other,” I said, standing. “We didn’t talk politics.”

  Sergio laughed. “That’s difficult to believe.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “In Spain everyone talks politics. What else is there to talk about?”

  I reached for the door, but Sergio blocked my path.

  “Did he know anybody in Spain who would take him across the French border?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  But that wasn’t saying much.

  “We’ve checked the airport, bus stations, and hotels in the area. He hasn’t used his passport. So if he left the country, he didn’t do it legally.” Sergio clapped his hands together. “Enough business talk. Are you going to the fiestas tonight?”

  “Fiestas? There’s still more fiestas?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Oh, the fiestas in Spain last a week. We can’t get anything done in a day.”

  “I thought the fiestas were yesterday because it was the first Friday of the month.”

  He smiled. “Yes! Exactly! And today is the first Saturday.”

  I chuckled despite myself. A few minutes ago, I’d been ready to collapse into bed after that tortuous hike, but now that my world had been turned upside down yet again, going to see a few fireworks and drinking a couple of sangrías sounded like a better option.

  Sergio reached for the door and swung it open. Montserrat was in the doorway and peeked her head in, startling us both.

  “Sergio, I need to speak to you immediately,” she said.

  Sergio put a hand on my lower back and ushered me out the door. “Excuse me, Georgia. Nos vemos,” he said.