Free Killer View by Ridley Pearson Page B

off. Incapacitating meds that we rarely use were found to be in short supply.”
    “So Mark knew.” He made it a statement.
    “I’m sure he suspected, as did I. To my knowledge, no one else. And before you ask: if Mark confronted Randy, I never heard about it.”
    “Would Mark have considered the whole subject matter of hunting tags and fees political ? Did he look at it that way?”
    “I’ve heard both of them talk about their childhoods, when there were no restrictions on hunting. Some limits, to be sure, but the state wasn’t running lotteries and such.”
    “Does Mark talk politics with you?”
    “No. Just business. We’re very busy here—all the time, these days.”
    “Was he doing anything political? Volunteering? Fund-raising?”
    “Not that I’m aware of.”
    “Did you see anyone, anything, bothering Randy? Giving him trouble? Visitors that you wouldn’t have expected? Phone calls?”
    “Nothing like that. We all loved Randy. He was a terrific guy. Really good with the large animals.”
    “Any conflicts in either of their practices lately? Threats? Lawsuits?”
    “Nothing out of the ordinary. Business was down on Randy’s side.”
    He could read it in her face: she was holding back. “But?” he said. She hesitated. “By talking to me, you’re helping him, Jillian. You have to believe that.”
    “Mark’s been up to something.” It came out of her like a confession; she hung her head, as if ashamed of herself. “Secretive. Brooding, at times. You know how up he usually is. That kind of went out of him lately.”
    “Trouble at home?”
    “No. At least, I don’t think so. He spent a lot of time here, at the clinic, after closing. And he wasn’t training. Wasn’t doing paperwork. The one time I checked on him, he was in the lab, and he blew up at me for surprising him like that.”
    “Any idea—”
    “No. That’s just the thing,” she said, interrupting. “None. He’s been spending a lot of time at their cabin in Challis. Been going there a lot lately. Sometimes overnight. Was he following Randy or something? I don’t know. Some of our deliveries . . . he’d put them straight into his truck, and that was always when he’d go north for a day or so.”
    “Do you know what was in those boxes?”
    “No clue.”
    “Receipts?”
    “I could check with Sally, our bookkeeper. There might be records.”
    Walt had forgotten about Mark’s cabin, and chastised himself. “It’s on Francine’s side. The cabin? I didn’t think they used it, some family battle they got embroiled in. A relative lived up there, didn’t he?”
    “You’re right. Her brother. But he moved to Maine, I think it was. This is like a year ago, and Mark and Francine took over caring for the place.”
    “So he’d been going up there to fix it up.”
    “Initially, yes. But then he and Randy started using it . . .”
    “To hunt,” Walt said, when she failed to finish.
    “Yeah. You knew about that? They didn’t exactly want that to be public knowledge. Bad for business.”
    “I’ve known Mark a long time,” Walt said, still angry at himself for having forgotten about the cabin. “Do you know where it is, exactly?”
    She shook her head. “Randy’s death was an accident, right?”
    “Sure looks like it,” Walt said, not wanting to start anything, “but we have to investigate it, anyway.”
    “They were superclose. It doesn’t surprise me Mark’s gone off like this.” Tears formed in her eyes. They weren’t the first.
    “Who else might know?” Walt said. “About the cabin? Anyone who works here?”
    “I doubt it. Francine, of course.” As she met eyes with Walt, a spark of realization ignited in hers. “She’s missing too, isn’t she? Oh my God. You can’t find either of them.”
    “As you said,” Walt reminded, keeping his voice level, “they probably just need a day or two in private to grieve. My guess is, we’ll find them at the cabin. I might give them another day before