tight, fearing that this was it. Steve would crash into a tree and she’d be dead.
When he slowed about five minutes later, Lucy opened her eyes and saw they were approaching a road. To her left she saw Patrick’s truck coming down the mountain. Patrick was right behind it on the snowmobile.
At their trajectory, they’d hit the truck when they reached the road.
“Jump!” Steve shouted.
Lucy feared she knew exactly what Steve was planning. “No, Steve!”
“Jump, dammit, I’m going to stop her.”
“Don’t-”
“Do it!” He slowed a fraction, grabbed her wrist that was still tight around him, and twisted it until she cried out and let go. She fell off the back and hit the snow, stunned. But nothing was broken.
She watched in stark terror as Steve sped up and made a beeline for the road. This was suicide! She couldn’t stop him. She scrambled up, but the snow was so deep she sunk in past her knees.
Steve timed the collision perfectly, jumping off the snowmobile at the last minute. Grace swerved to avoid crashing, but fishtailed and slid on the icy road, losing all control, and the truck slid past the snowmobile and into the embankment.
Lucy reached the road as Steve opened the passenger door, because the driver’s side was pressed firm against the mountainside. He grabbed Grace and pulled her from the seat. Patrick stopped behind the truck and shouted, “Let her go! Steve, the police are nearly here. Let her go.”
“You killed my dad!” Steve screamed and slammed Grace against the hood of the truck. “Why?”
Grace didn’t answer. Instead, she kicked Steve in the knee and he lost his footing on the icy ground, letting go of her. She took two steps away and pulled a gun from her pocket. She pointed it at Steve and shouted at Patrick, “Step away from the snowmobile. I’m taking it.”
Patrick slowly moved away. “The police are coming. You’re not getting off the mountain.”
“Move faster!” she ordered.
“We know your aliases.”
“I doubt you know all of them,” Grace snapped back.
“Why did you stay so long?” Lucy asked. “Why didn’t you just take the money and run? Why’d you have to kill Leo?”
She laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She jumped on the snowmobile.
Grace started down the road. Lucy couldn’t let her get away.
As soon as Grace passed her, Lucy retrieved Patrick’s gun from the holster and, just like Jack had trained her, took aim and fired. Three bullets right in the back of the snowmobile. She didn’t know where it was most vulnerable, and she didn’t want to shoot Grace, but she hit the engine. It began to smoke, and the snowmobile wobbled. Grace’s pantleg caught fire and she swerved and jumped off, rolling in the snow.
Patrick was fast and jumped on Grace before she had a chance to retrieve her gun. Lucy held the gun on her while Patrick disarmed her and turned her face down into the snow. Grace cried out in pain, but Patrick didn’t take her bait.
Lucy told Steve, “Patrick has handcuffs in his glove box.”
He didn’t move. “Give me the gun, Lucy.”
“No.”
He moved toward her and Lucy turned the gun on him. “Steve, I don’t want to shoot you.”
“Just give me the gun. I need to do this.”
He was wide-eyed with grief.
“No.”
Steve stepped forward and Patrick shouted, “Stop!” He had Grace’s gun aimed at Steve. “We have her, Steve. She’s going to prison for the rest of her life.”
Tears spilled from his red eyes. Steve sunk to his knees, releasing a cry of anguish.
Lucy retrieved the handcuffs and handed them to Patrick. He cuffed Grace and sat her up. “It is over for you, too, Grace.”
“It’s all conjecture. There’s no proof of anything.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Lucy said. “The orange juice you drugged. It’s still in the refrigerator. Steve himself is evidence-the next stop is a hospital for a blood sample.”
“But there’s no proof I did anything. What you might have seen in my house? Well, I doubt anyone will ever find it again.”
“I’ll testify.”
“There’s no evidence.”
“There’s Vanessa Russell-Marsh’s body.”
“Nothing connects me to her.”
“Phoenix.”
“A lot of people live in Phoenix.”
“Nelson Russell.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Grace said, though her confidence faltered. “You can’t prove I did anything to anyone.”
Lucy suspected she was correct. She said, “You’re a con artist. You conned Nelson Russell and he sent his sister to collect what you stole. She sent a postcard to her brother that said, ‘You were right. We win.’ Did Vanessa demand repayment or she’d tell Beth and Steve what you did to her brother? Perhaps that would make them suspicious about Leo’s missing money. Did she threaten to turn you over to the police?”
“Vanessa was a fucking bitch!” Grace exclaimed. “They hired a private investigator to find me, and she thought she was so smart coming up here and surprising me. But the joke’s on her.”
“You killed her and planned to leave, but you got greedy,” Lucy said. “You wanted Steve to sell, so you pushed him harder. Told him his father had squandered all his money. Increased the blood pressure meds you were giving him so that he’d get sicker. Maybe get himself killed, because he was working double time to keep the lodge running. You had Beth on your side because you made her feel sorry for you. Poor Grace, you were barely holding on, you were suffering because you were trying to save Leo’s dream for his son-while all along you had been sabotaging it.”
A four-wheel-drive sheriff’s truck came into sight. Grace squirmed.
“You’re going to jail,” Patrick said. “Once we talk to Beth and Vanessa’s brother, you’ll be begging for a plea agreement.”
The sheriff put on the lights and over the speaker came, “Put down your weapons.”
Lucy put her gun on the hood of Patrick’s truck, and Patrick walked over and did the same thing. The deputy got out of the car. “Who’s Kincaid?”
Patrick introduced himself and handed the deputy his private investigator’s license and business card. “I had the lodge call you about Mrs. Marsh’s murder, and we have reason to believe that Grace Delarosa killed her. We also have reason to believe that she killed her husband and attempted to kill her stepson.”
“Frankly, you’re going to have to get in line.” The deputy walked over to where Grace knelt in the snow, head low. “Grace Marie Holbrook, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”
As the deputy read Grace her rights, he walked her to the back of the truck and locked her inside. Then he returned to the three.
“What did you mean, deputy?” Patrick asked.
“Well, we ran the names you sent us, and bam! One of the aliases, Grace Ann Summers from Virginia, popped up with an active warrant for murder.”
“How long ago?” Patrick asked.
“Nearly six years.”
Steve said, “She came here looking for a job six years ago this June. My dad hired her and they married a year later.”
“She was probably hiding out,” Patrick said. “Taking another name, living in another state, she could have stayed here forever.”
“Probably,” the deputy concurred. “I’m going to take her in, but two deputies are on their way to the lodge to take down statements. Do you need help with your truck?” he asked.
