the murder of three people.
If he wanted to live, and live free, he had no choice.
Kneeling beside Cousin Mario’s body, he gingerly searched his pockets.
Car keys. Wallet, with driver’s license, credit cards, and cash. Fifties, hundreds …
The smoke was getting thicker. The flames were heating the house. Landon had only a few minutes to make his final decision.
But that was a lie.
He had made that decision the moment he picked up the briefcase.
* * *
At three o’clock that afternoon, the border guard at the Peace Arch on the Canadian border was suitably impressed when a silver Mercedes-Benz E400 Cabriolet convertible, top down, pulled up to his station. “Nice car,” Walt Bingham said as he took the proffered ID. “Mr.… Mario Ricci.”
“Thank you.” The gentleman in the driver’s seat looked relaxed.
A little too relaxed, to Walt’s mind. Most people, no matter how innocent they might be, were nervous when crossing the border.
Mr. Ricci said, “Actually, it’s my wife’s car, but mine is an electrician’s truck, so she let me borrow it for the trip.”
Walt frowned at the photo on the driver’s license, then looked at the guy’s face. “Would you take off your sunglasses, please?”
The guy whipped them off.
“This is you?” Walt asked.
“Mario Ricci. Yes.”
“You don’t look like you’re this old.”
“Facelift.”
Walt didn’t like him. Men didn’t admit to stuff like that. At least not so readily. “Could I see your registration and insurance?”
“Let me see if I can figure out where she stashed it.” Mr. Ricci dug around in the console and came up with the papers.
Yep. Car was registered to him and … “What’s your wife’s name?”
“Gwen. Is there a problem?”
Walt shook his head. “No. Everything looks like it’s in order. Pop the trunk.” He walked to the back and found a duffel bag.
Mr. Ricci appeared at his side. “Want me to open it?” Without waiting for an answer, he unzipped it and showed Walt the contents.
Walt poked around a little more, looking for … something. “Why are you visiting Canada?”
“Vacation.”
“Without the wife?”
“She’s got relatives visiting, so I’m getting out of town.”
“I can relate to that.” Walt handed back the paperwork, slammed the trunk, followed Mr. Ricci back, and waited while he got back into the driver’s seat. “How long will you be staying in Canada?”
“Once the relatives leave…” Mr. Ricci shrugged. "They said they were going to stay for two days."
Walt waved him through. “Enjoy your stay.” He didn’t like the feel of the guy, but he couldn’t arrest a guy based on nothing more than his instincts.
He watched the car pull away and accelerate.
All that Mr. Ricci left behind was the faint smell of smoke and the memory of his parting smile.
Read on for a sneak preview of
OBSESSION FALLS
the new novel from Christina Dodd
Available September 2015
Excerpt from Obsession Falls © 2015 by Christina Dodd
CHAPTER ONE
The highway from Idaho’s Sun Valley travels north into the Sawtooth Mountains with two lanes and strategically located turnouts in case a person needs to change a tire or gawk at the scenery. The road winds past shacks constructed of beer bottles and aluminum siding, past rusty mobile homes and clapboard houses in need of paint. That highway is a drive back in time, to a moment when the West opened its arms to every pioneer and misfit in the world.
Then the National Forest Service moved in.
No one ever said they did it wrong. The world deserves places of wildness, where no one logs trees that have grown since the time of Jesus, where snowmobiles and ATMs can’t challenge black bears to battle and take out rare and delicate flowers. Most people want a place where hikers and backpackers can roam the wilderness, and then only in summer months when winter retreats … and waits.
But even the National Forest Service can do nothing about
Learning to Kill: Stories