Outside Spencer Falls …
Meg had tried to make reservations with the one and only hotel in town. During tourist season it was nearly impossible to book even a single room. Instead, she had called in a favor from a seasonal hunter who owned a cabin a few kilometers outside Spencer Falls. It had two bedrooms, an indoor bathroom as well as a large main room that flowed into a small kitchen and eat-in dining room.
"I hoped we could talk for a bit, away from the post. I wanted to explain the reason I've called you here." Meg said as she unlocked the padlock on a chain securing the front and only door. Four, small, square windows lined either side of the central door. Maggie nodded toward Benton, one thought running between them.
Meg opened the door and turned to the left. She pushed back the heavy curtains across the windows to let in natural light before she headed back to the electrical box in the kitchen. Passing the kitchen table, she laid her purse down. The Mounties set their packs near the door beside Ben's duffel bag.
"As you know, I was part of the Canadian Security Intelligence Agency after I transferred out of the Chicago Consulate. It was a short stint." Meg began as she turned on the cabin's electricity. "Still, I managed to make enemies. Over the last three months I've had three attempts on my life. The last one was nearly successful." The three guests had gathered around the kitchen table to listen to her story. With a sigh she turned to look at her audience.
"I believe one of the terrorists I helped to capture has decided to kill me, I don't know how or whom, unfortunately. My superiors in Ottawa aren't listening, they say if one of the terrorists had wanted me dead they wouldn't have waited this long to do it. That's why I arranged for your reassignments." The room was quiet for a long moment, Meg's story sinking in.
"There's more, isn't there?" Ben spoke up first, his eyes bright. Meg smiled, looking at Fraser. Oh, how much he was his father's son.
"Yes, I've started receiving these." Meg opened her purse and pulled out a gallon Ziploc bag with three envelopes inside. Carefully, she took out the envelopes and handed them to Fraser. His keen eyes noted the lack of a postmark and the use of the metal clasp to keep it closed. He pulled out a single sheet of printer paper and read the bold text; I Will Kill You!
"I had a friend at the forensics lab in Washington, DC run tests on them. He said that the materials were the cheapest possible, therefore nearly untraceable. There are no fingerprints and no signs of DNA anywhere on the letters and the envelopes." Meg sat back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest, rubbing her arms as if trying to ward off a chill.
"How can we help?" Fraser asked, his brows knit as he read the other two letters. He glanced up to see the Inspector straighten herself up again.
"I would like the two of you to investigate these attempts. My officers think this is part of a RCMP officer swap program. Two of my senior officers were sent to relieve you. I trust them not to be the infiltrator." Meg filled them in, her husky voice low. Benton saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. He hated to think that she'd been in any danger, but he knew that they'd both made decisions that couldn't be reversed. After a year's leave of absence, he'd gone back to the Chicago Consulate and settled back into his old routine. The previous year Ben had come to him. Benton had gone through the motions of his life. Meg had never been very far from his thoughts, even after so long.
"Surely there were other officers you could have trusted?" Maggie asked, her pale blue eyes searching the other woman's face for answers.
"I know this is an imposition, Constable Kowalski, believe me, I thought long and hard before taking this course of action. I fear that if these attempts persist I may not be the only casualty. I've been forced off the road, my food poisoned and the brakes on my car cut." Meg tried to make Maggie see things from her perspective. The blonde Mountie relaxed. She knew how Benton felt about Thatcher.
"Do you have any suspects in mind?" Benton spoke after deliberating a moment.
"Yes, a few. I've pulled every string I ever had, called in favors and blackmailed for this information." The Inspector pulled out a file folder from her purse. She wasn't proud of the methods she'd had to employ, but she had to stop this assassin before they killed her or anyone else.
"I was wondering, what are you going to do with me?" Ben asked out of the blue. Maggie gave Benton a harsh expression.
"I may have the solution." Meg smiled slyly. "George Daniels runs a summer camp at Lake Cumberbatch, the first session started day before yesterday. There's always room for one more."
"I could live with that." Ben shrugged. It would be good to be around other kids without the pressure of school work and teachers.
"Would you mind terribly calling Mr. Daniels, Inspector?" Fraser asked. He hated to impose on her friends but there was little else to be done about Ben. Once upon a time he would have asked Ray Vecchio or Francesca to look after the boy. Frannie had four children of her own and Ray was in Florida. Ray and the retired Lieutenant Welsh kept in contact with each other and with their friends in Chicago through Francesca and email.
"I'd be glad to help. It's my mess you're here to clean up." Meg said shyly. She'd tried to ferret out the culprit but the last attempt on her life had rattled her badly. "I'll call him this afternoon. Tomorrow morning I'll drive the two of you out to Lake Cumberbatch and let you see the camp." Thatcher suggested to Fraser. Ben sat back and watched the way his father and the Inspector acted around each other. He'd been right when he caught Fraser's gaff a few days earlier. Ben had seen women too young to be his mother on into their sixties flirt with the Mountie. They never got this much attention out of him.
"We should be getting to he post soon." Maggie brought them back to the present.
The Spencer Falls post wasn't as large as Benton had figured the Inspector's posting would be. He always thought she'd end up at the head of a large department with a big staff. Instead she manned one only a bit bigger than the Chicago Consulate. Including Thatcher, there were ten officers total. The post was a sturdy, cement block structure. Behind it was a gravel lot and a low slung, metal garage.
"Hello, Inspector Thatcher." Constable Wilder greeted her as she lead Fraser, Maggie and Ben into the main room. The Constable stood up ramrod straight at his desk when she entered. His eyes widened when he saw the pair in their red, dress serge. The boy tagging behind them seemed out of place.
"Wilder, good day, these are Constables Benton Fraser and Maggie Kowalski. They'll be here for the next two weeks." It was handshakes and hellos all around for the next few moments.
"This is my son, Ben Fraser." The Mountie introduced his son to the younger officer. Wilder and Ben shook hands, the boy gauging the man's metal by how he shook hands. Meg saw the pride welling up in Fraser as he watched his son. She was glad that he had family again. It had been a long time coming for him.
"I'll be spending the next two weeks at camp." Ben reassured the Mountie when he looked at the boy skeptically. Wilder nodded, glad that he wouldn't have to be a babysitter.
"Have there been any calls for me, Constable Wilder?" Meg asked, checking her mail cubby-hole on the back wall of the main room.
"No, Ma'am." There were a few fliers, one or two newsletters and a sizable, manilla envelope in the cubby. Meg pulled them out and began sorting them, tossing the unimportant fliers and newsletters in the trash can beside the desk. Fraser saw her turn as pale as a glacier when she saw the envelope. She turned and walked back toward her office in the back of the building.
"So, how long have you been with the Spencer Falls Post, Constable Wilder?" Ben smiled, trying to give his dad and his aunt the opening they needed to follow Meg. Fraser squeezed the boy's shoulder briefly before heading down the hallway behind the Inspector. Maggie was only a step behind him. They found Meg standing halfway across the gravel lot. She'd taken the package out the back door, toward the garage.
"I didn't want Wilder to see us opening this." Meg swallowed hard and handed Fraser the envelope. The Mountie examined it carefully, smelling of it, his eyes closed. Then he held it up to the light. Finding nothing interesting, he pulled out his pocket knife, swung the four inch blade out easily and slit the top of the envelope. He knelt down on the gravel and let the contents slide out onto the ground. It was a single sheet of printer paper and a strand of hair that matched her's.
"The letter says; 'Call Whoever You Want, I Will Still Kill You'." Ben handed the letter to Maggie for her inspection.
"They've been in my house." The thought made Meg sick to her stomach. Someone had invaded her privacy.
"The strand of hair may not belong to you." Maggie offered, trying to reassure the Inspector, her voice as positive as she could force it to be. Meg slipped the strand back in the envelope and quickly swept her hair up with one hand. A large section of hair had been cut just behind her ear.
"Oh, my word." Maggie grimaced, looking to her brother to take the lead.
"We will get to the bottom of this, Inspector Thatcher." He looked her square in the eye as he spoke. Meg saw the promise in his eyes. She felt a little less worried.
By the time the Mounties walked back to the post's main room, Ben had heard Constable Wilder's life story, or it felt like it to the teenager anyway. He'd heard at least the top five stories of the officer's career, each one more boring than the last. Ben thought to himself that he was probably biased, what with listening to his father's stories. It wasn't every RCMP officer that would get stuck in a bank vault during a robbery and end up flooding it to get out. Fraser had dozens more, exciting stories.
"Hey, Ben, are you ready for those saltine crackers?" The Inspector asked, her face still pale but her voice and attitude more calm.
"Yes, thank you." The boy pushed himself up from a metal folding chair and followed Meg back toward her office. As small as Spencer Falls post was, Inspector Thatcher's office still reflected her elegant tastes. The walls were a light, sandstone. White, lace curtains dimmed the afternoon light behind her desk, olive green drapes framed either side of the window. A nondescript but solid, wooden desk took up the center of the room. Bookshelves ran the length of the side wall to the right, handy to the desk. A painting of a country cottage in an gold, oval frame hung on the left side wall, black, fluer de lis sconces on either side. Two, brown, leather chairs sat facing the desk. A gold desk lamp with a green glass globe sat to the right side of the desk. Opposite it sat the computer and the telephone. It was professional, efficient and Meg Thatcher in every way. A potted plant sat on a stand beneath the window, behind the desk.
"Here you go, Ben." Meg pulled an unopened pack of saltines out of a bottom drawer of her desk and handed them to the boy.
"Thank you, Inspector. I've never been motion sick before." He took the bottle of water Meg handed him as well.
"You'll out grow it, I'm sure." She motioned for her guests to have a seat. Ben certainly hoped he would, preferably before they had to board a bush plane again.
The Inspector pulled a file from the nearest book case and handed it to Fraser.
"This is the duty schedule. No sentry duty this time." A teasing smile briefly pulled at Meg's full, red lips. Benton looked up from the form, an amused glimmer in his green eyes. Neither Maggie nor Ben caught the inside joke. "I've tried to give you both varying shifts so that you'll encounter the maximum number of my staff during the next two weeks." Meg returned to the task at hand. It was difficult with Fraser around. Even after all that time, he still had a way of distracting her, of driving her crazy in the best ways.
"You certainly are well organized." Maggie commented neutrally after Fraser handed her the schedule.
"Rest has been elusive lately, to say the least." Meg responded dryly, one brow raised. She felt like she hadn't slept in a year. She sighed tiredly and suggested a tour of Spencer Falls.