Death's Last Run Read Free Page B

— but so far no luck on either.” Ted paused. “You still say no about bringing up the affair, right? I know it was over twenty years ago, but Kearnes was married; you weren’t. We could blow him out of the race with one piece of evidence.”
    â€œYes, I still say no.” Martha’s head was spinning with the rapid-fire speed of Ted’s talking. Her own words felt slow and sluggish in comparison. “Arrange a lunch with Reverend Hillier. I’ll tell him face to face that I still plan to win this. Was there anything else?”
    â€œUm, the FBI has been in touch. You cleared them to talk to me, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThey’re training an undercover to send to Whistler.”
    Martha’s head began to pound. “When do they think he’ll be ready?”
    â€œHe’s arriving in Whistler this evening. Um, Martha?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI don’t think it was suicide, either. Sacha was strong. She loved being alive.”
    Martha clicked off her phone before she could tear a strip off Ted that he didn’t deserve. It wasn’t Ted’s fault he was twenty-six in Washington.

THREE

    RICHIE
    Richie Lebar leaned in the doorway between Jana’s kitchen and living room. Outside the dirty window, snow was dumping on the village.
    Past some other apartment buildings and houses in the Upper Village, Richie saw the Fairmont Chateau Whistler, nestled on its own at the foot of Blackcomb Mountain. Though it was at the base of the hill, that hotel was the peak for Richie. He liked to take Jana there, sit in the bar and order a bottle of Cristal and just lounge there sipping it, living the life. It showed him how far he’d come, how different he was from the rough guy he used to be. With snow cascading down upon its turrets, the hotel looked like a fairytale castle, straight out of Germany or Switzerland.
    He wished Jana would hurry up and eat. He wanted to hit the slopes, feel his board glide through powder, burn off some of the nasty energy that had been eating him up for over a week.
    â€œSacha Westlake was no angel.” Jana poked her spoon violently into her Mueslix. “How come every time someone young dies, they’re suddenly an honor student with a heart of gold?”
    Richie laughed, which felt good because not much was funny these days. “True, that. In high school, my friend got shot. He was an evil mofo — had his eight-year-old brother selling meth for him ’cause the kid was too young for juvie. Day after he dies, there’s a picture in the paper of my friend singing in the church choir when he was, like, five years old. The headline was
Choir Boy Slain.
”
    Jana lifted a spoonful of cereal from the bowl and frowned at it. She set her spoon back down. “Seriously. Sacha was awesome, but the press has to stop sticking her on this tragic pedestal. I want to tell the next reporter who calls that she was fucking her married boss and selling LSD into the States.”
    â€œYeah, but you won’t, right?” Richie flicked his tongue against the back of his mouth grill — the gold and diamonds that decorated his teeth and told the world he had money.
    â€œOf course not. I’m not going to throw you and Chopper under the bus. Maybe I’ll say the married boss part though. Let Wade squirm.” Jana nudged her green-rimmed glasses up on her nose. They were cute on her. Richie wished she’d wear them out of the house sometimes.
    Richie looked past Jana out the kitchen window at the heavy falling snow. First powder day since Sacha died — like the sky was trying to tell them to move on. “Are you planning to eat your cereal, or play with it until it turns to mush?”
    â€œI’m out of Smarties. It tastes boring with just seeds and oats.”
    â€œSo add bananas. But speed up.”
    Jana pushed back her chair and pulled a banana from the bunch on the counter. “Go