“Let’s not play games,” Detective Johnson said. “Elise Hoffman was murdered last night.”
I could tell from the way Mark’s face crumbled and how he grabbed my small bureau for support that this was the first time he had heard about Elise.
Chapter 11
I didn’t have a chance to speak to Mark until much later. I had volunteered to leave my apartment while Detective Johnson questioned him. I went to Tess’ apartment, taking King with me, and called Albert and Sandra. I told them Mark had shown up, but that I didn’t know where he had been. I told them about the message from Elise. Sandra seemed to be more interested in trying to refute a possible murder charge against Mark than that Elise had said she was going to drop the harassment charge. I was relieved to hear her talk like that. I promised to keep them informed.
Tess and I ate an early dinner in the dining room while the questioning continued. It was close to 8 p.m. when Mark called me and told me that Detective Johnson had left.
Mark looked so haggard and wrung out when I returned to my apartment that I was afraid a breeze would blow him away. His face had scratch marks. For one awful moment I wondered if Elise’s fingernails had done that. No, it couldn’t be. I immediately got my thoughts under control and went about fixing something for him to eat, especially after he told me that he had only eaten once since yesterday. Mark was a three-meals-a-day person. Minimum.
“Go in and sit down, Mark,” I told him when he offered to help me. “You look completely beat.”
“No, I need to talk to you, Lillian,” he said.
He wouldn’t be persuaded to relax so I got him a beer from the refrigerator. Beer was another food item I had stocked up on when Mark came to stay with me.
“I guess you know by now that the murdered woman is the one who filed the charges against me.”
I said yes, figuring that a long explanation at this point was inappropriate.
“I swear I didn’t know she had been killed until I walked through that door.”
“I know,” I said. “It was obvious from your reaction.” “I want to tell you what happened to me.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“But you’re wondering where I’ve been for the last 36 hours,” Mark said. “You’ve probably been worried about me. After, all, I didn’t call you or anything.”
“You can tell me later. I assume you’ve told the story to Detective Johnson. That’s what counts.”
“I tried to. But he doesn’t believe me. And there’s no reason why he should.”
“Okay, you’d better start at the beginning.”
“I left here yesterday morning, fully intending to go to work.”
He had left before I had.
Mark took a sip of beer and continued, “When I got near Sandy’s condo I had an overwhelming urge to talk to her. Of course I knew she would probably be gone already, but the urge overpowered me so I stopped at her condo, anyway. Sandy wasn’t there. I let myself in with my key. I wanted to take a look at the things I had left. Among them were a pack, hiking boots and other hiking gear.
“It suddenly occurred to me that I needed to get away for a day…to clear my head and get some perspective on my situation. That idea got a boost from the fact that I dreaded going to the college, even though I didn’t have any classes scheduled and so would have to face a minimum of people.”
I wondered if Detective Johnson had played Elise’s message for him, but I decided I’d better not interrupt him.
He took a few more sips of beer. “On impulse, I took the hiking gear and put it in my car. Then I drove west toward the mountains. After a while I realized that I was headed toward Mt. Mitchell, one of my favorite places.”
“The highest mountain east of the Mississippi,” I said.
“And it also has a road going up it. I thought I would drive up the road and, somehow, the solution to my problems would come to me in the thinner air, like a bolt of lightning. I forgot that the road might still be closed from the storms we had in February. Well, it was.”
“Let’s continue this in the dining room,” I said, exaggerating the grandeur of the area where I eat. You can start on this salad. You need to get some food in you before you waste away to a grease spot.”
Mark thankfully took the salad and we sat at the dining table. After a few bites, he started talking again.
“I had driven all that way and I had my hiking gear with me so I put on my boots, took my pack and began hiking up the trail, figuring that I would go for a couple of miles and then turn back. But even after I got to the snowline I was able to follow the trail and I wasn’t cold so I kept going. Then it started to snow some more. I still kept going because I thought I was near the summit. Then a cloud dropped on top of me and I couldn’t see past the ends of my fingers.”
Mark held out his hand to demonstrate.
“I’m beginning not to like this story,” I said.
“Wait, it gets better. I was finally smart enough to start back down the mountain. Except that the snow, which was now coming down hard, had obliterated my tracks, and visibility was so poor that it was impossible to spot any trail markers. At one point I slipped and tumbled down a slope. I got banged up and scratched, but it also knocked some sense into me. By the time I climbed back up I had admitted to myself that I was lost.”
“Hang on to that thought while I get the rest of your dinner,” I said, wishing that this were a television show I could turn off. Mark could have died, although he obviously hadn’t, but I still wasn’t sure I could stand to hear any more. However, I returned with his dinner, wanting him to get on with the story so that he could get to safety. From then on, the story and the food competed with each other for his attention.
“On top of everything else, it was starting to get dark,” Mark continued. “I knew the smartest thing to do was to spend the night right where I was rather than to go crashing around, get hopelessly lost and perhaps hurt myself.”
“But weren’t you cold?”
“The water in my canteen froze. But snow, after all, is water, so I didn’t have any trouble getting water to drink because I just melted snow in my mouth. I also made myself a snow fort for a shelter. I didn’t have thermal underwear, although I had been smart enough to take gloves and a wool hat, as well as my winter jacket. I also put on two pairs of socks. But, to answer your question, yes, I froze. I didn’t really sleep, but spent the night trying to maintain feeling in my arms and legs and eating the few bites of food that were left from my lunch.”
“You poor thing,” I said, the mother instinct in me rising to the surface. “How did you find your way out?”
“When it started to get light I knew I had to move before my hypothermia completely immobilized me, even though at that point the thought of moving was almost too much to bear. In fact, I was starting to feel comfortable, probably because I was almost numb. I was drifting off into another world. I even asked myself whether it was worth the effort to save myself because of what I was facing here.”
I held my breath. I definitely didn’t want to hear this.
“But I forced myself to come out of my cocoon-the snow had pretty much covered me and, in fact, gave me some protection from the cold-and found that the storm had passed and the sun was coming out. After a few minutes of careful searching I spotted a trail marker and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“I know you’re glossing over a lot, but even though you’re sitting here I’m relieved to hear that you got out safely. When did you manage to get something to eat?”
“I returned to my car, started it, and turned the heat on full blast, until I stopped shivering and my body started functioning well enough to drive. Then I drove until I found a cafe. I went in and ate enough food to feed a good-sized elephant. I’m sure my waitress had never seen anybody eat so much. In fact, she made a few remarks about my eating.”
“And then you drove back here?”