Murder On Ice (15 page)

But Nancy was a split second ahead of him. She flung the snowball in his face. As it hit, momentarily blinding him, she darted behind him and swung her ski pole across his throat, locking it against him in a choke-hold.

Michael began to struggle. One of his hands flailed wildly, groping for her arm. But Nancy jerked the pole tighter. Michael made a muffled
coughing sound, and then he sagged against her. Nancy held the viselike grip for a full minute, not daring to risk another of his tricks. Finally, she released the pressure. He slid to her feet in a heap.

Nancy leaned back against a tree, shaking with relief. She was still there moments later when she heard voices calling her name hollowly through the wind. “Here,” she gasped hoarsely.

Within minutes, she was in Ned's arms. Liz was there, too, bending over Michael. Nancy was relieved that she could stop suspecting Liz. If Liz had behaved strangely, it must have been from tension. After all, prowlers and accidents and would-be murderers were not everyday happenings, and some people held up under strain better than other people did. She could stop suspecting Gunther, too. The only “evidence” against him had been circumstantial.

“Is he dead?” Nancy asked through cracked lips.

Liz shook her head. “He's alive but out cold. That must have been some stunt you pulled!”

“He was the one who tried to kill Luke . . . and then George, and me, too.”

“Shh. We know,” Ned whispered. He held her tightly, his lips pressed against her hair.

It was not until they were at the Overlook Hotel, waiting for the police to question Nancy and for rescue squads to attend to both Luke and Michael, that she was able to find out why Ned and Liz had come out in the forest looking for her.

Nancy and Ned were sitting in front of the hotel fireplace, their hands clasped gently, when she asked him about it.

“Luke regained consciousness,” Ned said. “He hit his head during the avalanche, and somehow the blow jarred away his amnesia!

“He remembered all about Dieter Mueller's accident, how after Dieter fell he was hurt but still alive, how he'd discovered the missing screw in Dieter's bindings . . . and how he'd noticed Michael Price hiding in the trees farther down the slope. Of course, he didn't suspect that Michael would try to hurt him as he skied down to get help for Dieter. And he never remembered any of it—until today.”

Nancy shuddered. “It's hard to believe anyone would do such horrible things.”

“But Michael did,” Ned exclaimed. “And when Liz and I realized that you were out there alone with a murderer, we took off after you, skiing like maniacs.”

“It was wonderful seeing you two come through those trees,” Nancy said with a sigh.

“You managed to take pretty good care of Michael without our help, though,” Ned said, smiling.

Soon after that, the police arrived to take Nancy's, Ned's, and Liz's statements. Afterward, an officer drove them to the county hospital, where George, Bess, and Gunther were keeping a vigil over Luke. Bess looked haggard, and Nancy knew that she felt both relieved at Gunther's
innocence in the case, and guilty at having suspected him.

Michael had regained consciousness, but he wasn't talking. “And not just because of that bad sore throat you gave him,” the police lieutenant said to Nancy. “We've been on the phone with the Colorado police and the German embassy. Price is going to need a very high-powered lawyer!”

Luke was in surgery, having suffered not only a broken leg and a couple of crushed ribs, but internal injuries.

It wasn't until dawn that a nurse came into the visitors' lounge, smiling. “Mr. Berntsen's regained consciousness.” She looked at Ned. “He's asking for someone named George.”

George leaped up and rushed down the corridor with a cry of joy. The nurse, who'd obviously expected a boy to respond to Luke's call, was mildly astonished.

A few hours later, when the others were finally allowed into the room, George was still there, holding Luke's hand tightly. Luke looked haggard, but for the first time since they'd met him, he seemed at peace. His eyes lit up as Nancy came in.

“I guess I owe you a big apology for the way I've treated you,” he said. “The first day, when I overheard that you were a detective, I—I just freaked out. The way you poked into things, I was sure that if you started investigating me, I'd end up in jail, even though I hadn't killed Dieter.

“But George tells me Price is going behind bars now, so I want to thank you, sincerely and deeply.” Luke smiled almost shyly.

“You know, Luke,” Nancy told him, “you're all right!” Then she giggled. “I guess well have to get used to calling you Jon Berntsen, won't we? At least, if we're going to see any more of you.”

“Oh, you'll see me,” Luke assured her. He and George exchanged loving glances. Then George turned scarlet, and the others laughed.

“One more question, if you don't mind,” Nancy said.

“Go ahead,” Luke replied.

“Didn't you ever wonder if you might have been guilty? After all, you had amnesia and you couldn't remember what you'd done just before and during the race.”

“No way,” Luke said. “Dieter and I were friends, good friends, even if we were always competing with each other.”

“You never suspected that anyone might get hurt in the night race?”

Luke sighed. “I should have. The other people at the Broken Leg thought I was crazy! The worst part was knowing that everyone else believed I'd killed Dieter—and not remembering enough to prove them wrong.”

“I never thought you killed him,” George cut in.

Luke smiled. “Yeah, but I think you and my mother are the only two people who can truly say that.” He laughed. “Anyway, I was determined to remember. And it was starting to happen!
Every once in a while I'd get a flash of memory. Nothing clear, just a feeling that when Mueller and I had had our accidents, somebody else had been there.”

He turned to Nancy. “Then you had your ‘accident' on the rope tow, and all of a sudden there were three people there, too—me, you, and Michael. It was like I was reliving a memory: seeing an unconscious body and then Michael. I had this flash, a picture of his face, smiling—sneering—at Dieter and me as we argued in the Broken Leg Cafe.”

“So you asked him about it,” Nancy prompted.

“And he denied it,” Luke said. “But I kept getting more disturbing flashes. I felt sure that Price had more to do with what had happened to Mueller and me than he was saying. But I had no proof.” His face softened. “And then George recognized me. And she believed in me.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Nancy exclaimed. “I could have helped! And we might have been able to wrap this case up before so many people got hurt!”

George just looked at Nancy. “You didn't like Luke, remember? Would you have trusted the word of someone accused of being a murderer? The only reason he wasn't prosecuted in Colorado was because the police didn't have proof, not because they didn't have suspicions!”

“And then he disappeared,” Ned added. “That must have looked plenty suspicious!”

“All the same,” Nancy said softly, “I wish you'd told me. I
trust
you.”

“Do you?” George asked evenly. “You didn't tell me what you were finding out about Luke or the murderer. I was going nuts, not knowing.”

“It sounds to me,” Gunther said, “as if you two had a language gap, the way I did when I first came to this country. I had studied English, but I had—what do you call it?—a communications problem.”

“That's it exactly,” Nancy said ruefully. She smiled at George, and George smiled back.

“Hey,” Ned said, rising and pulling Nancy up with him, “now that the storm's over and we can go out in the snow again, you people don't mind if we desert you, do you? We have things to do and places to go.” He threw Nancy a teasing smile.

“Where?” Nancy asked, grinning.

“You'll see,” Ned answered vaguely.

They went out into the early morning sun. The storm had ended and the trees, covered with glittering ice, shone silver in the light. Ned waited until they had reached the car to take Nancy in his arms and kiss her. “Come on!” he said exuberantly.

“Where?”

“Back to the hotel Jacuzzi! The rest of the gang won't think of it, so it's the one place we can count on being alone. We have,” he added, kissing her again, “a lot of vacationing to catch up on!”

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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