Danger in the Snow Page 6

  “I get it, honey,” Sarah said in a calm voice. She sat down across from Amanda and picked up the rock the killer had placed in the brown box. “Conrad found your gun sitting on your bed.”

  “You already knew that would happen,” Amanda said in a careful voice and waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “The killer left a note tucked under your gun,” Sarah continued, keeping her voice even and calm.

  “A note?”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “A note printed from a computer.”

  “What did the note say?” Amanda asked in a scared voice.

  Sarah drew in a deep breath, glanced at the peacefully sleeping Mittens, and then told Amanda what the note said. “Now, don't panic.”

  “A killer was in my home...stole my gun...killed mean ol' Bertha...and then left a threatening note. What's not to panic over?” Amanda cried. She threw her hands up into the air and then slumped down onto the table, hiding her head in her folded arms. “My hubby is going to have me admitted to a mental institution,” she moaned.

  “Honey, do you have any idea who this killer is?” Sarah pleaded. “Maybe...maybe Bertha was just an innocent bystander the killer used to get your attention? Maybe Bertha isn't involved at all...or maybe she is. Maybe the convict who drove her into Snow Falls has the answers we need...maybe your hubby has answers,” Sarah shook her head. “Sorry, honey, I'm speaking out of frustration instead of thinking like a cop.”

  Amanda raised her head and looked at Sarah. “Why would my hubby have any answers?” she asked.

  “Andrew suggested that it's possible the killer is after your husband and wants to punish you to hurt him?”

  “Oh love...do you think that's a possibility?” Amanda gasped. Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “Why, my husband has never harmed a flea. He's the most gentle man I've ever known. I mean, sure, he fusses when he gets an answer wrong on Jeopardy...and he sure knows how to drive me crazy with that bell of his...but he's never harmed a soul in his life.” Amanda shook her head. “No, I refuse to believe the killer is after my hubby.”

  “Now you know how your husband feels when you're in danger,” Sarah pointed out. “I never put myself in his shoes before…or in Conrad's. I can't imagine how scared they were when we were being held captive at the hot springs.”

  “Mighty scared,” Amanda suggested. “I guess I never imagined how scared our husbands must have felt. Now that my love may be in danger...goodness, the feeling is quite terrible.”

  “Yes, it is,” Sarah said and looked toward the back door. “Conrad and Andrew will be here soon to take us to the station. That's where you're going to stay until we catch the killer. In the meantime, I need you to call London and get your husband on the phone for me. I have to ask him some questions.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Amanda groaned. She stood up and went to the phone. “Love?”

  “Yes, June Bug?” Sarah asked.

  “Why is it killers only attack in snowstorms?”

  Sarah saw another apparition of the terrifying snowman chewing a peppermint candy cane. It's not over, Sarah...it's never over. I'll always come for you when it snows. The hideous words echoed in her head mercilessly. “I don't know,” Sarah confessed. “Conrad says it’s just a coincidence, but I’m not so sure. The snow seems to change the world into a different place...it’s a different story...killers come out and play when the snow falls...they come out in all different shapes and forms.”

  Amanda looked at the kitchen window. “I love the snow...but right now I'm very scared. In my mind I keep seeing something lurking behind the trees...ready to carry out its threats against me. It could be nothing more than a deranged human, but I can’t help but fear something worse…something with fangs, or sharp claws, or bloody red eyes. I know that sounds silly coming from a grown woman, love...but I can't help it.”

  “Well, it’s not too far off base. We have dealt with our share of killers,” Sarah explained. “Dealing with homicidal monsters takes its toll on you after a while, June Bug.” Sarah picked up her coffee, sniffed the drink that was now only lukewarm, and continued. “Cops have nightmares all the time, and they don’t always have realistic ones, either. When I trained to become a homicide detective, I thought I was going to save the world...instead I worked long hours, dealt with monsters, and began having horrible nightmares...dead bodies lying in wet alleys...dead bodies washed up on beaches...dead bodies coming alive to beg for mercy and vengeance...” Sarah shook her head. “Murderers kill in ways that haunt your dreams...in my dreams I sometimes saw myself as one of the dead bodies...strangled, shot...the works.”

  “I can't imagine,” Amanda told Sarah. “You never talk about your old cases, what you saw, the monsters you tracked down. I mean, I know all about the Back Alley Killer because it was in the papers and that monster showed up in person, but...I can't imagine the catalogue of horrors your eyes have seen.”

  “That's why I write,” Sarah spoke before she could catch her tongue. “In my stories I control the horrors. In the real world, evil strikes first and the cops can only play catch-up. And sometimes, June Bug, the killers are never captured. That's the way of it.”

  Amanda shivered. “Los Angeles, you're not making me feel any better.”

  “Sorry, honey, that's the life of a cop. A real cop never sleeps easy because he understands the truth.” Sarah sipped at her cooling coffee and tried to forget the visions of the snowman grinning at her. “You better get your hubby on the phone. We have a long night ahead of us, and we're going to need all the help we can get.”

  Out in the snow, far from the well-traveled roads, a man crept into a deserted vacation cabin on an abandoned hillside. He dropped a black hunting bag down onto the hardwood floor and looked around. “This will do just fine,” he said and grinned, lopsided and manic. He hummed a tune under his breath as he opened his bag and got to work. “Oh, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

  4

  Amanda rushed out into the storm, her gloved hands shielding her eyes from the pelting ice, and stared at the men perched on two snowmobiles parked in the side yard. Andrew jumped off his snowmobile and struggled through knee-deep snow toward her. “All set?” he asked, reaching Amanda. Amanda hugged her arms around herself and nodded.

  Conrad spotted Sarah easing out of the back door with Mittens. “Going to be a tight ride,” he shouted over the wind and waited for Mittens to relieve herself in the shelter of a nearby pine tree. When Mittens finished her business, Sarah fought her way through the storm and approached Conrad. “I should have guessed you would want to take Mittens,” he called out over the wind.

  Sarah stared into a face covered with a black ski mask. She quickly reached out her gloved left hand and lifted the mask so she could kiss Conrad on his cheek. “My hero.”

  Conrad smiled and patted the backseat. “Hop on, pretty lady, and bring your dog.”

  Sarah struggled onto the back seat and then helped Mittens climb up on her lap. “Storm is getting worse, if that's possible. And the wind is punishing.”

  Conrad ripped off his ski mask and handed it to Sarah. “Put this on. Your coat and winter hat won’t be enough.”

  “But—”

  “Put it on,” Conrad ordered in a loving, stern voice. “I'll live.”

  Sarah quickly put on the balaclava and then wrapped her left arm around Conrad's waist while holding Mittens with her right arm. The puppy burrowed down into the shelter of her arms and hid from the storm. “We're all set.”

  Conrad looked over at Andrew. Andrew was ripping off his own ski mask. Conrad watched him hand the mask to Amanda. Amanda shook her head but finally agreed as a powerful gust of icy wind ripped at her ears. “All set?” he yelled. Andrew nodded. “Hold on, honey.”

  “I'm holding on,” Sarah promised. Conrad nodded and got the snowmobile moving into the dark night. The front headlight on the snowmobile fought against the darkness of the storm, barely creating a lighted path. Sarah looked behind her and spotte
d Andrew pulling out of her yard with Amanda behind him. Her cabin slowly started to fade into the distance, like a ship sinking under a deep sea of snow. Instead of feeling sad, she felt helpless anger rush into her heart. She was sick of fighting killers but felt in her heart that she was caught in a never-ending fight. “Hold on, girl,” she told Mittens and hugged the dog with her right arm. Mittens licked Sarah's face and hunkered down on her lap.

  Conrad wanted to talk to Sarah, but the wind was too loud. He focused on the road and kept the snowmobile going at a steady pace. As the snowmobile worked through the storm, Conrad glanced to his left and right as they passed different houses along the way. Some cabins were lit up, some were dark, some had smoke coming from their chimneys, and some were warmed by electric heaters. The sight of each cabin sent a cozy feeling into his center. “Wish I were home with my wife, cuddled up in front of a warm fire, drinking coffee...”

  As Conrad hungered to be home in front of a warm fire, Sarah searched the storm. She studied each cabin and wondered where the killer was hiding. Even though she longed to be safe at home with her husband, a deadly killer was loose in the storm. Somewhere in Snow Falls a man was lurking, waiting to strike. “You won't hurt my girl,” Sarah whispered.

  Behind Sarah, on the second snowmobile, Amanda was holding on for dear life. Her heart was racing, and her eyes were searching every dark stand of trees the snowmobile passed. “Don't be scared,” she told herself, “you’re in good company and no one is going to hurt you.”

  “Are you okay?” Andrew yelled over the icy winds, keeping the snowmobile steady.

  “Scared,” Amanda yelled back.

  Andrew waved his hand. “I understand.”

  “I know you do,” Amanda sighed and patted Andrew on his shoulder. “You're a good bloke. My hubby thinks well of you.”

  Andrew didn't hear Amanda's response but knew the woman trusted him. “We're going to protect you, Amanda,” he yelled. “Your husband is a good man and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You have me, Sarah and Conrad to watch your back.”

  “Who watches your back?” Amanda whispered, and didn't say another word until Andrew pulled the snowmobile up to the front door of the police station. Amanda quickly jumped off and hurried inside.

  “She's scared,” Sarah told Conrad, helping Mittens down from the snowmobile.

  “I know,” Conrad said, turning off the snowmobile and taking the key out of the ignition. “Let's get inside and warm up, okay?”

  Sarah looked around and studied the front street. She spotted familiar buildings covered with snow; buildings that held a bakery, a candle shop, an antique shop, a little toy store, a dress shop, a hardware store, a bank, a lawyer's office, a wooden furniture store, and other little stores transformed an otherwise normal small-town street into a cozy home. At the end of the street stood her coffee shop. “Snow Falls has taken over my heart,” she confessed to Conrad. “Trouble is everywhere in the world. A person can't keep running from trouble.”

  Conrad watched Sarah pull the ski mask off, revealing her beautiful face. He watched the heavy falling snow land on her cheeks and nose as the icy winds began pulling tears from her eyes. And for a few seconds, he wondered what life would be like if he lost his new wife. The idea cut through him, painful as a knife. “Let me protect you. I couldn't live without you,” he said in a loving voice and pushed a snowflake off Sarah's nose.

  Sarah gave Conrad a strange look. “Where did that come from?” she asked.

  Conrad took Sarah's hands. “Let's get inside,” he smiled and hurried Sarah inside. Andrew followed close behind. Once inside, Conrad walked Sarah and Amanda to his small, cramped office and took off his thick jacket. “Coffee?” he asked.

  Amanda searched Conrad's office. The wooden walls were decorated with photos of New York; baseball games, subways, city streets, cabs, beaches and even a photo of some quaint little Italian restaurant. It was as if she had left Alaska and been transported to New York. All she needed to see was some mobster standing out on a street corner eating a slice of pizza and telling her to “Fugeddaboudit.” “Nice office, Conrad,” she said and plopped down in a brown chair in front of the wooden desk covered with half-read files and several dirty coffee mugs and a messily-folded newspaper.

  “I like it,” Conrad said. He stuck his head out of his office door and caught Andrew. “I'll keep the girls in my office for a while and then settle them in a cell for the night. See if you can get London on the phone and get us some answers, okay?”

  “Will do,” Andrew said. “Front of the station is all locked up. I'll have Brent do random foot patrols. Michael and Henry should be back from the hospital shortly.”

  “Sounds good,” Conrad agreed. He closed his office door and watched Sarah and Mittens sit down beside Amanda. “You talk to your husband?” he asked Amanda.

  Amanda nodded and took a minute to defrost her chilled fingers before speaking. The office was warm, but she felt very cold inside. “My hubby doesn't have any enemies,” she finally spoke and looked Conrad in his eyes. “You met him, Conrad. You know what kind of man he is.”

  “A bit...stubborn but an all-around good guy,” Conrad admitted.

  “Stubborn to the bone but so very kind-hearted. Why, my hubby would give you the shirt off his back if you asked him for it,” Amanda said. She hugged her arms together and listened to the storm howl outside. “My hubby has never had a negative encounter with anyone...well...maybe a few bad cabbies here and there, and a rude waitress, but nothing serious.”

  “How about his old man?” Conrad asked.

  “Ah,” Amanda said and began nodding her head up and down, “that thought crossed my mind. I mentioned that to my dear hubby and got chewed out in return.”

  “Why?” Conrad asked.

  “Conrad,” Amanda said, “my husband loves his father. He's a loyal son. In his eyes, that grouchy old Scrooge of a man can't do anything wrong.” Amanda shook her head. “To imply my hubby's father might have a hidden foe...oh my goodness, the world must stop.”

  Conrad sat down on the edge of his desk. “So you hit a dead end?”

  “Afraid so,” Amanda confessed.

  “I don't think Amanda's father-in-law is involved,” Sarah cut in. “Not in the way we might think, anyway.”

  “What theories have you come up with?” Conrad asked his wife.

  “I'm not exactly sure,” Sarah explained. “I keep wondering why the killer chose Bertha, though. The killer could have easily chosen me or you or even Amanda's husband. Bertha was chosen for a reason.” Sarah removed her warm gloves and motioned for Mittens to lay down. Mittens obeyed. “A former felon drove Bertha into town, right?”

  “Right,” Conrad said.

  “How did Bertha even find such a guy?” Sarah asked. “I don't believe it was by chance.”

  “Me neither,” Conrad agreed.

  Sarah rubbed her hands together. “The killer gunned Bertha down at the hotel. Now, that leads me to believe two things: either the killer followed Bertha to the hotel, or the killer knew she was going to the hotel. We both know Michael is an expert hunter and a very cautious cop. I can't see him being tailed through the snow without realizing he was being followed. Plus, the killer approached him from behind when he arrived at the hotel.” Sarah bit down on her lip. “I'm thinking the killer knew Bertha was going to the hotel.”

  “I can ask Andrew if the old lady made any phone calls?” Conrad said.

  “Hurry,” Sarah urged Conrad.

  Conrad made tracks out of his office and returned a few minutes later. “Andrew said he didn't see Bertha make any calls. But he did say he left her alone in his office for a few minutes while he talked with Michael out in the hall. She could have called out then.”

  “Why would Bertha call the killer?” Amanda asked in a confused voice.

  “That's a good question,” Sarah replied, struggling to form a clear picture in her mind. “Let me walk through it. Your father-in-law helped Berth
a...Bertha played your husband like a fiddle...your husband hired her to fly to America and watch you...she arrives in a snowstorm...a convict drives her into town...she gets shot dead by a mysterious killer who seems to be out for revenge...and here we sit.” Sarah continued to bite her lip. “Somehow Bertha is the key...but a dead woman can't speak.”

  “We searched her pocketbook,” Conrad explained. “We found a passport, some cash, other typical stuff…you know, cough drops, some hand cream, and a pad of paper with some recipes written down. I'm afraid we didn't find anything that can help us.” Conrad sat down behind his desk. “We also found the old lady's wooden cane, but that's it.”

  Sarah forced her mind to think like a cop. “Cash...American dollars? Not traveler’s checks?” she asked.

  “No, afraid not,” Conrad answered. “I thought that was strange myself.”

  “Traveler’s checks can be traced,” Sarah pointed out. “So we can check that, if the killer took them. But why would the killer steal traveler’s checks and not the passport and the cash?”

  “Maybe Bertha didn't have any traveler’s checks?” Amanda suggested.

  Sarah felt confusion strike her mind like a hard rock crashing through a glass window. “It's possible,” she admitted.

  Conrad folded his arms. “The pocketbook didn't look touched,” he said, “but then again, Michael didn't come to for a few minutes.”

  “The killer could have ended Michael's life,” Sarah told Conrad. “But he chose not to. The killer was only after Bertha, which means he wants to keep outsiders away from this sick little game he’s playing. It’s strictly personal.”

  “Great,” Amanda complained. “I have a stalker. Lovely time for a soap opera in Snow Falls, ladies and gents, come and get your popcorn.” Amanda looked at Conrad. “I'll have a hot cocoa if you don't mind.”

  “All we have is coffee.”