by Cindi Myers
“I promise to post lots of glowing reviews everywhere—and to recommend you to everyone I know,” Lacy said. She put her hand over Bette’s. “But I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I’m doing it because I want a great caterer for my wedding, and I know that’s you.”
“How do you know?” Bette asked. “The only things I’ve catered on my own are a couple of birthday parties and a bridal shower. And you weren’t there for either one of them.”
“But I’ve eaten your cooking,” Lacy said. “And it’s wonderful.”
Bette couldn’t keep back a snort of laughter. “You ate things I cooked in the prison kitchen.” Once the warden learned that Bette had culinary training—she had been attending culinary school at night and working weekends for a caterer when she was arrested—he’d seen to it that she was moved to the kitchen. “That’s not a great compliment.”
“Your food was so much better than anything else they served,” Lacy said. “I knew if you could work magic in that setting, you’d be fabulous when let loose on your own.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of practicing since my release,” Bette said. She was a good cook, and she had a gift for making occasions special. All she needed was a chance to prove herself—and Lacy and Travis were giving her that chance. She angled one of her notebooks so Lacy could see it. “Here are some menu ideas. If you want a traditional high tea, you’ll want scones, with jam and clotted cream, fancy tea sandwiches and a variety of little cakes—maybe petit fours. Those always look so elegant. I could do chocolate-dipped strawberries, if I can get the berries, and there are lots of sandwich choices.”
“It all looks wonderful,” Lacy said, scanning the lists of dishes and their descriptions.
“How many people will be at the tea?” Bette asked.
“Let’s see.” Lacy sat back and began counting on her fingers. “There’s my mother and Travis’s mom, and my maid of honor, Brenda. She’s married to one of Travis’s deputies, Dwight Prentice. A second marriage, so it was a small ceremony, at Dwight’s family’s ranch over Thanksgiving. You haven’t met her, but she’s a dear, dear person.”
She held up a fourth finger. “Then there’s Maya Renfro—Gage’s wife. She kept her maiden name. They had a quick ceremony, too—they ran off to Vegas one weekend without telling anyone. And she’ll be bringing her niece, Casey, who is five. Casey is my flower girl, and she’s so excited about it. So Casey makes five.”
She held up a sixth finger. “Travis’s sister, Emily, is one of my bridesmaids, of course.” A seventh finger went up. “And last but not least, Paige Riddell. She used to run a bed-and-breakfast here in town, but after it burned down she decided to move to Denver. Her brother and her boyfriend live there—he’s a DEA agent. I guess that’s all—seven adults, if you include me, and one child.”
“A lot of cops in the wedding party,” Bette said.
Lacy laughed. “Yes, can you believe it? But I’ve found out when you hang out with one cop, a lot of his friends are cops, so that becomes part of your life.”
“Besides Cody and I assume Gage, who are Travis’s groomsmen?” Bette asked.
“There’s Ryder Stewart—he’s with the state highway patrol. And Nate Hall. He’s with Parks and Wildlife.”
“A park ranger?” Bette asked.
“Not exactly—a wildlife officer. I guess that’s what they call game wardens these days.”
So, lots of men with guns who were used to being in charge. “No chance of anyone getting out of line with so many law enforcement officers at the wedding,” Bette said.
“When I first got out of prison, it made me nervous to be around so many men in uniform,” Lacy said. “But it doesn’t bother me now. Travis’s friends are all really nice.”
“You were innocent and they all know it,” Bette said. “They can’t look at me the same way.”
“Don’t say that!” Lacy squeezed Bette’s hand again. “Travis was happy to have you here.”
“Travis wanted to please you. And maybe, because of his experience with you, he’s a little more forgiving than some. Not everyone feels that way.” She thought of the cold expression in Cody’s eyes last night.
“Has someone said something to upset you?” Lacy asked. “What is it?”
“I told Cody Rankin last night about my record,” Bette said. “He wanted to know how I knew you and I figured I might as well come out with the truth. It would be easy enough for him to find out.”
“How did he take the news?” Lacy asked.
“About like I expected. He’s suspicious, wondering if I’m up to something. He doesn’t trust me.”
“He doesn’t know you,” Lacy said.
“I don’t care if he doesn’t like me,” Bette said. “As long as he doesn’t hassle me.”
Lacy regarded her friend kindly. “I know it can be very hard to start over on the outside when you have a record,” she said. “But it will get easier, you’ll see. Your business will be a success, and while you might have to tell employers about your conviction, there’s nothing that says your new clients ever have to know. In a few years you’ll look back on your time behind bars as something awful that happened to someone else.”
“Maybe.” She picked up her pen. “Now tell me which sandwiches you want for your party, and which of these petit fours and cookies you want to serve. I’d suggest three types of sandwiches, three varieties of cookies and one petit four, or two cookies, strawberries and a petit four, or—”
“Enough!” Lacy held up her hands in surrender. “Too many choices.” She scanned the lists again. “Why don’t you tell me your favorites and we’ll go from there?”
Thirty minutes later, they had a menu plan and a decor scheme. They decided to hold the tea in this sunroom and in addition to tea, they’d have champagne cocktails. The decor would be “winter wonderland,” with lots of snowflakes and lace and little fascinators for everyone to wear in their hair in lieu of hats. “This is going to be so much fun,” Lacy said.
She left to keep a hair appointment, and Bette headed for the kitchen, to see what ingredients were available, and what she would need to buy. List in hand, she pushed open the door to the kitchen. Rainey leaned against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, a frown on her face. She straightened when Bette entered. “What do you want?”
“I’m making the refreshments for Lacy’s bridesmaids’ tea this Saturday.” Bette walked to the refrigerator and swung open the door. “I wanted to see what ingredients were already on hand, so I’ll know what to buy.”
“Don’t think you’re going to go raiding my kitchen for what you need,” Rainey said. “If you need anything, go buy it.”
“I can certainly do that.” Bette closed the refrigerator. Mrs. Walker had told her to help herself to flour, butter, sugar and anything else she needed, but Bette wasn’t going to fight this battle. And she could understand that, if Rainey had purchased supplies with the intent to make certain meals, it could throw a wrench in her plans if Bette came along and used up all the butter in baked goods, for instance. Later today, she’d go into town and shop, and store everything either in her cabin, or in the garage refrigerator.
The back door opened and Doug slouched in. He looked different this morning, a hoodie pulled over his head, shoulders slumped. Rainey stared at him. “What do you think you’re doing, coming in here looking like that?” she asked. “You haven’t even shaved.”
Doug rubbed his chin, the scratchy sound setting Bette’s teeth on edge. “I thought I’d grow a beard,” he said.
“I won’t have one in my kitchen,” Rainey said. “They’re nasty.”
Bette decided she had heard enough and retreated to the living room. She chose a chair by the fire and began to make a long shopping list. She hoped she could find fresh strawberries in Eagle Mountain in January. Real clotted cream was probably out of the question, bu
t she could make her own.
The sound of boot heels on the hardwood floor behind her startled her, and she looked up to see Travis, in full uniform, crossing to the door. So much for sticking around the house to do paperwork.
He noticed her sitting by the fire. “Hello, Bette,” he said. “Did Lacy abandon you?”
“She went to get her hair done. But I have plenty to keep me occupied, seeing to the tea this Saturday.”
He nodded and slipped into his heavy black leather coat, with a shearling collar. He looked troubled. “Is everything all right?” Bette asked. Maybe he was going into work early because something had happened.
He frowned, as if unsure whether to say anything to her or not. “They’ve found another body,” he said, after a moment. He opened the door. “I have to go.”
He left, the door shutting softly behind him. Bette sagged back in her chair and stared at the flames dancing in the woodstove. Another body. Another victim of the Ice Cold Killer. The knowledge made her sick, and a little frozen inside.
Chapter Six
Cody stood with Travis and wildlife officer Nate Harris on the side of the road, as two EMTs carefully removed the woman’s body from the Hyundai. Nate, a tall blond native of Eagle Mountain and another of Travis’s groomsmen, had been patrolling in the area when the call went out requesting assistance. The men stood hunched against the cold, hands shoved into the pockets of their coats. “I was in this area yesterday and this car wasn’t here,” Nate said. “In fact, mine were the only tracks on this road then.”
“I passed a couple of cross-country skiers on the county road,” Cody said. “This road had obviously been driven on—I assumed by other fishermen headed to and from the lake.”
“There’s better fishing on Lake Monroe,” Nate said. “This one doesn’t get that much use.”
The medical examiner, a portly man dressed in camouflaged snow boots that came almost to his knees, an ankle-length duster and a wool cap with ear flaps, stood to one side, chin tucked to his chest as he watched a crew of EMTs remove the body from the vehicle. Travis had introduced him as Butch Collins, a retired local doctor who filled the role of county medical examiner. When the ambulance doors had shut, Butch moved over to join the three lawmen. “You know, when I took this job, they told me if I had to go out on one call a month for an unattended death, that would be a local record,” he said. “This murderer seems determined to keep me busy.”
“Any estimate on the time of death?” Travis asked him.
“I’d say she was killed last night,” Butch said. “Maybe in the lab I can get a better idea, but she had been there long enough for the tissues to freeze.”
“The low was minus nine last night,” Nate said.
Butch nodded. “This looks the same as the others to me.”
“Hands and feet bound with duct tape, throat slit,” Travis said.
“Did you find one of the killer’s calling cards?” Cody asked.
Travis took an evidence pouch from his coat pocket and held it so that Cody could see the white, business-card-sized rectangle of cardboard, with the block-print words ICE COLD. “It was tucked in her coat pocket,” Travis said, stowing the evidence pouch back into his jacket.
Nate looked up and down the narrow road, snow-shrouded evergreens crowding in close on each side. “Not much traffic out here this time of year,” he said. “The road dead-ends at the lake. There aren’t any houses or campgrounds along the way. Fishermen use it, sometimes skiers, but no one would be out here after dark in the winter. No reason to be.”
“So what was she doing out here?” Cody asked.
“Maybe she wasn’t here,” Travis said. “Maybe the killer drove her here.”
“And walked out?” Cody asked.
“Or was driven out,” Nate said. He turned to Travis. “Didn’t you tell me once that you think the killer might have an accomplice—or rather, there are two men working to kill together?”
“That seems the most likely scenario to me,” Travis said. “Two men working together would have an easier time subduing the women and killing them quickly. Several times the bodies have been found in remote places, which points to someone transporting them there, then leaving in another vehicle.”
“Is it twice as hard to find a pair of killers?” Cody asked. “Or twice as easy? You’d think there would be more evidence with two people. More clues.”
“You’d think,” Travis said.
“Tell me about the other killings,” Cody said. “Were the circumstances of those similar to this?”
“Similar,” Travis said. “Kelly Farrow was the first—a local vet. A really vivacious, pretty woman. She had only been in Eagle Mountain four months. A highway patrolman found her car up on Dixon Pass—Ryder Stewart. I think you’ve met him before. He’s in the wedding, too.”
“I remembered Ryder,” Cody said. “Was the car like this—on the side of the road?”
“It had been buried by an avalanche and Kelly’s body was inside. That night, the second woman was killed. Christy O’Brien. She had actually driven the wrecker that pulled Kelly’s vehicle out of the snowbank.”
“Did the killer know about that connection?”
“I don’t know. The third woman, Fiona Winslow, died four days later, on my family’s ranch,” Travis continued. “We were having a scavenger hunt. She and Ken Rutledge—the man we arrested yesterday—were partnered for the hunt. They had a disagreement and she decided to leave him and join some girlfriends who were hunting as a team. She never made it.”
“Rutledge couldn’t have killed this woman,” Cody said. “Not if he’s in jail.”
“He’s still there,” Travis said. “I already double-checked.”
“Having someone killed on the ranch hits close to home,” Cody said. “Do you think that was intentional?”
“Maybe. Leaving those cards is a way of taunting law enforcement. So would a killing right under my nose, so to speak.”
“Who else was at the party?”
“Lots of people. There were a couple of college guys who came to town to rock climb and got trapped by the storm. They knew Emily from school and she invited them out. They were top on my suspect list, but I saw them yesterday at the gas station and they said they were headed back to Denver.”
“Worth checking that,” Cody said.
“Oh, I will.”
Cody studied the draped figure on the gurney. “So this is the fourth victim.”
“I was hoping the killer or killers took advantage of the break in the weather and left town,” Travis said. “But I guess we couldn’t be so lucky.”
The license plate on the car had been issued in Denver—the prefix told Cody that much. “Who was she?” he asked.
Travis consulted a small notebook. “Lauren Grenado,” he said. “Her license information has an address in Denver. We found paperwork in the car that seems to indicate she’s staying at a condo here in town.”
“Is she married? Have kids?” Cody asked.
“The paperwork lists the rental in the name of Adam Grenado. I’m guessing that’s her husband. We need to check at the condo and find out.”
“I don’t envy you that job,” Cody said.
“I was hoping you’d come with me,” Travis said. “I’ve called Dwight to stay here and finish processing the scene.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Nate said.
“Then will you come with me?” Travis asked Cody.
Cody didn’t hesitate. His friend needed backup, and Cody was more than qualified for the role. “Sure, I’ll come.”
Travis exchanged a few words with Gage, then signaled that Cody should follow him. They drove around the barriers and headed into town. Travis was on the phone for most of the drive—probably giving instructions to his deputies, and maybe checking in with Lacy. Cody wanted to call his own office,
to find out what was going on—what he was missing during his forced time off. But he doubted anyone would tell him anything, and he might have to endure another lecture about how he needed to get his head clear and de-stress. No one seemed to realize how stressful it was to be out of the action so long.
Travis signaled a turn onto a road that skirted town and passed the high school. Three teenagers with snow shovels labored to clear the walkway in front of the school. Travis slowed and rolled down his window. Cody followed suit. “How’s it going, boys?” Travis called.
“It’s going okay.” The tallest of the three spoke, a blond in an expensive down jacket and mirrored sunglasses. The other two boys looked up, their expressions unreadable.
“Keep up the good work,” Travis said, and drove away.
Cody parked behind Travis on the street in front of a row of cedar-sided condos, probably purpose-built to rent to summer residents and winter tourists. He joined Travis beside his SUV. “Those boys back at the school,” Cody said. “Community service?”
“Yeah. They were involved in a series of pranks that got out of hand. They were near the place where the second murder occurred and I was hoping they might have seen something that could help us, but they say no.” He consulted his notebook. “Lauren Grenado was in 2B.”
They climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door labeled B. Beyond the door came the sounds of a television, then someone’s approach. The young man who opened the door wore a T-shirt and sweats, his light brown hair uncombed and the shadow of a beard across his jaw. He blinked at them, a little bleary-eyed. “Yes?”
“Adam Grenado?” Travis asked.
“Yeah.” He squinted, as if trying to bring them into better focus. “Is something wrong?”
“We need to talk to you for a few minutes. It would be better if we came in.”
“Oh, okay. Sure.” He opened the door wider and Cody and Travis filed past. Adam rushed forward to sweep a pile of jackets off a chair and pick a blanket up off the floor. The room smelled of stale food. Adam grabbed the remote and muted the television. “What’s going on? Is this about Lauren?”