Snowblind Justice

by Cindi Myers

  The cabin was warm and neat, the bed made and clutter put away. Was this because Brodie had been expecting her to stay with him tonight, or because he was a neat and organized guy? She suspected a little of both. “I want to change out of this dress and these heels,” she said, staring down at her fashionable, but definitely chilly, attire.

  “Go right ahead,” Brodie said.

  She retreated to the bathroom, where she changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt. She studied her reflection in the mirror over the sink, hesitating, then turned on the water and washed off her makeup, then brushed out her hair. It wasn’t as if Brodie hadn’t seen her like this before.

  “How is your side doing?” he asked when she emerged from the bathroom. He had removed his shoes and untucked his shirt, and his gun lay on the table beside the bed.

  She made a face. “It hurts some,” she said. She had been mostly successful at distracting herself from the pain. “It’s more annoying than anything.”

  “Do you mind if I have a look?” he asked.

  “All right.”

  He crossed the room to her and carefully lifted up the T. When she had changed for dinner earlier, she had removed the dressing, so that the stitches were exposed, the skin slightly puffy around the neat row of dark thread. Brodie studied the wound for a moment, then bent and gently kissed the skin above the stitches.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair and held him to her for a moment, before dragging his face up to hers and kissing him. She molded her body to his, enjoying the feel of him so close, the anticipation of spending another night getting to know him even better like a pleasant hum through her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his mouth against her hair.

  “You won’t.” Not physically, at least. She wouldn’t think about what might happen if he left her again.

  They kissed again, heat building, and were moving toward the bed when someone knocked on the door. Brodie turned toward the sound. “It’s Travis. Can I come in?”

  Brodie opened the door and Travis entered. He looked cold and exhausted, Emily thought. He needed a hot drink and a good night’s sleep, but she doubted he would get either. He glanced at Emily, then turned to Brodie. “I wanted to update you on what we found,” he said.

  “Emily will have to stay and hear.” Brodie sat on the side of the bed and Emily settled next to him.

  “All right.” Travis took the chair and sat with his elbows on his knees, head down. “The woman is Sarah Geraldi, a part-time delivery person for the florist,” he said. “She was killed like the others, hands and feet bound, the Ice Cold calling card tucked into her bra.” He glanced at Emily again. “You were right. There was more violence this time. He cut her up pretty badly, and there was more blood.”

  “He would probably have blood on him,” Brodie said. “He’s not being as careful.”

  “He knows you know who he is,” Emily said. “He’s not trying to hide his identity anymore. In fact, I think he likes knowing you know that he’s the one who’s getting the better of you. At least, I think that’s how he sees it.”

  Travis nodded. “The medical examiner thinks she was killed much earlier today, hidden in the van, then driven here a short time ago. The delivery van’s engine was still warm.”

  “He killed her someplace else and brought her here to taunt you,” Brodie said.

  Travis nodded. “It looks that way.”

  “If Alex drove the van here with the body in it, how did he get away?” Brodie asked. “Has he recruited another accomplice? Stashed another vehicle somewhere? It’s still seven miles to town.”

  “Maybe he didn’t leave.” Travis raised his head, his gaze steady, his expression grim. “Maybe he’s still here, hiding somewhere.”

  * * *

  TRAVIS’S ANNOUNCEMENT DID nothing to help Emily or Brodie sleep. They made love tenderly, but with an air of desperation, eager to suppress, at least for a little while, thoughts of the horror that might lurk outside the door. They both woke early and dressed without saying much, then made their way up the path to the house. Brodie walked with one arm around Emily, the other hand on his gun, constantly scanning around them for any sign of an intruder.

  “I’m jumpy enough without you acting as if Alex is going to leap out of the bushes and grab me,” she said. “You heard Travis—he had every extra man searching around here last night. Alex isn’t here.”

  “I don’t believe in taking chances when the stakes are so high,” Brodie said.

  The look he gave her had a lot of heat behind it, and she had to look away. She really needed to keep her emotions in check so that she could support Lacy today. She couldn’t afford to let her confusing responses to Brodie reduce her to a sodden puddle of feelings.

  The wedding was scheduled to take place at five o’clock. Before then, there was still a lot to do to prepare for the ceremony. Bette appeared in the doorway to the dining room as Emily and Brodie were finishing up breakfast. “I need you two to help with the decorations,” she said.

  “Sure.” Emily handed her dirty dishes to Brodie, who had volunteered to carry them into the kitchen. “What can we do?”

  “Give me those.” Bette took the dishes, then dumped them in a bus tub on the end of the sideboard. “Needless to say, things are as chaotic at the florist’s this morning as they are here, and we may not be getting all the flowers we ordered, so we’re making some last-minute adjustments. Come with me.”

  She led them through the living room, where she had assembled a pile of evergreens, silver ribbon and a mass of white silk flowers. “I raided the attic and the rest of the house for every flower arrangement on the premises,” Bette explained. “Now we’re going to use them to transform this room into a woodland winter wonderland.”

  Under Bette’s direction, Emily and Brodie began cutting and wiring the greenery to make garland. Bette came along behind them and attached ribbons and flowers. “I guess the florist was pretty upset when she got the news about her employee,” Emily said as she snipped a section of pine branches.

  “It’s even worse than you think,” Bette said. “The woman who was murdered was the shop owner’s daughter.”

  “Oh, no!” Emily’s chest tightened in sympathy for the poor woman.

  “Believe me, I’d gladly throttle Alex Woodruff with my bare hands if I could find him.” Bette yanked hard on the end of a silver bow. “Not only am I sick over all the women he’s killed, but I hate that this has cast such a pall over the wedding. Lacy, of all people, deserves to be happy on this day.”

  “Of course she does,” Emily murmured in sympathy. Travis deserved to be happy, too—and he wouldn’t be until Alex was arrested and locked behind bars, where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

  “Oh, Bette, it’s going to look wonderful.”

  The three of them turned to see Lacy, dressed in black yoga pants and a too-large sweatshirt that had Rayford County Sheriff’s Dept. emblazoned across the front, her hair rolled up in large foam rollers, her face pale from both lack of makeup and lack of sleep, and her eyes dull with a frazzled, distracted expression. She moved into the room and fingered a white silk rose, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Oh, honey, it’s going to be all right.” Bette enfolded her friend in a hug.

  Lacy gave in and sobbed on Bette’s shoulder. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life,” she said between tears. “And I’m so worried and scared and angry. What if something happens to Travis? What if someone else gets hurt? It’s just so awful.” And a fresh wave of weeping engulfed her.

  Bette patted her back and looked over her shoulder at Emily and Brodie. “You two can finish up here, can’t you?” she asked. “The garland is mostly done—you just need to add a few more bows and then put it around the archway.” She indicated the arch between the living and dining room, where Lacy and Travis woul
d stand to recite their vows.

  “Of course we can,” Emily said.

  Bette nodded. “Come on, Lacy, let’s go fix you a cup of tea and get something to take the puffiness out of your eyes,” she said, leading the distraught bride away. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  Emily and Brodie finished the garland. Emily didn’t think her bows looked as professional as Bette’s, but she told herself everyone was going to be focused on the happy couple, and not the decorations. “You’ll have to start attaching this over the archway,” she said, handing Brodie a length of garland. “I’m not tall enough to do it without a ladder.”

  “What do I attach it with?” he asked.

  She searched the table and spotted a staple gun. “Use this.” She handed it to him. “If Mom complains later, I’ll take the blame.”

  He positioned the garland, pressed the staple gun against it and...click! He frowned. “I think it’s out of staples.”

  “I know where they are,” she said, and raced to retrieve the box. Her mother kept all her household tools in an old pie safe at one end of the front porch. She hurried to the cabinet and found the box, half full of staples, and let out a sigh of relief. One less thing to worry about.

  She was halfway back to the front door when a plaintive cry stopped her. She held her breath, listening, and it came again. “Tawny?” she called, and the cat answered, sounding even more distressed than before. She must have decided to have her kittens near the house, but where?

  Emily moved to the end of the porch. “Tawny?”

  The cry came again. Was the cat under one of the cars? Was she hurt? Heart hammering, Emily hurried toward the sounds of distress. “Tawny!” she called again, and bent to look underneath Brodie’s SUV.

  Strong arms grabbed her from behind, and a hand slapped over her mouth so that she couldn’t cry out, and she couldn’t move. She stared up into Alex’s face. “Isn’t this going to be a nice surprise for the sheriff on his wedding day?” he asked.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brodie was about to go after Emily when Bette called to him from the other room. “Brodie, can you come in here a minute, please?”

  He looked after Emily, who was closing the front door behind her.

  “Lacy wants to speak to you,” Bette said.

  Telling himself Emily would be fine, he followed the sound of Bette’s voice to the sunporch, where she and Lacy sat with teacups in hand. Lacy beckoned him. “I have a favor to ask,” she said, and patted the love seat beside her.

  “Of course.” He perched on the edge of the seat, anxious to get this over with so he could check on Emily.

  “Promise me you’ll see that Travis gets to the altar for the wedding,” she said. “There are plenty of other law enforcement officers here today who can handle things for a while. All I need are a couple of hours of Travis’s undivided attention so that we can get married.”

  He nodded. “Of course.” Though the sheriff was in charge of the case, there was no reason he couldn’t take a break for a few hours.

  “I’m going to find Gage and make him promise the same thing,” Lacy said. “And any of the other officers who are here today.” She set her teacup aside and stood. “And now I’d better get upstairs and take my bath. Paige is coming by soon to do my nails.”

  “I’ve got plenty to do, too,” Bette said, standing also. “Brodie, did you and Emily finish the decorations?”

  “Emily went to get more staples. I’ll go find her.” She had been gone much too long, he thought, quickening his pace through the house.

  He grabbed his jacket from the hooks by the door and pulled it on as he stepped out onto the porch. The door to a cabinet at the end of the porch stood open. The cabinet contained a hammer and other small tools, paintbrushes, some flowerpots and other items that might be useful for minor repairs or outdoor decorating. Was this where Emily had retrieved the staples? But where was she?

  A gray tabby cat came around the side of the house, heavily pregnant belly swaying from side to side. She jumped up onto the porch and rubbed herself against his legs. Brodie ignored her and stepped off the porch, studying the snow. Footprints overlaid each other in the snow on the edges of the shoveled path, but none stood out as particularly fresh, and he couldn’t tell if any of them were Emily’s.

  A sheriff’s department SUV pulled up in front of the house and Travis climbed out. “Are you hiding out here from the wedding chaos?” Travis asked.

  Brodie opened his mouth to share his concern about Emily, then closed it again, remembering his promise to Lacy. Travis needed to focus on the wedding today. If Brodie needed help, there were plenty of other people around here who were qualified to give it. “What are you doing in uniform today?” he asked.

  “I had to get a haircut and I stopped in the office to check on a few things,” Travis said. “The wedding is hours away and there’s not much for the groom to do but show up and say his lines when the time comes.”

  “I think Lacy is upstairs getting her nails done or something,” Brodie said.

  “That’s okay. I really came by to take another look at the crime scene.” Travis scanned the area around the house. “The searchers never found any sign of Alex last night, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding somewhere close by.”

  “We’re all keeping an eye out for him,” Brodie said.

  Travis nodded. “I think I’ll go in and check in with Lacy,” he said. “She’s a little stressed about all of this. I think she’s worried I’m going to leave her at the altar or something.”

  “You wouldn’t do that,” Brodie said.

  “Of course not.” Travis moved past him. “Not permanently, anyway.”

  Brodie headed to his cabin, telling himself Emily might have gone there in search of something she had left behind the night before, maybe. But the place was empty, though the scent of her perfume lingered in the rumpled sheets on the bed, recalling their night together and how much she had come to mean to him.

  He turned on his heel and headed to the barn. Maybe she had gone to check on her horse. But Witchy was contentedly munching hay in her stall. The mare swiveled her head to look at Brodie when he leaned over the stall door. She shook her head and whinnied, as if impatient that he was invading her home. “Next time, I’ll bring you a carrot,” he said, and headed back to the house.

  After checking that no one was lurking around to ask him what he was up to, he made his way up the stairs to Emily’s bedroom. Five years ago, he had done much the same thing, sneaking past Emily’s parents to rendezvous in her room, embracing the role of the dangerous bad boy up to no good with his best friend’s sister.

  He was cautious this time, not because he thought he had to hide what he was doing, but because he didn’t want to upset and alarm the family if there was no need. He knocked softly on the door and relief surged through him as footsteps approached from the other side.

  Mrs. Milligan blinked at him, her hair in curlers and some kind of greenish cream on her face. Brodie took a step back. “Have you, um, seen Emily?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Thanks.” He backed away, then turned and hurried down the stairs, heart pounding. Something had happened to Emily. She was gone. Now it was time to panic.

  * * *

  “WHERE ARE YOU taking me?”

  Alex hadn’t bothered to gag Emily, though he had bound her hands and feet with tape, holding her in an iron grip that had left bruises on her upper arms. He had dragged her through the woods to a dirty white van and belted her into the back seat, her head at an uncomfortable angle, every jolt of the vehicle on the uneven ground sending pain through her bound arms.

  “You’ll see.” Alex, his head almost completely covered by a knit cap pulled low and a scarf wound over his mouth, nearly vibrated with suppressed elation. “The sheriff and his deputies were so sure
they could stop me this time,” he said. “They don’t realize who they’re dealing with. I’m an expert who’s making them look like a bunch of amateurs.”

  “Why would you want to be an expert at murder?” Emily asked. “You’re smart enough you could have excelled at almost anything.” She figured it couldn’t hurt to flatter him—and as long as they were talking, she could remain alive. Brodie would have missed her by now. He and the others would be looking for her. All she had to do was stay alive until they found her.

  “Murder is the ultimate crime,” Alex said. “The one that captures everyone’s attention and focuses all the effort and money on the killer.” He pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Talk about a rush.”

  “Why come to Eagle Mountain?” Emily asked. “Couldn’t you have gotten away with a lot more in Denver?”

  Alex laughed—a maniacal chuckle that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked. “You’re as clueless as the rest of them. Honestly, I expected better of you.”

  “Get what?”

  “I came to this ‘middle of nowhere’ excuse for a town because of you!”

  You came here to kill me. But she couldn’t say the words.

  “When we first met, I was intrigued,” he said. “You were pretty and smart, and you had a certain fragile quality I appreciated. I thought about asking you out, but as I observed you, I noticed that you didn’t appear to date anyone—male or female. If I asked you out, chances were you would turn me down. And sex wasn’t what I was really after. No, I wanted a much deeper connection. Do you know what that is?”

  “No.” She had to force the single syllable out. Alex’s words terrified her even more than his actions. He had seemed so normal on the outside, yet talking with him now, she understood clearly how unhinged he had become.

  “Before I kill someone, I look into her eyes and she realizes her life—her very existence—is in my hands. It is the most profound connection I could ever have with another human being. The feeling I have at that moment, the power and, yes, the love, is incredible. I wanted to experience that with you.”