Her Winter of Darkness

by Melinda Woodhall

  “I remember, all right.” Veronica smiled down at Gracie. “Her training helped save my mother. She’s a hero around my house.”

  Catching Veronica’s eye, Hunter gestured toward the tent.

  “Any update on the deceased’s identity or cause of death?”

  She shook her head.

  “A woman’s body was found on a bench, but she hasn’t been identified as far as I know,” she offered. “We’re assuming it was a homicide, since the location is being treated as a crime scene, but again, nothing official from the WBPD or the city’s press office.”

  “Not much to go on then.”

  Gracie barked again, and Hunter stepped back, ready to leave.

  “I better get Gracie out of here.”

  Veronica put a hand on his arm to stop him. She looked toward the exit, and Hunter turned his head to follow her gaze. Nessa Ainsley stood by the gate talking to one of her officers, her face was drawn, and her expression grim.

  “Actually, I was thinking maybe you could try to talk to Chief Ainsley. See if she’ll give you the inside scoop.”

  Hunter raised an eyebrow.

  “And why would she do that?”

  “Come on, Hunter,” Veronica teased. “You know Nessa has a soft spot when it comes to you. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

  Shaking his head at the idea, Hunter pointed behind her.

  “Looks like Jack’s calling for you to go back on air.”

  Veronica didn’t have time to protest. She crossed to where Jack Carson was ready with the live feed. Her report would interrupt whichever show was currently being broadcast, alerting Channel Ten viewers that all was not well in Willow Bay.

  Following Gracie toward the gate, Hunter lifted a hand in greeting as Nessa looked up. He lowered it again when she quickly turned away, pretending not to have seen him.

  I guess Veronica was wrong about Nessa having a soft spot for me.

  He was about to keep walking, then decided something wasn’t right. The look on Nessa’s face when she’d seen him hadn’t been one of annoyance at an unwelcome interruption.

  She looked guilty as hell. Now why would that be?

  Nessa’s startled reaction to his hand on her arm confirmed his suspicion. She knew something she didn’t want him to find out. Something he wasn’t going to like.

  “Okay, Nessa. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Hesitating only a moment, Nessa issued a heavy sigh and led Hunter through the gate and out onto the sidewalk, where there would be fewer people to listen in.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because I shouldn’t be, but I figure you’re going to find out soon enough.”

  Anxiety bloomed in his chest, but he remained silent.

  “As you know we haven’t officially released the name of the woman we found, and we won’t be releasing it for a while.”

  Meeting his eyes, Nessa swallowed hard.

  “But off the record we have reason to believe the woman out there is Astrid Peterson, the missing woman who contacted Channel Ten. The one Veronica brought to our attention earlier this week.”

  Hunter stared at Nessa, suddenly understanding why she’d felt compelled to tell him. Veronica had been obsessing over Astrid Peterson for days, worried that the girl needed help, and unsure what she could do. The news that Astrid was dead would devastate her.

  “I’m putting my neck out telling you this,” Nessa said, running a hand through her red curls. “You can’t tell anyone. Afterall, we could be mistaken. And in any event, we’ll need to perform an autopsy and notify her parents in Sweden before we make any kind of official announcement.”

  Nodding slowly, Hunter tried to imagine Veronica’s reaction.

  “I’ll have to tell Veronica,” he said, feeling the anxiety in his chest growing. “I don’t know how, but she’d want to know what happened to Astrid. She deserves to know.”

  Nessa paused, then nodded.

  “Yes, she does. Just as long as you both remember that what I told you is off the record.”

  A loud voice boomed out behind Hunter. He turned to see Garth Bixby. His father’s campaign manager produced a toothy smile and slapped Hunter on the back as if he were an old college buddy.

  “This ought to be good for ratings, eh, Hunter?”

  Backing away from Bixby, Hunter frowned in confusion, his mind still on Veronica and the news about Astrid Peterson.

  “What should be good for ratings?”

  “A murder in downtown Willow Bay. That’ll send the ratings through the roof, won’t it?”

  Before Hunter could respond, Nessa cleared her throat and stepped around Bixby, her face a mask of dislike and disapproval.

  “I’ll see you later, Mr. Hadley,” she said, not looking at Bixby before she hurried back through the gate.

  “She’s a cold one, isn’t she?” Bixby muttered once Nessa was gone. “But I’m sure your father will find a good replacement once he wins this race. Just a few more weeks and all these signs will be filling up the city dump.”

  Kicking a booted foot at a Ling Lee for Mayor sign, Bixby produced another wide grin, then leaned close enough for Hunter to smell his expensive cologne.

  "Don’t worry, your father and I have a plan to win this election."

  Hunter stared at the man in disbelief.

  I guess dear old dad didn’t tell his new campaign manager about the Hadley family falling out. Keeping dirty little secrets is a hard habit to break.

  Although Hunter had considered himself estranged from his father for almost a year, Mayor Hadley refused to acknowledge the situation, and liked to pretend everything between them was fine.

  A shrill ring alerted Bixby to an incoming call, and he stuck up a finger as if to silence anything Hunter might be planning to say.

  Deciding to make a quick escape, Hunter walked toward the big news van parked at the curb, urging Gracie to hurry.

  “See you later, man!” Bixby called out from behind him.

  Hunter didn’t turn around; he was too busy rehashing what the obnoxious man had said about his father’s plan to win the election.

  I’d better go see the old man and make sure he isn't planning anything that’ll hurt Veronica or her mother. They’ve been through enough already.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  City Hall was practically deserted when Hunter and Gracie walked into the big building. They’d made it halfway down the corridor leading to the mayor’s office when Judge Eldredge came into view.

  The old friend of his father wore his usual sour expression as he passed Hunter, lowering his head in a curt nod but not slowing down.

  Judge Eldredge is in a hurry. Must be heading to Old Willow Square like everyone else in town. Nothing like a dead body to bring people together.

  Hunter was tempted to stop the judge and ask for a comment on his controversial decision to grant Nick Sargent bail, and his pending ruling on a motion to dismiss the case all together.

  Continuing down the hall, Hunter pondered Judge Eldredge’s handling of the case. Was it possible that the judge had been paid off? Based on the town’s history of corruption and cronyism it wasn’t hard to imagine him accepting a bribe.

  Or could Nick have dirt on the old man that he’s using as pressure?

  The idea wasn’t too farfetched, considering the charges against Nick involved extortion and blackmail. Hunter filed the idea away to research later. First, he needed to talk to his father.

  The reception desk was unmanned as Hunter stepped into the outer office. Muffled voices could be heard through the closed door to the mayor’s office.

  Rapping twice on the door, Hunter waited a beat, then pushed the door open without waiting for a response. His father’s face lit up in a pleased smile as he caught sight of Hunter.

  “Come on in, son. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Mayor Hadley made no reference to the fact that Hunter hadn’t visited his office in almost a year, or that they’d barely spo
ken more than ten words to each other in the months since.

  His casual greeting made it seem as if they could have spoken only minutes or hours before, but Hunter wasn’t surprised. His father had always been capable of incredible self-deception and wishful thinking, especially when it came to his only son.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Hunter said to the man sitting across from his father’s big desk. “But I was hoping to-”

  “Don’t be rude, Hunter,” the mayor scolded. “I haven’t introduced you to Special Agent Clint Marlowe yet. From the FBI.”

  Standing and moving around the desk to stand beside Hunter, the mayor tried to wrap an arm around his shoulders, but Hunter shrugged his father off and held out a hand to the FBI agent, taking in the man’s tall, athletic frame, clean-shaven jaw, and poorly concealed firearm.

  “Good to meet you, Agent Marlowe,” Hunter said, noting the agent’s firm handshake. “I’m Hunter Hadley, and I need to talk to my father for a few minutes. I’ll wait in the reception area until you two are finished in here.”

  “Don’t be silly. Agent Marlowe doesn’t mind if you stay,” the mayor said. “He’s the man who's going to help me win this election."

  Marlowe raised his eyebrows and turned to Hunter with a frown.

  “I’m simply here to coordinate certain efforts between the FBI and the WBPD. We’re cooperating on a task force, and-”

  “This is my son, Agent Marlowe, and the head of the leading news station in Willow Bay, so no need to be coy,” Mayor Hadley insisted. “This boy knows everything that goes on in town.”

  Ignoring the shock on both men’s faces, the mayor forged on.

  “Agent Marlowe is here to help our lame police department hunt down a criminal ring that’s formed on our very doorstep. He and his men are running a top-secret special operation.”

  Meeting Marlowe’s guarded eyes, Hunter thought he saw a flash of irritation, maybe even anger.

  “So, you’re heading up Operation Stolen Angels?” Hunter asked.

  Marlowe hesitated, obviously reluctant to talk about the task force in front of a civilian.

  “Information gets around quickly in a small town, Agent,” Hunter said, then cocked his thumb over at his father. “Especially if you tell my father. He’s not the kind to keep a secret for long.”

  The mayor scowled at Hunter’s words.

  “Agent Marlowe is here to bring down the crime syndicate your girlfriend keeps going on about every night on the news.”

  The irritation that entered Mayor Hadley’s voice told Hunter that his father’s old southern charm routine was now over.

  “And he’s going to do it before the election,” the mayor snapped, “so that the citizens of Willow Bay will know I’m the tough on crime candidate.”

  "So, that's your big plan Garth Bixby was talking about?” Hunter gave an angry shake of his head, sending a dark curl falling over his forehead. “That’s why you want to stop these traffickers? To make yourself look good, so you can win the election?”

  Throwing his son a disapproving glare, Mayor Hadley no longer tried to hide his frustration.

  “Of course. Did you think I was hoping to lose the election? Even you can’t expect me to just give up and walk away.”

  Marlowe held up a big hand.

  “Excuse me, Mayor, but I need to go. I have a lot to-”

  “And it’s about time I get some positive press coverage around here,’ the mayor continued, as if Marlowe hadn’t spoken.

  “I’d have thought you’d gotten enough coverage to last a lifetime after your attempted bribe was recorded,” Hunter snapped back.

  The mayor darted an uncomfortable look at Marlowe.

  “As I explained at the time, my comments were taken out of context. It was all just an unfortunate misunderstanding. Which is one of the reasons I need some positive coverage now.”

  Moving toward the door, Marlowe held up his phone, which buzzed in his hand as he spoke.

  “I better get back to work. Thank you for your time, Mayor.”

  “But we haven’t finished discussing the press statement,” the mayor protested. “I need your quote, as head of the task force.”

  Hunter cringed at his father’s blatant display of self-interest.

  “Here’s a quote for you,” he said between gritted teeth. “A woman has been killed in our community and our mayor cares more about his campaign, than he does about finding the woman’s killer.”

  A stunned silence followed Hunter’s words.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” the mayor finally said. “What woman’s been killed?”

  Realizing his father hadn’t heard about the situation in Old Willow Square, Hunter shook his head and sighed.

  “While you’ve been in here wasting Agent Marlowe’s time, a woman’s body has been discovered in Old Willow Square.”

  He shifted his eyes to Marlowe’s stern face.

  “A woman who just might be a possible trafficking victim.”

  The agent stiffened at Hunter’s accusatory tone, as Mayor Hadley race toward the door.

  “Is that what all those sirens where about?” he muttered, pulling on his coat. “I told my assistant not to disturb me, but this…”

  And then his father was gone, disappearing through the door without another word to his son or to Special Agent Marlowe.

  Hunter met Marlowe’s eyes, his anger fading as he realized what he’d just said. The FBI agent would soon find out that the victim’s identity hadn’t been released. Hunter’s statement that she was a possible trafficking victim would suggest the WBPD had leaked confidential case details. Nessa wouldn’t be pleased.

  But for the time being, Marlowe said nothing as he turned to the door and followed Mayor Hadley down the hall.

  Staring after the agent, Hunter had no doubt where he was going.

  Looks like the feds will finally find out what happened to Astrid Peterson.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The winter sun peeked through the clouds, painting Old Willow Square with patches of light, and giving Diablo an excuse to hide his eyes behind dark sunglasses. He watched with interest as the scene around him unfolded; the sheer audacity of leaving a dead body staged in the middle of town was impressive.

  The Professor keeps his promises. I had better keep that in mind.

  That had been his first thought upon hearing about the discovery of the woman. His contact from the darknet discussion board hadn’t been trying to scam him after all. The Professor had promised to leave a present for Diablo in a place he couldn’t miss.

  And here she is, in the middle of town. Of course, I’d prefer her alive.

  His initial admiration for the professor’s brazen act suddenly gave way to a cold stab of fear. If the Professor could come to Willow Bay and do this, he could do pretty much anything he wanted.

  How the hell does he know where I am?

  Somehow the cold-blooded killer had discovered he was in Willow Bay. Diablo’s darknet connection was no longer just a faceless entity out in cyberspace. A shiver passed through him at the thought that the killer had been standing only yards away from where Diablo was standing now.

  Noting the tension and fear on the faces around him, Diablo tried to calm his own expression. It wouldn’t do for him to show any emotion that might be used against him by the public. He had to stay strong, and make it clear he had nothing to fear, and nothing to hide.

  But the idea that he had finally gotten in over his head took root as Diablo watched the crime scene technicians scurry past him. He’d thought his foray into organized crime would be short-lived. A way for him to use his experience and connections to make a little quick money. He hadn’t anticipated just how much money he could make, or how much he would enjoy his new role as a crime boss.

  Giving up the perks of the position he found himself in wouldn’t be easy, but the alternative now seemed clear.

  Eventually something always goes wrong. Someone squeals, or someone els
e tries to take over. Maybe this is the time to get out for good.

  Of course, the Professor wouldn’t just let Diablo walk away into the sunset now that he’d set things in motion.

  The Professor doesn’t play around, and he wants to make a deal.

  Tucking the thought into the back of his mind, Diablo buttoned his jacket and adjusted his dark glasses. The black jacket, along with snug black pants and sturdy leather boots, provided warmth against the chill that hung in the air.

  While he wasn’t the only one who’d taken advantage of the short burst of cold weather to bring out a rarely worn jacket and boots, he enjoyed the thought that his outfit matched the tough guy image he liked to project in his role as Diablo.

  He’d always been hard and ambitious, but he had never been willing to let the rest of the world know just how far and how hard he was willing to go to get what he wanted. Today at least, his outward appearance reflected his true, dark nature.

  Catching sight of a young woman standing in the crowd, Diablo felt his pulse race. Her back was turned to him, but the long dark hair was the right color and style.

  Is that the little bitch that got away?

  He kept his eyes pinned to the girl’s slender figure, willing her to turn around. When she finally looked in his direction, Diablo wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed or relieved that she wasn’t the girl he was looking for.

  The girl who had escaped the hideout while his men were loading the truck had been younger, and prettier. Although she’d already been hooked on pills when they’d picked her up outside Tampa, she’d still been fresh. The effects of addiction hadn’t ruined her yet

  She’d have made me some decent money if she hadn’t run off.

  For a minute Diablo couldn’t remember the girl’s name. It was hard for him to keep track of the girls coming in and going out. Most of the them were easy to control using drugs or threats, or a combination of both. They all started to blend together after a while.

  It’s only the difficult ones that stick out. The ones like Ruby.

  The name came to him in a rush, as did his fury at the thought that the girl had outsmarted his men. Clenching his fists by his side, he silently fumed at the losers he had working for him.