Jack Frost: Detective Jack Stratton Mystery Thriller Series

by Christopher Greyson

  “No.” Jack tipped his head toward the door. “You need to watch out for Abe.”

  They stood with eyes locked for a moment, each holding their ground.

  “You may not work for me, but I still run things up here. Bree can take care of Abe. Besides, Wally may not like me, but he knows me.”

  The steel tower disappeared high into the darkness. Below it, the boxy cement building was surrounded by a chain-link fence. A light shone from a window beside the front door. As they trudged up the path next to the fence, they could hear the hum of the generator.

  “Wally’s not running out of power anytime soon.” Leah jerked her thumb at the enormous propane tank.

  “Let’s just hope he has a radio.” Jack shined his light up the tower, but the beam didn’t come close to reaching the top. “If he does, you figure with a tower that big, we could reach Pluto.”

  Leah pounded on the metal door while icy snow plinked off Jack’s goggles and gleamed in the beams of their flashlights. After a minute with no response, Jack reached out and tried the door handle—it was unlocked.

  The main room looked more like a teenage boy’s bedroom than the top-notch weather station Jack had envisioned. Workbenches covered with electronic equipment lined two walls. A couch piled with blankets had been shoved into a corner at an angle; a desk sat right in the middle, stacked with papers. A door on the left wall was open to a messy bathroom. Two mesh-covered windows bracketed a door on the back wall that revealed a metal balcony. The sole window, on the right-hand wall, was blocked by the propane tank outside.

  “Wally?” Leah called again.

  Jack poked his head into the small bathroom. “He’s not here.”

  “But his radio is.” Leah walked to the equipment beside the back door.

  “Can you operate it?”

  “I produce a survival show that goes to the most remote places on the planet. I’ve had to use string and tin cans to communicate. If we can get a signal, I can get through.”

  While Leah tried to get the radio working, Jack rifled through the equipment on the workbenches. “Wally may have a spare fuse for the gondola,” Jack said.

  “All the fuses are kept in the control booth at the platform,” she answered absentmindedly while fiddling with dials and jiggled wires.

  Jack moved aside some kind of barometer covered with dust. “In my dorm at college, the spare toilet paper was kept in the janitor’s closet. But I still took a roll and kept it in my bedroom, just in case. If I was working on a mountain, I’d want to have a backup fuse, just in case.”

  “Good thinking.” Leah adjusted a knob and spoke into the microphone. “Break. Break. Break.”

  Jack lifted a stack of papers and set them to the side. Underneath sat an old VCR with a tape sticking out.

  “Break. Break. Break. Come in.”

  There was a picture on the wall of Mount Minuit, blanketed in snow. Jack paused, his eye caught by the brass plaque at the bottom of the frame: KANIEHTIIO.

  Kaniehtiio. The name used in the first threatening letter. Snow Mountain.

  He looked outside, trying somehow to comprehend the foe he was up against. Jack couldn’t see much out the window besides the propane tank, falling snow, and the blinking yellow and green lights of the radio dials behind him, reflected in the glass.

  “Break. Break. Break. Come in,” Leah repeated. “Stupid radio! I’m not getting anything.”

  “Try another frequency?”

  Leah shot him a look that let him know that was exactly what she’d been doing. She grabbed a three-ring binder and opened it up. Her finger traced down the page. “I’ve tried all these emergency frequencies. The storm must be”—she gasped—“oh, no way.”

  Jack heard hope, not despair. “What?”

  She held up the binder. “This emergency manual has instructions for a PLB.”

  “What’s a PLB?”

  “A Personal Locator Beacon. It gives you a one-way connection to an emergency satellite. You press a button, and search and rescue shows up like the cavalry.”

  “This is a remote, manned weather station.” A flash of hope surged through him. “If there are instructions here for a PLB—”

  “Then there has to be one here!” A broad grin spread across Leah’s face, and the blinking yellow lights from the radio sparkled in her eyes. “We need to find that PLB.” She began frantically searching the desk.

  In the window, the radio lights were blinking, yellow and green.

  Green?

  He peered out the window through the misty whiteness once more. The blinking green light wasn’t a reflection in the glass—it was coming from outside. Strapped to the bottom of the enormous propane tank was an avalanche charge.

  Its green light blinking on, off; on, off.

  No, no, no...

  Armed.

  The breath caught in Jack’s throat. He stepped away from the window, and the green light turned solid red.

  “OUT!”

  Jack ripped the back door open, grabbed Leah by the waist, lifted her right off her feet, and raced out onto the balcony.

  “What are you doing?” Leah shrieked, struggling in his arms.

  A ten-foot drop to a field below sloped gently down into darkness.

  “Bomb!” Jack shouted. “Jump!”

  He swung Leah over the railing. She shrieked again and grabbed for the railing but missed. Jack leapt over after her.

  Leah swore as she hit the ground. Jack tucked and rolled and the snow absorbed most of the impact. He reached back, grabbed Leah by the hood of her jacket, and yanked her to her feet.

  “Run! Avalanche charge!”

  Leah finally understood. She lowered her head and they both dashed across the field. Fifty yards beyond, the slope ended at a line of rocks that dropped off steeply into the darkness below.

  Leah’s face contorted in fear. “Is this far enough?” she panted, looking back at the weather station.

  Jack saw the angry red flash blink just before the roar of the explosion slammed into his chest. The impact knocked them both off their feet and sent a fireball a hundred yards into the air. Jack landed on his side, Leah on her back, her wide, blank eyes reflecting the glow of the fire. Jack reached over her, grabbed her shoulder, and jerked her onto her stomach.

  There’s more to come.

  “Cover!” He tried to protect the back of her head with one hand, while covering his own head with his other hand. The echo of the explosion rumbled through the mountains, followed by another sound—soft thumps falling all around them as the debris blown into the night air dropped back to earth. Shards of metal and chunks of debris rained down on them like meteorites.

  Then a whole section of the chain-link fence landed practically on top of them. Leah screamed and started kicking her feet. “I’m on fire!” she shrieked. Flames raced across the back of her jacket and Jack felt the heat on his arm.

  Jack rolled her onto her back as she tugged wildly on the zipper.

  The flames hissed and went out as they hit the snow. Leah scrambled to her feet, ripping the smoldering jacket off.

  “Are you burned?”

  Leah’s mouth opened and closed. Her brown eyes searched Jack’s face, but she didn’t answer.

  Jack examined her back, but her sweater was unmarked.

  “What’s that noise?” she yelled.

  His ears were still ringing from the explosion, but he began to distinguish a different sound. He cocked his head. It sounded like the hinges of a giant metal door creaking open. Jack’s eyes followed the flames as they leapt high into the night sky, where the enormous weather tower’s metal beams glowed a hellish red. And something else was wrong.

  The tower was leaning toward them.

  Closer every second.

  Jack grabbed Leah’s wrist, turned back toward the cliff, and jumped, pulling her with him into the darkness below.

  27

  Stunts, Lies, and Videotape

  Each time the wind buffeted the wind
ow, Alice jumped in her chair and her heart sank through the floor. All she could think about was her Jack atop the mountain while the worst blizzard in a hundred years pounded the peak. Alice had known it would be a dangerous assignment but never dreamed it would be this dangerous.

  Lady growled at the windows and moved protectively closer to Alice. The computer monitor displayed several different windows simultaneously. After each attack of wind, Alice began work again, her hands a blur as they fluttered between the keyboard and the mouse.

  “Look at you go,” Mrs. Stevens said as she came out of the bedroom, rubbing her tired eyes. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m trying to get into the crew forum.”

  Mrs. Stevens stepped up behind Alice’s chair. “The crew has its own forum?” Her eyes widened with excitement and she pressed her hands together like a child about to open a present.

  “They used it to communicate in the off season. Ideas for contests, upcoming locations, things like that. And to keep each other updated about where they were. I want to see if Mack said anything about who he was climbing with in Germany.”

  Joel, the man who wrote the article about the accident had emailed Alice back, but he didn’t have a name; his notes only said “climbing partner.”

  “Joel gave me the contact information of the search and rescue leader, but that guy is on vacation in the Bahamas. I even called the hotel where Mack was staying, in Garmisch-Partenkirchen. They said Mack had his own room and they had no information about an additional guest.”

  “Well, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I think I found something you should see.”

  Alice rubbed her bloodshot eyes, stood up, and stretched. She’d been at the computer for hours and was starting to feel the strain. It didn’t comfort her the way it had before; cookies and insurance work were no longer enough to push aside her other worries. There’d been no word from Jack or Leah. Or from Brian, for that matter. She’d called several times, leaving voicemails, and finally, when she spoke to someone at the answering service, they told her the office was closed due to the weather emergency.

  “Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Mrs. Stevens hurried into the other room and sat in front of the video monitor. “I was going through the footage looking for Ollie in the host jacket, and… well, there’s something odd about Ollie’s broken arm. The thing is, I just went through all the video of the challenge, and I just couldn’t find any footage of him getting hurt.”

  “But he filed workplace accident paperwork on it,” Alice said. “It was a fracture. He injured it during—I think it was the ‘Over the Hill and Through the Dale’ challenge.”

  Mrs. Stevens nodded excitedly.

  “Did you check the footage a little before the challenge and after it? Maybe a couple of hours either way? He could have broken it taking down those gates.”

  Mrs. Stevens’ red hair swayed up and down. “I did check. I even went through the next day. Besides Gavin taking a nasty tumble, nothing went wrong.”

  “What’s this about Gavin?” Alice asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside her assistant researcher.

  “I’ll show you.” Mrs. Stevens double-clicked to open a clip. “They were taping the show opening for the following day.”

  The video opened with Gavin sitting in a helicopter, yelling over the whirl of the blades. “Today’s challenge is going to be unlike anything we’ve ever done before! Last week you watched our contestants going ‘Over the Hill and Through the Dale,’ and today it’s ‘Off to Grandma’s House We Go’!”

  The camera panned down a slope to the painted plywood façade of a German cottage at the end of the field. “The contestants must not only get down the slope, but they’ll have to cross the open stretch of field to reach Grandma’s. Looks easy, right? Not so fast. We’ve brought in a pack of Saint Bernards. Normally, these gentle giants play the role of rescue dogs, but today they’re filling in for the wolves. If one of the dogs reaches a contestant before he or she reaches the cottage, that player is instantly eliminated. And you know the rules—if more than one contestant is eliminated in a challenge, it goes to a rescue vote. Who knows? Tonight may be the night that no one makes it!” Gavin pulled his goggles down over his eyes.

  The view cut to a wide shot of the helicopter hovering over the ski slope, while Gavin scooted to the open door and dangled his skis over the side. Then he gave a thumbs-up to the pilot and jumped off.

  “He’s fearless!” Mrs. Stevens gushed.

  Gavin kicked up a plume of snow as he landed and raced down the slope, the camera following him for about a minute. Then the tips of his skis caught on something as he slid over to avoid a clump of trees; he lurched forward and tumbled end over end, his legs gracelessly splayed, until his bindings popped, sending his skis flying.

  Someone yelled “Cut!” and the view began jerking all around as the cameraman, along with everyone else, rushed over to Gavin. Gavin was sitting in the snow, cradling one arm, the pole strap still wrapped around his wrist. As the camera got closer, he made a slashing motion across his throat with his good arm and the video cut out.

  Alice’s foot bounced up and down in time with her pen, which she gently tapped on the desk. “Pull up the raw footage,” she said.

  “Well, that’s another thing. There is no raw footage of this.”

  “Are you sure? The camera in the helicopter is a fixed camera. It would have kept rolling after Gavin put his goggles on. Legally, they had to provide the insurance company with all the footage.”

  “It cuts right there. There’s no video after he puts his goggles on.”

  Alice stopped tapping the pen. “Rewind the video to right before Gavin wipes out, please.”

  Again they watched Gavin ski down the slope, tumble, land hard, and start a freefall slide. Someone off-camera called “Cut!” and the view started bouncing around.

  “Pause there! Back up, okay, slowly… Stop there!”

  Mrs. Stevens had stopped on a frame where the jerking camera had captured the crew running to Gavin—Charlie, Bree, Ollie, and Ryan.

  Alice shook her head. “Zoom in on Ollie.”

  Mrs. Stevens’ mouth dropped open. “Oh my goodness. That’s not Ollie. It’s Gavin!”

  Alice nodded. Mrs. Stevens looked at Alice with raised eyebrows. “But how can he be in two places at once? He’s…” Her voice trailed off as she realized the truth.

  “That’s right,” said Alice. “So the person we just saw tumbling down the slope? That wasn’t Gavin. It was Ollie.”

  28

  Shelter or Bust

  Jack and Leah dropped a dozen feet before they hit the ground below. Jack tucked, but he hit with such force that his jaw clacked against his bent knees. The icy snow had formed a slick crust, and he slid down the steep slope into the darkness at breakneck speed. He tried to stay on his back like he was riding a waterslide, but his boot caught soft snow and he started rolling.

  Behind him, the weather tower toppling to the ground sounded like a fifty-car pileup, with metal shrieking as it smashed against rocks.

  “Leah!” Jack shouted as he finally slid to a stop. He couldn’t see much, but a huge cloud of snow puffed high into the air where the tower landed.

  “Over here.” Leah’s voice sounded from above him on the slope.

  Jack did a quick self-check. His ankle throbbed and his side burned, but it felt more like a scrape from the ice than something internal. His hat, gloves, and goggles were gone. He reached for his flashlight, but his pocket was empty. His radio was gone, too; the GPS remained. He powered it on, and the screen cast a faint glow.

  If you’re breathing, you’d better get back on your feet. Jack could picture his old drill sergeant standing over him and yelling at him to get up.

  Jack forced himself to his feet. “Are you hurt? I’m coming to you!”

  Leah limped down the slope. “I’ve got road rash on my back, but otherwise I’m fine.” She wrapped her arms around her ch
est and shivered.

  Jack unzipped his jacket. With the tower coming down on top of them, neither had given a thought to grabbing her burned jacket.

  Leah shook her head. “Save the macho stuff. You need it.”

  “I’m wearing a thick sweater over another shirt. I’m not being macho, I’m being nice-o.” He held the jacket out, still sweating profusely from the sheer adrenaline of the last few minutes. His body could take being unprotected, but his ears and face couldn’t. They needed to get out of the cold—fast.

  Leah took his parka and thanked him. The glow of the flames on top of the ridge revealed the fear in her eyes. “Wally wasn’t there, right? Do you think he’s okay?”

  “I think Wally may be the one who tried to kill us.”

  “Wally? Why?” Leah stammered in disbelief.

  “He had a picture of the mountain. The little brass plaque said ‘Kaniehtiio.’ Just like the first note you found.”

  “But why would Wally…” Her voice trailed off, then she answered her own question. “He’s such a tree-hugging environmentalist. Wally hates us being on his mountain.”

  Jack nodded. “Maybe the charge on the propane tank was just a booby trap. Maybe there was something inside the weather station he didn’t want us to find.”

  “What if he goes back to the lodge?”

  Jack’s fists tightened. “They’re already on guard because of Eric—”

  Leah grabbed Jack’s arm. “You don’t think Wally hurt Eric, do you? Or maybe Eric tried to get Wally and then came after us!”

  “We could drive ourselves crazy with what-ifs. Right now, we need to get out of this wind. I lost my radio.”

  Leah swore. “Mine was in my jacket.” She glared up at the fire. “There’s no way we can climb back up.”

  “Going around would be a long hike, and crazy to even try in the dark.” Jack scowled. “My flashlight’s gone. I don’t suppose you kept hold of yours?”

  “Everything was in my jacket.”