Snowbound Targets (HQR Romantic Suspense)

by Karen Whiddon

  The snowman stood, like a lonely sentinel forever trapped in ice, facing toward the driveway, as if gazing down the hill.

  “We did good,” she said, still smiling. “I really like him.”

  “I do too.” Determined to continue to ignore how warm her smile made him feel, he gestured toward the driveway. “Which way do you want to go? We can go up or we can go down.”

  She considered for a moment. “I think up. At some point, we should have a great view of the road, right?”

  “True. But like I said, I doubt it’s plowed yet. Cedar is a small town and we only have one plow. A lot of people have their own plows they put on their trucks so they can take care of their own driveways, like I do. It’ll probably be a day or two before the road is passable.”

  “What happens if someone has a medical emergency?”

  “If they don’t have a snowmobile, then they’ll call someone who does. Most people who live up in the mountains away from the town have contingency plans.”

  They started the trek up the side of the peak near his house. He stayed slightly behind her, watching in case she had trouble with the snowshoes. But after a slight hesitation in the beginning, she appeared to take to them easily, her movements growing in confidence. She used the poles as if she’d been doing this for years.

  “Your hips might hurt tomorrow,” he said. “It’s a little bit different of a cadence than regular walking, plus the snow provides resistance.”

  Appearing unfazed, she nodded. “Good to know.” Head up, eyes sparkling, she breathed in the crisp air with relish. Looking around her, she appeared to be in her element. Some people preferred hot, others liked cold. Lucy definitely appeared to the latter. Maybe that piece of information might help narrow down what part of the country she’d come from.

  “Jason, are you coming with me?” she called out. He realized she’d gone off ahead of him, moving through the tree line straight up, circumventing a safer path.

  As he started forward, a gunshot rang out, the sound reverberating through the mountains.

  Chapter 5

  Lucy instinctively threw herself to the ground, getting a mouthful of snow in the process. The soft impact made her cheekbone and other bruises hurt again, though they were fading as she healed. She didn’t know where Jason was or if he’d been hit, but she somehow knew better than to stand up to find out. No point in making herself an easy target.

  “Jason?” she called out, low voiced. “Are you okay?”

  “Right here,” he answered, sliding on his side toward her. “I can tell where that gunshot came from. There’s absolutely no reason someone would be shooting up here. It’s not hunting season and this is all private property.”

  Heart pounding, she nodded. For a moment, she felt dizzy. The world shifted, and she thought she might pass out. Not. In. The. Snow. “Are you sure?” she swallowed hard. “That it was a gunshot?”

  “What else could it be?” The grim set of his jaw told her he meant it. “Don’t take the snowshoes off. Despite the way they limit our movement when down like this, they’re still the quickest way to get out of here.”

  With all the craziness that had been her life lately, she had no trouble believing they were now in danger.

  Apparently, Jason did. “This makes no sense,” he muttered. “Why would anyone be shooting in the mountains after such a heavy snowfall? Sounds like that could definitely cause an avalanche.”

  The word made her shudder. She glanced above them, hoping she wouldn’t see a wall of snow heading toward them.

  “You hear it before you see it,” he said.

  “Oh.” She looked back, in the direction from which they’d come. The cabin was no longer in sight. “What now? I don’t like feeling so exposed.”

  “I’m not sure. There’s a long, open stretch between us and the cabin. If there is a shooter aiming for us, that would be the area where he’d have the best shot.”

  Hearing him say this out loud made her stomach swoop. “Do you really think he’s aiming for us?” Her voice shook.

  “I doubt it.” His prompt reply made her feel slightly better. “But since we have no way to know for sure just yet, and with all the other weirdness going on, it’s better to play safe than be sorry.”

  Other weirdness. Being her showing up in his cabin with no memory and a vague sense of danger.

  “Then what do we do?” A hint of the desperation she felt had crept into her voice.

  “Try to make it to the next grouping of trees,” he decided. “We can shelter there until we figure out what exactly is going on.”

  They moved as quickly as they could to implement that plan. What had started as a fun outing had turned ominous and dark.

  Another gunshot, echoing over and over. She couldn’t tell if it was closer or not.

  “No bullet hitting anywhere near us,” he said. “That’s good. For all I know, it might be someone hunting illegally. The deer take more risks when they can’t find food.”

  Though she felt sorry for the deer, she fervently hoped that was the case. “Can we go back to the cabin?”

  “Not yet,” he replied. “Right now, we just need to wait. Whoever it is might just be trying to flush us out.”

  So wait they did, cold seeping through the soles of her boots. Though her parka kept her warm, her fingers and toes felt frozen. But she didn’t want to complain—she wanted to live. “If someone is after us, they probably want me,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Gaze steady, he shook his head. “You don’t know that. For all we know, it might be a hunter, or some idiot trying out his new gun. If they were after you—or us—why would they fire warning shots to alert us?”

  He had a point. Though still tense, she relaxed slightly. She could no longer feel her feet at all.

  When it had been silent for twenty minutes, he touched her arm. “We’re going back to the cabin. I want you to stay with me and move as quickly and as quietly as you can. I’m pretty sure whatever that was had nothing to do with us, but there’s no sense in being careless.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Grabbing her poles, she started out after him. They kept as close to the tree lines as they could, and when they were in open spaces, she struggled to keep up with his pace. It was difficult to move quickly in such deep snow. Twice she stumbled, used her poles to right herself and kept going.

  Finally, the cabin came into sight. They paused to rest near a large evergreen tree. She couldn’t help but notice Jason wasn’t even breathing hard, while she could barely catch her breath.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” His gaze drifted past her, toward the direction they’d come, before eying the cabin. “It all looks the same, at least from here. I’m going to try and stay within the same tracks we made coming up. That way we can tell if anyone else has been here.”

  His offhand comment kicked her heart rate up a notch. She nodded, hoping this would all turn out to be nothing.

  “Keep your eyes and ears open and your head down,” he ordered. “Stay right behind me and if I tell you to do something, like hit the ground, do it immediately and without question.”

  “Got it,” she replied, her heart in her throat.

  They started off. As they crossed the clearing between them and the cabin, she braced herself, almost certain she’d hear the sharp crack of a gunshot right before a bullet slammed into her back.

  Another flash of memory. Rubble all around her, the sound of gunfire and sirens outside. Screaming and wailing, someone sobbing. Darkness, hidden, flinching away from the sudden flashes of light.

  “Lucy.” Jason shook her. “You can’t zone out. Not now.”

  Blinking, she sucked in a great gasp of cold air. “Sorry,” she managed.

  �
��Look.” He pointed. “Footsteps circling the cabin.”

  “I see them.”

  Jaw tight, he hustled her toward the door. “I didn’t lock it up. I never do, since it’s so isolated. Clearly, it’s time I start.”

  At the door, he pulled her close. “Stay right behind me. If someone is inside, I’ll protect you.”

  Fear stole away her voice, but she moved even closer.

  “One, two, three.” He slammed open the door. A quick glance revealed the cabin appeared to be empty.

  And ransacked. Whoever had broken in had been in a rush to go through their stuff.

  “Damn it all to hell,” Jason cursed. He kicked the door shut behind them and turned the dead bolt.

  Staring around her in stunned disbelief, Lucy shook her head. The cushions had been pulled from the couch and tossed, her duffel emptied, and her clothing scattered all around the room. Someone had rifled through all the paperwork on Jason’s desk. Papers were strewn everywhere.

  “I don’t understand.” She made a slow circle, taking in the destruction. “What on earth could they have been looking for?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, removing his snowshoes and tossing them aside. In short order, he peeled off his gloves and removed his jacket. After taking off his own boots, he immediately began picking up his papers, stacking them back on his desk. A moment later, she took off her snowshoes and wet boots plus her own outerwear, and then began gathering up her clothing.

  Once he’d gotten his desk reorganized, he crossed to stand in front of a painting of a sunrise over the mountains. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he pulled the artwork down from the wall, revealing a wall safe. “Good. It’s undisturbed. Even if they found it, there’s no way they could get inside.”

  Though she was curious about its contents, she didn’t feel it was any of her business to ask, so she didn’t.

  “I safeguard my photographs,” he explained anyway, correctly interpreting her look. “Though most of them are digital, I’m compulsive about backing them up. I’ve got both the actual memory cards and the backups in there.” Plus, he utilized an online storage site as well. He’d long ago come to believe he couldn’t be too careful.

  She looked from him to the safe and back again. “Why would anyone want to steal your photographs?”

  Though he shrugged, she sensed his casual facade wasn’t how he really felt.

  “Tell me,” she insisted. “I won’t ever understand if you don’t explain.”

  “I’m an award-winning photojournalist,” he finally explained. “My photos are in high demand and I’m paid handsomely for them. In addition to that, I’m under contract for a book of war photos. Some of these might contain sensitive information. I always look through them to be sure. Since I just got back from the Middle East, I haven’t had time to see what all I have.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why someone would want them. Are you saying they’d try to pass them off as their own?”

  He frowned. “That’s possible. But there are those who will use damning photos to blackmail high-ranking officials. It’s well-known, though no one who is a highly respected journalist would stoop to such a thing. Since I took a lot of pictures when the suicide bomber hit the hotel in Kabul, there’s the possibility I captured something I should not have.”

  Though maybe the amnesia was making her a bit dense, she still didn’t understand. “Wouldn’t you know? I mean, I’d think you’d be well aware of what exactly you photographed, right?”

  “Not always,” he admitted. “When there’s a lot going on, in the heat of the moment, I’m just moving around and taking shots. One right after the other. Sometimes out of thirty shots, I’ll get one good one. Often I surprise myself with what I’ve inadvertently captured.” Replacing the artwork on the wall, he turned to face her.

  Slowly, she nodded, willing herself to relax. “That means you think you were the target of the break-in, not me.”

  “Not really.” His grim answer had her tensing up once more. “Since whoever did this isn’t inside right now, we can’t exactly ask. And I should tell you, though he or she could have used skis or snowshoes to leave, I didn’t see any tracks. I’m about to go out and check in the direction of the driveway.”

  She watched him, suddenly nervous for his safety. “That would mean they might still be around.”

  “Exactly. Because with the roads still impassable, the only way to get up here would be with a snowmobile. And we haven’t heard the sound of one starting up.”

  * * *

  Watching her eyes go wide, Jason didn’t have the heart to tell her the rest of his concerns. While he wasn’t sure if the intruder had come for his photos or was after Lucy, there remained a strong possibility that he or she was still lurking around.

  “Do you know how to handle a weapon?” he asked, even though he figured she didn’t.

  “Like a...gun?” He wouldn’t have believed it possible, but her eyes got even wider.

  “Never mind.” He figured he had his answer. “I’ve got several guns here, pistols and shotguns. It would help if you knew how to use one. I’ll teach you, but I don’t have time to do that today.”

  Eying him, she blinked. “I’m familiar with guns,” she said, the expression on her face indicating she’d surprised herself as much as him. “I used to go to the shooting range about once a month, just to blow off steam.”

  “Who taught you?” he asked quickly, hoping she might be able to capture the rest of the memory.

  “I...” She shook her head. “I don’t know. That wasn’t like a memory, where I could actually visualize something. It seemed more like a knowing. You asked a question and I just knew the answer.”

  Not sure if he believed her, he went to the big gun safe that stood in the corner of his living room. After punching in the combination, he eyed his assortment of pistols before choosing one for her. A nice little SIG Sauer P238, one of his lighter and more compact pistols. “Have you ever shot this?” he asked, handing it to her. “It has a six-round magazine and it’s easy to handle.”

  Taking it from him, she eyed it dubiously. “I’m not sure.” Hefting it up, she sighted it at the front door. “This feels good,” she said. “I’ll need some ammo.”

  He handed her several clips and watched her as she expertly loaded one into the chamber. Maybe she really did know how to handle a weapon. That made him feel slightly better.

  Turning back to the gun safe, he chose one of his favorite hand guns, his trusty Ruger .38 Magnum. He loaded it, grabbed some spare ammo, and then closed and secured the safe.

  “If I go out there, are you absolutely sure you can defend yourself with that?” he asked.

  She regarded him seriously. “Well, I haven’t practiced with this particular gun, so I don’t know how it handles, but I do know how to point it and shoot it. If someone comes for me, I won’t hesitate, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Her answer told him she really did know her way around a firearm. “Good. I want you to lock the door after me.”

  “Will do.”

  One glance at her, and his chest ached. She seemed so small, so vulnerable, even though she held his pistol with a confident grip. He didn’t know what had happened to her, why she’d lost her memory or how she’d ended up in his cabin. So help him, if he ever found out someone—man or woman—had deliberately hurt her, he’d use every resource he had to make them pay.

  This time, instead of snowshoes, he put on his ski boots and grabbed his skis and poles. If he happened to run into whoever was out there, this would give him more flexibility and speed.

  Outside, the snow-shrouded world remained silent. Stepping down from his front porch, he clipped on his skis. He’d decided he’d follow the other tracks as far as he could.

  After circling the cabin and then going inside, the intruder had gone down instead of up.
Not toward the snow-covered driveway, where he or she would have been easily spotted, but perpendicular to it. The tracks kept inside the trees, providing cover. This meant most likely snowshoes rather than skis.

  Jason skied the edge of his driveway, using his poles and an angled stance to keep his speed down. He even considered going back to the cabin and switching to his snowshoes, but since he didn’t figure he’d be going far, he knew he could walk back up.

  Sure enough, the tracks emerged from the brush at the point where his driveway met the road. Since the plow hadn’t yet made it through, the snow remained pristine and untouched. Except for the unmistakable snowmobile tracks.

  But how? Sound carried in these mountains and he knew for sure he hadn’t heard the loud engine of an Arctic Cat. Had it been an electric snowmobile? He remembered reading about Taiga electric snowmobiles, so such a thing was entirely possible. Even though they weren’t as rugged as a traditional gas-powered machine, they were less expensive and left a much smaller global footprint. He’d have to ask around in town. If someone in these parts had one, he was sure everyone in town would know about it.

  At least this meant the intruder had left. Though they hadn’t left any clues as to what they’d been after.

  Removing his skis, he trudged back up the slope. When he reached the front door, he knocked sharply. “Lucy, it’s me.”

  A second later, she opened the door, looking relieved.

  He stamped his ski boots on the front porch and shook off the snow before stepping inside. “They’re gone,” he told her. “I found snowmobile tracks at the end of the driveway.”

  “I’m glad.” She unloaded her pistol and placed it on the table. “The safety is still on.”

  Nodding, he shrugged out of his outerwear. “I’m going to keep mine on me for now, just in case. Do you want to do the same, or would you rather I put yours in the safe?”

  Her gaze searched his. “Do you think I’ll need it out?”