“I’ll be waiting for you,” he said, and headed for the bathroom.
The moment he closed the bathroom door, she hurriedly pulled on her coat. There would be tracks in the fresh snow, tracks that would lead her to whoever had done this. What upset her was the vindictiveness of the act—and the violence.
They hadn’t just knocked down the snowman, they’d trampled it, kicking the packed snow all over the front yard.
Tugging on her boots, she slipped outside. The air had a bite to it. Snow fell in a silent shroud around her as she stepped off the porch. The tracks were still visible, even though fresh drifts had started to fill them in.
She put her boot next to the track to measure the footprint, and felt a sliver of ice run the length of her spine. No kids had made these tracks. It had been one person, and from the size of the print, it had been an adult.
Morgan heard Tom calling as she started to follow the tracks into the woods. The lone set of boot prints ran along the edge of the cabin and woods, and returned the way they had come, into the cold dark shadows of the pines.
Morgan stared through the falling snowflakes. Who was staying in Mountain Lion Cabin? And what possible reason could they have had to destroy the snowman?
A sense of dread filled her as she thought about the hat she’d found on their doorstep, the gruesome face left like a message. A threat.
A crazy thought crept in along with the cold. What if these tracks belonged to “A,” the woman who’d left the text message on Tom’s cell phone? The message had sounded threatening. Morgan felt a flash of fear as she considered again the violent way the snowman had been destroyed.
“Morgan?”
She spun around, heart in her throat, to find Tom standing in the cabin doorway wearing only a towel.
“Honey, it was just a snowman.” Their honeymoon snowman. “Come inside. I left the shower running.”
Shivering, Morgan hurried up the steps and into the cabin. Locking the door soundly behind her, she followed Tom to the bathroom, needing the heat of the shower and the reassurance of his strong arms around her.
WORRIED ABOUT MORGAN, Luke hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. This morning he’d spent half the time mentally kicking himself for not telling her how he felt about her before Tom Cooper had come into her life.
The other half of the time he’d spent worrying about Tom Cooper, and how to find out the truth about the man. Hadn’t he known there was something not quite right about him?
Okay, Luke had to admit maybe he wanted there to be something wrong with Tom Cooper. He’d wanted Morgan to realize her mistake, but the whole romance and marriage had happened so quickly....
It was his own fault. If he’d just spoken up before Tom appeared on the horizon… All the reasons why Luke hadn’t seemed so inconsequential now.
But when he’d met Morgan he’d been coming out of a heartbreak. His high school sweetheart, whom he’d dated through college, had decided to take a job in France. He hadn’t wanted to leave Montana; she couldn’t wait to hop on the plane.
Luke had seen it coming, the two of them growing apart, wanting entirely different things. But still, it hurt.
So when he’d met Morgan, he’d been gun-shy. Soon she had become his best friend, and then he was afraid of trying to change that. He’d feared he might lose her if he told her how he felt about her and she didn’t share his feelings. He couldn’t bear the thought that it might destroy their friendship.
“You should have told her, man,” he said now to his empty apartment. “You should never have let her marry that guy. You knew he was all wrong for her.”
That was water under the bridge. He had to concentrate on what to do now. He hadn’t told Morgan the worst of it. As far as he could ascertain, the man she’d married hadn’t existed until eleven years ago. Luke was still trying to find out who Tom Cooper had been before then.
Luke told himself that she’d hung up too soon and hadn’t given him a chance to share everything. But he knew he’d feared putting her in even more danger by doing so.
This morning, as he’d showered and dressed for work, he’d questioned whether he should have told Morgan anything until she returned. He feared what might happen if she decided to confront Tom.
Meanwhile, Luke had to find out what Cooper was hiding, and just how dangerous the information might be. He assured himself that Morgan would be safe. Whoever Cooper was, he wouldn’t try anything with a lodgeful of people around.
But Luke still couldn’t bear the thought of her up in the mountains with a man who could be…well, just about anything.
Picking up his phone, Luke tried her cell again. It went straight to voice mail. He didn’t leave a message, knowing that anything he said might make the situation worse—not to mention possibly be overheard by Morgan’s husband.
What also worried Luke was that there were believed to be two serial killers on the loose. He’d been covering the story since the last murder and was at least relieved that neither of the two profiles the FBI had done resembled Tom Cooper.
Then again, the personality sketches were based on known serial killer profiles and could be dead wrong. The latest victim, Special Agent Leah Gray, had survived, but didn’t get a look at her attacker.
Luke checked his watch. He had to get to work. But he knew he wouldn’t be worth a damn all day. He’d be waiting to hear what his private investigator friend had found out about Tom Cooper’s past, and worrying about Morgan. That is, when he wasn’t beating himself up for letting her marry the wrong man. Maybe if he had—
He shoved the what-ifs away. He’d blown it. He hadn’t told Morgan how he’d felt and now it might be too late.
He was startled when his cell rang as he entered the newspaper office. He snatched it from his pocket, hoping it was Morgan.
It was his P.I. friend, who often helped him out when he was working on a story.
“Did you find out anything more about Tom Cooper?” Luke asked after a hurried hello.
“I hope you’re sitting down.”
CHAPTER THREE
MORGAN INSISTED they go over to the lodge for brunch, even though Tom had brought food so they wouldn’t have to leave the cabin.
“Whatever you want,” he said, surprising her. She’d expected him to put up a fight. Or at least look disappointed. But he seemed to realize she was still upset about the stupid snowman and needed a change of scenery.
“Oh, shoot, I forgot my wallet,” he said as they got into the SUV. “I’ll be right back.”
Morgan looked toward the other cabin, but the woods were too dense from this angle and the falling snow too heavy to see it. An eerie silence seemed to envelope the SUV. She was glad when Tom returned and they headed for the lodge.
They ate in the large dining room. She surreptitiously studied the other guests, wondering who was staying in the cabin closest to them. Morgan didn’t lie to herself; she was searching for “A.” That was silly, she knew, but she couldn’t help it.
No one in the lodge dining room was paying any attention to her or Tom, nor did she see a woman who looked as if she had gotten up in the middle of the night and hiked all the way to an adjacent cabin in a snowstorm to destroy a snowman.
But then again, what would a woman like that look like? Morgan knew she was being foolish. It was just a snowman.
Tom was quiet during the meal, reaching for her hand occasionally and smiling over at her, but neither of them talked much.
Morgan couldn’t help noticing that the lodge was only half-full. She overheard guests talking about the winter storm warning, and how they might leave after they ate. Apparently some guests had already taken off.
“Maybe we should go, too, if this storm is going to get worse,” she suggested.
“Is that really what you want?” Tom asked, sounding disappointed. He seemed disappointed. “A Montana girl like you afraid of a little snowstorm?”
“You don’t realize how dangerous these storms can be, since you g
rew up in Seattle. Unless you never went up in the mountains. I know you said you don’t ski, but didn’t you ever go up to that ski hill on the pass? What was the name?” she asked, pretending interest in her food because she couldn’t look at him.
“Steven’s Pass,” he said. “I don’t ski, but I have seen snowstorms. You should try my walnut encrusted trout, by the way. It’s delicious. We should make it sometime. I assume you’re an old hand at trout fishing, right? We could go fishing in the spring. Where’s a good place to go?”
She noticed how he’d changed the subject, as he always did when she asked about his past. “What kind of fishing did you do out in Seattle?” she pressed, not taking the bait.
“My family didn’t fish. So you’re going to have to teach me. I think I’d like to take up fly-fishing. Is it hard to learn?”
“No. I think you’ll catch on quickly.” Just as she had caught on to how he maneuvered out of telling her anything about himself.
Her stomach ached as she moved her food around on her plate. Thankfully, Tom began to talk about the lodge and its history as he finished his meal.
“Would you mind if I checked my email? I want to make sure some photographs I sent out arrived,” she said, wondering if lying was contagious.
She’d expected him to be upset, but to her surprise, he said that would be fine.
“I’ll meet you in the bar, if that’s all right,” he suggested, and she quickly agreed.
The moment he disappeared through the door to the lounge, she went to the main desk and asked about the other cabin she’d seen in the woods.
“Is Mountain Lion Cabin available? I heard some of the guests are leaving because of the storm,” Morgan said, quickly improvising.
“I’m sorry, there is a guest staying there,” the clerk replied. “It appears she’s staying through the weekend.”
She. Morgan felt her pulse jump. And the clerk had said “a” guest. The woman was staying there alone?
All Morgan’s doubts rushed to the surface again. Why would a woman want to stay out in the woods alone? Even crazier, why would she get up sometime after midnight and tramp through the woods to an adjacent cabin to destroy a snowman?
Unless she was a woman scorned and looking for a way to get back at the man she called Eric.
With a start, Morgan remembered the way Tom had repeatedly checked his rearview mirror. Had he been worried that someone was following them? Someone whose name began with A?
It seemed to always come back to that text on his phone. The threatening message had left little doubt in Morgan’s mind that “A” was a woman scorned.
She had to stop this. She knew her whole theory was crazy. Just because the boot prints had come from the direction of the cabin didn’t mean its occupant was the snowman killer.
But what were the chances that whoever had destroyed the snowman had come from even farther away, in a blizzard in the middle of the night?
You are letting your imagination run wild, Morgan Sinclair. Morgan Sinclair Cooper, she reminded herself.
In case Tom left the bar rather than wait for her, she went to a corner of the large lounge and began to check her emails on one of the computers for guests. The moment they came on screen, she saw a recent one from Luke. She hurriedly opened it.
Morgan, call me. It’s urgent. Luke.
She checked to make sure Tom was nowhere in sight. Even though she now suspected that her husband had lied to her, she still felt guilty and disloyal as she took out her phone and tapped in the number. The line buzzed with static and for a moment she didn’t think the call was going to go through. She was relieved when Luke answered, more relieved than she knew she should have been, just hearing his voice.
“I saw on the news that there’s a winter storm warning, especially for the mountains,” he said the moment he heard her say hello. His voice sounded so good that tears welled in her eyes and her heart lifted. “You really need to get out of there while you can,” he insisted.
“I can’t do that—”
“Everything Tom told you about his past is a lie. He was never employed at Vi-Tech. He’s from a small town in Arkansas and his name isn’t Tom Cooper. At least it wasn’t until eleven years ago.”
She felt as if an elephant had stepped on her chest. As she fought to draw a breath, she whispered, “If you’re going to tell me that his name was Eric before he changed it—”
“It’s worse than that, Morgan. He—”
Static suddenly filled the line.
“Luke?”
No answer. He was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT’S WORSE THAN THAT.
Morgan tried to call Luke back, but couldn’t get through.
It’s worse than what?
What had he meant?
She put her cell phone in her pocket and stumbled up from the computer. What was clear was that Tom had lied about his past and for some reason had changed his name eleven years ago. Didn’t he realize he’d get caught?
No, she thought. He would never suspect the woman he loved would investigate him.
She felt sick, her food fighting to come up as she rushed to the ladies’ room.
Once inside the bathroom stall, she closed the door and leaned against the cool tile wall until she felt better.
She heard several women come in, but didn’t pay any attention to what they were talking about until one said in a pseudowhisper, “That woman we saw earlier, with the cast on her wrist and all the bruises? She’s the victim who was attacked by one of the Big Sky Stranglers, those serial killers they’re looking for.”
“Oh, my gosh. I got a glimpse of her when she checked in. That’s where I’d seen her before. In the newspapers.”
“I heard one of the employees say she’s here to recuperate.”
“Here at the lodge?”
“She has a room down the hall from ours. The poor woman.”
Morgan thought of the cabin she’d glimpsed through the trees. If she was right and a woman was staying in that cabin alone, Morgan could eliminate the serial killers’ victim, Special Agent Leah Gray.
The newspaper had been chasing the story, calling the duo the Big Sky Stranglers because they choked their victims. She’d never heard of a serial killer in Montana, let alone two. Agent Gray had been lucky. Unfortunately, the other woman hadn’t.
Morgan shuddered. First a winter storm. Now the victim of a serial killer duo was hiding out here? Not to mention Morgan herself was honeymooning with a man who didn’t seem to have a past—at least not the one he’d claimed.
When the bathroom cleared out, she tried Luke once more, but again couldn’t get cell phone service. Back in the lobby, she thought about using the landline guest phones, but they were all busy and she knew Tom would be looking for her soon.
What was it Luke had been about to tell her? She thought of the special agent, the Big Sky Stranglers latest victim, who just happened to be here at the lodge. Surely he wasn’t going to tell her that he thought her husband was one of the stranglers.
The idea was so outrageous it made her laugh. Tom had lied to her, but she knew him. He was sweet and gentle and loving. He wasn’t some deranged killer. He was her husband.
Her earlier queasiness passed, and she felt anger surface. He was also apparently a liar. Mad at herself for involving Luke in this, and at Tom for lying to her, she went to find him. As much as she hated to do it on their honeymoon, it was time to confront her husband.
In her heart, she knew she was clinging to the hope that Tom would have a logical explanation for everything. He had to, she thought, as she walked toward the lounge.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a man who appeared to be watching her. He was nondescript, from his plain brown hair to his build—except that one of his legs was in a cast. A skiing accident?
But if he had been watching her, he quickly looked past her, to a short man with shaggy blond hair, dressed in work clothes. The blond man had stopped in the middle o
f cleaning one of the windows in a large bank of glass along the lodge wall.
“Excuse me.”
Morgan turned in midstep at the sound of a man’s raised voice. She came face-to-face with the brown-haired man who she’d thought had been watching her.
“I believe you dropped this,” he said.
She stared at his smiling face, her heart pounding hard. The man was average in every way, which made her wonder why his being so close scared her.
Looking from his face to what he was holding out to her, she saw it was a black knit glove.
“I thought I saw you drop this.” His smile had an edge to it.
She shook her head and took a step back. “No, it’s not mine.”
“Sorry to have bothered you, then.” His smile faded.
She turned and hurried away, chiding herself. This wasn’t like her, being so paranoid. No one at dinner had paid her any mind. Nor had anyone since then. The man hadn’t even been looking at her—until he’d thought she’d dropped her glove.
With a start, she realized she hadn’t noticed the glove on the floor when she’d walked toward the lounge. Nor had anyone else passed her before the man approached her with it.
She fought the urge to look back, then caught her reflection in the window glass and felt her pulse leap. Both men were watching her.
Shivering, she quickened her step, telling herself this whole thing with her husband had her spooked.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE LIGHTS SUDDENLY flickered and went out as Morgan reached the entrance to the bar. With the dull gray storm clouds outside, the old lodge was left in darkness. She stopped, waiting for the electricity to come back on.
To her relief, the lights came back on a moment later. She looked around for Tom, but didn’t see him. At least not at first.
Then she spotted him at the back of the bar, talking on one of the guest phones. The anger on his face made her freeze.
When he saw her, his expression instantly changed. He said something into the phone and hung up. As Morgan walked toward him, she noticed that he was pale and sweating. He wiped his brow and attempted a smile, but could do little to hide the fact that he was upset. Upset at the person on the phone? Or at Morgan for catching him?
Ice Lake: Gone ColdCold HeatStone Cold Page 3