A Snow Covered Nightmare: Refuge Series Book Two

by Debbie Zello

  “If I asked you to dinner, would you go?” Stu asked.

  “I might, if you asked.”

  “Would you please go to dinner with me, Saturday night?”

  “I’d love to, thank you.”

  “I’ll pick you up around seven. Is that good?”

  “Yes, that’s fine, thank you.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday night, then. Thank you for the candy,” he said smiling.

  “You’re very welcome,” Briah said returning his smile. She watched as he walked back down her steps and sidewalk. He got out to the street and turned right following the path his niece had taken. He disappeared into the darkness, as Briah turned and went back inside. She shivered slightly. Why hadn’t she noticed the cold when she was talking to Stu? She closed the door and leaned against it trying to remember the exact words Cindy had used to describe Stu Jefferys. She thought she might have said he was “a great guy.” Cindy didn’t say with eyes that would pierce your mind with thoughts of lust.

  Briah shook her head quickly. “Get a grip, girl. Blue eyes are trouble. The one thing you don’t need right now is any trouble. Things are just settling down. Let’s do calm for a while and see how we like it,” she said aloud.

  The rest of the week passed with a few inches of snow falling. The mountain still hadn’t begun to make snow yet. The days were still a little too warm for it to sustain any appreciable length of time. People had called for weeks now inquiring about the conditions. Snow bunnies were ready for the season to begin.

  Briah was ready too. Her skis were sharpened and waxed. Her jacket, hats, and goggles were hanging on the hooks near the front door. All she needed was the snow.

  Saturday morning after she had cleaned the house, Briah sat and did her nails. She loved her nails painted, feeling it was a very girly thing to do. She checked in with the ski shop to make sure there were no problems brewing. It was quite busy there as people had been dropping off their personal equipment to have it checked and repaired and were now picking it up.

  In the late afternoon, she took a shower and shaved, deciding to wear a dress for dinner. It might be the last time she wore one for a while. With the cold and wind, bare legs froze quickly.

  At six forty-five, she was dressed and ready to go. She thought she would catch the last part of the national evening news. The correspondent was talking about Ebola being a worldwide problem and not just an African disease. The story finished and they were going to a commercial when the anchor said the upcoming story was, “Woman found dead in Florida home confirmed as ex-wife of convicted mafia mobster David Slater.”

  All of the color drained from Briah’s beautiful face. Her blood ran cold and she began to shake. Her vision narrowed on the television and everything else in the room disappeared. The commercials went on forever, droning on about everything from unclogging your drain to growing hair on your bald head.

  “Will you please get back to Jeanette for God’s sake!” she yelled at the TV.

  “The body of the woman found yesterday in a quiet neighborhood in Port Charlotte, Florida, has now been identified as the ex-wife of convicted murderer David Slater.

  “Jeanette Slater had testified in her ex-husband’s murder trial for the prosecution. Her testimony, along with the eyewitness account of another woman, sent the mobster to prison.

  “The cause of death was a gun shot to her head and has been ruled a homicide even though it was made to look like a suicide. her remains are being flown to Colorado for burial.

  “If anyone has any information on this case they are encouraged to call 911 or their local F.B.I. office.”

  “She is dead and he killed her. How the hell did he find her? Now, he’s going to find me,” Briah said to the television. She stared unfocused at the screen as the news continued, just like life went on in spite of the fact that she was now in danger of losing hers. It amazed her that a handful of words could stem the tide of her new life.

  Her doorbell rang, snapping her out of her dead stare. Going out for dinner now seemed like a stupid thing to do and yet since it might be her last, she stood up and answered the door. Attempting to smile she opened the door.

  “Hi, am I early or something?” Stu asked.

  “No, I think you’re right on time. I was just listening to the news and a story bothered me. That’s all,” Briah said, trying to center her mind on the man at her door.

  “Are you all right? You look frightened. What was the story?” he asked walking in the door and placing his hand on her arm. He took a quick look around her kitchen and living room as if he was looking for some perceived threat.

  “It was about the Ebola virus being a world-wide problem,” she said thinking quickly.

  “And you are worried that it might show up here in Vermont?” he said as his features softened from concern to mild amusement.

  “You never know where it will go. That is what they were saying. It could be anywhere,” she continued.

  “I don’t think we get too many visitors from Africa here. It’s more like Canadians and New Englanders, that’s as exotic as we normally get. I can’t promise, but I’m relatively sure you’re safe here,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I guess so,” she said absentmindedly as she took her coat from the hook. Stu took the coat from her and held it up so she could put it on.

  “You look lovely tonight. I should have said that by now.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure that you would have if I hadn’t thrown you off your game,” she said giving him a genuine smile.

  “So you know up front, I don’t play games. I’ll be direct with you and I hope you’re direct with me,” he said as his eyes flashed. Briah was staggered by his honesty, knowing she could never be with him or anyone else. Her life depended on her ability to lie convincingly.

  “I like the direct approach. What do you say to getting to know each other over dinner?”

  “I say let’s go.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aiden sat in the office of the therapist that drew the short straw and got him as a patient. He cancelled three appointments before he finally argued with himself sufficiently to show up for this one. Now he would give him one more minute and then he was leaving. One more minute to finish up with the previous appointment and get to him, or else it was over. Aiden had other things he could be doing.

  The door opened and a teary-eyed woman walked out passing Aiden. In the door way, stood a tall man with sandy-colored hair and glasses that perched on the end of his nose, like snot about to drip off. “Mr. Baldwin if you will come in please,” he said stepping out of the way and motioning to the inside.

  Aiden walked in first with the man right behind him. “I’m Jon Harmon,” he said extending his hand to shake Aiden’s hand. Aiden shook hands with him and took the seat he was positioned in front of. “I have read your employment record and personal file that the department sent over in contemplation of our meeting.”

  “Good, then you know all about me. That will save a whole hell of a lot of time. My partner thinks I drink too much and I’m throwing my life and career away. That’s the only part that wasn’t in the file,” Aiden said with a strong voice.

  “And what do you think, Aiden? Is your life and career in the crapper?”

  “My life ended a few months back. I just haven’t been buried yet. My career…I haven’t cared much about that for a while either. My job ended my life.”

  “So I guess we have some work to do. I’m into resurrecting the dead, so you’re in luck that you found me. Why don’t we begin with why you became a cop…”?

  Aiden walked out an hour later with a card listing several more appointments and homework to do. He had to locate and attend AA meetings in his area. Jon didn’t tell him to stop drinking, but he suggested that he try not to drink alone or at home.

  Aiden didn’t like being out of control in public. He had too many people that might want to take advantage of that. Drinking only in public would curtail much of his
drinking. Jon was smart not insisting Aiden stop drinking entirely. Asking for the restrictions was genius. Preying on Aiden’s own well-established rules to guide him.

  By the time they had met five times, Aiden had virtually stopped drinking and was beginning to face the loss of his Briah. The hundred-pound bag that Jon had hanging in the corner of his office was getting a work out from Aiden. He would stand in front of it with the gloves on and punch the hell out of it the whole time talking to Jon.

  Jon smiled, figuring the bag was the best therapy tool he ever had. Some people need that physical connection to rid themselves of the inner feelings. Aiden was that kind of man. He needed corporeal release in order to get past the emotional pain.

  By Thanksgiving Day, Aiden felt he had something to be thankful for, finally. He was able to put his relationship with Briah in a beautiful pink, lacy box in his memory. An attractive box, that he might be able to take out from time to time and open. Not right now, though. For now, she needed to be in the box for safekeeping.

  Denver had its share of crime. Every large city did. Pete and Aiden always had a stack of files on their desks, as well as a file cabinet with more. They would work a case until the leads, witnesses, or evidence petered out and then they would file it away for a rest, hoping to reopen it when something new came in.

  Alisa Garibaldi was such a case. Ms. Garibaldi had been robbed at gunpoint, in broad daylight, when she opened her door to who she thought was a washing machine technician. He knocked her out, tied her hands and feet, ransacked her house stealing thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry and art, and then left. It was two days before a neighbor finally called for a wellness check when she noticed the three newspapers outside her door, and knew that Alisa hadn’t gone away.

  Ms. Garibaldi recovered from her ordeal but could shed little light on her assailant. She said the line that Aiden hated the most…” It all happened so fast, I didn’t get a good look at him.” What they really mean is…” I was scared shitless and closed my eyes.” They don’t realize that they close their eyes. It’s a natural reaction to fear and we don’t even know that we do it.

  Wednesday morning after Thanksgiving, a perp was doing his early Christmas shopping at the home of one of Denver’s citizens. This time the woman that answered the door had a son in his bedroom. The son was a Marine that was home on leave. Xavier is a big guy, standing six-foot four and weighing in at two twenty-five. Xavier also had a bigger gun. All the police had to do was drop by and pick up the perp.

  “Good morning, Ms. Garibaldi?” Aiden said.

  “Yes, this is Alisa Garibaldi,” she said.

  “This is Detective Baldwin; do you remember me?”

  “Yes, detective. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if you would be able to come down to the office. We are holding a man that was involved in a similar case to yours. I’d like to see if you could identify him as the man that was in your home.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you very much for calling.”

  “You are very welcome. I’ll see you soon.” Aiden hung up the phone. He smiled because he loved it when he could connect all of the dots to form the larger picture.

  He was very smart and an excellent detective. He could absorb facts and spit them back to you like a machine gun. His memory was his gift. Once a case was dropped on his desk, he could remember the facts of it forever, waiting for a dot to come along with which to connect. Ms. Garibaldi’s case was four years old.

  When she walked in an hour later, Aiden was at his desk reading through her case again. He had the pictures that had been taken of her at the scene and later at the hospital. He looked up from the less than flattering pictures to see the beautiful woman she really was.

  Alisa wore a navy-blue suit. Red stilettos adorned her feet. Her skirt fell just above her knee. Her white blouse was tucked into a wide red leather belt. The jacket was more like a vest with sleeves, as it was cut short to show her tiny waist. It too had bright red buttons along the front. Her smile was framed by red lips, finishing off the entire package.

  Aiden stared far too long to not be considered staring. She finally cleared her throat demurely and said, “Are you all right, detective?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” he replied shaking his head slightly. “Thank you for coming in so quickly.” He got to his feet and walked around his desk to shake her hand. “You look much better than you did the last time I saw you,” he stammered out.

  “That is hardly a complement since the last time you saw me was four days after the robbery,” she said with a small giggle.

  “Yes, I remember. It will take me a few minutes to set up the line. Please have a seat and tell me what you’ve been doing.” Aiden nodded to Pete as he picked up the phone to make the arraignments. Alisa sat in the spare chair near the two desks. She crossed her legs and Aiden stared at that hollow space where her skirt gaped. He could just make out the lacy top of her stockings. He nearly drooled.

  Mentally chastising himself and going over in his head, his rules for professional behavior, he said, “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No thanks, I’ve had my allotted quota for the morning,” she said smiling.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I need more. I don’t have a quota, thank God!” he quipped as he got up to get some. He shuffled past her shapely legs and Pete’s desk. Pete had just hung up his phone.

  “They are setting it up. They said to give them fifteen minutes,” Pete said raising his eyebrow. Aiden gave him his ‘don’t go there’ look and went to get his coffee.

  “Take your time, there is no hurry. They will file in and stand facing the way they walked in. They’ll be told to turn and face forward and then turn to the left. If you need to see their backs, we can do that too. If you want them to speak, tell me what you want them to say,” Aiden said explaining slowly.

  “Okay,” Alisa said softly.

  “Bring them in,” Pete spoke into a speaker. A door opened and six men walked in. They all looked so ordinary and yet Alisa knew that one of them was a suspect in a situation much the same as hers. They stood facing the sidewall. Pete said, “Face forward.” They turned. Alisa closed her eyes for a second.

  “The second one in from my left,” she said when she opened her eyes. “The one in the blue tee shirt and jeans. He is the one that hit me.”

  “You’re sure? Please look at him very closely. Do you want him to step closer to the window?” Aiden asked.

  “No, I’m positive that is him,” she said walking away from the window. Aiden nodded to Pete.

  “Take him back,” Pete said into the speaker. The two men on either side of the man Alisa identified took his hands and placed cuffs on him. Aiden placed his hand on the small of her back and walked her out of the room.

  Once they were in the hall, she turned and said, “Was that him? Is he the one that was going to rob the other woman?”

  “If you’ll wait for me at my desk, I’ll answer all of your questions in a minute. I have to finish things here,” he said turning to walk back into the room.

  Pete was sitting in a chair with his feet up on another when Aiden walked back in. “Well, that was easy,” he said smugly.

  “Do you want to do the paper work? I’d like to take her to lunch,” Aiden said.

  “Do you know what you’re doing? I don’t want an instant replay. You’re just getting back on your feet.”

  “I know all the clichés, Pete. I’m trying to put some semblance of life back into my life. It’s lunch, I’m not asking her to marry me.”

  “Okay, I hope you know what you’re doing, that’s all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Hob Nob was one of the ‘better’ restaurants in Stowe. It sat atop a hill and boasted the best cuts of beef around. Briah was hoping they might try that theory out with their dinner choices.

  After parking the car, Stu came around the trunk and opened her door, helping her out. He placed his hand on the sma
ll of her back and guided her to the door, which he then opened for her. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You are very welcome,” he said smiling. They approached the host and Stu said, “We have a reservation in the name of Jefferys.”

  “Yes, sir, come this way please,” she said leading them to a candle lit table for two. Stu pulled Briah’s chair out and she sat down as he pushed it under her. Then he took her hand from the table and gently kissed it before placing it in her lap.

  “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Jefferys?” she said after the host had given them the menu and left.

  “No. I’m attempting to treat you like the treasure I believe you are,” he said flashing those perfect teeth at her. “If you don’t like it or you’re uncomfortable, I can stop. I don’t want to, but I can.”

  “No. I was just curious. I was going to tell you that you are wasting your time. I didn’t want you to put a whole lot of effort into me,” she said lowering her eyes to the table. He reached over to lift her chin so he could look into her eyes.

  “Cindy told me you had a terrible break up this summer. She said you were hurt, badly. I’m not asking you to fall in love with me. I’m asking for a few dinners, a movie or two, maybe to go bowling or for a walk.”

  “I guess I need to watch what I tell Cindy,” Briah said.

  “She wasn’t gossiping with me. It was more like an, ‘I like her and if you hurt her, I’ll hunt you down, cut off your balls, stuff them in your mouth, and sew your lips shut,’ kind of discussion,” he said smiling.

  “Is that so?”

  “Maybe not those exact words but my balls were involved,” he said laughing.

  “Well, this is a first for me. I can’t remember ever discussing a man’s balls on a first date,” she said laughing with him.

  “Nor I. I guess I’ll have to seduce you at some point after all. But in the mean time, heal and I’ll carry Band-Aids with me for the occasional scab-removal.”

  Stu walked Briah up her stairs to her door. She unlocked it and swung the door open. “Do you want to come in for a glass of wine?” she asked him.