The Eligible Suspect

by Jennifer Morey

  Savanna squinted as the three-quarter-inch snowflakes fell. Every once in a while the wind gusted and she could barely make out the edges of the road. She followed the wood crossbuck fence with copper post caps that ran all the way down the road to the highway. Seeing the truck, she looked for signs of a person. There was too much snow on the truck to tell if anyone was inside.

  Gandalf whinnied and tossed his brawny head, tugging at the bit as though eager to run for the new adventure that shone a light on him.

  Savanna spotted the figure of a man trying to shovel the tires of his truck free from snow. A lot of good that would do. What did he think he’d do once he dug himself out of the ditch? Drive a few feet and get stuck again? Four-wheel drive or not, this snow was deep enough to stop anyone. She really wasn’t in the mood for company. Putting her annoyance in check, she committed herself to helping someone in need.

  He quit working when she neared. At the truck, she halted the big horse. He was a giant of a man. Probably six-four. She amended her earlier assumption. This guy could probably have walked through the deep snow all the way to her house.

  “Are you lost?” she asked.

  He stepped through the deep snow and stopped next to her. “I made a wrong turn.”

  “Where were you headed?” Her neighbor ran a yurt touring company on his ranch. He’d converted his eight bedroom house into a bed-and-breakfast. Maybe he was trying to find it.

  “A friend of mine has a cabin near here.”

  She looked through the snow at his truck. There was no one else inside. “Who?”

  “Julio Chavis.”

  The name sounded familiar, but she hesitated. Gandalf stomped his foot and snorted, eager to be moving in the heavy snow.

  “It’s his vacation home,” the man said.

  Savanna patted Gandalf’s neck as he stomped and snorted again. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes.”

  Why would anyone come up here to be alone? Recalling her conversation with her mother, she realized that may not be so unusual. Besides, she knew of a man who owned a cabin two miles up the highway from her road and across from the yurt touring lodge. She’d never met him. He rarely came here; at least that’s what Hurley over at Lost Trail Lodge had told her.

  Reluctant to open her home to a stranger, she looked at his truck again, buried to the top of the wheel wells in snow. He wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

  “Do you have a plow?” he asked.

  Returning her gaze to him with a frown. “No. I hire out for that.”

  “When will you hire out to plow it this time?”

  He seemed as annoyed as her, wishing she’d have kept her road passable.

  “I can have someone out here in the morning.”

  He nodded with a grim line to his mouth. He wasn’t keen on being stuck here. He’d rather be at his friend’s cabin. Alone. She could relate to that.

  In her silence, he twisted to look back through the falling snow. “It wasn’t as deep through the trees. Should have turned around in there.” He tipped his face up to the sky. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  “Common for this area.” She contemplated him some more, Gandalf shifting his feet with another snort. Well, there was nothing else that could be done. “Get your things and climb on. You can stay here for the night.”

  “Maybe if I could use your phone.”

  And do what? Call a cab? “No one will come out here tonight, not in this storm.”

  After a few seconds of internal debate, he went to the truck and retrieved a duffel bag, then turned off the engine and locked the vehicle.

  Rather than take her hand, he grabbed the saddle horn and propelled himself up onto the horse’s back behind her.

  Gandalf pranced through the snow and then leaped into a trot, his gait smooth and belying the deepening snow.

  Turning her head, she asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Korbin Maguire,” he answered. He had a deep, gravelly voice that tickled her senses and caught her off guard. “And you are?”

  Still grappling with her reaction to him, she squinted against snowflakes and said, “Savanna Ivy.” Had his voice changed because of a similar reaction to her?

  “Nice to meet you, Savanna. I’ll thank you in advance for your hospitality.”

  He sounded more professional now, as though he’d checked himself. “Well, I couldn’t leave you out here in this storm.”

  “I would have hiked up to your house. Would have been a workout, but you wouldn’t have had to ride out in this.”

  “Gandalf loves a good ride.” She patted the stallion’s neck.

  “He’s a big horse.”

  “That’s why I bought him. He’s well suited for these mountains.”

  They both had to turn away from a gust of wind that pelted them with snow.

  “How long is this storm supposed to last?” he asked.

  “At least tonight. Another storm’s headed this way after that. A bigger one.”

  They reached the barn.

  “Isn’t this one big enough?” Korbin asked as he dismounted.

  Savanna climbed off after him and led Gandalf through the corral gate. Korbin closed that while she opened the barn door. When they were all inside, Korbin shut the door. Instant relief from the billowing snow made Savanna sigh. Other horses nickered and snorted and moved in their stalls with the new activity. During the day, their outer doors were opened to individual corrals with enough room to move around.

  While she pulled off Gandalf’s saddle, Korbin surveyed the barn. It was a nice barn. Savanna would make no fuss over that. Money had not been a factor when she’d built it. If she was going to have horses in this climate, they would be safe and comfortable.

  “Where’s the spa?” Korbin teased, grinning.

  And oh, what a hot grin that was. Savanna stopped brushing Gandalf to stare. She had noticed how in-shape he was back on the road, but he’d removed his hat and unzipped his jacket and she could see more of his face. What had begun with the sound of his voice now sparked into a tickling sensation.

  This was how she’d fallen for her last two boyfriends. That initial attraction. Masculine, handsome face. Eyes she could melt into. Then letting her guard down. Trusting a little too much.

  Snapping out of her trance, she looked around at the other five stalls, heads of varying colors poking out to observe them. Just because he was handsome didn’t mean he was worth exploring. She had to get better at that—not letting her guard down too soon.

  Turning back to Gandalf, she finished grooming him, ever aware of Korbin. He’d sensed her reaction, and it wasn’t to his joke about spas. He said no more.

  Going to a cabinet at the back of the stable, she reached into a basket of fresh carrots she kept there and took out two. Korbin waited at the stall, watching her feed the horse the treat.

  “What do you do?” she asked. If they were going to be spending the night together, they might as well get acquainted.

  When he didn’t immediately answer, her wariness sprang up. She looked at him.

  “I’m a computer scientist,” he said. “Currently between jobs.”

  Why had he hesitated? Had he contemplated lying? Was he lying? Why would he lie about being a computer scientist?

  “What kind of job did you have?”

  He seemed to think first before he said, “Systems engineering.”

  “Were you fired?”

  “No. I left. I’m taking a break for a while.”

  Why did he feel he needed a break? The same reason he needed to spend time alone in remote wilderness? There was something about him that made her wary, the way he hesitated before answering her, why he was alone up here.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  She be
gan to understand his earlier hesitation. How much was she willing to reveal about herself to him?

  Savanna petted Gandalf’s nose, who had finished his treat and stuck his head out of his stall. His soft nose and the loving blinks of his big brown eyes soothed her. “Nothing right now.” She paused. “I was a motivational speaker, but not anymore.”

  “Taking a sabbatical, too?”

  Despite his charmed grin, she didn’t respond. That was a topic she did not feel like discussing. She’d only recently decided to stop speaking about positive thinking. And she’d told no one in her family about that. Jazzing others up with positive energy used to give her positive energy, and then she realized this was who she was. A loner. Not the interesting person she personified in front of an audience.

  Leaning forward to kiss the soft fur of Gandalf’s nose, she turned and walked for the exit.

  Korbin picked up his bag and followed. Back out in the snowstorm, Savanna was aware of his glances as they trekked through the deep snow. Then his attention shifted to the house. Big, golden logs jutted out at the corners, except at one end, where the turret rose like a sentinel. Made of black gneiss like the chimney, the color and texture contrasted beautifully with the logs.

  Korbin closed the door behind him, taking in the open walk-in closet filled with winter gear. “You must have been some motivational speaker.”

  When would he get the hint that she wasn’t going to talk about that? She hung up her jacket and removed her boots and snow pants. Now down to her base layer, she ignored Korbin’s appreciation of the close-fitting material, a floral-patterned white thermal top and matching tights.

  He was in wet jeans.

  “Would you like me to dry those?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  She looked up at him watching her. “I’ll show you to the guest room.” Turning, she led him into the living room, seeing how he missed no detail. Upstairs, they passed her loft and went down a hallway.

  At the first door, across from a full bathroom, she stopped and flipped on the light switch. Lamps on each side of the bed illuminated tan walls and the cushiony white comforter with soft green throw pillows. Sheer drapes hung parted over two windows on each side and a dark square iron decoration in a sun-like shape hung above the bed.

  When he nodded his thanks with one more sweep of his gaze over her thermal underwear, she closed the door and went to her master bedroom, this one bigger. Although the walls were the same color, a painting of a mountain meadow in fall hung above a king-size bed covered in reds and yellows, and there was a balcony where she planned to do a lot of reading in the summer. Going into her oversize walk-in closet, she changed into some spandex pants and a flannel shirt. Leaving her room, she passed his still-closed door and went back downstairs to wait for him, unable to explain her sense of foreboding.

  In her large kitchen, she went to the phone stand and looked up her neighbor’s number. There was no cell service up here.

  Holding the phone to her ear, she walked into the living room while the phone rang a few times. Then Hurley answered.

  “It’s Savanna.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” At least, she hoped so. She glanced up to the railing that exposed the loft and hallway and the still-closed guest room door.

  “It’s snowing pretty good out there,” he said.

  “Yes. A man got stuck on my road. He told me that he was on his way to that cabin across from your lodge. Have you heard anything about that?”

  “No. Chavis keeps to himself. I’ve only met him a few times. Why? Are you worried?”

  “No.” She relaxed a little. Korbin had said the man’s name was Chavis.

  “How did he end up at your place?”

  “He took a wrong turn and got stuck on my road. I didn’t have it plowed.”

  “I bet you aren’t happy about that.”

  Hurley knew her well enough to know she liked her isolation. Most people who lived up here did. They weren’t city folks.

  “I’ll manage.” She looked out the gabled window. Heavy snow falling under outdoor lights didn’t have the comfort value it had before she spotted the truck on her road.

  “You sure you’re okay? Robert and I can ride over on snowmobiles. You can stay the night here.”

  “No.” Savanna felt trapped in other people’s houses, and she’d especially feel that way now. “I’ll be all right.”

  “If you’re sure...”

  “I’m sure. He’s harmless enough.”

  “All right, then. I’ll call Mike and have him out there first thing tomorrow morning to plow your road.”

  “You’re too good to me.”

  “I’m a phone call away, Savanna.”

  She smiled. “I know. Thanks, Hurley.” He was about ten years older than her and married to a sweet woman who cooked with the skill of an executive chef.

  Hanging up the phone, she put the handset down on a side table next to the sofa. Straightening, she turned and her body jolted. Korbin stood there. She hadn’t heard him come down the stairs.

  He’d changed into a long-sleeved soft-gray henley and distressed denim jeans. His feet were bare. Back up at his face, she was drawn into his ghost-gray eyes. Messy, thick black hair was cut to about an inch and a half, and stubble peppered his jaw. He had an unnerving way about him. More than his size, an eerie mystery shrouded him.

  “Feel better now that you’ve checked up on me?” he asked.

  Was he insulted? No. She saw that he was teasing her.

  “I promise I won’t bite,” he said.

  “Okay, but I might.” She smiled but the message was clear. She would bite if he got out of line.

  Although he didn’t smile or grin, his eyes showed his humor—or was that shrewdness? “Then we’re both safe.”

  She went to the stereo. Shutting that off, she turned on the television. The channel was set to a local station. The news.

  Korbin appeared, walking slowly, observing as he had before, missing no detail. He picked up the remote from where she’d set it on a side table.

  “Do you mind?” he asked.

  She shook her head and he changed the channel to something on the wilderness of China. She sat down on a white leather chair, debating whether she should call Hurley back and ask him to come pick this man up and take him to the lodge.

  “What’s a young, beautiful woman like you doing living in the mountains all alone?” He sat on the other leather chair. “What are you? Twenty?”

  “Thirty-three. You?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Is this where we get to know each other?” he asked, now with a slight grin.

  She didn’t think he was flirting, just keeping it light. “I’ve never had a stranger in my house before.”

  “I live in Denver. I bought a house in Montana, but I don’t go there much.”

  Two houses? Why Montana? And why didn’t he go there much? “Not married?”

  “Not anymore.” His terse answer and the dousing of any sign of humor alerted her to something amiss. With his arms on the rests, he tapped his palm against one in agitation.

  She didn’t push him further. She understood the need to avoid those types of subjects. “Are you from Montana?”

  “No. I grew up in North Carolina.”

  Work must have brought him to Colorado. She suspected the house in Montana had something to do with the woman he’d married.

  “Your family lives there?” she asked.

  “My parents. I’m an only child.” He looked at the television but she could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the program.

  “What’s it like being an only child?” Savanna asked. “I have seven brothers and sisters.”
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br />   His brow raised and he whistled, his mood lifting.

  “It’s a miracle any of us got any attention growing up.”

  “How do families manage with that many kids?” he asked.

  Delighted that he didn’t recognize her name, Savanna almost didn’t tell him. “Jackson Ivy is my dad. They managed just fine.”

  “Jackson Ivy?”

  He seriously did not know her father? Savanna’s jaw dropped open as she gaped at him. “You don’t know who Jackson Ivy is?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “Well, if you watch any movies you should.” But then again, why should he? Why did anyone have to care about the producer of a movie they watched?

  “He’s an actor?”

  Savanna started laughing. “No. He’s a movie producer. Did you see The Last Planet?”

  “No, but I’ve heard of it. That’s your dad?”

  She laughed again, softer now. “Yes.”

  “Your parents live in a mansion in California. I caught a documentary about that once.” He stared at her as though she were an alien now.

  “Changes the dynamics, doesn’t it?” Although she joked, she was actually quite serious. All of her brothers and sisters dealt with this in one way or another.

  He only continued to stare at her.

  Savanna began to feel uncomfortable. What was he thinking? That he’d struck gold? If he owned two homes he had to have money. She didn’t know what computer engineers made but it must be decent.

  “My dad founded Maguire Mercantile,” he finally said.

  Stunned, Savanna stared back at him while the significance of that sank in. Maguire Mercantile was a Fortune 500 company, a well-known leader in ranch and farm supplies, but their Maguire outerwear was popular with anyone. Mountaineers. Skiers. School kids. You name it. They were experts at keeping people warm and dry.

  “Wow,” Savanna breathed. “Your dad might be richer than mine.”

  His deep laughter made her laugh with him, and then she became aware of other things. His big body relaxed in her white chair, legs open, broad shoulders and strong arms. A giant package of yum right here in her living room.