The Snowman Killer (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Wendy Meadows

  “You got it, Pete,” Sarah promised. “And hey, thanks for all of your help. I can't put into words how much... I miss you.”

  “Don't try,” Peter told Sarah in a soft voice. “Listen, Cat, let's focus on this case. The killer I'm after is possibly the same girl who’s after you. I can't fly up to polar bear land, which leaves this case directly in your lap. You're flying solo – well, with Detective Spencer. The guy is a good cop, so trust him, okay?”

  “How do you know that?” Sarah asked.

  “I checked into Spencer. He has an impressive record including sustaining a few gunshot wounds. Guy has been shot four times, nearly died twice,” Peter explained. “Listen, I’d better go. I need to take a walk on the beach. Call me when you get the results of the prints. I'll fax over Kaley Wilson's photo as soon as I get back to the station.”

  “I will... and thanks,” Sarah said in a voice that clearly told Conrad how much she truly missed her old friend. “Bye, Pete.”

  “Bye, Cat.”

  Sarah put her cell phone away. Conrad had his back to her. “Shot four times?” she asked.

  “Part of the job,” Conrad responded in a humble voice. “Hey, where’s Amanda with the coffee?”

  Sarah studied Conrad. The man was a mystery to her. “I need to call Rhonda's home,” she told him. “I can't wait until tomorrow to see if Kaley Wilson is the girl who bought the leather jackets.”

  “Okay,” Conrad agreed. Turning away from the window, he looked into Sarah's beautiful face. He saw pain, hurt and sadness tearing the woman's heart apart. “I'll go see where Amanda and—”

  Before Conrad could finish his sentence Andrew burst into the office. “Bad news, Detective,” he said, breathing hard, “Rhonda Nettles was attacked outside of O'Mally's while walking to her truck tonight.”

  Amanda pushed past Andrew. “We need to get to the hospital,” she told Sarah.

  “Let's go,” Sarah said and snatched her coat off the metal coat rack standing in the corner of the office.

  Chapter Twelve

  Forty-five minutes later, after painfully driving less than fifteen miles per hour through a storm that was close to transforming into a raging blizzard, Sarah reached the hospital with Amanda. She parked in a snow-covered parking lot designated as 'Guest Parking' and waited until Conrad pulled in beside her in his truck. “Now why would Kaley attack Rhonda... if it was Kaley, that is?” Sarah asked Amanda.

  “I don't know,” Amanda answered, staring through the windshield into the snowstorm. “If a plow doesn't run by soon, we're not going to be able to drive back to the police station,” she observed.

  Sarah agreed. “Come on, let's get into the hospital,” she said in a worried voice.

  Getting out of her car, Sarah looked toward the hospital. It was a simple one-story brick building that had once been home to an elementary school. Snow-covered woods stood to the north, east and west side of the hospital. Only the south side had been cleared for parking, patient pick-up and drop-off, ambulances and delivery trucks. Sarah felt the darkness of the woods leering at her. The snow, Sarah... when the snow stops falling... when the snow stops falling…

  “Let's hurry,” Amanda said, making her way to Sarah and taking her hand.

  Sarah saw Conrad get out of his truck. Andrew didn't follow. “Where is Andrew?” she called out over the wind.

  “I sent him to O'Mally's,” Conrad yelled, blocking the snow from his face with his right hand. “Let's get inside.”

  Feeling like a dark shadow had suddenly wrapped its hideous claws around her snowy little town, Sarah shivered and hurried toward the front entrance. She stepped through the sliding glass door into a modest lobby covered with white tile then immediately turned around and looked outside, suddenly expecting to see a snowman wearing a leather jacket and chewing a peppermint candy cane. “What is it?” Amanda asked, shaking the snow off her coat.

  “Nothing,” Sarah said and brushed the snow off her own coat.

  Conrad examined the lobby. The room was medium-sized. The north wall was lined with brown leather sitting chairs separated by two coffee tables holding old magazines. An information desk stood against the east wall. A set of wooden double doors rested on the west wall. Beyond the double doors stood a hallway that twisted into the hospital. “No welcome party,” Conrad said and pointed to the empty information desk.

  “I'm sure we won't need a map,” Amanda told Conrad and walked toward the set of double doors.

  “It doesn't make sense that no one’s at the info desk,” Sarah said to Conrad as they followed behind Amanda.

  “I know,” Conrad agreed. “It could—” He stopped mid-sentence as the cell phone in his coat pocket rang. He pulled the phone out and checked the incoming caller. “Andrew,” he told Sarah and answered the call. “Yes, Andrew... a witness? Mr. O'Mally himself? Sure, I'll get back to the station and talk to him as soon as possible. Please tell Mr. O'Mally we appreciate his cooperation.”

  Sarah watched Conrad put away his cell phone and began to ask a question when a thud struck the sliding glass doors behind them. Spinning around, Sarah saw the remains of a snowball sliding down the glass. With her heart racing, she watched as a second snowball struck the doors. Conrad pulled out his gun. “We have a visitor,” he said in a calm voice.

  Sarah opened her purse and followed suit, pulling out her own gun. “Amanda, go to Rhonda and stay there,” she ordered.

  Amanda didn't argue. She hurried through the double doors and vanished. “Easy now,” Conrad said and cautiously eased toward the sliding glass doors as a third snowball smashed against the glass.

  “Wait,” Sarah said and grabbed Conrad's arm.

  “What?”

  Sarah bit down on her lower lip. “Kaley Wilson could have attacked Rhonda in order to draw us to the hospital, but that doesn't make sense. In my book, the killer attacks his victims at their residence. He never... I mean, Gary Hardcastle never draws his victims into public places. He stalks them in public places, but the victim never knows when he is watching.”

  “Gary Hardcastle, the name of your killer in the book?”

  “Yes,” Sarah said, staring at the sliding glass doors. “Something isn't right here, Conrad. Watch my back. I need to check out the snowballs.”

  “Okay.”

  Sarah eased toward the sliding glass doors, drew in a deep breath, put her gun at the ready, and stepped outside. Squinting into the snow and the wind, she struggled to spot Kaley Wilson, or anyone at all. Only seeing darkness, however, she shook her head, squatted down, scooped up the remains of a splattered snowball and walked back inside. “Hold my gun,” she told Conrad.

  Conrad took Sarah's gun and waited as she examined the snow in her hands. “Here's a rock... but... there's no glitter... they must not have thrown it very hard since it didn’t break the glass,” Sarah said in a puzzled voice as she examined the snow in her gloved hands with brilliant eyes.

  Conrad leaned down and looked into Sarah's hands. He didn't spot any glitter, either. “We have a different attacker.”

  “Could be.” Sarah brushed the snow off of her gloves and took her gun back from Conrad. “Detective, please stay in the lobby. I'm going to talk with Rhonda.”

  “Hurry,” Conrad told her.

  Sarah nodded, put her gun away, and ran off toward the double doors. Pushing them open, she entered a long, carpeted hallway littered with bad art. Ignoring the art, Sarah focused on her thoughts as she made her way toward the emergency room. A few minutes later, she stepped into a small, cramped room that smelled like alcohol and disinfectant. The room was home to a single bed, a heart monitor and a sitting chair. Amanda was standing next to the bed, looking down at Rhonda. “How is she?” Sarah asked.

  “I'm okay,” Rhonda said, sounding healthy but scared.

  Sarah walked to the hospital bed and looked down. Rhonda looked up at her with a face that appeared to have no wounds. The girl was still wearing her work coat, and for all intents and purposes, she a
ppeared fine. “I'm sorry, Rhonda, but Andrew made it seem like you were hurt more than what you appear to be?” Sarah asked.

  Rhonda lifted her right hand and pointed to her back. “Someone ran up behind me and hit me in the back with something hard. I guess I might have been hurt except that I was wearing a lot of cushioning under my coat.”

  “Thank goodness,” Sarah said.

  “Not really,” Amanda told Sarah, concerned. “Rhonda, tell Sarah what your attacker said.”

  Rhonda stared up at Sarah with frightened eyes. “The person who hit me was a guy... he warned me to never talk to you again or else he would kill me.”

  “Any idea who the person was?” Sarah asked.

  “His voice was muffled, but I knew who it was,” Rhonda said in a voice that suddenly became sad. Tears began falling from her eyes. “Sarah, why would Officer Edwin's son hurt me? We work together at O'Mally's. And why would he make his voice try to sound girlish?”

  “Office Edwin's son?” Sarah asked.

  Rhonda nodded and wiped at her tears. “Philip was always kinda mean, but I never thought he would hurt me. And why would he care if he saw me talking to you?”

  “I think I know,” Sarah said and wiped Rhonda's tears away. “And I think I know why Mr. O'Mally is suddenly willing to perform his civic duty, too. Listen, you rest. Amanda is going to stay with you.”

  “My mother will be here soon. I'll be fine.”

  “Amanda will stay with you,” Sarah repeated in a firm, loving voice. “You're a very brave young woman. When you get better, Amanda and I are going to take you out for a girl's night out dinner.”

  Amanda smiled. “Sure we will,” she promised Rhonda.

  “Stay with her,” Sarah told Amanda and patted her friend's shoulder. “Hopefully before daybreak, this case will be solved.”

  Amanda watched Sarah walk away. “Hopefully when morning arrives you will still be alive,” she whispered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sarah returned to the lobby and met Conrad, who was still standing guard near the information desk. “Call Andrew for me, please.”

  Conrad put his gun down on the desk, pulled out his cell phone, and made the call. “Here you go.”

  Sarah took the cell phone. “Andrew... Yes, it's Sarah... I need Officer Edwin's phone number... Please, no questions,” Sarah said, studying the sliding doors. She saw a minor crack that had not been there before. “More snowballs?” she asked Conrad.

  “Two more,” Conrad confirmed.

  “What?... No, I don't have a pen or piece of paper... Just tell me the number and I'll remember... Okay... yes... thanks, Andrew.” Sarah ended the call and dialed Officer Edwin's cell phone number. Office Edwin picked up on the second ring. “Officer Edwin, this is Sarah Garland… No, everything is not fine, I'm afraid. Officer Edwin, Rhonda Nettles was attacked tonight... You heard?... I questioned Rhonda a few minutes ago and she said it was your son who attacked her. Where is your son?”

  Conrad stared at Sarah. Obviously, the woman had a plan, but he wasn't sure what her plan was. Sarah nodded her eyes toward the sliding glass doors. “Get ready to go outside,” she whispered to Conrad. “What's that, Officer Edwin?... Your son is at a friend's house studying? What friend? I see... Call and confirm. But before you do, can I ask if your son has a cell phone? He does… good. Then do me a favor, call your son's cell phone, repeatedly, until I call you and tell you to stop... Why?... Officer Edwin, I believe your son is involved in something very dangerous. Please, do as I ask and—”

  Conrad took the cell phone away from Sarah. “Officer Edwin, this is Detective Spencer. We have a killer loose in town and your son might be helping this killer. Now do as we ask or hang up your badge... Good.” Conrad shoved the cell phone back into his pocket. “We don't have time to be nice.”

  “Edwin is a decent man who is married to a sweet woman,” Sarah snapped at Conrad. “You had no right to speak to him like that.”

  “Hate me later,” Conrad told her. “We’d better get outside and listen to see if we can hear a cell phone start ringing. That is your plan, right?”

  “Yes, it is,” Sarah said. “Stay at the ready. This kid attacked Rhonda. He's proved he's dangerous.”

  “Why the snowballs?” Conrad asked as he picked up his gun.

  Sarah looked Conrad deep in his eyes. “The kid outside isn't part of my book. He's playing out of character. I think I know why, too. Let's go.”

  “Stay alert,” Conrad warned Sarah and followed her outside into the snow.

  Sarah lowered her chin and walked toward the snowy tree line resting across the parking lot. “Philip,” she yelled into the snow, hoping to be heard above the icy, howling winds, “we know it was you who attacked Rhonda. Stop throwing snowballs and come out and talk with us.”

  Conrad walked past Sarah with his gun aimed at the dark snow-covered trees. Lowering his eyes down to the snow, he spotted a set of boot prints. “I'm going to track this kid down.”

  Sarah examined the snowy trees. “Philip, let us help you. We know you're scared,” she yelled. “I called your dad and informed him that you attacked Rhonda.”

  “You what?” a furious voice yelled from behind the trees. And then, faintly, the sound of a ringtone in the form of a country song drifted through the wind into Sarah's ears.

  “That will be your father calling you,” Sarah yelled to Philip.

  “Boy,” Conrad hollered in a loud, stern voice, “you have till the count of three to come out or I'm going to start shooting straight into the trees. I see your boot prints in the snow. If I don't take you out with my first clip, I'll reload and hunt you down.”

  “Let us help you,” Sarah called out. Blocking snow from her eyes, she studied the trees. “Philip, did Kaley betray you? Is that what happened? She used you and then betrayed you? So you attacked Rhonda pretending to be Kaley, and now you're throwing snowballs hoping I'll think it's Kaley as well?”

  “My patience is wearing thin,” Conrad yelled, scanning the trees with his gun.

  Movement caught Sarah's eye. “There,” she said and pointed. Conrad followed Sarah's hand. A shadowy figure stepped out from behind a tree and slowly walked through the snow toward Sarah.

  “Hands in the air,” Conrad said and ran at Philip.

  A young man with a mean face threw his hands up into the air. “You didn't have to call my dad,” he yelled at Sarah in an upset voice. “I had everything under control!”

  Sarah jogged through the snow. When she reached Philip she stopped. “Where is Kaley Wilson?” she asked, continuing to block her eyes from the snow.

  “How would I know?” Philip snapped as Conrad handcuffed his hands behind his back. Dressed only in a tan work coat and a pair of pants, he appeared immune to the icy winds. “She was a waste of my time.”

  Sarah watched Philip’s short blond hair flutter in the wind. “Your father is a good, decent man. How could you betray him?” she asked.

  “My dad is a wimp,” Philip yelled at Sarah. “Someone in my family has to be a man! Kaley promised that she would take me back to Los Angeles with her. Anything is better than this deadbeat town.”

  Conrad slapped Philip in the back of the head. “Show some manners, boy,” he warned. Philip swung his head around and growled at Conrad.

  “Where is Kaley?” Sarah asked, growing impatient.

  “Who cares?” Philip snapped at Sarah. “She dumped me, okay? I helped that girl and she broke up with me.”

  “When did this take place?”

  “After I helped her break into your cabin,” Philip admitted in a voice that came out angry instead of guilty. “She found something in one of the rooms... something on your computer...”

  “Yesterday?” Sarah asked. “Was it yesterday that you broke into my cabin?”

  “No. We broke into your stupid cabin two weeks ago, lady,” Philip snarled. “I've been following Kaley... I watched her build that dumb snowman in your yard and break into your cabin again. I
watched her throw snowballs at your back door... dumb blond.”

  Sarah stared at Philip. “Yet here you are, trying to frame Kaley. Why?”

  “Because I found her journal in the rental cabin she’s living in. She's going to kill you and blame your death on me. And you want to know the kicker?”

  “What?”

  “I'm supposedly going to kill you because I'm obsessed with the books you write... and I hate reading!” Philip yelled in Sarah's face.

  “So you were going to help Kaley kill be before you read her journal, was that it?” Sarah asked.

  Philip leaned his face toward Sarah. “No, I was going to kill Kaley and play the hero, lady. I have her tied up in your cabin. Nobody betrays me, especially some stupid blond.”

  “You are the stupid one,” Conrad informed Philip. “And you're in a deep pile of crap.”

  “So what?” Philip shrugged his shoulders. “My dad will lecture me some, take away my police scanner, and send me to my room. Next week I'll be back at work. The worst that will happen to me is that I’ll have to apologize to Fat Girl Rhonda.”

  “Get him out of here,” Sarah told Conrad in a sickened voice. “I'm going to my cabin.”

  “Not alone you're not,” Conrad warned her.

  “Alone,” Sarah confirmed. “Trust me, okay? I have to go alone.”

  Conrad stared at Sarah through the snow. Her eyes were watery, her face red and frozen, yet she stood, beautiful and brave, even though it was clear that she was frightened. “Okay, Detective Garland... alone.”

  “I'll call you when it's over,” Sarah promised and walked away toward her Subaru. “Oh, the weather outside is frightful...” She began to hum as the icy winds drowned out her voice.

  Sarah eased through the back door of her cabin with her gun drawn and ready to fire. The kitchen light was on. She spotted a pile of rope sitting on the kitchen floor next to a chair and paused. “Kaley?” she called out, closing the back door with her right boot. Silence answered her. “I was very young when I arrested your mother. I was a rookie cop, Kaley. I was only doing my job.”