Arctic Christmas Ambush

by Sherri Shackelford

  He was too stubborn. “Don’t go too far.”

  “Don’t shoot me,” he replied, gesturing toward the shotgun. “I’ll keep my hands up when I approach. That way, you’ll know it’s me.”

  She appreciated the extra precaution, but there was no need. She’d recognize him anywhere. In town, she could spot him from two blocks away. He had a certain purposeful intent in his walk. A confident, distinctive way of holding himself.

  “Be, uh...” The words clogged in her throat.

  Shutting down the pain of one loss was going to be hard enough. She didn’t want to face another.

  “I’ll be careful,” he said.

  The look in his expressive blue eyes might have been regret.

  She wasn’t stupid. This was her cue. This was her chance to say something—to start mending the rift between them.

  No words came. Why expose an old wound? They were wrong for each other. She had secrets to protect and keeping them from Shane had drained the life from her. He was relentless. He’d sensed a snag in the fabric of her life, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he pulled the thread. She refused to let that happen. Anyone who knew about her past was in danger.

  “How long will you be gone?” was all she managed to say.

  “I’m not sure.” He paused, his gaze intense, and she shrank away from his scrutiny. “Keep trying to reach Jeff,” he continued. “Check your phone for bars, as well. The mountains can be tricky. If I don’t come back, don’t come looking for me. There’s food and blankets. You’ve got enough supplies to wait out the storm. Jeff is smart. If he doesn’t hear from us, he’ll send someone from the resort out looking.”

  If anyone was crazy enough to go out in this storm, that person was most likely from Alaska. Though weather this bad was rare, it was not unheard-of. Not to mention the unpredictability. Blizzards that were supposed to bury towns petered out, and storms that were supposed to blow over exploded into bomb cyclones. For all they knew, this whole thing might be over in another hour.

  “If you’re determined to put yourself in harm’s way—” she pinched off the gloves he’d placed on her hands earlier “—you’ll need these.”

  After reluctantly conceding the point, he rummaged around in the back seat once more. “Here’s a blanket. This should help keep you warm.”

  “It’s not too late to reconsider,” she blurted, immediately regretting the lapse.

  People did what they wanted to do. He wasn’t going to stick around just because she asked.

  “I need to get my bearings,” he said. “If we’re sitting in the middle of the road, I’ll have to put out reflectors when the storm breaks. I don’t want to survive this only to be crushed by a snowplow.”

  He had a point, but he was still putting himself at risk.

  While she recognized any sense of security that she felt in the truck was false, the idea of separating had her panicked. They were less than half a football field away from the house, but it might as well have been a mile. There was nothing but a sea of white surrounding them. There was no telling who was hiding in that whiteout.

  “I mean it,” Shane said, his voice low and firm. “If I don’t come back, don’t come looking for me.”

  She gave a mock salute. “Got it, Sergeant Capital T Taylor.”

  She was already embarrassed that she’d asked him to stay. There was no point in further humiliating herself.

  A shadow she didn’t understand passed through his eyes. “Keep trying to reach Jeff.”

  She nodded. “I will.”

  The door opened with a shock of frigid air and churning snowflakes before he slammed it once more, entombing her in silence. If she had to be stranded with someone, she was grateful it was Shane.

  He wasn’t simply a part of Kodiak Springs, though he was certainly an integral member of the town. He was a part of the fabric of the land itself. He carried himself naturally in any situation, and she’d never seen him flustered. He managed the bar fights on Friday nights with the same calm, steady demeanor he used when meeting with the bereaved.

  Since the town had such a small law enforcement presence, he was often tasked with being counselor and social worker to people who were also his neighbors and friends. He remained steadfast throughout it all. There had been times when she was jealous of his ability to navigate such disparate situations.

  He never seemed ill at ease, while she constantly battled against feeling out of place. The only time she felt truly at home was when she was working with animals. She understood their behaviors. A horse that was in pain didn’t try to hide it. A dog that was happy to see its owner didn’t try to temper his joy. An angry bear protected her cubs. There was no subterfuge with animals. No guesswork involved.

  The radio crackled.

  “Call...snow...resort...highway.”

  Her pulse jumped.

  She frantically snatched the microphone and depressed the button. “Jeff, it’s Dr. Riley. We’re stranded on the road at the bottom of Walt’s driveway.” The words tumbled from her lips and she paused to catch a breath. “Someone shot at us. When it’s clear, send the snowplow from the resort.”

  Releasing the button, she waited for a reply.

  “Wait...you are...out.”

  “Can you repeat that?”

  “Order...delayed.”

  She made a sound of frustration. There was no way of knowing whether or not he’d heard anything she’d said.

  Fumbling for her phone, she checked the bars for the umpteenth time. Still nothing. Her leg throbbed and she flashed back to the shooting. Even with snow looming in the forecast, when she’d awoken that morning the weather had been beautiful. Clear and crisp and bright enough to blind her. The dark clouds had descended rapidly and she’d felt the first wet flakes on her cheeks before she reached Walt’s. While tending to the pups, she’d lost track of time. Stepping outside once more had been a shock. As long as she’d lived in Alaska, she’d never quite grown accustomed to how quickly conditions changed.

  A gust of wind rattled the truck’s windows, startling her. According to her phone, Shane had been gone for nearly half an hour. What was keeping him?

  She adjusted the shotgun and flexed her fingers. Her hands ached from gripping the chilly gunstock.

  A flash of movement in the side mirror snagged her attention. Shotgun in hand, she whipped around.

  Her breath immediately fogged the glass. She swiped at the moisture and squinted. An enormous bull moose materialized through the whirling snow. He lifted his head and stared at the truck in what appeared to be mocking indifference before turning away.

  Keeping low and still, she tracked his progress for as long as the blowing snow allowed. He was probably thinking, idiot human.

  She checked the time again. Shane’s gear was top-of-the-line, but in this weather, even top-of-the-line had its limits.

  A soft, glowing light appeared through the haze. Her gaze sharpened. She tucked her finger into the trigger of the shotgun and squinted. A headlight, maybe? She couldn’t tell. She scrunched lower in the seat and rested the barrel of the gun on the opposite window.

  The light twinkled and disappeared.

  There was a low rumbling, but she couldn’t tell which direction the noise was coming from. She pressed one hand against her chest in an effort to slow her thumping heart.

  If the killer had discovered her, she was as good as dead. There was nowhere else to run.

  FIVE

  Shane tapped on the window to get Kara’s attention.

  Good thing he did, too. The moment she heard the knocking, she shrieked and nearly dropped the gun.

  He cracked the door. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I think I saw something. A light.”

  “It was me,” he said, reaching for the rear door handle. “I brought you something.”

&n
bsp; Sitka and Zoya automatically leaped into the back seat. He lifted the box he’d attached to the back of Walt’s snow machine and slid it in beside them.

  Kara exclaimed and reached over the seat.

  When she turned back to him, her expression was stormy.

  “You went back there.”

  He’d only agreed to her plan to put more distance between her and the killer before he made his move. As he stared into her butterscotch eyes, he saw the exact moment when she realized it too. He winced away from the betrayal in her gaze.

  He was paid to protect his town, and that’s what he planned on doing. “The killer was long gone. Didn’t even find tracks. Not in this wind. I locked up the house and turned off the propane. Loaded up the puppies. Walt’s snow machine was gassed up with keys in the ignition. There might be a way out tomorrow once the snow clears. The unit from Major Crimes won’t be here until late tonight, or maybe even tomorrow.”

  Her eyes welled up and he silently chastised himself. He never seemed to get things right with Kara.

  She turned around and hitched herself over the seat.

  Leaning down, she reached into the box of puppies. “Thanks for getting them.”

  There were five squirming, soft bodies in the box. They’d been sleeping when he gathered them up.

  The ground beneath his feet vibrated. He took out his binoculars and aimed them in the distance. He’d been able to calculate where they were in reference to the road. All he could see through the blowing snow was a faint glimmer from a pair of lights.

  “We’ve got company,” he said. “I see lights on the road coming from the resort. Listen, I want to keep what happened to Walt quiet for the time being. Just until the storm clears. There’s nowhere to go from here, no shelter for miles outside of Walt’s house and the resort. There’s a good chance that’s where the killer is staying. What better place to blend in if you’re from out of town?”

  Kara set the safety on the shotgun. “What if that’s the killer coming toward us? What then?”

  “It’s not. Headlights are too high. The engine is too loud. It’s a snowplow.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We don’t have much time. I’ll flag them down. We’ll tell the driver you had a snow machine accident.”

  He straightened and slammed the door. Icy pellets peppered his cheeks.

  With his flashlight aimed at the snowplow, Shane raised his free hand and waved his arm back and forth to signal the driver.

  While he was fairly certain the truck had been sent for them, he wasn’t taking any chances. Not with visibility this limited.

  The headlights shimmered as the truck came to a halt. The door opened and a man dressed in a snowsuit and ski mask leaped from the tall seat. Shane lowered his hand to his utility belt and let his fingers hover above his weapon. There was no harm in being too careful.

  The driver started toward them. His arms worked and he heaved his jutted elbows with each step through the growing snow drifts. There was nothing menacing in that approach.

  When the driver reached Shane, he splayed his arms. “Hey bro, what kind of trouble did you get into now?”

  Following a brief flash of shock, Shane’s posture relaxed, and he lowered his flashlight to his side. “Didn’t expect to see you driving a snowplow.”

  His stepbrother, Graham, pushed his face mask up to rest in a crumple of wool on his forehead. “I’m rusty, that’s for sure. But when I heard my big brother needed help, I wasn’t going to send anyone else. Especially with an avalanche warning in effect. This time you owe me.”

  Their relationship was amiable if not warm. Nineteen years ago, Shane had still been grieving his mom’s death when his dad brought home a new wife and a new little brother. Only fifteen at the time, Shane hadn’t been inclined to roll out the welcome mat. The fact that his dad had been a different man for his new family hadn’t helped.

  Though Shane recognized none of that was Graham’s fault, there were times when he grew tired of keeping the old family secrets. Growing up, the abuse in the house had been kept behind closed doors. In public, they were a loving family. Away from prying eyes, things were different. Too young to intercede, Shane had tried to protect his mom anyway. His feeble actions had only made matters worse. He hadn’t been able to protect his mother then or when she succumbed to cancer.

  Two weeks after the funeral, his dad had quit drinking and things improved. Losing his wife had broken something loose inside him. But for Shane, it was too little, too late. Why hadn’t his father had that epiphany before Shane’s mother was gone? When she needed the love and kindness. His dad had died suddenly eighteen months ago. Heart attack. His second wife, Graham’s mom, had promptly moved to California and Graham had taken over the resort. Shane sold him the twenty-five percent share he’d received from the estate and never looked back.

  Graham crouched, planted his hands on his thighs and peered around Shane. “You got someone else with you?”

  “Yeah,” Shane replied. “The veterinarian, Doc Riley. She was transporting some sled dogs when she ran into trouble. Hurt her leg. Now the road’s out.”

  “Well that explains why you’re stuck in a blizzard and not sitting by the fire at Walt’s.”

  “I thought maybe that surgeon staying at the resort could take a look in the meantime,” Shane said.

  “Dr. Lipmann? He’s the best. You’d have to wait six months to get an appointment if you lived in New York.”

  “The sooner we get her stitched up the better.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Got a pretty good gash.”

  “Well don’t stand around.” Graham pivoted and brought his arm up in an arc. “I’m freezing my nose off. Let’s get out of here ASAP.”

  Shane circled around to the passenger side and opened the door. Kara swiveled in her seat and attempted to stand.

  “Let me help,” Shane said. “We’ll have you warmed up in no time.”

  She turned her gaze toward where the house sat on the hill. Though nothing was visible through the snow, tears pooled in her eyes. Doubt ate away at him like acid. The resort was the best place to remain anonymous in a small town like Kodiak Springs. Which meant there was a chance Walt’s murderer would be there, blending in with the guests. Keep everything looking normal.

  Shane’s arms tightened around Kara. If his intuition was correct, then he wasn’t leaving her side.

  Because there was a chance one of the resort guests had just committed murder.

  * * *

  Kara flipped off the covers and limped to the window. She’d called her assistant and informed her that she’d be out for a few days. Thankfully the clinic was slow around the holidays. She only had a few appointments she needed to cancel.

  She gripped the oyster-gray silk curtains and curled her toes in the lush pile carpeting. Everything about the resort was sumptuous to the point of decadence. They’d given her a suite with a living room, dining area and separate bedroom.

  This was no ordinary resort with an overly chlorinated pool and free continental breakfast. This was an exclusive, boutique resort for the wealthy. Carrera marble flanked the soaker tub and the spacious suites were dressed in cool, calming tones. The lobby featured sand-hued drapes and dove-gray furniture scattered in carefully considered groupings. The restaurant was gourmet, and breakfast was delivered with a linen napkin.

  In the summer there were ATV tours and glacier dog sledding. Local guides took the wealthy on wildlife viewing adventures and kayaking trips. There was fishing and hiking and rock climbing.

  From early December through March, the resort catered to a different, less adventurous crowd. Water from the hot springs was piped to an indoor pool. Some people thought the minerals in the water had healing properties. Kara figured it was the warmth that soothed their arthritis and gout, not the minerals.

  The wealthy who came for
the healing properties weren’t concerned with science. Staying at the resort was a chance to visit the spa and enjoy the northern lights. They lazed in the waters while discreet waiters delivered drinks in crystal glasses.

  Kara’s skin itched as though she was allergic to the place.

  Staying at the resort made her jittery. People who’d grown up poor always had certain “tells” that gave away their upbringing. She didn’t have amusing anecdotes from her trips abroad to chat about over cocktails. Half the time, she didn’t even understand the menu at the restaurant. The last time she’d eaten there, she’d pretended to text someone while she searched for the meaning of béchamel.

  People no longer looked down on her and she liked it that way. That’s why she preferred to stay in her lane. She was just a middle-class woman with a good job and piles of student loans.

  She tested her leg and found it could bear weight. The whip-thin surgeon had been efficient and kind. He’d managed to drum up supplies and stitched her leg with neat precision.

  When Shane told the doctor that she’d been injured in a snow machine accident, he’d raised a bushy gray eyebrow in skeptical acknowledgement. He’d known they were lying but he hadn’t given them away. A consummate professional, he’d only resumed his work.

  A quiet knock sounded, and she turned away from the blizzard still raging outside.

  Kara limped to the door. “Who is it?”

  “Shane.”

  Hearing his voice eased her tension. She opened the door and discovered he was wearing his parka and his boots still had fresh snow on the toes.

  “The dogs are fine,” he said without preamble. “They’re tucked away in the kennels with the resort sled dogs.”

  They were in good hands. The kennels at the resort were nicer than most of the houses in town, and she knew the caretaker, Trisha, well.

  Shane wadded his fur-lined hat in his hands, realized what he was doing and tossed it onto a chair. “There’s nothing else I can do. The Bureau of Investigations isn’t expecting a break in the weather anytime soon.”