Cold Conspiracy

by Cindi Myers

  Her voice echoed back to her, followed by ringing silence. A chill wind buffeted her, and she rubbed her shoulders against the cold. Better to get back in the cruiser and wait for Gage to arrive. She turned back toward her vehicle, then froze as a cry reached her—an animal sound that sent an icy jolt through her. Heart hammering, she raced toward the sound. “Nate!” she shouted again.

  The reply was stronger now, a strangled cry for help. She ran faster, slipping and falling on the ice, but picking herself up and charging on. She found him alongside a cabin, hunched over on the ground, his face as pale as the snow around him. “Jamie!”

  “Nate, what happened?” She fell to her knees beside him, then recoiled in horror at the sight of the trap around his foot. The steel teeth had sliced through his thick pack boots and blood stained the snow around him. She swallowed hard. “Who would have something like that out here?”

  “I think it was a booby trap,” he said. “It was covered up pretty well, and it’s attached to the cabin, so that anyone caught in it couldn’t get away.” He indicated the thick chain that ran between the trap and the cabin wall, where it was fastened to an iron ring sunk into one of the logs.

  She forced herself to ignore the blood and her thoughts of what the trap must have done to Nate’s leg, and bent to study the contraption itself. Then she grasped the sides of the trap and pulled hard, but barely managed to move them. “You can’t open it that way,” Nate said. “You have to stand on it. See these pieces?” He indicated ear-shaped metal pieces on either side of the trap’s jaw. “Stand on them and your weight will force the trap open.”

  “All right.” She stood and he scooted back, giving her room to position herself. She straddled the trap, facing him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.

  “It already hurts like the devil,” he said. “You can’t make it worse. Just do it and get it over with.”

  Right. She took a deep breath, then stepped down on first one ear, then the other. The jaws eased open. With a groan, Nate pulled his foot from the trap. Jamie shoved the trap aside and knelt beside him once more. “I should go call an ambulance,” she said. “Will you be okay if I leave you?”

  “I kept waiting for whoever did this to come back.” He lifted a pistol from the ground beside him. “But they didn’t show.” He frowned. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Someone from your office called and said they had had a garbled transmission from you and asked us to check it out.”

  “And you were the lucky one.” His eyes met hers. She wanted to look away but couldn’t, mesmerized by the tenderness behind the pain. She remembered other times when he had looked in her eyes that way, moments when they had trusted each other with secrets, turned to each other for comfort or united in lovemaking. She leaned toward him, drawn by the pull of memories and a longing she hadn’t even realized was in her, to feel that close again.

  “Jamie! Nate! What’s going on?”

  Gage’s shouts yanked her back to the present and she pulled away, then stood and went to meet him. “Someone set a leghold trap beside this cabin and Nate stepped in it,” she said.

  Gage followed her to where Nate sat. He had dragged himself over to lean against the wall of the cabin, a thin trail of blood marking his path. “How are you doing?” Gage asked.

  “The bleeding has almost stopped. My boot is ruined, but it probably kept the trap from destroying my leg.” He grimaced at his mangled boot. “The ankle might be fractured, but it’s not a bad break. It doesn’t hurt as much, now that the pressure of the trap is off.”

  Gage squatted down to get a better look at the trap. “I hope you’re up on your tetanus shots,” he said. “This thing is pretty rusty.”

  “It’s an old trap,” Nate said. “An antique. New ones have smooth jaws, not toothed ones. I seem to remember one of these cabins had some old traps hanging up on the wall. Not this one, but another in this group. Take a look for me, will you?”

  “I will, after we get an ambulance for you,” Gage said.

  “I don’t need an ambulance,” Nate said. “The two of you can get me to one of your vehicles. That will be a lot faster than waiting for an ambulance to come all the way out here—especially since you’ll have to drive halfway back to town to get a cell signal.”

  Gage studied him a moment, then nodded. “All right. I guess we could do that.” He looked around them. “What about whoever did this?”

  “I’d like to get a look inside this cabin,” Nate said. “The tracks in the snow indicate someone has been here recently. Maybe someone is squatting here and they set the trap to discourage anyone investigating too closely.”

  “Then they’re not very bright,” Gage said. “They had to know someone getting hurt in a trap like that would bring the law down on this place.”

  “Maybe they thought they could get to whoever was caught before anyone else found out,” Nate said.

  “We’ll get someone out here to take a look,” Gage said. “First, let’s get you to the clinic in town.” He offered his hand and Nate grasped it and heaved to his feet.

  Jamie rushed in to steady him, and Gage moved in on the other side. “We could make a chair and carry you,” Gage said.

  “I’ve still got one good leg,” Nate said. “I might as well use it.”

  Slowly, awkwardly, they made their way around the cabin and onto the road. Nate gritted his teeth and breathed hard but made no protest. After what seemed like an hour—but was probably only fifteen minutes—they reached Jamie’s cruiser. Gage opened the door and helped Nate into the passenger seat. “You take him to the clinic,” Gage said. “I’ll stay here and make sure no one disturbs the crime scene. You phone for help when you get into cell range.”

  “All right.”

  Nate said nothing on the drive into town. Eyes closed, he rested his head against the window. Jamie wondered if he was asleep. When they reached the turnoff onto the county road, Jamie called Adelaide and told her what had happened. She promised to call ahead to the clinic and to send Dwight and another deputy to assist Gage.

  Jamie ended the call and looked at Nate. His eyes were open and he was watching her. “You okay?” she asked, focusing on the road again.

  “I’m okay.”

  At the clinic, Jamie insisted on fetching a wheelchair from inside to transport Nate inside. He didn’t object. When questioned by the staff about how he ended up with his leg caught in a trap, he said, “I’m a wildlife officer,” as if that explained everything.

  X-rays revealed his ankle was badly bruised, the skin mangled and requiring stitches, but it wasn’t broken. “Those pack boots have a lot of padding,” the doctor said as Nate completed the final paperwork for his visit. “That probably saved you.”

  He left with his ankle in an air splint, hobbling on crutches. “I’ll drive you home,” Jamie said.

  He directed her to a cabin on a ranch on the edge of town. “The original owner built it as an artist’s studio,” Nate said as he unlocked the door. “Come in and take a look.”

  She moved past him, into a room with blond wood floors and large windows that flooded the space with natural light. A galley kitchen filled the corner of the room, and doors opened onto a single bedroom and bath. “How did you ever find this place?” she asked, not hiding her admiration.

  Nate sank onto the leather sofa and leaned the crutches against the wall behind him. “The officer who had my job before me lived here,” he said. “When he moved to Cortez, he worked out a deal with the landlord for me to take over his lease.”

  It felt awkward standing while he was sitting, so she sat on the other end of the sofa. “I guess your parents don’t still have a place in town, do they?” she asked.

  “No, they sold out and moved to Texas three years ago. My dad said he got tired of shoveling snow, and my brother and his kids are in Dallas and my mom wanted to be closer to
the grandkids.”

  “I guess I lost track of them,” she said. “I had a lot going on just then.”

  “Your parents’ deaths,” he said. “I remember. My mom told me.” He leaned over and fiddled with the fastening on his Aircast. “I kept meaning to get in touch with you, to tell you how sorry I was.” He glanced at her. “I guess I messed that up, too.”

  She shook her head. “It’s all right.” She had been so devastated at the time she couldn’t even remember who had or hadn’t expressed their sympathy.

  “That must have been rough,” he said. “Losing both of them at once. Mom said you were living in Boulder at the time.”

  “Yeah. I came home to take care of Donna. She was so upset. It took her a long time before she could accept that they weren’t coming back.”

  “You could have taken her with you, gone back to the city.”

  “I didn’t want to do that to her. She had already lost her parents—I couldn’t have her lose her home and her friends, all the things that were familiar to her. Routine is really important to her.”

  “What about all you lost?” he said. “You must have had a job, friends, a home?”

  She shifted to angle her body toward him. “Eagle Mountain is my home. And I had just graduated. It’s not as if I had a career or anything. Besides, if I hadn’t come back here, I never would have gotten into law enforcement. I’d have probably ended up in a cubicle somewhere, bored out of my mind, instead of doing something active that I’m good at. Besides, who are you to give me a hard time about coming back here to live? You did it.”

  “Yeah, I did. It was a good opportunity for me.” He shrugged. “And I missed it. I missed a lot of things.” His gaze zeroed in on her.

  She stood. “I’d better go. Somebody will return your truck tomorrow, I imagine.”

  Before he could protest, his phone rang. She headed for the door. He answered the call and said, “Wait up a minute. It’s Gage.”

  Hand on the doorknob, she paused. Nate listened a moment, then said, “Jamie is here. I’m going to put you on speaker. Tell her what you told me.”

  “We found evidence that someone was squatting in that cabin,” Gage said. “Maybe more than one person. We’ve got a reserve deputy sitting on the place waiting for them to come back. We’ll want to question them about that trap. How’s the leg?”

  “Bad bruise, no break, some stitches,” Nate said. “I have to stay off it a few days.”

  “You got lucky,” Gage said.

  “I guess you could look at it that way.”

  “We found two more of those traps—one on the other side of the cabin, and one near the front steps,” Gage said. “Looks like you missed that second one by inches, judging by your prints in the snow. And you were right—the traps were taken off the wall of a nearby cabin.”

  “Is there anything in the cabin to tell you the identity of the squatter?”

  “Not much—some blankets, dishes, canned food. We talked to the owner—he lives in Nebraska—and it sounds like everything we found was stuff that he keeps there.”

  “How did the squatter get in? I didn’t see any sign of a break-in.”

  “The owner keeps the key under a flowerpot on the back porch. It’s not there now.”

  Nate rolled his eyes. “Well, it’ll be interesting to see if anyone shows up and who they are.”

  “I’m wondering if it might be our killer,” Gage said.

  “What makes you think that?” Nate asked.

  “Just a hunch. I mean, if you wanted to stay off the radar, this would be a good place to hide, wouldn’t it?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Henry and I have a date!” Donna announced at breakfast the next morning. Sunlight streamed from the window behind her, promising another beautiful day.

  “Oh?” Jamie tried not to show too much curiosity. She still hadn’t gotten by the store to meet Henry, though she needed to do so soon.

  “He’s going to take me to dinner and the movies.” Donna spoke around a mouthful of half-chewed cereal.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Jamie chided. “And we don’t have a movie theatre in Eagle Mountain.”

  Donna chewed and swallowed. “I know that,” she said. “We’re going to watch a movie at his house.”

  “When are you planning to do this?”

  “Soon.”

  Which could mean next month or this afternoon. “You can’t go out with Henry until I meet him,” Jamie said.

  “Why do you have to meet him? He’s my boyfriend.”

  “I still need to check him out and make sure he’s a good person for you to date.” That he wasn’t someone who was trying to take advantage of Donna’s vulnerability.

  “I don’t have to approve of your boyfriends.”

  “I don’t have any boyfriends.” She had had only a few casual dates since breaking up with Nate. Thinking about that now made her feel pathetic. But she was far too busy to have time for a relationship.

  “But if you did, you wouldn’t wait for my permission to date them,” Donna said. “I shouldn’t have to, either.”

  “I’m your big sister. It’s my job to look after you.”

  “I’m nineteen. I don’t need you to look after me.”

  But you do, Jamie thought. Donna knew it, too, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Jamie could understand that her sister was frustrated that she wasn’t able to do the things other people her age could do. She was high-functioning, but she had led a sheltered life. She didn’t understand that there were people in the world who would take advantage of her. “I’m not saying you can’t go out with Henry,” she said. “I just want to meet him first.” She leaned across the table and put her hand over Donna’s. “I would say that even if we switched places and you were just like me.” The words weren’t a lie. If Michaela’s family had insisted on meeting “Al” before Michaela went out with him, maybe the bank teller would be alive today.

  But Donna was in a stubborn mood this morning. “What if I don’t want you to meet him?”

  “Donna, please. If he’s your friend, of course I want to meet him.”

  “He’s my friend. Can’t I have anything that’s just mine?” She shoved back her chair and stomped off.

  Jamie sighed and resisted the urge to get up and follow Donna. It wouldn’t hurt to let her sulk a little. And her bad moods rarely lasted long.

  Ten minutes later, after Jamie had finished breakfast and cleared away the dishes, she found Donna waiting by the front door, her backpack in hand. “Time to go to work,” she said.

  “It is,” Jamie said. “When you get off at three, you know to come straight to Mrs. Simmons’s?”

  “I know.” She headed out the door to Jamie’s cruiser.

  The two sisters didn’t speak on the short drive to the grocery store. Donna could walk the few blocks from their house to the store, but Jamie liked to drive her when she could. “Is Henry working today?” she asked as she pulled into the parking lot.

  “He is.” Donna opened the door. “’Bye.” She hurried into the store, not looking back.

  Jamie made a note to swing by later and find out exactly when Henry would be working, as well as his last name and more about him.

  She parked behind the sheriff’s department and entered through the back door. Adelaide waylaid her as she emerged from the locked room. “We’re holding a masquerade ball at the community center Friday night, all proceeds to benefit folks in town for whom the road closures have caused a financial hardship. I hope you plan to be there.”

  “Oh.” Jamie blinked. “A masquerade party?”

  “Wear a costume and a mask.” Adelaide looked her up and down. “I’m sure you’re creative enough to come up with something. If you can’t, the volunteers at the Humane Society thrift store have combed through donations and assembled a numb
er of suitable disguises at very reasonable prices. And you’re not on schedule to work that evening—I already checked.”

  “I don’t know.” Jamie searched for some excuse, but it was tough to think straight with Adelaide’s steel gaze boring into her. Seventy-plus years, much of it spent bossing people around, had made the sheriff’s department office manager a formidable force.

  “It’s for a good cause,” Adelaide said. “People who work on the other side of the pass haven’t been able to get to work, and store owners have suffered losses with fewer tourists visiting and the inability to replenish their stocks. People are really hurting and we want to help them.”

  “Of course,” Jamie said. “I’ll be there.” Maybe she’d take Donna. Her sister liked dressing up, and she would enjoy seeing everyone’s costumes.

  Satisfied, Adelaide let her pass. Jamie made her way to the conference room, helped herself to a cup of coffee but bypassed the box of doughnuts. She settled at the table next to Dwight. A few moments later Nate clumped in on crutches and sank into the chair across from her. He looked better than he had yesterday. “How’s the ankle?” she asked.

  “It’s there.”

  The sheriff entered the room and they all settled in to listen to the usual bulletins and updates, including a summary of the previous day’s events at the summer cabins, for anyone who might not have gotten the full story yet. “No one showed up at the cabin while our officer was there,” Travis said. “We can’t afford to post someone there full-time, but if any of you are in the area, make it a point to swing by.” He glanced down at his open laptop. “Did we get anything from Michaela Underwood’s phone records?”

  “There was one call at eight oh two the morning she was killed,” Dwight said. “That could have been from Al. It came from a payphone at the Shell station. It’s probably the only payphone in town. The phone box is around the side of the building, out of view of the road, and no one remembers seeing anyone using it that morning.”

  “Where are we on the search for the blonde woman Abel Crutchfield saw walking along Forest Service Road 1410?” Travis asked.