Cold Conspiracy

by Cindi Myers

  “But we didn’t find any tracks by the cabins,” Gage said. “Unless someone is flying in through a window, we’d have seen signs of their passage in the snow.”

  “It could just be recreational snowshoers,” Dwight said.

  “It could,” Nate agreed. “I still think it’s worth following them, at least until you’re past the cabins.”

  “Dwight and I can check them out,” Jamie said.

  “All right,” Travis said. “We’ll wait at the vehicles.”

  Jamie and Dwight headed up the trail. The snow was soft, which made the going slow. Deeper in the woods, the snowshoe tracks were more clearly visible, oval outlines in the snow. “I’d guess two men, from the size of the tracks,” Dwight said.

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “And it probably is just a couple of guys out for the day. We know no one went near the cabins.”

  “The killers have done a pretty good job of staying one step ahead of us,” Dwight said. “If they were the ones at the Sundance cabins, they might have figured we’d look here next—it’s a similar setup.”

  “Maybe,” Jamie said. “But it doesn’t hurt to check.” When they had traveled about a quarter of a mile up the trail, she glimpsed one of the cabins through the trees. “If someone was going to cut over to the cabins, they’d do it somewhere in here,” she said.

  “Right here.” Dwight stopped and indicated where the tracks turned off.

  Picking up their pace, Dwight and Jamie followed the tracks to the edge of the icy creek, where they lost them in the deep snow along the creek bank. A bitter wind rattled the branches of the scrub oak that crowded the creek bank. Jamie hugged her arms across her chest against the cold. “Did they wade across the creek?” she asked. “I don’t see any tracks on the other side.” Across the creek, the snow covered the open expanse between the creek and the cabins in a smooth white blanket.

  “Me, either,” Dwight said. “Let’s see if we can pick up the tracks somewhere on this side of the creek.” He headed one direction, while Jamie started off in the opposite direction. Carefully picking her way around the scrub oak and deadfall, she searched for some sign of the snowshoe tracks they had been following.

  After about two minutes, she came upon a place where snow had been cleared away to reveal a stone campfire ring, logs drawn up on three sides for seating. Smoke curled up from the blackened contents of the ring, the scent of wet ash leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Dwight!” she called. “I’ve found something.” She leaned over for a closer look and her heart hammered in her throat as she spotted what looked like blond hair.

  Crashing sounds heralded Dwight’s approach. He jogged up to her. “What is it?” he asked.

  She pointed to the fire ring. “The ashes are still hot.”

  He found a tree branch and used it to poke at the smoldering fire. “There’s some cloth in here,” he said.

  “And what looks like hair,” she said. She put a hand to her mouth, fighting a wave of nausea. “You don’t think it’s a body, do you?”

  “It’s not real hair, I don’t think.” He fished a mane of yellow hair, half-melted and streaked black with ash, and held it up. “It’s a wig,” he said. “A woman’s blond wig.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nate stood in the situation room at the sheriff’s department, trying to ignore the throbbing in his ankle. His doctor probably wouldn’t approve of him having ditched the cast boot so soon, but he was sick of hobbling around on it. And he had plenty to distract him from the pain. The evidence collected from the fire pit had been arranged on the table in front of him. In addition to the half-burned blond wig, Jamie and Dwight had retrieved the remains of a wig of black dreadlocks, a fake beard and mustache, and black fabric garments that may have been the pirate costume. Before removing the items, they had photographed and measured the scene, and these photographs were also part of the evidence now.

  “Do you think you can get DNA from the wigs?” Nate asked Travis.

  “Maybe,” the sheriff said. “If they aren’t too badly burned. But that doesn’t do us any good right now, since we can’t get the wigs to the lab to test for DNA.”

  “I’ll get to work adding all of this to our database,” Jamie said, moving to the computer in the corner of the room.

  “Lacy and I are supposed to have dinner with our officiate,” Travis said. “But if you need me for anything...”

  “You’ll be the first to hear if there’s a new development,” Jamie said.

  Travis left and she looked at Nate. “You might as well go home, too.”

  “I was thinking I could go and get us some dinner,” he said.

  “I packed a sandwich,” she said. “It’s in my locker.”

  “Doesn’t something hot from Moe’s Pub sound better? My treat.” It wasn’t the most romantic date he could think of, but it would give them a little time alone to talk.

  “All right,” she relented. “I guess I could go for a burger.”

  “No cheese, no onions, right?”

  She smiled. “You remember.”

  “Some things you don’t forget.” And some people. Even in the years they had been apart, he hadn’t forgotten about her. For a long time, she had been his fondest memory from his past. Returning to Eagle Mountain had made him wonder if they could make new memories together in the future.

  Go slow, he reminded himself as he headed for his truck. Jamie had made it clear she wouldn’t be rushed.

  When he returned with their food half an hour later, she was bent over the computer. She looked up when he deposited the brown paper bag containing their burgers on the desk beside her. “Good timing,” she said. “I was just finishing up.”

  He pulled a chair up across from her and handed her the diet soda he knew she preferred, then began distributing the food. “Thanks,” she said, unwrapping her burger. “I really am starved.”

  “Tromping around in the woods in the cold burns a lot of calories,” he said.

  She nodded as she chewed, then swallowed. “How is your ankle?”

  “It’s there.” He sipped his iced tea. “I guess Donna got home okay this morning?”

  “Yes. She had a great time. Mrs. O’Keefe is so nice to take her.”

  “Are things serious between her and Henry?” he asked. “I mean, are they in love?”

  Jamie frowned. “I don’t know. They really like each other, but it’s hard to say. I mean, Donna loves a lot of things. She loves her favorite TV shows and her stuffed cat and our three dogs. And she loves me. If I asked her, she would probably say she loves Henry, but I’m not sure if she knows what romantic love means.”

  “We all talk about loving lots of different things,” he said. “Donna might not have the vocabulary to describe how her feelings for those things are different, but I’ll bet down inside she knows the difference. I think that’s part of being human.” She stared at him a long moment, until he began to feel uncomfortable. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

  “No. I think you said something very wise. I have to remind myself sometimes that my sister is her own person. I’m so used to looking after her and making decisions for her that I forget that sometimes. Her feelings and thoughts are real and valid even if I don’t understand them. She’s growing and changing all the time, though I don’t always remember that.”

  “What does she do while you’re working late like this?” he asked.

  “She stays with our neighbor, Mrs. Simmons. She’s a retired nurse and she and Donna really get along great. I was lucky to find her.”

  “I don’t imagine that’s cheap.”

  “No. But Donna gets some disability income that helps pay for it, and it’s not like I spend my money on much else.”

  She said this as a kind of a joke, but he knew it was true. Jamie had never been one for fancy clothes or expensive hobbies and as far as
he could tell, that hadn’t changed. He had dated women who spent more on clothes and shoes and hair care, or cars and theatre tickets and furniture, than Jamie probably made in a year. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her appearance or her surroundings, but she considered other things more important. She had dealt with more challenges than most women her age and had had to grow up much faster.

  She finished her burger and stuffed the wrapper in the bag, then glanced up at the wall clock. “I should call Donna and tell her goodnight,” she said. “I try to do that whenever I’m working late.”

  While she made the call, he stood and wandered over to the evidence table. The items they had pulled from the fire ring still reeked of smoke, along with the burnt-plastic smell of the singed artificial hair from the wigs. He picked up the evidence bag that contained the blond wig and examined it more closely.

  Jamie joined him at the table. “Where in Eagle Mountain would someone get a wig like this?” he asked.

  “The volunteers at the Humane Society thrift store put together a bunch of costumes for the masquerade ball,” Jamie said. “When they open Monday morning I thought I’d go over there and ask if they had a blond wig, and if they remember who they sold it to. And the pirate costume. There couldn’t have been too many like that, so I’m hoping they’ll remember selling it.”

  Nate laid the wig back on the table. “I don’t think it was an accident that they left this stuff near those cabins,” he said.

  “I don’t, either,” she said. “They guessed we would look for them there, because they had used that other cabin.”

  “They’re taunting us,” Nate said.

  “Yes. They’ve done it before. They killed Fiona Winslow at the scavenger hunt, when there were off-duty officers all around them. They got a charge out of getting away with murder right under our noses.”

  “That’s why the pirate focused on you at the party last night,” Nate said. “It’s why he drove by your house, and why he was hanging out at the vet’s office this afternoon. Your spotting him wasn’t an accident. He wanted you to see him and to know he’s keeping tabs on you.”

  She shrugged. “It’s creepy, but he’s not going to do anything to me. I’m not going to let him trick me into coming with him somewhere. And I’m not going to mistake either Alex or Tim for innocent college students who need a lift somewhere, or a woman who needs help. I know better.”

  “You need to be careful,” he said. “And you shouldn’t go out alone.”

  “I’m alone in my patrol cruiser every time I work a shift,” she said. “I know how to handle myself.”

  “There are two of them and only one of you,” Nate said. “Maybe you should partner with another officer until this is over. Talk to Travis.”

  “No!” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You wouldn’t suggest something like that to a male deputy.”

  “These two aren’t killing men,” he said.

  “And they aren’t going to kill me.” She sat in front of the computer once more. “I appreciate your concern, but I can look after myself. I’ve been doing it a long time.”

  “I know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor, trying to rein in his emotions. “But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

  “Nate.” Her voice held a note of warning.

  “What?”

  “If we’re going to be a...a couple, then you can’t do this.”

  “I can’t worry about you? I don’t know how to stop it. Or is it that you don’t want me to talk about being worried?”

  “You can worry—just don’t try to stop me from doing my job.”

  If the shoe was on the other foot—if she objected to him going to work every day because it was dangerous—he would hate it. And they would probably fight about it. He wasn’t going to let that happen. “I don’t want you to give up your job,” he said. “And I was out of line, suggesting you partner up with another deputy. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Apology accepted.” She hesitated, then added. “And it’s nice to know someone is concerned about me. It means a lot.”

  He nodded. What he really wanted was to pull her to him and kiss her, but now wasn’t the time or place. “I’d better go,” he said. “You’ve got work to do and I should probably put this ankle up and slap an ice pack on it or something.”

  “You do that,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He left, leaning more heavily on his cane as he crossed the parking lot to his truck. A thin sliver of moon shone overhead, amidst about a million diamond-bright stars. With few streetlights and most of the businesses shut down for the evening, there was little to compete with the nightly show in the heavens.

  Nate drove slowly down Main, past silent storefronts and empty curbs. Moe’s Pub, with its single lit sign, was the only business open, and only half a dozen cars and trucks remained in the gravel lot next to the tavern. A man emerged from Moe’s front door and waved as Nate drove past, and Nate lifted one finger in salute. When Nate was a teenager, he had hated how quiet things were here after six or seven o’clock. The nearest movie theatre was an hour away and there had been nothing to do and nowhere to hang out with friends, away from the scrutiny of parents and teachers.

  Now that he was older, he appreciated the peace and quiet. After a couple of years of partying in college he had had his fill, and these days he would rather watch a movie from the comfort of his couch, or visit with friends in their homes. He chuckled. Was this a sign of maturity—that he had no desire to hang out all night?

  He approached the turnoff toward his house but instead of taking it, he drove half a mile farther and made the turn onto Jamie’s street. He would just cruise by and make sure everything was all right. Just to help him sleep easier.

  He slowed as he neared her house, and tightened his hands on the steering wheel as he took in the dark shape of an SUV in her driveway. Jamie’s SUV was parked at the sheriff’s department. So who was this? He flicked on his brights, trying to make out the figure in the driver’s seat.

  Just then, the vehicle in Jamie’s driveway roared to life. The SUV reversed out of the driveway and barreled straight at Nate, who only had time to brace himself for the crash.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Officer, please respond to MVA, Oak Street.”

  Jamie keyed her mike and responded. “Unit five responding.”

  “Copy that, unit five. EMS and fire are also on the way.”

  Jamie switched on her lights and siren and punched the accelerator. Oak was her street, with little traffic during daylight. Had one of her neighbors come home after too much to drink and clipped another car? Or had the deer who liked to wander into town and eat people’s landscaping leaped out in front of a motorist?

  As she turned onto the street, her headlights illuminated a pickup truck in front of the house. With a start, she realized it was Nate’s truck. He stood beside it, head in his hands. She braked to a stop and, leaving the cruiser running, jumped out of the car and raced to his side. “Nate, what happened?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. But my truck...” He pointed to the front of the truck. Jamie took a few steps forward and stared at the pile of bricks that had once been her mailbox surround, and at the crushed front end of Nate’s pickup, steam hissing from the radiator.

  “What happened?” she asked again, but before he could answer, an ambulance approached and parked across the street, followed by a fire truck. Merrily Rayford and Emmett Baxter climbed out of the ambulance and headed for Nate and Jamie, while a trio of firefighters in yellow bunker gear surrounded the truck.

  “Is this our victim?” Merrily, a wiry blonde, set down a plastic tote and swept the beam of a flashlight over Nate’s face. “That’s quite a knot you have there. Did you hit your head on the dash?”

  Nate put up a hand to shield his eyes as the
EMT spotlighted a golf-ball-sized knot near his right temple. “It was a pretty hard impact. The air bags exploded and I couldn’t really see anything for a few seconds.” He brushed at the front of his jacket, which was coated in fine white dust. “What a mess.”

  “Lower your hand so I can see your eyes, please.” He did as instructed and Merrily finished her examination. “Are you experiencing any pain?” she asked. “Neck, back, ribs, chest?”

  “Just my head.”

  Merrily flicked a glance at Jamie. “How much did you have to drink tonight?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Nate said.

  “He hasn’t been drinking,” Jamie affirmed. “He and I were working at the sheriff’s department until twenty minutes ago.”

  “Then how did you end up taking out this mailbox?” Emmett asked.

  “Another vehicle ran me off the road,” he said.

  Merrily nodded and pressed a gauze square to the knot on Nate’s head, which was seeping a little blood. “I don’t see any sign of a concussion,” she said. “But you ought to have someone with you tonight. And you could have whiplash or other injuries. Sometimes the shock of the accident masks pain. If you start experiencing any other symptoms, you should see a doctor right away.”

  “All right,” he said. “Thanks.”

  While Merrily and Emmett packed up their gear and returned to the ambulance, Jamie pulled Nate aside. “Who forced you off the road?” she asked.

  “That dark gray SUV that’s been following you around was parked in your driveway,” he said. “I slowed down to get a better look and hit my brights. The vehicle came barreling out the drive and headed right toward me. I had to wrench the wheel over to avoid being hit head-on.” He frowned at the pile of crumbled brick in front of his bumper. “Sorry about your mailbox.”

  “Who was it?” she asked. “Did you get a good look at the driver?”