Cold Pursuit

by Susan Sleeman

  “No.” She eyed him. “Are you a former cop or something? Because you sure sound like one.”

  He shook his head. “Recon Marine. Been with Blackwell Tactical almost four years now.”

  “Recon as in reconnaissance?”

  He nodded. “Force Recon. A Marine spec ops group. We collect relevant intelligence of military importance, observe, identify, and report adversaries.”

  “Ah, that explains the attention to detail.”

  She was right about that. It was a very detailed and demanding job behind enemy lines. Silence and stealth were vital to prevent compromising the team’s position. They deemed their mission a failure if a single round was fired. And that would hold true here, too. He and Sam had to bring in this killer without another shooting. But he wasn’t serving as a marine right now. He was here working for Blackwell and now under the direction of Nate.

  “Yuki said you have another Blackwell person here,” Whitney said.

  “My teammate, Samantha Willis. She’s a former criminalist with the Portland Police Bureau and served five years as a patrol officer. She’ll likely have additional questions for you as we work the investigation.”

  Whitney relaxed her arms but didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands and ended up folding them together on the table. “Then why didn’t she come up here?”

  “We were able to cordon off and protect the scene best we could, but she’s gathering any evidence she can before we lose it in the storm.”

  Whitney nodded. “Yuki said it was like having CSI right in her front yard. I guess she was right.”

  He appreciated that Whitney didn’t seem angry with him at the moment, but he wondered if her small talk was an attempt to try to throw him off the track from additional questions. He needed to keep questioning her to eliminate her as a suspect.

  He settled back and tried to relax to lessen the intensity that he’d been told could be “over the top” when on a mission. “So why do you own a gun?”

  “Protection.”

  “How long have you owned it?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  She rattled off the name of a local gun shop, and he made a mental note to check it out online when he got back to his suite. At least he’d find out if she’d been convicted of a felony. If the gun shop was legitimate, they would have run a check on her, and they wouldn’t sell a firearm to a felon.

  “Did the store run an instant background check on you?” he asked.

  She nodded, her lips pursed tight, and she paled.

  Interesting response. Did she have a conviction she somehow managed to hide?

  “The owner said it was the law,” she continued. “And before you ask, it came back clean, or I wouldn’t have the gun.”

  Right. If she gave him her legal ID. “So two weeks ago, you suddenly felt a need to own a gun. What changed?”

  She shrugged.

  “Did you have prior experience with handguns or was this purchase a whim?”

  “No experience.” She looked down at her hands, but suddenly looked up, fiery conviction in her eyes. “But trust me, it wasn’t a whim. Not with kids in the apartment. I thought long and hard about it first.”

  Desperation had crept into her tone, at odds with the laidback vibe she was trying to portray. Was it simply that she was worried about the kids?

  He saw toys laying around, but no sign of the children. “Are they here?”

  She tipped her head at a short hallway. “Zoey’s three and napping. Isaiah is older, but he has a quiet time now. If I know him, he has his nose in a book.” Her mouth softened in a smile, and her eyes sparkled with love for the children.

  He’d thought she was attractive before, but with her defenses down and a soft glow to all of her features, her beauty cut straight to his heart.

  Man, she got to him. Totally.

  He looked away from her for a moment, pulling his reaction under control. “How long have you lived and worked at the resort?”

  “Two weeks.”

  So she’d bought the gun when she came to work here. Or maybe she came to work here with the gun. Why? Was she intending to kill someone who frequented the resort? Possibly, but she could have also been trying to protect herself. And the kids. This would be a good place to hide out from someone. But who and why?

  He shook his head. He was already more interested in solving the puzzle of why Whitney was here than locating a killer, and that wasn’t good. But if the two things were wrapped up together then… “Where did you live before here?”

  “Portland.”

  He was getting tired of her short answers. “And were you a waitress there, too?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re going to make me work for every detail, aren’t you?” he snapped.

  She frowned and looked hurt. She was sending out such mixed signals. On the one hand, open and sincere. On the other hand, evasive and secretive. Which was the real Whitney?

  Either way, he regretted losing his cool. “What job did you have in Portland?”

  “Nurse,” the word was barely whispered out.

  “And now you’re a waitress living in a remote resort.” He didn’t bother keeping his skepticism from his voice. “Did something happen on the job to make you move and buy a gun?”

  She shook her head again.

  Okay, so not job-related. “You’re not going to tell me why you bought the gun.”

  “No.”

  “Then you have to know that I have no choice but to believe it has something to do with killing the guy.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  Frustrated, he stood, but managed to keep his tone professional. “Did you think that maybe that bullet wasn’t meant for him? That with the low visibility in the snow, the shooter missed.”

  “Yes.”

  “See now,” he said locking gazes. “That’s not the kind of answer the average person would give. It’s the answer of a person who believes someone wants to kill them.”

  Her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder and, her back went rigid, but she didn’t respond.

  “Okay, fine, Whitney Neilson—if that’s even your real name.” He bent down and palmed the table. Got in her face until she looked at him. “You give me no choice. I will be keeping my eye on you, and I will find out why you bought that gun. On that you have my word.”

  He wasn’t making much progress here, and it was time to throw in the towel. Maybe Sam would have better luck. But before he left, he needed to search her apartment.

  “I need to have a look around before I go. We’re searching all guest rooms, staff quarters, and outbuildings, looking for the shooter.”

  “You think I’m harboring the killer.” Her voice rose an octave.

  “Not really, but I have to do my due diligence.”

  She stood. “Fine, but try not to wake Zoey.”

  She led him down the hall, and he went through the master bedroom with zero personal items or décor, a bathroom, and then into the kids’ room. A lanky boy with dishwater-blond hair sat on a twin bed, his nose in a book as Whitney predicted. He looked up, his fair face dotted with freckles, a worried expression furrowing his forehead. On the other bed, a little girl with blond hair in curly pigtails was snuggled down under the covers.

  Isaiah started to speak, but Whitney held a finger up to her lips. “Everything is fine. My friend Alex just wanted to look at the room.”

  “Hi,” Alex whispered but got a blank look in response. He made quick work of looking in the closet and an adjoining bathroom then backed out.

  Satisfied she didn’t have a killer lurking around, he started for the front door but turned back. “We’ll be enforcing a curfew for the duration of the storm. Guests won’t be allowed outside at any time and must be in their rooms by ten at night. Tomio will approve staff members to come to work, but that is the only time you are to be out and about.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t be hanging outside
in this weather.”

  “Anyone caught violating the curfew without a good reason will be dealt with.” He had no idea what he and Sam might do in way of a punishment, but he didn’t think anyone would break curfew unless they were up to no good, and he hoped it was a way to find their killer. Because the one thing Alex knew about lawbreakers was once they broke the law, they began to think they were above it, and it was often a slippery slope from there into complete lawlessness. Which, in this case, could mean another murder.

  Frustrated, Alex left Whitney’s apartment and stepped to the next door. He was tasked with the staff apartments and questioning the occupants while Sam went room by room through the main building. Then, together, they would tackle the outbuildings.

  He found the workers cooperative, and he quickly finished the small apartments. He marched through the wind that was kicking up higher and higher, the visibility seriously reduced to maybe two feet—with squinting.

  He spotted a light glowing in the tent erected over the body. Sam must have finished her search and was waiting for him there. The fabric flapped in the wind, and he managed to secure the opening behind him.

  “Man, am I glad to be out of that snow,” he said and shook layers of it from his cap.

  Sam looked up from where she was squatting next to the body. “Any luck at the apartments?”

  “No, but I did pass the curfew information on to the people I talked to. How about you?”

  “Same. I didn’t see McCray. But I figured you wanted to be with me if I did approach him.”

  “I do. But honestly, he was so in the bag he could be passed out in his bed.”

  “Maybe we can get a key from Tomio then.”

  “Yeah, I can try that when we get back from the outbuildings. We should get going. I can only imagine how much snow there will be if we wait until morning.”

  Sam looked up, a worried expression on her face. “We’re going to have a hard time keeping access to this tent open.”

  “On the bright side, if we can’t get in here, no one else can either.”

  She frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I keep thinking about the bullet that killed this guy, and how badly I want to find it. With every passing minute it gets buried even deeper.”

  “So it was a through-and-through then?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Exited the middle of his chest, and I believe I’ll find it lodged in the porch. I know the direction the shot came from, but if I can find the slug, I’d have the two points I’d need to calculate the trajectory and might be able to figure where the shooter took his stand.”

  “And then maybe find where he went from there.”

  “Exactly.”

  Alex was all for that. “Any way we can make that happen?”

  “I’ve already got Tomio working on it. He’s trying to get a few of the guests to help him tarp the porch in the general area where I think the slug came to rest.” She set down her tool and settled her cap on her head. “But now we do it old school. Finish the search and keep our eyes open as we clear the nearest outbuildings.”

  Alex nodded. “Visibility’s going to be a problem.”

  She tugged up her hood and stared at him. “There’s nothing about this investigation that’s going to be easy. You know that, right?”

  He got that, but hard or not, they had a killer to find and people to protect. And if that wasn’t challenge enough, he had a mystery to unravel around one stubborn, and yet, infinitely intriguing woman.

  5

  Whitney got what she wanted, right? Alex would be keeping an eye on her and the children, but not in the way she’d hoped. Maybe she should just tell him about Percy. No. Not yet. She had the children to think of and she didn’t know enough about him. She couldn’t trust anyone with her secret. Not until she knew it was safe to speak up.

  She opened the Internet on her laptop and was thankful to see it connect. She made a mental note to thank Tomio for using top-of-the-line computer and network equipment. She typed in Blackwell Tactical. The first link was for their website. She clicked on it and a military-looking site opened. She selected the About page and learned the team worked out of Cold Harbor, Oregon on the southern coast.

  The owner and founder, Gage Blackwell, was a former Navy SEAL who was injured on the job, thus ending his navy career. He formed Blackwell Tactical to employ former military or law enforcement personnel who had also been injured on the job and were forced to retire from their chosen careers. The company provided law enforcement training for employees and professionals as well as protection and investigative services for the general public.

  All very interesting. It also meant that Alex had suffered a career-ending injury of some sort. But what? She didn’t notice a limp or other disability. He looked fine. Better than fine—fit—and, she suspected, a capable warrior. That was the vibe he gave off.

  She clicked on other pages looking for any information on him. She soon confirmed he was a former Recon Marine and discovered that he taught classes in tactical tracking. Made sense, she supposed. She searched for Samantha and verified she was a former police officer and criminalist just as Alex had said.

  So he’d told the truth. But what he hadn’t mentioned was what he and Sam were doing at the resort. Were they on vacation or working? If working, what were they doing? Could it have something to do with McCray, and was that why he’d been watching her?

  She clicked on a few more links and found a section detailing the protection services they provided for people in danger or in need of a bodyguard. She could easily imagine Alex as a bodyguard by the confident way he carried himself. Imagine him watching out for her and the children. It would be such a relief if she could hire a company like Blackwell to help her.

  But would there be a conflict of interest for them since Samantha and Alex were investigating the murder, and he made it clear that he thought Whitney could be involved. Her fault, she supposed, since she was being so evasive with him.

  The kids’ bedroom door opened.

  Isaiah poked his head out and looked around. “Is your friend gone?”

  “He is.” She closed her laptop before Isaiah got a look at the information she’d been reviewing.

  “Zoey is waking up.” His forehead furrowed as he came into the room, his body stiff, apprehension eating away at the childish features of his face. “Why are you home now?”

  Oh, her poor, sweet little nephew. So leery any time their routine changed a fraction. Before his mother was killed, he was such a carefree boy. Now he was always anxious.

  “The lunch crowd was light from the blizzard. Everyone’s ordering room service instead.” She got up and went to him. “Nothing to worry about.”

  His expression remained apprehensive. “I thought…”

  “I know, bud. But you’ve got to stop being fearful.”

  He nodded, but she could see he didn’t really buy it. “I heard your friend talking.”

  She should have thought of that and talked to Alex out in the breezeway. She was still learning how to be a mother, and she screwed up all the time. She tried to put the kids first, but sometimes when her own life got stressful, she didn’t immediately think of their well-being. She had to do better.

  “Something kind of shocking happened,” she said.

  “What?” He froze.

  “An avalanche.”

  “Really?” His eyes widened.

  “Really. I don’t think anyone was hurt, but it covered the parking lot and the road is closed.”

  “Yay, no school.” His body relaxed a little.

  “There’s no school anyway. Thanksgiving break, remember?”

  “Yeah. That.” His lips turned down in a mega frown.

  Since this would be his first holiday without his parents, he wasn’t looking forward to the day. They had a lot to be thankful for, but honestly, she wasn’t looking forward to the day either and was downplaying the holiday. She would scale back Christmas for him, too.
No tree, per his request. No presents. He just didn’t want to celebrate at all.

  Her heart ached for him, and she drew him into her arms. He was stiff and unyielding, but she kept holding. He accepted that she was now his parent, but he had yet to really acknowledge that his mother had died. And his father? How in the world did he come to grips with the fact that his father killed his mother?

  What nine-year-old could accept that? What adult could even wrap their head around something so mind-blowing? She couldn’t and couldn’t expect him to do so either. She simply had to love him through this.

  She tightened her hold.

  She had to protect him. Now. Forever. From Percy.

  And they were all sitting ducks right now. Percy was likely at the resort. All of them were stuck until who knew when.

  She had no option. She had to trust Alex. Starting right now. This very minute. And tomorrow, when she could hopefully make her way through the storm that was raging outside, she would find him and hire his team.

  Even if she had to beg for the help of this infuriating man, she would, because she would do whatever it took to protect Vanessa’s children. Anything. No matter the price.

  Alex rushed into the lobby and stomped his feet. He was cold to the bone from their trip to the outbuildings, and his clothing was etched with snow. They’d failed to locate any sign of the shooter, and Alex was starting to get frustrated. Sam went back to the tent. He had no idea how she wasn’t as cold as he was, but she said she was fine to continue working on the forensics.

  That left Alex to talk to McCray. He stepped up to Tomio at the front desk. The manager wasn’t much taller than the raised level of the counter, his hair an inky black laced with strands of gray, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze sharp.

  “I see that you have cameras around the resort,” Alex said, getting right to the point. “I need to get a copy of the video to review.”

  Tomio frowned. “I can’t give you that.”

  “Sheriff Ryder told you we are working on his behalf, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but even if Ryder stood here himself, I wouldn’t hand over video files. Privacy laws and all.”