Cold Sweat Page 13

  Farrell had been convicted of aggravated assault with a knife. She’d served time in prison. To Eve’s dismay, the woman had kept a clean slate since her release. McArtnick on the other hand didn’t have anything more serious than a parking ticket on his record.

  She rubbed her belly. “I’m checking his financial report one more time, baby girl, then I’m ordering us pizza.”

  His bank statement appeared on the screen. Eve scrolled down the list of recent transactions and paused on the last one. “Oh pickle, what do we have here?”

  The man had made a three thousand dollar cash deposit in his account yesterday, but the bank didn’t clear it until today.

  “That’s lots of cash money for a mechanic, McArtnick. You better have a good explanation for the colonel.”

  Before calling Matheson, Eve checked the address listed on McArtnick’s bank statement. The house belonged to a Vince Parson.

  “Let’s see who you are, Mr. Parson.”

  His rap sheet galvanized Eve.

  Breaking and entering. Uttering threats. Shooting. “You put three bullets in a dog, and McArtnick isn’t afraid to live with you? I’m sure the colonel will be happy to chat with you too.”

  According to his record, Parson was a jailbird currently on probation. Nothing indicated he held a steady job. His credit cards were maxed out. His bank statement showed a three thousand dollar cash deposit.

  “Double pickle.” It was dated two days ago.

  She dialed Matheson.

  ***

  The gunshot and the loss of blood had weakened Rich and the fever had zapped his last ounce of strength.

  He wouldn’t have reached the door without leaning on Quest. To his astonishment, the teenage girl hadn’t appeared to struggle under the added weight of his body. Under that tight ski outfit, there were more muscles than met the eyes. Her mother would be so proud of her.

  “Hold on to the hooks on the wall while I open the door.” She directed his hands toward the hooks. “And don’t move this time.”

  The moment she opened the door, the wind blew snow inside the house, cooling his feverish body. The storm had resumed with a vengeance.

  “Are you ready, Sheriff?”

  As he let go of the hooks, he noticed an old plaid parka hung by its hood. He grabbed it and forced it into her hands.

  “Put that on.” Designed for racing, her outfit wouldn’t protect her against the wind and cold of a snowmobile ride. “This is not debatable, duckling.”

  “I...Thanks.” Three sizes too big, the parka reached her knees and the sleeves enveloped her gloves. “Your fashion sense stinks.”

  “Look at it this way, there might be DNA on it that we can analyze.”

  “And I’m wearing it?” Her cute face twisted in a grimace. “Gross.”

  “Let’s go.” Standing up added to his pain and exhaustion. He looked forward to sitting somewhere.

  “Sorry, Sheriff. There’s only one helmet. You’ll have to close your eyes and hold on tight. I need to see where I’m riding.”

  His entire right side throbbed as he reached forward and clung to her waist. The duckling pressed against the palm of his hand, a painful reminder of a life he let slip through his fingers.

  The blowing snow reduced the visibility to less than ten feet, nipping at his face and eyes. Where she headed, he had no clue, but he trusted her. Someone had done a great job teaching her survival training. It was too bad that West Point didn’t accept deaf cadets. She would have made a fine military officer—like her mother and grandfather before her.

  At regular intervals, she stopped and checked her compass. As time stretched, the trees grew sparser and the terrain became rougher. The pain increased tenfold with each bump.

  Fighting to stay conscious, Rich blinked the imaginary shining stars dancing in front of his eyes amidst the falling snow. The snowmobile leaped in the air. He held his breath. The jarring landing felt like a knife into his wound.

  Blackness welcomed him into its mist.

  ***

  An icy fog had moved in as the storm receded, propelling the temperature downward. The roads hadn’t improved since their early morning ride, but Thompson didn’t seem to notice. He drove with the same urgency pummeling inside Amelia’s chest.

  “Left turn coming in less than twenty feet.” Amelia’s fatigue had vanished with Ford’s phone call, replaced by the familiar jolt of adrenaline preceding a mission. The sudden cash inflow in both suspects’ account within days of her daughter’s disappearance couldn’t be a coincidence.

  A snow-covered road, which hadn’t greeted a plow in recent days, appeared out of the fog. Thompson negotiated the sharp turn in slow motion. “I need chains under my tires. How far is 52 Evergreen?”

  The coordinates of their suspects’ house blinked on the GPS screen. “About ninety feet away.”

  Outside Amelia’s window, a yellow mailbox shaped like an elongated lemon, peeked out of a snow bank. The number 28 was written on it in big bright red paint.

  The deputy parked next to it. “If they see the car, they may run. Do you want to walk from here and surprise them?”

  “That’s an excellent plan, Thompson.” She checked her gun. “Let’s go.”

  The fog hid their approach. A truck and a car were buried under eight inches of snow in the driveway of an old country house. The vehicles hadn’t moved since before the storm hit.

  Amelia had two likely suspects with that many possible hostages inside. “I’ll make a reconnaissance sweep around the house. You cover my six.”

  The front porch hadn’t been shoveled and a blind obscured the only front window. Trudging knee deep into the snow, Amelia circled the small one-story house.

  On the side, a dryer vent protruded from the plain outdoor wall, and on the back, two frosty windows and a door faced a large shed.

  Through the first window, Amelia peered into a bedroom.

  The double bed was unmade. A plate with food rested on a pillow. A coffee cup rested on the night table. The television was turned on. And the room was empty.

  The hair on her left arm prickled. There should be an occupant in that room.

  As she looked into the second window, Amelia’s hope of finding answers sank at the sight of the man lying on the kitchen floor. A dark puddle extended from his head to the leg of the table. That so doesn’t look like coffee.

  There was no trace in the snow except for the ones she’d just made. The killer was either still inside or long gone. Suspecting the later, Amelia prepared for the former. The door was unlocked.

  Gun drawn, she kicked it open. “U.S. Army!”

  Silence answered her.

  Behind her, Thompson barged in. “What happened?”

  “Don’t know.” All her senses on alert and ready to shoot, she squatted by the man and checked for pulse. “He’s dead. Let’s sweep the rest of the house.”

  She found a second body in the living room. “I have another vic, Thompson.”

  “Bedrooms and bathroom are clear. No basement. I got nothing.”

  Satisfied, the killer was gone, Amelia holstered her weapon.

  “Go back in the kitchen and check the guy for ID.” She gave the same treatment to the body in the living room. “I have Vince Parson, the neighborhood bad boy.”

  “I have Marvin McArtnick, the mechanic,” Thompson yelled from the kitchen. “He hasn’t been dead for more than a few hours. There’s a shed outside. I’m going to have a look.”

  They’d arrived too late. Frustrated beyond words, Amelia checked her phone for signal. Two bars out of four. She dialed Ford.

  “Colonel, I was hoping you’d call soon.” The deputy’s bubbly inflection did little to cheer Amelia’s spirits. “Did you find anyone at Parson’s address?”

  “Two dead bodies.” A heavy silence fell between them. “Vince Parson and Marvin McArtnick,” she hurried to add, inwardly cursing her lack of tact. “Bullets to the head. They died early this morning.”

  A
sigh of relief wafted through the line. “Any sign of your daughter or the sheriff?”

  Not in the house. “Hold on.” Amelia stepped outside to check on Thompson’s progress.

  The deputy slammed the door of the shed. “Nothing,” he yelled.

  “No, Ford.” Unlike Thompson, she made an effort to conceal her frustration. “No trace of either of them. Tell me you have another lead for us.”

  “Captain Jackman just called. The fishing cabin in the picture belongs to a Major Frank, a friend of Elliot, who is currently deployed overseas The cabin is located sixty miles west of Snowy Tip. According to Frank, it should be vacant. I’m texting you the coordinates now. Also, the coroner concluded that Elliot’s niece died of an overdose. Prior to her death, she’d performed dozens of searches on drug overdose on her computer. While it could be accidental, it’s also possible she killed herself.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amelia was surprised to see Wayne River in the maintenance bay fixing a snowmobile.

  “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with your son?”

  “The doctor sent him home. His mom is watching over him.” He stood up, straighter than an arrow. “I wanted to make sure I had reliable machines ready for you in case you needed them in the morning.”

  The weight Amelia still carried had lifted from River’s shoulders, but it hadn’t stopped the man from reporting back for duty.

  “Deputy Thompson and I need to check a fishing cabin sixty miles from here, and the road to get there makes a huge detour in the mountains. You think you could add enough fuel for a return trip, hook up a radio, and help us figure out a shorter route?”

  “You mean now?” River looked at the coordinates then stretched his neck toward the window. “The storm is still raging and there’s less than two hours left of daylight. You may make it there, Colonel, but there’s no way you can come back before nightfall. Trust me when I say we don’t want to ride in these mountains at night.”

  “There’s no we, River.” Two men were dead, more than likely at the hand of a deranged military doctor. Amelia wasn’t ready to risk the life of a civilian man. “Major Elliot is a dangerous officer who won’t care you’re not wearing a uniform. He’ll kill you on sight if it suits his purpose. You’re not coming. Thompson and I will take cover if darkness catches us.”

  A deep frown toughened the chief’s features.

  “With all due respect, ma’am, you and Thompson look like you haven’t slept in days.” River stared her in the eyes, daring her to argue with him. “I have no doubt you’re an experienced officer, but you’re agonizing over your daughter’s fate. I know how that feels. The excruciating pain. The invisible vice crushing your chest...I can’t let you go alone with Thompson. He’s a nice kid, but he’s just a rookie deputy worried about his sheriff. You need someone who’s able to keep things in perspective in case one of you stops thinking straight.”

  “River...” Amelia sighed in silence. Few men had ever had the courage to spell the truth so bluntly in her face, and working with them had always been a privilege. “You better not make me regret this.”

  His expression softened, and he offered a reassuring nod.

  “Give me ten minutes, and we’ll be ready to go. Colonel...” He looked toward the back of the bay where Deputy Gil Thompson had gone to fetch a coffee. “Any chance you could forget I called him a rookie?”

  ***

  The sound of a fire crackling into a fireplace and the fresh scent of pine trees brought back memories of Christmases long ago. He needed a tree for his living room...a real Christmas tree...

  The images lingered, blending with reality. Rich slowly opened his eyes. A fire burned in the middle of a cavern casting yellow and orange highlights on translucent walls. It was almost as beautiful as the fluorescent cave he’d once visited with Amelia—before he lost the privilege of calling her Phoenix.

  Slowly shifting his head, he took in his surroundings. Water trickled down his forehead. Unsure where it came from, he wiped it with the back of his glove.

  Someone had dragged him onto a bed of fir and spruce branches. The fresh scent of evergreen tickled his nose and soothed his mind.

  Quest sat nearby on more green branches with her legs crossed, studying him. Her abilities and resourcefulness extended far beyond her years.

  Suspecting her amazing talent might include reading lips in dim light, he gave it a try. “Can you read me?”

  “Of course I can.” She was truly as remarkable and witty as her mother. “How are you feeling?”

  It was no surprise the young River fell for her. In a few years, men would line up at her door, and her grandfather would welcome them with a bazooka.

  “My fever is down. What did you do?” At one point he vaguely remembered drinking water.

  “Double dose of Advil. I also put snow in your hat to cool you down.”

  That was where the water was coming from. From the feel of it, she’d drowned his fever in snow. “Where are we?”

  “In Axe Peak’s tunnels.”

  “We’re deep under the mountain?”

  “Not that deep.” Her gleeful laughter echoed in the cavern. “We’re in a cave at the entrance of the main tunnel. From the cabin, I didn’t know my way back to the resort, but I’d noticed Axe Peak in the background the day I was kidnapped. I knew I could get us here. And from here, I know how to get back to the resort. Besides, Serpent won’t be looking for us here.”

  “I’m amazed.” Flabbergasted might be a better term. “When are we leaving?”

  “I was hoping before nightfall, but the fog isn’t lifting. We may have to wait till morning. Can I have a look at your shoulder?”

  Fever didn’t lie. They both knew the wound was infected. It was only a matter of hours before he burned up again.

  “Is there something else you could do for it?” As she shook her head, he saw regrets in her eyes. “Then you don’t need to see it. You did great, Quest. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But you came to rescue me.”

  “Who rescued who is debatable, duckling.” The intensity of her gaze transfixed him, and he drew strength from it. “I’m the fortunate one.”

  She picked up the duck that had been resting on her lap and cuddled it against her chest. “Do you like ducks, Sheriff?”

  “Yes. I do.” The baby duckling he’d catapulted into Amelia’s hands probably never returned the favor. “What’s your duck’s name?”

  “Him?” She waggled the duckling. “He’s my T-Duck, Tango. I train with Tango. I compete with my C-Duck, Charlie. I study with my S-Duck, Sierra.”

  These were not common duck names. “I’m hearing a pattern here.”

  “They’re my alphabet ducks.”

  “Alphabet ducks?” He pictured a row of ducks with the letters of the alphabet stitched on them. “You have twenty six of them? One for each letter?”

  As she nodded, that irresistible cheeky smile of hers floated on her lips. “I have Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliet, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec, Romeo—”

  “—Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, X-ray, Yankee, and Zulu,” Rich finished in unison with her.

  “Your mother taught you the NATO phonetic alphabet with ducks?” The teenage girl had been groomed for military life from a young age. “What happened to the alphabet song?”

  She shrugged innocently. “I’m deaf. I’m not very good with songs. Sheriff, why did you take Tango from my bed? Did he remind you of Mom?”

  The direct inquiry wasn’t as disconcerting as her piercing gaze. “The day I met your mother, I sent her a little duckling. He was a cute fuzzy thing. That was before your dad.”

  “Sure.” She threw a few twigs into the fire. “Were you at West Point with her?”

  “No.” That reminded him of the conversation he had with Eve not so long ago. “I was studying at Harvard. Every weekend, I drove three and half hours to see her.”

&nbs
p; Flames leapt into the air, enflaming the nostalgia consuming him.

  “Why did you break up?”

  “I was a stupid idiot.” The retort slipped past his defenses before he could recall it. “It’s not what I meant...not exactly.”

  “Really? Because stupid and idiot are kind of redundant, you know.” In the glow of the blazing fire, the unruly brown and blonde curls framing her delicate features added to her mischievous expression. “Did you love Mom?”

  He did love her. He still loved her. He never stopped loving her. And a stupid idiot was exactly what he’d been. Phoenix...

  “I’m not sure your mom would appreciate me sharing the details of our relationship.”

  “Please, Sheriff Morgan.” Her big blue eyes pleaded with him. “I need to know if you loved her?”

  The little duckling looked too much like her mother for his own good. “Very much so, duckling.”

  “She loved you too.” A soft smile illuminated her face. “Would you tell me why you really broke up with her?”

  He wasn’t sure how Quest became privy of her mother’s feelings toward him, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

  “Your mother is the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, but my family didn’t approve of our relationship. My father threatened to disown me if I didn’t stop seeing her. For weeks, I agonized over the decision.” A decision that had haunted him all his life. “At the end, I chose money over love, and lost the one precious thing money couldn’t buy. Your mother’s heart.”

  “But your father didn’t give you a fair choice. It’d be like my mom asking me to choose between her and biathlon. She loves me. She would never do something like that to me.” Her indignation rose loud and clear. “Did you ever regret your decision?”

  “It was the worst decision of my life.” No woman he met had ever measured up to Phoenix. It was no wonder he’d never settled down. “But your mother moved on and she got you. That’s a happy ending, duckling.”

  Tears shined in her eyes. “Can I show you something, but you have to promise not to tell Mom. She has an aversion to tattoos.”