Snowbound Suspicion

by Cindi Myers

  It’s the wedding of the year.

  But a serial killer is on the guest list.

  Bette Fuller has come to Eagle Mountain, Colorado, looking for a fresh start. So when she becomes the target of a serial killer terrorizing the small town, the wedding caterer refuses to be anyone’s victim. Turning to groomsman and US Marshal Cody Rankin for help becomes personal for Bette. Cody is attractive, protective—and more trustworthy than she wants to admit. But can they stay one step ahead of the Ice Cold Killer...?

  “Come on. Let’s keep walking.”

  But before Cody could take even another step forward, something whistled past his ear, followed by the distinctive popping sound of weapons firing.

  “Get down!” He shoved Bette into the snow and threw himself on top of her as bullets continued to strike around them. “Into the trees,” he said and pushed her forward. Scrambling in the deep snow, they headed for a stand of fir fifty yards to their left, away from the direction of the shots. They moved clumsily through the thick snow, clawing their way toward cover as bullets continued to rain down. Cody tried to keep himself between Bette and the shooter, staying low to present a smaller target and moving erratically when possible.

  They had almost reached cover when the impact of a bullet propelled him forward. Burning pain radiated from his shoulder as he fell, but he kept moving, crawling after Bette, into the trees. They lay at the base of one of the evergreens, gasping.

  “You’re hurt!” Bette stared at his shoulder, her face almost as white as the surrounding snow.

  SNOWBOUND SUSPICION

  Cindi Myers

  Cindi Myers is the author of more than fifty novels. When she’s not crafting new romance plots, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.

  Books by Cindi Myers

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Eagle Mountain Murder Mystery: Winter Storm Wedding

  Ice Cold Killer

  Snowbound Suspicion

  Eagle Mountain Murder Mystery

  Saved by the Sheriff

  Avalanche of Trouble

  Deputy Defender

  Danger on Dakota Ridge

  The Ranger Brigade: Family Secrets

  Murder in Black Canyon

  Undercover Husband

  Manhunt on Mystic Mesa

  Soldier’s Promise

  Missing in Blue Mesa

  Stranded with the Suspect

  The Men of Search Team Seven

  Colorado Crime Scene

  Lawman on the Hunt

  Christmas Kidnapping

  PhD Protector

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

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  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  US Marshal Cody Rankin—On forced leave from his job pursuing fugitives, Cody wrestles with frustration and boredom on his friend’s ranch.

  Bette Fuller—Excited about catering her best friend’s wedding, Bette is trying hard to live down past mistakes.

  Lacy Milligan—The bride-to-be is determined not to let snowstorms and a serial killer put a damper on her wedding.

  The Ice Cold Killer—The serial killer is targeting women in and around Eagle Mountain and has everyone on edge.

  Rainey Whittington—The ranch cook makes it clear she doesn’t want Bette around.

  Doug Whittington—Rainey’s son avoids Bette and joins his mother in trying to make Bette’s life miserable.

  Eddie Rialto—Bette’s former boyfriend ruined her life. Now that he’s out of prison, has he decided to make her pay for testifying against him?

  Carl Wayland—This friend of Eddie’s has shown up in Eagle Mountain and may or may not be stalking Bette.

  For D’ann

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Excerpt from Wyoming Cowboy Sniper by Nicole Helm

  Chapter One

  “More snow forecast today for most of the state, with highs in the mid to upper thirties. Parts of the state could see accumulations of another foot, on top of already record amounts of snow this past week. Travel advisories remain active and avalanche danger remains high.”

  Bette Fuller switched off the radio and gripped the steering wheel more tightly. White flakes drifted down from the gray sky like glitter in a snow globe—so pretty unless you were the shaken-up person in the middle of the flurry. To the growing list of things she didn’t like she added incessant snow. And driving in the mountains on narrow, two-lane roads with no guard rails and steep drop-offs. Flashing lights up ahead made her tense her whole body as she eased her Ford Focus past the Highway Patrol vehicle parked on the side of the road. The patrolman stood in the road, motioning traffic past what appeared to be a large boulder in the middle of the road. Bette averted her eyes and shuddered.

  Cops. She didn’t like them, either, and she was headed for a whole house full of them. If Lacy Milligan hadn’t been one of her best friends in the whole world, she would have turned the car around and headed straight back to Denver. But Lacy was her friend, and it wasn’t every day a friend got married. Not to mention, catering this wedding was a really big deal. Whether she liked it or not, Lacy was something of a celebrity in Colorado, and the press was sure to cover her wedding to Sheriff Travis Walker. The irony of that matchup made the media salivate—Lacy was marrying the man who had been instrumental in sending her to prison for a murder she didn’t commit. The sheriff had redeemed himself by working to get Lacy released, resulting in a story the press couldn’t get enough of.

  This could be the big break Bette needed to really get her catering business on solid footing. What was a little snow compared with the opportunity to help a friend and advance her career? She had faced down tougher situations than this before. She hadn’t always made good choices in the past, but she was a different person now. This time she was going to succeed.

  Twenty minutes later, she drove the Ford underneath the welded iron arches that proclaimed Walking W Ranch, est. 1942, and wound her way down the plowed drive—five-foot walls of snow on each side of the single snowy lane. The drive ended in a cleared parking area, a short distance from a sprawling log-and-stone ranch house. Bette shut off the engine and let out a long breath. She’d made it. With luck, that drive would be the worst part of the whole two and a half weeks she would be here.

  She climbed out of the car and stretched, unkinking muscles that had been tensed for most of the snowy drive. This was some place Lacy’s fiancé—or rather, his parents—had. It looked like something out of a movie, or some Western lifestyle magazine. The front door of the house opened and a man stepped out onto the porch—a tall man in a cowboy hat and one of those long, leather coats with the cape about the shoulders. What did they call them? Dusters, that was the word.

  The man in the duster raised a gloved ha
nd and bounded down the steps and strode toward her through the still-falling snow. Her heart hammered painfully as she took in his broad shoulders and long stride. He might be dressed like a cowboy, but his attitude was all cop. She had been around enough of them the last few years to be able to spot that particular I’m-in-charge demeanor from across the yard.

  “You must be Bette. Travis said you were supposed to be here today.” The man stopped in front of her and offered his hand.

  Tentatively, she extended her own hand, only to have it engulfed by his leather-clad paw. A tremor of a different kind traveled through her as her eyes met his steely blue gaze and she silently cursed. Of all the really inconvenient times for her to be reminded that it had been a very long time since she’d been this close to a good-looking man.

  “I’m Cody Rankin,” he said. “Travis and his brother are at work and I guess Lacy is in town, though she should be up here later today. Travis’s sister, Emily, is around somewhere, but at the moment, looks like it’s just you and me.”

  Oh, joy, Bette thought, though she didn’t say the words out loud. Not that Cody Rankin wasn’t a perfectly nice—and perfectly gorgeous—specimen of manhood. She just didn’t want anything to do with charming men right now. Especially one who wore a badge. “Are you one of Travis’s cop friends?” she asked. Better to get that part of the introductions over with.

  “I’m a US marshal,” he said. “Though I’m on vacation right now.” He nodded toward the trunk of the car. “Can I help you with your luggage? Though I’m not sure where the Walkers have you staying—maybe one of the guest cabins.”

  “I’ll leave the suitcases in the car until I find out where they want me,” she said. “But I have a cooler that needs to go into the house.” Before she had left Denver, she’d stocked up on fondant, meringue powder, good Belgian baking chocolate and a handful of other ingredients she wasn’t sure she would be able to find out here in the boonies.

  “I’ll get it.” He waited while she popped the trunk, then reached in and hefted out the heavy cooler as if it weighed no more than a box of paper towels.

  “How is it you know Lacy?” he asked as he led the way up the walk.

  She was glad she was walking behind him, so that he couldn’t see the way she stiffened at the question. Of course, she had expected it. It was the kind of thing people asked at weddings: “How do you know the bride?” She just hadn’t had a chance to think of a good answer. “We met when we were cellmates in prison” wasn’t the kind of answer that went over well in polite company, even though it was the truth.

  “We’ve been friends a long time,” she said.

  He opened the door and led the way into a large great room, fire crackling in a woodstove against the back wall, trophy mounts staring down at them from near the log beams overhead. Bette followed Cody through a paneled door into an equally massive kitchen, the marble-topped island in the center of the room as big as a queen-size bed, stainless appliances reflecting the glow of cherry cabinets. He set the cooler in front of a French-door refrigerator and started to open it. “I’ll put everything away myself,” Bette said, rushing forward. “Thank you.”

  He straightened. “Okay,” he said, then shrugged out of the duster to reveal a snap-button chamois shirt the color of light brown sugar that stretched over impressive shoulders. Well-fitting faded Wranglers and scuffed brown boots completed the outfit. Her gaze shifted to the gun in a holster on his hip. Discreet, but unmistakable. He put a hand to the gun. “I probably don’t need this here,” he said. “But habits die hard. I’d feel kind of naked without it.”

  His word choice created a disturbing picture. She turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her reaction. “How was your drive from Denver?” he asked. “You’re lucky you made it through. The pass has been closed.”

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve been watching for my chance to get here.” She leaned back against the kitchen island, arms folded. “The drive wasn’t too bad. Are you in the wedding?”

  “One of the groomsmen.” He reached past her to pluck a grape from a bunch in a bowl on the island and she caught the clean aroma of shaving cream and fabric softener. “I took vacation to come up here early, thinking Travis and I could hang out before he tied the knot—but he’s been working overtime on this serial killer case.”

  “Serial killer? Here?” Eagle Mountain was such a small town, and so remote. What would a serial killer be doing here?

  “You didn’t know? It’s been all over the news.”

  “I don’t pay much attention to the news.” She had been too focused on preparing to come here.

  “Three women have been murdered so far—one right here on the ranch.” He popped a grape in his mouth and crunched down on it. “Be careful if you go anywhere by yourself.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I’m surprised Lacy didn’t mention it to you, but then, maybe she didn’t want to frighten you away.”

  She met his gaze with a hard look of her own. “I don’t frighten easily, Marshal Rankin.”

  “Aw, call me Cody. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other these next two weeks.” He popped another grape in his mouth and crunched. “Now that you’ve arrived, the time here is going to be a lot less dull.”

  And just what did he mean by that? “I came here to work,” she said. Not only had Lacy hired her to cater for the wedding, she was also preparing food for a bridesmaids’ tea and the rehearsal dinner.

  “If you need a sous chef, I’m your man.” He straightened. “Seriously, I’m bored out of my gourd, with Travis working all the time. I’m not used to being this idle. My job is pretty intense, high-energy stuff—pursuing fugitives, most of whom don’t want to be caught.”

  Bette was well aware of what US marshals did—she wasn’t likely to ever forget being tackled by one and dragged, handcuffed, into a waiting car. How long into her visit to the ranch before Cody Rankin figured out her history? One phone call to his office was all it would take to get the whole sordid tale. Or he could just ask his friend Travis. Bette assumed Lacy had told her fiancé about her background. Yet he had agreed to let her come to his home and cater his wedding anyway. Now, that was true love.

  A door at the opposite end of the room opened, ushering in a blast of cold air and a tall, angular woman wrapped in a blue wool coat. She stopped short upon seeing them. “Marshal Rankin.” She nodded to Cody, then her bird-like eyes shifted to Bette. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the caterer—Bette Fuller.” Bette started around the island toward the woman, but the woman took a step back.

  “I’m Rainey,” she said. “And I’m in charge of the kitchen here. I told Travis he didn’t need to hire a caterer. I’m perfectly capable of providing anything they need in the way of food—I’ve been doing it for years. But I guess brides these days want to be able to say they’ve had their wedding ‘catered’ by a ‘chef.’” She sniffed. “Just stay out of my way when it comes to preparing regular meals. I have all the help I need from my son.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Doug! Come in here!”

  A man Bette judged to be in his late twenties or early thirties, his head engulfed in a fur cap with earflaps, shuffled into the kitchen, half a dozen plastic shopping bags suspended from each hand. He stopped short when he saw Bette. “Hello,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, then darting away.

  “This is my son, Doug,” Rainey said. “He’s been to culinary school and plans to open his own restaurant soon, though for the time being he’s helping me here at the ranch. The two of us could have provided anything the Walkers need for the wedding.”

  Well, Bette certainly didn’t have to wonder what Rainey thought about her being here. “I’ll try to stay out of your way,” she said. “I have some things that need to go in the refrigerator.” She indicated the cooler.

  “Not in here. Put them in the other refrigerator, in the garag
e.” She jerked her head toward a door at the side of the room. “Doug, show her where to put her stuff.”

  But Doug had disappeared, the back door slamming behind him.

  “I’ll show you.” Cody shrugged back into his duster, then picked up the cooler. “Nice seeing you again, Rainey,” he called over his shoulder. “That omelet you made me for breakfast was divine.”

  Bette said nothing until they were in the garage, in front of an older-model—but still very high-end—refrigerator. She opened the door and surveyed the contents, which appeared to consist mostly of bottles of beer and a large cardboard box labeled Venison Sticks. Cody reached past her and helped himself to one of the sticks, which resembled a very thin frankfurter. “These are excellent,” he said, tearing open the wrapper. “Travis’s dad makes them, from venison he harvests himself.”

  Bette nodded and rearranged some of the beer bottles to make room for her chocolate and fondant. “I can see dealing with Rainey is going to be a barrel of laughs.”

  “Ignore her.” Cody held the top of the cooler open for her. “Lacy and Travis want you here, and that’s all that matters.”

  “Oh, I won’t let her get to me,” Bette said. “I’ve dealt with worse.” Some of the guards at the Denver Women’s Correctional Facility would have made Rainey look like a creampuff. She stowed the last of the items in the refrigerator and shut the door. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Walker around? I’d like to find out where I’m staying.”

  “They headed to Junction while the pass is open,” Cody said. “Rainey might know.” He looked doubtful.

  Bette laughed. “If it was up to her, she’d put me in a horse stall or something.” She shut the lid of the cooler. “No, I can wait until Lacy shows up.”

  She started to pick up the empty cooler, but Cody swiped it from her. She shrugged. If he wanted to tote her belongings for her, let him. It didn’t mean she owed him anything.

  Instead of heading back into the kitchen, he led the way out of the garage and around to the front of the house. “Okay if I leave the cooler out here?” he asked, indicating a spot on the covered front porch near the door.