Black Ice

by Black, Regan

  She flipped on the overhead light and crossed to the wall-rack where they stored the tire chains. Three out of four tires were done when she heard something moving through the snow behind her. Jerking around, blinking snowflakes from her eyelashes, she saw Dale lowering his shotgun.

  “Dad!” She pressed a hand to her heart. “What are you doing?”

  “The alarm system woke me up with that open-door message.”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve thought of that.” She could’ve temporarily reset that feature from the panel in the barn.

  “No matter. I only came out because the first time it went off someone was fiddling with the back door.”

  “What?” She had the security system app on her phone and hadn’t seen anything about a break-in attempt. “When?” Pushing to her feet, she hurried through the barn to the door that backed onto the woods surrounding their property.

  “A few hours ago,” he said trailing after her. “You were at the casino so I called Sheriff Russell. He came out and looked around, decided it must’ve been bored kids.”

  They must’ve been bored to come out this way to poke at a barn full of out of season camping gear, tools, and brochures. “Was anything taken?” She did a quick visual scan of the gear before checking that the door closed and locked properly. Nothing appeared to be out of place.

  “Not that I could see.” Dale tipped his head toward her car. “What are you doing with the chains?”

  “Just making sure I can get to work tomorrow.” She turned off the bright overhead lights. She’d promised Wyatt she wouldn’t go back, but it wasn’t that simple. “I have a mid-day shift.”

  Dale muttered something most likely unflattering about the casino industry that she ignored. “You just got home.” He turned toward the opening to watch the snow. “Coming down like this, chains won’t be enough if the plows keep forgetting we live up this way.”

  “True.” His obvious delight with that observation irked her. They needed her paychecks, whether or not he’d ever admit it. “That’s why I’m headed back in. Tonight.” She’d just decided. “The hotel has rooms for this kind of situation and I won’t have to miss a shift.”

  Her dad stewed, his hands tight on the shotgun. For a split-second she worried for her car. “This is the off-season,” he barked. “You can’t go twenty-four-seven all year long and be healthy.”

  She gaped at him. This was a brand new argument and the novelty was almost refreshing. “The bills don’t stop for the season, Dad.”

  “It was never a problem before.” The words came out so hard he might as well be chewing gravel.

  Before her mom died. “I know.” Sympathy pulsed through Evelyn. Her dad was tough and spry, but at the core he was lonely without his wife. “Hop in and I’ll give you a ride back to the house.”

  “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Go on back up there if you have to. You’re so sure you know what’s best.”

  She ignored the jab, so tired of fighting over piddly stuff when they needed to hash out serious issues. “Get in the car, Dad.” He wasn’t even wearing gloves. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

  She started the car for him and cranked the heater so he could be warm while she closed up the barn. With the security system reset, she climbed behind the wheel.

  “I could’ve walked.”

  “I know. It’s even uphill the whole way.”

  He snorted. “You’re sassy tonight.”

  “Punchy after a long shift is more like it.”

  “Would we really be in that much financial trouble if you quit?” he asked.

  So he did listen to her once in a while. She pulled to a stop at the front porch, put the car in Park, but she kept the engine running. “Yes. This time of year it’s that close.” She held up her hand, finger and thumb barely separated. “We have interested investors and a couple of experimental events that could turn into something lucrative, but—”

  “We can’t count money we don’t have yet,” he finished.

  “That’s right.” She covered his hand, gave him a gentle squeeze. “You taught me that.”

  “Your mother did.”

  “Maybe take half the credit then,” she teased. “I love you, Dad. I love this business. Our legacy. I can save it.”

  He pulled away, a frown puckering his bushy eyebrows. “You shouldn’t have to. It’s my job to provide, not yours.”

  Despite the late hour, she couldn’t leave him while he was so gloomy. “You’ve been an excellent provider my whole life.”

  He tapped his boot against the floorboard, knocking off the snow. “Then we shouldn’t be in financial duress.”

  Logically he was right. Equipment aged out, reservations cancelled, life happened. Her mom died and apparently so had his interest in living. The following season, her last year of college, he’d all but closed Cottonwood Adventures. It didn’t help that they’d been divided on how to recover from those slumps.

  She gripped the steering wheel, wishing she could shake some common sense into him. He could retire and let her handle things. “Let’s go inside and talk.”

  “Y’know,” he said, not moving. “I expected that Jameson boy to come back. Customers liked him. He could’ve sorted us out.”

  Any gentleness she’d felt toward her father evaporated. The car turned frigid, despite the heater blowing on high. “Wyatt was a good employee.” It was the nicest, most neutral reply she could give. “And a good friend.”

  Wyatt had been her friend long before he’d become her boyfriend. Through the years, he’d earned her parents’ trust and affection with his quick grin, wry sense of humor, and his willingness to help out. Dale and Tess generously opened their home and hearts and filled the role of warm, loving parents when his own family fractured. When he needed a job, her dad gave him one and eventually he knew the ins and outs of Cottonwood as well as she did.

  Then he’d left.

  “He was like a son,” Dale said, fidgeting.

  He’d never been like a brother in her mind. “You’re cold, Dad. Go on inside.”

  “Evelyn, he’s the only investor I trust. If Wyatt came back and agreed with your approach, I could back the plan.”

  Her patience snapped like a dried twig. “But your own daughter isn’t good enough?” She’d regret the words tomorrow or whenever she faced him again. “Wyatt left, Dad. I stayed. I’m here. My blood and sweat and tears and money are invested, one hundred percent.” She clamped her mouth shut before she blurted out that Wyatt was currently in town.

  If her dad learned Wyatt was at the casino, gambling, he’d likely go and drag the boy out by the collar. Man. Wyatt barely resembled the boy he’d been at eighteen.

  Why did she stay? She’d tried time and again to bring her father around to her way of thinking and this was just proof that he was locked in on an outdated vision for Cottonwood and the future. He wouldn’t budge.

  She could sympathize, to a point. When her hope-filled plans had been usurped by the facts, she’d adapted. Maybe her dad was just incapable of more adaptations. A bitter laugh erupted at the absurd unfairness of it all. Slamming open the car door, she ignored the heavy snow to come around and help her dad into the house.

  In the foyer, he leaned the gun against the small table by the door. “Evie, you’re my baby girl. I wanted more for you than this burden.”

  “I appreciate that, Dad. Truly. Maybe it’s time you gave some thought to what I want. Lock up behind me and get some rest.”

  Despite her churning frustration and temper, she leaned in, giving him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. As she walked out and closed the door between them, she realized she needed time to think and rest as well.

  Staying at the cottage, though convenient, was out of the question. Too close to all the pressure and burdens, to use her dad’s term. She needed some distance from the mess around here, some space to figure out her next step with her father and her business goals.

  Pulling out her phone she called
the casino and arranged for a room. After that, passing the barn, she called the sheriff’s office and left a message requesting any information or updates on the break-in attempt.

  In the short time she’d been off the roads, it looked as if two inches of snow had fallen. Grateful for the chains, she made it back to the casino and found a spot in the employee parking lot. As she walked in, the world seemed hushed, even the wind had gone quiet. It was just her and the snowflakes until she was inside.

  The hum of energy was lower at this hour, but still present. She went to the breakroom and picked up her overnight bag before heading to the hotel area and checking in. Even when they were officially at capacity, the hotel had a few basic rooms available for emergencies like this.

  Once inside, she locked the door and shrugged off her coat and boots, leaving both to drip-dry in the bathroom. She stripped off her uniform tie and vest, hanging them up on a hanger and dropped to the edge of the bed to count her tips. When the amount was logged into the app she used to track the family and business budget, she tucked the cash into a safe pocket in her purse.

  She was chilled inside and out from the weather and tumultuous conversations with Wyatt and her dad. Changing into the flannel pants and thermal top she’d packed, she piled her hair on top of her head and prepared for bed.

  Under the covers with the lights out, sleep proved elusive. Punching the pillow into shape she curled onto her side, blaming Wyatt for keeping her up. Thinking about him gave the whole bizarre encounter at the table and afterward too much power. He’d gone and done and lived. She might have only wandered off to college, but her accomplishments weren’t less than his.

  Flopping to her back, she stretched her feet under the covers and forced her mind to other topics. How much longer could she keep things going without an investor? Yeah, that wasn’t going to help her sleep either. Outside, the wind rose on a howl and snowflakes pelted the window. It was a fitting echo for the way she felt pushed and shoved into feelings she’d thought were long gone.

  Giving in, she reached for her phone on the nightstand and opened her reading app. Her best hope to silence the turmoil was to lose herself in the plight of the characters in the mystery novel she’d picked up a few days ago.

  Chapter Four

  On the dresser, one of Wyatt’s phones started ringing. He rolled over and checked the time. He’d been in the military long enough to know nothing good happened before five a.m. With a curse, he hauled himself up and out of bed to answer.

  “Jameson,” he said, recognizing Agent Pickering’s number.

  “Open your door in five minutes. I don’t want to have to knock.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “Then give me ten.” After a restless night tossing and turning, he was in no condition to receive visitors. “And bring coffee.” He heard her sputtering, but didn’t stay on the line long enough to hear her actual reply.

  Speeding through a shower, he brushed his teeth and managed to be fully dressed when his time was up. Opening the door, the FBI agent slipped inside, carrying a to-go cup of coffee in each hand.

  “This is yours,” she said.

  She wore jeans and a black turtleneck sweater under a blazer. The heels she’d worn last night in the casino had been replaced with more practical low boots. He supposed it was an attempt to blend in. From his perspective, the guise did nothing to mute her professional, serious vibe.

  “Have you looked outside?” she asked.

  He accepted the cup she offered and removed the lid, inhaling the steam. “Afraid not.” He paused to take a sip of the coffee before crossing to the window.

  It was a winter wonderland outside and the snow was coming down straight and steady at the moment. Everything was softened by a heavy blanket of white. In the sunlight, it would sparkle, but the heavy clouds didn’t look as if they planned on moving out anytime soon.

  “How much of a problem does this pose?” Pickering asked.

  Wyatt let the curtain fall, blocking the view. “No problem on my end.” He watched her over the rim of his cup. “We might have slow going, but I’ll get Cordell and his crew to the rendezvous point.”

  Her mouth tugged down on one side before she stilled the reaction. First sign of trouble. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  She leaned against the wall, suddenly looking as tired as he felt. “You’re sure he won’t delay until the weather clears?”

  Wyatt took another gulp of coffee, willing the caffeine to kick in fast. “As I reported yesterday, he has a timeline and he’s determined to keep it.”

  “The weather updates are calling for things to get much worse out there.”

  “And?” Blame the lack of sleep, but he was done tiptoeing around whatever she had to say.

  “The order just came down.” She refused to meet his gaze. “My team can’t go anywhere if there’s a weather advisory.”

  What the hell? “Are you telling me that even if I deliver Cordell on time, the FBI won’t be there to catch him?”

  “We’ll be there if the roads are open and clear,” she said.

  “What does that mean?” He stopped, clamped a hand over his mouth before he started shouting. “I’ve told you he’s going through with this robbery on schedule.”

  She looked up but didn’t say a word. “Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”

  Wyatt stalked back to the window. His leg ached with the incoming weather. “You came to me, remember? You tapped me because I’m a pro at the terrain and I know the area.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And after making sure Cordell brought me into his plans, you’ll leave me hanging out there, in what is sure to be a damn mess, with Cordell and his crew.”

  “Believe me, I want to be there. Cordell has made fools of us time and again. Last time, he killed an agent, a good friend of mine. I’m not letting him get away.”

  He stared at her, soaking in the explanation of her persistence in this operation. Not much consolation though if he was supposed to wrangle with Cordell alone in the middle of a blizzard.

  She turned her coffee cup in her hands. “What do you know about Evelyn Cotton?”

  “Everything,” he answered without thinking. He might not know every single detail of her life since he’d left, but he could see that, circumstances aside, she was the same person. And his instinct to protect her hadn’t dimmed a bit. “She’s not connected to the robbery.”

  Thank goodness he’d convinced her to stay away from the casino until the storm passed.

  “That’s a curious opinion with no facts backing it up,” Pickering challenged. “Convince me.”

  “You first,” Wyatt countered. He sat down at the table.

  Eventually she took the chair across from him. “She’s had no less than three phone calls with Cordell and two online appointments he didn’t keep.”

  “You mentioned they talked about money.”

  “Her family business is in serious trouble,” Pickering stated. “Money trouble pushes people to take drastic measures.”

  “She’s already doing that by dealing poker,” Wyatt said, dismissing that faulty logic. “Evelyn is not a fan of the casino system.”

  “Because of your mother’s problems.”

  “In part.” Because she was a good friend to him at one time and back then if something hurt one of them, it hurt them both. “For Evelyn the problem with casinos is that they’re indoor activities. That woman loves the fresh air and open sky. She feels caged inside and that feeling is exacerbated with schedules and requirements like clocking in and promoting an activity she doesn’t believe in.”

  “So we should’ve put her into Cordell’s gang instead of you.”

  Wyatt’s jaw clenched. “You make a good point. It’s possible Cordell is working up a plan B to prevent me from leading him into a trap.”

  “It’s more likely she’s in on it. Be alert.”

  He wouldn’t allow Pickering to make him smell smoke where there wasn’t any fire
. “You’re wrong. She isn’t even in the casino and won’t be until after the storm blows through.”

  Pickering leaned forward. “She is. After your chat, she left, apparently just long enough to get chains on her tires.”

  He didn’t believe her. The FBI was pushing him into a corner for some unfathomable reason.

  “Her car is in the employee lot,” Pickering continued. “They gave her a room so she can stay and work straight through the storm.”

  “No.” This couldn’t be happening. He’d sent her out of Cordell’s reach. Wyatt didn’t want Evie anywhere close when the robbery went down.

  “Denial never did anyone any favors,” Pickering said with a slow shake of her head.

  “You’re wrong about her,” he insisted.

  She cocked her head. “I like you, Wyatt. Your military service record speaks volumes, which means I trust you. Evelyn Cotton is your blind spot.”

  He couldn’t argue that.

  “People change,” Pickering continued. “They get in trouble and do rash things. Cordell baited the hook with money and she swallowed it.”

  He had to admit something like that was possible. “I might have a blind spot,” he allowed, “but you’re a pessimist operating with a bias.”

  The agent didn’t flinch or deny it. “Experience.” She held her hands wide.

  “Why are you so sure you’re right about a woman you’ve never met?” Wyatt demanded. If Evie was here, she might need an ally in law enforcement before this was over. He had to show Pickering the truth about her character. “Evelyn has lived here all her life. She’s never had a speeding ticket as far as I know. You told me Cordell makes big grabs and leaves the area. Evelyn wants to stay in Deadwood. She always has.”

  “Desperate people do desperate things. He calls himself an investor, she probably hasn’t bothered to figure out where the man gets his money, she just needs the cash. Happens all the time.”

  Wyatt scrubbed at his whiskers. “You’re wrong. And when you figure it out, I hope you accept your mistake and do right by her.”

  “Blind spot,” she muttered under her breath. “The two of you aren’t kids anymore. You have no idea what she’s capable of now.”