Deep Freeze

by Lisa Jackson

  “Are you all right?”

  No! Are you crazy? I haven’t been all right since I got that first note! She swallowed hard and lied through her teeth. “Yeah—I guess.”

  “Sure?”

  “Oh. I’m…I will be fine.” She felt like a fool and forced the tears away before he could see how near she was to falling into a million pieces. “But I am relieved. And glad you’re here.”

  He wrapped an arm around her and she wanted to burrow deeply against him, to let the tears rain from her eyes, to let go and fall apart right there in the vestibule. “Everything’s all right,” he said softly, and her heart nearly broke as his lips brushed against her forehead. “You’re fine.”

  She laughed. “How can you say that?” She was anything but fine, and things were definitely not all right.

  He stared past her, his gaze searching the interior. “Anyone else inside?”

  “Just Oliver.”

  “Who? Oh. Rinda’s cat.”

  “Yeah, he nearly gave me a heart attack. Considering my state of mind, I’m afraid that’s not very hard to do these days.”

  Carter gave her shoulders a squeeze before letting go. “Let’s lock up and get you home. Safe.”

  “Sounds good.” In truth, it sounded like heaven. In her mind’s eye she saw herself with a glass of wine as she soaked in the hot tub, her fears and tension dissipating in the warm water and mist that would rise into the cold air. The trouble was, she saw Carter in the Jacuzzi with her…ridiculous. Before her fantasy got out of hand, she shut off the lights and the theater was suddenly dark as death.

  She stepped over the threshold and into the frigid night. Again she had trouble with her key; then, finally, the tricky dead bolt slid into place.

  Carter tested the doors and they held. “Let’s go.”

  “How did you know I was inside?” They walked, bodies close, breaths misting and mingling in the air, to the parking lot where Carter’s Blazer was parked next to her Jeep.

  “Turnquist called,” Carter said. “He explained what was happening and that he wasn’t comfortable with you being out alone at night, so he called and asked if someone could check on you.” Carter’s eyes found hers. “I volunteered.”

  Her heart fluttered stupidly. “Sense of duty?”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. “I was on my way home anyway.”

  She felt a little jab of disappointment, and she told herself she was the worst kind of fool. What had she hoped? That Carter had eagerly come to her rescue out of some need to see her? Because he cared about her? Get real, Jenna.

  Carter was saying, “Turnquist was right to phone. You shouldn’t be out alone. I’d feel a lot better if you had someone with you all the time, preferably Turnquist. But anyone is better than no one. I don’t like the idea of you being by yourself, not until we nail this guy.”

  “I think I was pretty safe tonight. Oliver didn’t really attack me.”

  “This time. I don’t know how much you can trust that cat,” he deadpanned, and she chuckled, relieved. They reached her SUV and he touched her on the arm. “Seriously. Be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Especially on my watch.” Again, he squeezed her and it felt good to have his strength surround her. “You know, it wouldn’t be too good for my reelection campaign if I lost the county’s most famous citizen.”

  So he did have a sense of humor, she thought, and for a split second the ice and frost covering the ground seemed less threatening. “I wouldn’t want to tarnish your stellar reputation,” she teased, and felt herself blush. Like a schoolgirl! What was wrong with her?

  “Now, that’s the attitude I like.”

  She turned toward him and, for just a second, in the cool blue glow of the street lamp, thought he might kiss her. The intensity in his gaze said he wanted to fold her into his arms and kiss the breath from her lungs. She sensed that spark of electricity in the air, the sizzle of seduction, and trembled inside. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as if he suddenly couldn’t trust them. He cleared his throat. “Seriously,” he said, his voice a little deeper, “take care of yourself.”

  Tears sprang unbidden to the back of her eyes. “I try to.”

  “Try as hard as you can.” The barest of smiles from the tall man. “And I will, too.”

  She felt as if she was breaking inside. Tenderness from this taciturn lawman? “Thanks,” she said, a trifle breathlessly. “I will.” Then, impulsively, before she could second-guess herself, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across the beard shadow on his cheek. “Thanks, Sheriff. I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad to see anyone in my life as I was tonight to find you on the other side of that door.” She hitched her chin toward the theater’s covered porch. “You take care, too.” Pausing, before climbing inside her Jeep, she cocked her head to one side as if evaluating him and felt the cold of winter brush her face. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but beneath that tough-as-old-leather facade lurks a damned nice guy.”

  “Not so nice.” Again, his eyes darkened with desire.

  “Oh, I think so.” She caught a glint of white teeth beneath his thick moustache.

  “Well, don’t let it get around. It would ruin my reputation.”

  Pressing a gloved finger to her lips, she assured him, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “Good. Now, go home before we both freeze. I’ll follow you.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Of course I do.” The speck of lightheartedness of the past few minutes fled into the frozen night, but there was still that sensation of want in the air, the ache of newfound desire existing between them, as flakes of snow whirled and fell to the ground. Her throat dry, Jenna climbed into her truck and tried to ignore the wayward beating of her heart. This is crazy, Jenna. Nuts! You don’t have time for any kind of fantasies or infatuation. And with Carter? Oh, my God, get real. Scrabbling in her purse, she found her key ring and jabbed the Jeep’s key into the ignition. Her hands were quaking in her gloves. Get hold of yourself, she admonished, then jumped when he tapped against the driver’s window, his face pressed to the chilled glass.

  She pressed a button, the window descended, and his face was only inches from hers, warm in the cold night.

  “For the record,” he said, “the name’s Shane.”

  “But everyone calls you Carter, right?” Dear God, what was this tiny rush she felt, the sense of intimacy tonight? She caught a hint of aftershave. “Or Sheriff?”

  “Oh, they probably call me a lot of things behind my back, none of them worth repeating. But you can call me Shane.”

  “Fair enough, Carter,” she teased.

  An eyebrow quirked. “That’ll work, too.” His gaze held hers for a second as snowflakes collected on his dark hair and broad shoulders and again she thought he might kiss her. Again she was disappointed. “Later.” He slapped the Jeep’s fender twice and turned toward his rig.

  “Take a deep breath,” she whispered to herself as she rolled up her window to watch him fold his big frame into the driver’s side of his Blazer. What had she been thinking, flirting and bussing him on the cheek?

  “Nerves,” she told herself as she threw the Jeep into gear. “It’s just that I’ve got a real bad case of nerves.” He represented safety, that was all. It wasn’t that he was sexy as all get-out, or that his smile, beneath warm, dark eyes, could melt the ice around her heart.

  Stupid woman! With all the worry that’s going on around here, the last thing, the very last thing, you need is an entanglement with a man—especially Carter. Don’t even think about him like that!

  Letting out her breath, angry with herself and her silly fantasies, she glanced in the rearview mirror. As promised, Carter was following her, but beyond the reassuring glow of the Blazer’s headlights, her gaze skated to the theater disappearing rapidly from view.

  She felt another chill. Cold as midnight. Something in the ancient church wasn’t right. The lonely building, with its opaque stai
ned-glass windows and sharp-peaked, desolate belltower, stood stark against the frigid night and seemed sinister in the snowfall. That’s ludicrous. It’s all your perception, your imagination. The building has nothing to hide, no heinous secrets. It was a church, for God’s sake, a joyous place for worshippers to gather and give praise.

  So why did she feel like Satan himself resided there tonight?

  “Because you’re a drama queen, maybe, or an over-the-top paranoid,” she muttered. There was nothing wrong with the building housing the theater. Nothing! “You’ve seen one too many horror flicks.” She was just letting her own fears get the better of her, that was it. Right? Even if there was some horror hidden within the old clapboard walls, it had stayed secreted away for the night and Sheriff Shane Carter, an extraordinary hunk of a lawman, had come to her supposed rescue. Even now he was driving behind her through the snow. Things could be worse. Lots worse.

  With one eye on the road ahead, she snapped open her cell phone and tried to call the house. It took several attempts, as the phone seemed to have suffered some damage when it had dropped to the floor in Rinda’s office. Finally, it connected.

  Allie answered quickly. “Hello?” Her voice was barely audible over the static.

  No reason to beat around the bush. “Hi, hon. Hey, look, I’m sorry, honey, the backpack’s not in the car and it’s not at the theater. I checked.”

  “But it has to be!”

  “Maybe you left it at school,” Jenna suggested, straining to listen.

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Or it’s in Jake’s truck or your room or—”

  “Mom!” Allie cut in angrily, her voice wavering. “I know where it was. In the back of the Jeep!” She sounded near the verge of tears, but it was hard to tell with the blips in the conversation.

  “Listen, don’t worry about it. Call someone in the class, see if they can give you the questions over the phone, or…if they have a fax machine, they can send a copy over.”

  “Not if they’ve already done their homework! And I need the book!”

  “We’ll talk about this when I get home. If I have to, I’ll call Mrs. Hopfinger in the morning.”

  “I can’t hear you.”

  Jenna repeated herself, nearly shouting, and Allie tried to argue.

  Jenna’s frayed nerves snapped. “Hey, slow down, Allie. I’ve done the best I can do. You can pout and get mad and whatever else you want to do, but it won’t help, now, will it?”

  There was a long, brutal silence. Jenna waited it out. Wondered if she’d lost her connection. Finally, just as she was about to hang up, Allie muttered almost inaudibly, “Jake wants to talk to you.”

  “Good.” Jenna forced enthusiasm into her voice as she stopped for a streetlight. “Put him on.”

  A second later, the bodyguard was on the line.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Aside from the backpack being AWOL, and my cell phone trying to give up the ghost, yeah, things are fine,” she said, glancing in the mirror again. Carter’s rig was still following her. “Can you hear me?”

  “Barely.”

  “Well, the cavalry came to the rescue. Thanks.”

  “Just doing my job,” he said, his voice breaking up.

  “And I appreciate it. Really. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

  The connection failed before he could respond. “And a fine piece of crap you are,” she said to the phone as she flung it into the seat next to her and drove, with Carter on her tail, out of town.

  He watched her go.

  Closeted in the darkened spire, hiding in the shadows, he trained his night-vision glasses on her and silently observed Jenna Hughes as she drove off in her Jeep.

  With the damned sheriff on her bumper.

  He hadn’t counted on the police showing up.

  Nor had he expected Jenna, his Jenna, to press her face into the cop’s, and kiss the bastard on his goddamned cheek. Rage surged through his blood and a tic developed under his eye. She shouldn’t be kissing anyone, or talking to anyone, or laughing with anyone.

  No one but him!

  The police should never have come. Never!

  Next time, think things through more carefully.

  Still, despite the lawman, he could have taken Jenna tonight. If he’d wanted to. If it had been her time.

  It would have been so easy.

  But rushed.

  Not part of the plan.

  Precision. That was the key. Precision.

  Tonight he’d nearly been discovered.

  Because he’d been too eager.

  Again he berated himself and he closed his eyes for a second let the cold breeze blow across his face, chill the anger in his blood. Tiny crystals of ice caressed his face and he imagined Jenna’s chilled lips kissing him. Oh, such sweet, sweet surrender.

  But she’d not kissed him. Not tonight. No, she’d stood on her tiptoes and swept her chilled lips over the bastard’s face.

  His muscles tensed in fury.

  The sheriff’s arrival had caught him off guard. He’d barely finished his mission and had lingered to look through the bags of clothes Jenna had donated, searching for a perfect scarf for Zoey Trammel…a green scarf, with threads of gold woven through the coarse fabric—just like the one she always wore and fingered in A Silent Snow, a fitting title, one with ironic overtones.

  He’d hoped, when he’d heard that she was giving the theater troupe more things, that he would find a few little gems for his collection. Including the scarf. He’d been sadly mistaken. Most of what he’d pawed through was trash. Old clothes her children had outgrown, or things she’d given that weren’t associated with her films. He’d pressed those articles of clothing to his face, hoping to smell her scent, a lingering aroma of her perfume, but had been disappointed. He’d also thought she might have included some panties or bras, but there had been no underclothes, not even a slip or teddy.

  Frustration boiled through his blood.

  The search had nearly proved fruitless. Until he’d seen the backpack and recognized it for what it was. Bait. An ugly little piece of bait. That thought brought a smile to his face and he opened his eyes. From his high perch, he gazed down at the lights of the little town spread upon the shores of the murky Columbia River, its waters thick and burgeoning with ice floes that were stalling river traffic, panicking the populace. Even the streams that fed the mighty river had frozen solid, the falls tumbling over the surrounding cliffs, becoming plumes of ice.

  A perfect time for killing.

  A thrill curled down his spine. He recognized this new, fresh snowfall as an omen, a sign that things were nearly in place.

  He waited a few more minutes, surveying the parking lot and icy streets, assuring himself that the sheriff hadn’t assigned another patrol to the theater. Finally, assured that he wouldn’t be disturbed, he returned to his work.

  Shouldering the kid’s backpack, he started his descent, his steps quick and stealthy as he hurried ever downward. The musty, skeletal interior of the belltower sheltered him from the weather, its rickety, circular stairs groaning softly against his weight.

  He didn’t stop until he reached the basement. It was an area he knew well.

  He crept past old scenery stacked against a wall, down an aisle where makeup mirrors and lights were now darkened, and around a corner to a nearly forgotten storage area, hidden deep beneath the stage of the floor above.

  His pulse pounded in anticipation as he reached the closet he considered his, a small, compact, dark space where he’d hidden behind a rack of folding chairs as a child. From this secret spot he’d heard the minister giving his loud sermons, felt the shuffle of feet overhead, listened to piano music, beautiful, tinkling notes of each hymn’s introduction before the choir or congregation began to sing so loudly he covered his ears.

  This was his own private sanctuary, a cold, dim place where he could sequester himself, unknown to anyone. His closet. Rarely disturbed.

  Now, wi
th his key, he opened the closet door, the musty air filtering out as he shined his penlight over the few boxes, crates, and trunks that had been stored and long forgotten. He flipped through his keys again, and finding the smallest on his ring, he unlocked one of the large trunks, a dusty crate no one seemed to notice.

  He pushed.

  The rounded top creaked open.

  Electricity sang through his blood as his gaze landed on the barely breathing body stuffed inside. Unconscious. Unaware of her fate.

  Just as he’d left her.

  One small hand was visible, and he stared at her fingers. Not unlike Zoey’s, if he found the right rings to decorate them…He fixated on her ring finger and frowned when he noticed the wedding band and gaudy engagement ring. They would never do. Zoey was a single woman. He’d remove the band immediately, but as he stared at the finger, he imagined what he could do with it. A shiver of adrenaline swept through him, caused a tightening in his crotch.

  Oh, yes. The finger was perfect.

  “Come on, Zoey,” he whispered gently, dragging the small woman from her cramped confines. “It’s curtain time.”

  CHAPTER 33

  “…I was hoping that we could have dinner sometime,” Travis was saying as Jenna held the phone between her ear and shoulder. Forcing the corkscrew into a bottle of wine, she tried not to think about Shane Carter. From her rearview mirror, she’d watched Carter follow her home and hoped he’d turn into her driveway, but as the gates to her house had swung open, he’d driven past, his Blazer disappearing into the ever-worsening snowstorm. Disappointed, she’d come into the house, talked a few minutes to Turnquist and the kids, then finally, reluctantly, returned Travis Settler’s phone call. He hadn’t answered, but had called her back within ten minutes.

  Dinner with him had suddenly lost a lot of its appeal.

  Because of a country sheriff who doesn’t care about you when this man does? This smart, good-looking, single father who has a great sense of humor? And you’re pining for the lonesome lawman? Come on, Jenna, wake up!

  She suggested, “Maybe you and Dani could come over once the roads are cleared. I could even cook, though my repertoire is pretty limited.”