Melting the Ice

by Loreth Anne White

  “Man, don’t I know it. Amy used to love hiking alone. Knew it wasn’t the smartest thing, but she always left me this, like, list of where she would be going and what time she figured she’d be back.”

  Cindy turned to Rex. “Amy and me, we used to share a place when she first came to White River. I always figured she was kind of obsessive when it came to stuff like that. Girl Scout stuff. You know, she would pack in the bear spray and bug spray and sun spray and the maps and the flashlight and warm gear and everything.” She looked down, picking at a loose thread on her shirt. “She used to say to me, ‘Cinds, just in case.’”

  Hannah placed her hand on Cindy’s arm. “I know. That’s why we’re still trying to figure it out. Cindy, did Amy have a friend called Grady Fisher?”

  She looked up. “I don’t think so. She never mentioned nothing about him to me.”

  “You sure? I thought maybe he was a new boyfriend of hers or something.”

  “Sven Jansen, the mountain dude, he was the last guy she went out with, so far as I know. Amy dumped him not long before she went missing. She never talked about a Grady. But Sven, he was still, like, having trouble taking no for an answer.” Cindy leaned forward, dropping her voice in a conspiratorial tone. “You know, Hannah, Sven was always, like, so possessive over Amy he was scary. I always figured he could hurt her. He’s such a big powerful dude. When she went missing, I have to admit I thought about him.”

  Cindy sat up as another group of people entered the Mad Moose. She waved a greeting before turning back to face Rex and Hannah. “People say Sven has been real weird since Amy disappeared. And he just took off into the mountains after her body was found. You know, he was there when they found her. But hey, Hannah, I must go, work calls. Let me know if I can be of any more help. I knock off at six.” She nodded at Rex.

  “Thanks, Cindy. We’ll be in touch.”

  Cindy pushed her chair back and bent over to whisper in Hannah’s ear. “He’s got the coolest eyes. They’re, like, not human.”

  Hannah laughed and waved Cindy off.

  “What’s the secret?” Rex asked.

  “Nothing. Just girl talk. What’s next?”

  “We go find this mountain guide, Sven. Perhaps there’s nothing more to this than a love triangle.” Rex stood up, offering Hannah his arm. “Can this dude escort you?”

  Hannah stood up, hesitated, then took Rex’s arm. “The accent doesn’t become you, Dr. Logan. I prefer the James Bond sound. Besides, you have to say ‘deeuwd,’ like you’re holding your nose.”

  “Deeuwd.”

  Hannah laughed. The movement sent pain sparking through her chest. Reality shot back with the pain. She was getting swept into the moment with Rex, like before.

  She dropped his arm. “The best place to start looking for Sven is at the ski patrol cabin up at Base One on Powder. The search-and-rescue guys work out of there in the summer as well as winter. There’s a dirt road that leads up to it. We’ll have to take your four-by-four.”

  She strode out a step ahead of Rex, making her way across the village square for the parking lot. If she held her upper body stiff, she could minimize the pain in her ribs. The painkillers Rex had given her were wearing off.

  “Whoa, there. Wait up, Hannah, what’re you running from?”

  You, that’s what—away from Rex Logan and his secrets. She slowed her pace as he caught up to her.

  He grabbed on to her elbow, turning her around with a chuckle. “Look.” He gestured with his eyes. “Looks like you have company, Hannah.” She followed his gaze and saw the garish red nose first. It was set against a paste of chalky white. A clown. He had ridiculous striped pants swimming around his legs and he had a polka-dot shirt with enormous lapels. He was mimicking her painfully stiff walk.

  An irrational anger started to boil inside Hannah as she watched the stupid clown make fun of her in the village square. A small crowd was starting to gather, laughing at his antics. At her.

  Then a Japanese couple walked by, and the clown abruptly shifted his attention to them, imitating their tiny quick steps, stopping every time they looked behind them. The crowd was lapping it up.

  At the far end of the square a juggler was spinning skittles and flame. The sights, the sounds of the village square suddenly crowded into Hannah’s head, competing for space. Her ears started to buzz. She was losing it. Her life was one big joke, a farce.

  She turned and stalked out across the cobbles. She was being oversensitive. She knew it. But she didn’t seem to have any control. Hot tears pricked her eyes. She reached the trees and a little strip of lawn on the opposite end of the square.

  “Hannah.” Rex came up behind her, grabbed on to her, forcing her to face him. She looked away, trying to hide her raw emotion.

  “Oh, Hannah.” He took her face gently in both hands. His voice was soothing, his large hands protective. “Look at me.” She opened her eyes into his, clear as the sky behind him.

  “You’re still in a state of shock. Don’t push yourself, don’t overdo it. You can’t rush the healing process. Give it time.”

  She wanted to melt into those strong, beautiful, doctor’s hands. She wanted to bury her hot tears in his male chest. She wanted to seek cover there, refuge from the madness, breathe in the warm scent of him.

  Their eyes locked. The crazy laughter faded around her. She could hear nothing, see nothing but those blue eyes. She was losing herself in them, falling into them.

  Rex bent slowly and let his lips touch hers. It was tender, nonthreatening. It was a question.

  Her answer was hungry.

  She pressed into him, her mouth crushing against his. She could taste him, the warm saltiness.

  She invited him in, teasing with the tip of her tongue, and he came. His tongue rough in her mouth, urgent, demanding. Hannah felt herself melt somewhere inside. She felt his hand on her behind, pulling her up toward him. He was hard. She could feel his male need pressed against her pelvis. Her breasts were up against the solidness of his chest. And deep, deep down, she was swollen with warmth and aching for him.

  He deepened his kiss, pulling her into him, and pain sparked across her rib, a sharp lightning cracking through her haze. She gasped out in pain.

  He pulled back instantly. “Oh, God, Hannah, I am so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She was disoriented. She held her hand up against her rib, under her breast. She felt suddenly self-conscious. Stupid.

  “Rex, I—”

  He covered the hand on her ribs with his own. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I never wanted to hurt you. Never.” His voice was gentle but it was out of step with a depraved hunger, a wildness still swimming in his eyes. She was both drawn by it and afraid of it. And she was terrified of how her own body was betraying her.

  The noise of the crowd was seeping back into her brain. The laughter. The crowd was laughing at the clown who was now passionately smooching an imaginary lover in the middle of the cobblestone square.

  Rex grunted. “Well, we sure gave them a show.” He placed his hand in the small of her back and gently escorted her from under the shelter of the trees toward the parking lot. “What’s with the circus acts, anyway?”

  Hannah was still stunned. She’d been sideswiped. Her lips were still swollen from his kiss, the taste of him lingered there. “The circus stuff.” She marshaled her thoughts. “There’s a festival that comes into town each year, with a circus, for the last weekend of summer before school starts. It gets crazier and busier until after the weekend, when things should get back to normal.”

  Normal. She wanted normal.

  He opened the car door for her. She climbed in. “I hate clowns.”

  Rex looked at her, brow raised in question.

  “They disturb me. They’re macabre. Like they’ve got some hidden grim message.”

  “Yes, sometimes they cut a little too close to the bone. The mirror they hold up to reality can be a little too stark.”

  He shut the door and walked around
to the driver’s side.

  Chapter 8

  “S ven Jansen? You’re in luck. He just got back from a walkabout in the hills. You’ll find him in the locker room downstairs, unpacking.” The Australian patroller pointed to the stairs. “It’s that way.”

  Hannah and Rex found the mountain guide ministering to an injured dog. Sven Jansen did not look up as they approached, his attention focused solely on the border collie, its paw dwarfed in his large roughened hands. He was applying a strong-smelling antiseptic lotion, small and gentle movements out of sync with his massive Nordic physique. He filled the room with his sullen presence.

  A green locker door hung open behind him, contents tumbling onto the tiled floor. There were ropes, carabiners, boots, a sleeping bag and a map covered with plastic.

  Hannah sat on the bench beside Sven. Rex leaned against the doorjamb, watching, reading the signs.

  “Hey, Sven. The beard’s new since I saw you last.” It was bushy, very blond against a face browned dark from the sun. He looked up at her. There was pain in his pale-gray Viking eyes.

  He turned his attention back to the dog, reached for a bandage and started wrapping the paw. “Ja. Been in the backcountry for a bit.” The sing-song of his Nordic accent was stronger than Hannah remembered. Sven had been spending a lot of time on his own. Too much.

  Hannah reached forward to pet the dog. He was one of the best avalanche rescue dogs in the province and one of the only ones to have ever located someone buried alive under snow in Canada. In almost all other cases, given the vastness of the country’s terrain, search crews had not made it out in time to save anyone. “What happened to Snooper?”

  “Hurt his foot. Had to come in for supplies.”

  Sven was not one for small talk. Hannah knew that. She figured it would be best to cut straight to the chase. “I was hoping to talk to you about Amy, Sven. This is Rex. We’re looking for someone called Grady Fisher, do you know him?”

  He stiffened.

  “Sven?”

  He turned to face her squarely, a storm sparking fierce in his gray eyes. His sudden anger was tangible. It hung solid in the locker room air. He was a young man but an awesome and powerful presence. Hannah found herself drawing back on the bench. Rex remained motionless against the doorjamb but she could sense he was poised to spring.

  “That scrawny wuss! I will ring his neck!” Sven hurled the bandage roll at the row of locker doors. Snooper dropped off the bench, crouched low on the floor, eyes never leaving his master.

  “We were hoping to talk to Grady.” She found the fire she’d unleashed in the young man unnerving.

  “I have not sniffed the weasel since Amy disappeared. I have looked at his apartment. He was gone. She left me for that coyote.” He squeezed the tube of antiseptic in his fist as he spat out the words. Ointment oozed onto the bench.

  “Amy was going out with Grady?”

  “I don’t know what she saw in that weak massage therapist for that beauty spa.” Sven rose to his full height, well over six feet. He slammed gear back into his locker, muttering in his native tongue.

  Then he turned and pointed at Rex, then Hannah. “I don’t know what you two are after, but I am not answering your questions. The police, they asked me this question and that question. People, they think because I loved Amy that I hurt her.” He smashed his locker door shut. “I loved her, damn it. You can all go to hell!”

  The sun had climbed high. The fresh air was welcome after the close atmosphere in the locker room. Rex shielded his eyes and looked up the mountain toward the peak. “That’s one lovesick puppy in there. Poor bastard. So, Grady works at the spa.”

  Hannah followed his gaze, up to where the glacier was cradled in its rocky bed. “You know, Rex, he may be a hothead but I don’t think Sven would’ve hurt Amy.”

  “I think you’re right. Still, you never can tell what people are capable of. Love can drive a man to distraction. Blind him. Like a drug, it twists the senses, fells normal defences.”

  Shocked by his candor, Hannah looked at him. “You’re an expert on love?”

  “On the contrary. I have no place for it.”

  She felt a nauseous twinge in her stomach at the glaring reality of his words. A part of her, buried deep, so wanted to hear something different.

  He turned to her. “Come.”

  “Where?”

  “White River Spa. Let’s check out this Grady Fisher.”

  He’d seen the hurt in her eyes. And yes. He was something of an expert on the topic. He knew intimately the black madness that lurked in a man’s heart when he could not have his woman.

  He’d been its bedfellow for the last six years. But now…now was different. Now the edges were red and raw. Now he could see firsthand the costs. He’d torn at the scars of her pain and laid his own scars open to burn in the air. And into the wounds they’d thrown the salt of a dark smoky passion that still lived and steamed between them. They were killing each other. He had to move fast. The clock was ticking in more ways than one.

  “Here, turn here. Then head north on the highway. You’ll see the sign.”

  Rex drove in silence. The turnoff to the spa was only ten minutes away. It seemed an eternity.

  “There.”

  The sign was small, discreet. Very tasteful. Rex took the road that led up into the Moonstone foothills. It cut a sweep through dense, mature forest.

  “Quite the place.”

  “Yeah. Very private. Huge acreage. It’s been owned for ages by an East German company, I think.”

  “It’s well established?”

  “They started building the actual spa about ten years ago, but it really took off on an international level when Dr. Gunter Schmidt arrived.”

  “He’s the other guy you were lunching with at the Black Diamond?”

  “Yes. He’s a good friend of Al’s. World-famous plastic surgeon. He’s the charisma behind the enterprise. You’ll meet him.”

  They rounded a switch-back, and massive wrought-iron entrance gates were suddenly upon them. The gates were flanked by stone pillars and a guard hut. Rex brought the vehicle to a halt. He noticed the security cameras immediately.

  “What’s this?”

  Hannah followed his gaze. “It’s to keep the paparazzi types at bay, like me.” She opened her car door. “There are some really high-profile clients here, or guests, that’s what Gunter calls them. They value their privacy. I’ll speak to the guard. I’m sure Gunter will see me.”

  Rex watched her walk up to the guard hut. She was stiff, walking to minimize the movement around her ribs, but her sway stirred irrational feelings in him still, like that first time he had seen her stride across the bar in Marumba. God, how he would love to take her in his arms, spread that gold hair across his pillow and make her his. The need was so strong. Overpowering. He shifted in his car seat. She had a capacity to do that to him. If he hung around her any longer, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. And it would destroy both of them in the process. She needed more from a relationship. He could see that. Hell, he needed more. But it was not his to give. Not his to take.

  “Be strong.” He muttered under his breath. “Do your job and then, cheerio, get the hell out of the mountains before you lose your mind.”

  She opened the car door, climbed back in. “He says go ahead, all clear, Gunter will see us.” As she spoke, the iron gates swung sullenly open.

  The driveway was paved, a gracious sweep up to the white clinic buildings. Rex could see a carpet of lush green lawn rolling down to a pool where guests were being served by waiters in white with silver trays. He pulled up under the portico and a man, in the same attire as the front-gate guard, stepped forward from the glass doors to open Hannah’s door.

  They were greeted by the sound of gently splashing water. It burbled from a small fountain in the water feature at the front entrance. They walked into what Rex could only describe as a lobby. Classical music, a piano, tinkling in the background. “They’ve created a
whole different world in here.”

  Hannah nodded as they approached the reception desk. “Sure have. The White River Spa doesn’t have an international reputation for nothing.”

  The receptionist looked up as they approached, aloof. Rex figured she’d spent some time under Dr. Schmidt’s knife herself.

  “May I help you?”

  “Dr. Schmidt’s expecting us.” Hannah leaned sideways to whisper to Rex. “It’s not like we would’ve been let in if he wasn’t.” Her breath was warm and fragrant against the side of his cheek as she spoke. Her tone conspiratorial, smoky, seductive. It snaked through his senses.

  The receptionist paged for Dr. Gunter Schmidt and busied herself at her computer.

  Rex scanned the entrance area, picking out minute cameras and small flashing red alarm lights. They sure were big on security here.

  The door to an office behind the reception desk swung open as a nurse in a white lab coat walked out, a pile of files in her arm. She smiled at the visitors, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, exposing a figure.

  “Oh, look, there’s Dr. Gregor Vasilev. He’s basically Gunter’s right hand when it comes to surgery.”

  Rex followed Hannah’s gaze. The man in the white lab coat was limping across to a desk. “What’s with his leg?” Rex whispered the question into her hair. He could smell gardenias, jasmine, the warm evocative scents of Marumba.

  “He must’ve hurt himself. Gregor, hi.” Hannah called out to the man and the receptionist frowned at the perceived impertinence.

  Gregor looked up, saw Hannah, and froze. His eye was set in a pool of blue-black bruising. Rex could make out surgical tape high on his cheekbone, under the swollen eye.

  Gregor waved quickly, indicating he was busy and motioned to his assistant to shut the door.

  “Well, he’s sure friendly.”

  “Strange. He usually is.” Hannah knitted her brow. “Wonder what happened to his face?”

  “Two shiners in two days.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”