Melting the Ice

by Loreth Anne White

“Hannah, hello my friend.” They turned at the sound of the sandpapery voice. Dr. Gunter Schmidt’s arms were held wide in welcome as he strode down the corridor. Then he saw Rex.

  It was as if a small jolt of electric current shocked through his body.

  It broke his stride.

  The sudden stiffening of the plastic surgeon’s posture was fleeting, a small blip on Rex’s mental radar, but it did not go unnoticed. Gunter resumed his stride forward, attention focused solely on Hannah, arms outreached.

  “Good to see you, Hannah, my dear. To what do I owe this honor?” Rex noticed he said ‘vot’. Dr. Schmidt had trouble with his ws.

  “Hello, Gunter. This is my friend, Rex.”

  Rex reached forward to shake Gunter’s hand. The grip of the older man was firm, even powerful. He was definitely the man he’d seen lunching with Hannah at the Black Diamond. Even up close, Rex was certain he knew him from somewhere.

  “Actually, Gunter, we were hoping to chat with one of your employees.” Hannah held her hands up as the plastic surgeon started to protest. “Yes, yes. I know your protocol, no employee talks to anyone even vaguely associated with any media, but I’m not here to do a story.” She smiled and tilted her head. “You know me better than that.”

  Rex watched as she captivated Gunter with the warmth of her smile. She took the surgeon’s arm and started to steer him toward the cluster of chairs near a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the fountain feature outside.

  Hannah certainly knew how to work people. Rex had to suppress a little grin as he watched her sweet-talk the surgeon. Yes, she was smooth. That’s what had gotten her to the top of her profession. Beautiful, smooth and brilliant. That’s how he remembered her. Yet, there was a difference now. Under it all, she seemed afraid, vulnerable, wounded even. There was a mystery to her. It made him curious. He wanted to ask her about her life since Marumba. But that would mean opening up himself. He couldn’t afford to do that.

  “We wanted to ask Grady Fisher about his relationship with Amy. I understand he works here as a massage therapist.”

  Gunter frowned, mouth drawn in a tight line. He sat, motioning for Hannah and Rex to do the same.

  “Hannah, this is most unfortunate. Grady Fisher no longer works here.” He paused, as if judging her reaction.

  “Where did he go?”

  “It is a sad story, ja.” He sighed. “Grady had a problem, one he hid very well from us all here at the spa. Drink and drugs. It cost him his life.”

  “What happened?”

  Gunter leaned forward, placing his steady surgeon’s hand on Hannah’s knee. Rex felt himself flex possessively in response.

  “Grady killed himself in a motor accident on the highway last year. Most unfortunate, ja.”

  “Oh.” Hannah made more a noise of surprise than a word. The more he watched Gunter, the more certain Rex was that he’d met the man before, perhaps at a conference. But his were not looks that tended to fade into obscurity. Quite distinctive. And Rex had a close to photographic memory for faces.

  “There were no other motor cars involved, Hannah. Grady was drunk behind the wheel. He left the road. He went over in the canyon area.”

  Hannah’s brow crinkled. “Yes. I remember now. There was an accident in the canyon late last summer, or was it the fall?”

  She turned to Rex. The afternoon light gave her gold eyes the look of a lioness, her skin a luminous quality. “There are so many accidents on that road you forget the names associated with each one.”

  Rex sat forward. He had a question of his own for the smooth doctor. “Dr. Schmidt?”

  Gunter turned abruptly toward him. Rex saw what he interpreted as a fleeting hostility in the older doctor’s hazel eyes before they settled into a steady, unreadable gaze. He took in the strong neck, powerful shoulders, the thatch of salt-and-pepper hair. This man was in fine physical shape but none of his distinguishing features, not even the characteristic rasp of his Germanic voice, could find a match in Rex’s memory.

  “How long did Grady work here? Is he from the White River area?”

  “Ach, no. Grady was from the United States. He worked for a high-end spa in California before coming to join us here about two years ago.” Gunter cleared his throat. “He was really only with us for about one year in all.”

  He turned back to look at Hannah, a frown creasing his brow. “Why did you want to speak to him, Hannah?” He said “vye” and “vant”.

  “We believe Amy may’ve had a personal relationship, a romantic involvement with Grady. We’re still trying to piece together her last movements before she went missing.”

  “Grady and Amy? A romantic relationship? Nein, I think that is unlikely. He did not seem her type.” Gunter took Hannah’s hands in his own. “Besides, you should really put this thing to rest. Let it sleep, ja. It is not good for Al that you keep digging this up, Hannah. It makes it difficult for him to say goodbye to his niece.”

  “Well, we—” Hannah started to explain but Rex coughed and stood up. He stepped forward, holding out his hand to Gunter. “Yes. Well, we had better be going. Thank you for your time, Dr. Schmidt. Interesting place you have here. I feel like we have met somewhere before.”

  “Thank you.” Gunter stood and reached forward to shake Rex’s hand. “And, no. I would remember meeting a man such as you. Hannah did not mention your last name.”

  “Logan.”

  “I see. Well, nice to have met you. I must get back to my guests now.”

  “Actually, before we go, Hannah was hoping to say hello to Dr. Gregor Vasilev…” Rex turned to meet Hannah’s eyes. “Right, Hannah?”

  She was quick to pick up on his cue. “Ah, right. Yes. Is he available?”

  Gunter was now doing little to hide his increasing agitation. “Hannah, you really must call ahead. Friends are always welcome but at some times we are busier than others. We are extremely busy at the moment. Gregor is prepping for a patient as we speak.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. He…he hasn’t hurt himself has he, Gunter? I thought I saw he had a black eye.”

  Gunter laughed. The sound was flat and dry as a desert. He took Hannah by the elbow and started to steer her toward the exit. Rex took the unsubtle hint and fell in step.

  “This is precisely why we have this spa secluded and security tight. You see, Hannah, I performed a minor facial surgery on Gregor. He had some skin damage from the sun. What happens with this kind of cosmetic surgery is it can make bad bruises and people like you come asking embarrassing questions.” He held the door open for them. “I do not want my guests, or my colleagues, to be faced with uncomfortable questions. They come here to be treated and heal in peace. No questions. And then they go home whole and beautiful.”

  Hannah smiled. Rex saw it was strained. “Well, Gunter, I’m suitably chastised. Thank you again for your time.”

  Rex held the passenger door open for Hannah. “I think we touched a nerve somewhere there, partner.”

  “I just don’t get it, Rex. I’ve never seen Gunter like this. I guess we should’ve called ahead. And this stuff about Gregor’s face, I don’t buy it.”

  Rex fired up the engine of the SUV, waved to the guard as they drove through the big gates. They swung slowly shut behind them.

  “I don’t buy it either, but I’m not sure what to make of it yet.” He turned to steal a look at her in the seat beside him. She looked tired, wan. She’d been through a lot. He really should get her back to the hotel to rest. Only trouble was he didn’t want to leave her anywhere on her own at the moment. “Tell me what you remember about this accident involving Grady Fisher.”

  “Well, I don’t think I was working at the Gazette yet, at least not full-time. I remember reading about it.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “You know, Rex, I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but we could look at the archives at the newspaper office.” She checked her watch. “We could probably head over there now and catch Al before he clocks out for the day.”


  “I think you’ve had enough for one day, Hannah, you need to give those aches and pains of yours a rest. A soak in the hot tub would do you good.”

  “No. Let’s do this now. I won’t sleep until I find out. Now that I think about it, there was something odd about one of the accidents on the highway last year. I want to take a look at the files.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?”

  “Tenacious.” She offered him a grin.

  “Okay, tenacious. We’ll head over to the Gazette now, on one condition.”

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised. “And what might that be, Dr. Logan?”

  “You let me buy you dinner. There’s this little place I’d like to try—”

  “Rex, don’t do me any favors. I just want to get this thing over with.”

  He turned onto the highway and headed back toward town. “It might do you good to put business aside tonight. Enjoy a nice meal and get some good sleep. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”

  Rex took the turnoff into White River village. He needed to get hold of Margaret back at the Toronto office and ask her to dig up some information on Dr. Gunter Schmidt and the White River Spa. He’d throw Gregor Vasilev into the mix, too, and see what she could find out about him.

  He mulled over the facts as he pulled into a parking space under the windows of the Gazette office. Two men with injured faces, Gregor Vasilev and Agent Ken Mitchell. Both with a limp. Had one of them attacked Hannah? If so, why?

  Right now his money was on Mitchell. He’d never trusted him as an agent. Rex had found his name in Amy’s apartment, in the library book on biological weapons. Mitchell’s special interest was biological warfare intelligence. He’d been on the mountain when Amy’s body was discovered. Amy must’ve had dealings on some level with Mitchell. Rex had also seen Grady Fisher’s name in Mitchell’s hotel room, scribbled on that piece of paper. Grady had also turned up dead.

  But the plastic surgeon, Dr. Gunter Schmidt, Rex knew him from somewhere, and the sensation did not sit easy in his gut. The man left a bad taste in his mouth. And his cohort, Dr. Gregor Vasilev, what was he hiding?

  He felt Hannah watching him. He turned to meet her gaze. He wanted to hurt the bastard who had attacked her.

  “Rex.”

  “What is it?” He placed his hand on her knee, couldn’t help himself. She was looking so pale, fragile.

  “I need to go into the Gazette on my own, by myself.”

  “Hannah, you’re not safe right now—”

  “Look, I know you don’t want to let me out of your sight. I appreciate your concern, but you can wait just outside. I’ll have Al and the others for protection inside. How’s that?”

  Those wild-honey eyes were pleading. She really meant what she was saying. She seemed to be having enough trouble explaining his presence to her White River acquaintances as it was. Perhaps she needed a little space, a few minutes alone with Al, her colleagues.

  He looked up at the Gazette windows from the parking lot. He could see the door from here. He shouldn’t be doing this. That’s why operatives couldn’t afford personal attachment. It clouded judgment. They made mistakes. He hoped he wasn’t making one now. “All right.” He gave her knee a squeeze. “You can report back to me over dinner.”

  Hannah opened the car door, looking relieved to have won some space.

  “Oh, Hannah.”

  She ducked her head back into the car. “What?”

  “No more than one hour. Any longer than that and I come looking for you.”

  “Margaret, my sweet, you’re still at the office.”

  “Don’t try honey talkin’ me, Dr. Logan. Having a good time in White River? Come to think of it, I don’t think you’re the type to have a good time anywhere. What can I do for you?”

  “Before we go any further, can you connect the device?”

  Rex engaged the scrambling device on his own phone. He needed to be sure Margaret’s end of the conversation stayed secure. He didn’t plan on discussing sensitive information, but still, he wanted to be sure what he did say stayed between the two of them. If the feeling in his gut was right, there was something big going down in this little ski town.

  “Done.”

  “Good. Listen, I need you to hunt out some background information on a Dr. Gunter Schmidt. He’s a plastic surgeon here at the White River Spa.”

  “Ah, yes. Heard of him. There was an article on the spa in Chatelaine about two months ago.”

  “Well, I need a check run on his background, anything that relates to his past. Get Scott on it if you need a hand. Also, I want you to see if you can get anything on a Dr. Gregor Vasilev. He also works at the spa.”

  “Spell that for me.”

  He did. “And while you’re at it, can you run a check on who owns the spa? I’m particularly interested in the names behind what I’m told is an East German company that has held the property for the last decade or so. That’s about all for now.”

  Rex kept his eyes trained on the Gazette door as he spoke. He knew there was no back entrance to the office.

  “Oh, and, Margaret, get Scott to give me a call on a secure line. There’s someone else I need information on.”

  He flipped his phone shut. He needed Scott to see if he could find out exactly what the CIA was up to in White River. Agent Ken Mitchell in particular.

  The Gazette door swung open and Rex stiffened. He relaxed when he saw it was Hannah. She was carrying a black bag. There was a fresh bounce in her movement as she came down the steps. Soft color flushed her cheeks. Her eyes sparked with animation as she yanked open the car door.

  “Have I got some interesting stuff!” She climbed into the seat, giving a little gasp as she twisted round to reach the seat belt. Her rib was still giving her trouble.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Not now, over dinner. I’m starved.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I would say you look positively smug. What’s in the bag?”

  “Amy’s stuff, things they found on her body. The coroner’s office sent it up. Al said we could take a look. He wants answers as much as we do, you know.”

  “What’ve you told him about us?”

  “Nothing. I mean, I told him you were an old friend…lending a hand.”

  She was avoiding contact with his eyes. She was looking out the window at the mountains washed in the peach and amber tail of the day’s sun as it dipped behind the opposite peaks.

  “And I told him I took a tumble while jogging over the weekend and that I needed a couple of days off to spend some time with my old friend.”

  “Thanks.”

  She turned to face him. “For what?”

  “Calling me a friend.” He didn’t know why it mattered to him, but it did.

  The evening chill had crept from shadows and crevices the minute the sun turned a blind eye on the valley. Rex placed the soft fleece over her shoulders and slipped an arm around her waist, escorting her up the cobbled path toward the little stone steps of Ma Maison. She didn’t protest and that pleased him immensely. It sent a spurt of warmth through his chest. He felt an urge to protect, to comfort. She fell in step beside him, her body moving in concert with his as they walked. The sensation was intimate, satisfying.

  Rex could smell garlic, butter and oregano. The warm scents of country French cuisine called out to them, luring them through the open doors, in from the brisk evening. As they climbed the steps, Rex saw that herbs frothed and spilled out of green window boxes under long narrow windows flanked by shutters.

  For a moment everything seemed perfect. He was escorting his woman into a fine little French restaurant for a candlelit dinner.

  Only, she wasn’t his woman. It was a fragile facade. One that would crack, splinter into delicate shards the moment either one of them started to talk of the future. Or the past. But right now, in this moment, it was perfect. It made Rex want to think about tomorrows.

  But a life of love and tomorrows was
not for him. His life was the Bellona Channel. Tomorrow a new assignment. Another country. No room for love. Never had been. Well, thought Rex, that was not strictly true. There had been room once, a cavernous hollow he’d felt as a child. It had been a vast ache for the love of his father, the love of a family. But he’d learned early it was not to be. He’d learned early how to slam the door on that aching vault of need.

  He looked at the woman beside him. It disturbed him greatly that being with Hannah made him poke about in those painful wounds of his memory. He couldn’t afford to dwell there. He needed to stay focused. Needed to keep her safe. And then his job here would be done. They’d both be free.

  He watched them go into Ma Maison, arm in arm. This would make things easier. Dr. Logan clearly had feelings for McGuire. The cold Bellona agent did have a weakness. He could use her to flush him out. He had to get them both out of the village and into the mountains. Out there he could take care of them. Before the buyers started arriving. By the time their bodies were found, the deal would be wrapped, the players long gone. Everything would be set in motion. There could be no turning back.

  And he had a plan.

  But it would have to wait until the boy came home.

  Chapter 9

  “B onsoir, Hannah, how lovely for you to come. I have not seen you in Ma Maison for, oh, it seems like years already.”

  The buxom woman hugged Hannah, squeezing the breath from her. She scrunched her eyes in pain as those large arms crushed her injured rib.

  “Isabelle, they’re going to have to put you on the wrestling team.” Hannah’s laugh was breathless. “Got a table for two?”

  Isabelle gave Rex the once-over, approval registering in her twinkling eyes. She threw Hannah a knowing grin and obvious wink. “Mais, oui. It is good to see you out with a date, Hannah. Come this way. I have a nice secluded spot for your evening.” She led the way through the tables to a little alcove set in a bay of windows overlooking the herb-filled courtyard.

  Rex guided Hannah through the tables, his hand at the small of her back. He could feel her muscles move along the base of her spine as she walked.