Danger in the Snow

by Wendy Meadows

  “You saw two men fighting in a dark, snowy alley and made a quick call,” Sarah said, trying to reassure him. “Cops don't always make the right call.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Andrew sighed heavily. “I'll send Conrad over to Amanda's cabin and see what he digs up. But if what you're saying is right, Sarah, that means the killer is still around. This doesn't look like a hit-and-run situation. Michael said he found the old woman's pocketbook and luggage lying untouched in the snow.”

  “At least now we have a direction to focus on,” Sarah told Andrew.

  “Yeah, that's true, Sarah,” Andrew agreed. “The question is, how are we going to find a killer in this storm? We're back at the night I nearly shot and killed Conrad...we’re all walking blind in the snow.”

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder toward Amanda. Amanda was studying the rock. “I know, Andrew. It seems like the killers who pay us a visit always wait until a snowstorm traps us.”

  “No, if that was true, then all of Alaska would be in trouble. It’s just what it’s like up here…too bad the snow can't keep the outside world locked out,” Andrew said. He picked up a cup of coffee and took a drink. “Snow Falls is a safe, small town, Sarah. It’s only been the last couple years it seems like we're headed for the record books as murder capital of the rural United States. Folks in Snow Falls don't like that kind of attention…did you know some folks have even moved away?” Andrew stared at his coffee cup. “The old-timers are staying put but the younger generation...well, they'll move away. I guess the day will come when this old town will shut down and be no more.”

  “Don't say that,” Sarah told Andrew in a firm voice. “This is our town, and we're not going to let it die.”

  “Sure,” Andrew sighed, “we have O'Mally's, a diner, a small hospital, a few shops, and a whole bunch of snow. Folks are just lining up to move to Snow Falls, Sarah.” Andrew shook his head. “What we've been having our share of is murder and crime and that's not good for this town.”

  Sarah felt guilt grip her heart. “Conrad and I brought trouble...I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be sorry, Sarah,” Andrew said in a heavy voice, “it was inevitable that trouble would find its way into Snow Falls sooner or later. Can't hide from the world forever. I better get on to the hotel.”

  “Have Conrad call me from Amanda's cabin, okay?”

  “Will do.” Andrew began to hang up but then added in a quick voice: “Oh, Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “I contacted the state police,” Andrew explained.

  “Let me guess, they can't move in this storm?”

  “Not an inch,” Andrew confirmed. “They have their hands full trying to keep the interstate open for emergency vehicles. This storm is hitting our area pretty hard. Plows were also out trying to keep old Route 144 open, but the snow was coming down too fast, so the plows were called in until it lets up.”

  “Wonder if the convict who drove Bertha into Snow Falls made it back to Fairbanks?” Sarah asked. “I'm wondering if that convict even left town?” Sarah rubbed her chin with her left hand.

  “I've been wondering that same thing myself,” Andrew said. “I'm still waiting for the London Police to send me information on Bertha. Maybe we'll find out something interesting that will help us?”

  “I hope so,” Sarah agreed. “Just keep up the good work.”

  “I'll try.”

  “And Andrew?” Sarah said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Nice work running the convict who drove Bertha into town. Your quick thinking really paid off, so don't knock yourself down into the snow, okay?” Sarah said.

  “Guy just struck me as strange was all.”

  “You followed your gut and hit a solid target,” Sarah pointed out.

  “Guess I did,” Andrew said, feeling a smile touch his tired lips. “Okay, Sarah, I better get out into the storm before this warm office chains me down. I'll be in touch.”

  “Be careful out there.” Sarah hung up the phone and returned to Amanda. “What are you thinking, June Bug?”

  “I'm wondering who stole my gun,” Amanda confessed, examining the rock in her hands. “This rock came from the stone path leading up to my house from the driveway. I recognize this granite color. Someone must have entered my cabin while I was in London...and that tells me there was a plan in place to destroy my life long before I got back to Alaska.”

  Sarah studied the rock. “Andrew is waiting to hear back from the authorities over in London.”

  “I'm not surprised,” Amanda sighed. “With the time difference, it must be the middle of the night there right now. And you know, London has changed quite a bit since I last lived there. Like the rest of the world, my old home has a lot more crime than it used to. They’re probably chasing down six different major crimes and one request from a local cop in Alaska is at the bottom of their list of priorities.”

  “Half the time I think the increase in crime has more to do with an increase in political correctness and overly protective laws than anything else,” Sarah commented, shaking her head wearily.

  “I agree. Whatever happened to common sense?”

  “I wonder the same thing, June Bug,” Sarah replied. “I was reading an article last week about a town that shut down a little girl’s lemonade stand because she didn't have a business permit and was in violation of some silly city code.”

  “Are you serious?” Amanda asked in a disgusted voice.

  Sarah shook her head. “I'm very serious,” she said and sat down. “And another thing…a few weeks ago a fire chief was fired from his job because he refused to compromise his religious beliefs.” Sarah shook her head again. “It's become tough out there...been tough for a long time.”

  “Tell me about it,” Amanda said. “And the airports. Goodness, love, the security agencies in charge of the airports treat you like you're a convict. Why, I saw one security guy actually patting down an old woman in a wheelchair. Poor lady had to be close to a hundred years old. But that wasn't the worst of it. My hubby and I actually saw a security person...a thug, really...take a baby bottle away from a mother nursing her newborn and refuse to give it back while he tested it for explosive residue! Can you even imagine? The whole time, the baby was wailing, and the man’s face was stone cold. It was monstrous.”

  “I think they’re just trying to do their jobs, but I've heard too many horror stories about airport security personnel,” Sarah agreed. “Profiling, inappropriate judgment calls…but threats are waiting for us all over the world, June Bug. We’re lucky there's still good people out there willing to fight the good fight. There's people like Andrew and Pete and Conrad...and you.” Sarah looked around her kitchen. “It's becoming obvious that little towns like Snow Falls are the last stronghold. We'll keep fighting.”

  “With a hotdog in one hand at the baseball game and an apple pie cooling on the window sill,” Amanda added with a grin.

  “The good old days,” Sarah sighed. “When my grandfather was twelve years old, he was out working the fields with his daddy. Kids today...oh, what's the point? Let's focus on the case.”

  “Kids today indeed…why work a good summer job when you could curl up with your cell phone instead?” Amanda said and turned the rock over in her hands. “But it surely wasn't a kid that killed Bertha.”

  “No, honey, it wasn't a kid that killed Bertha,” Sarah agreed. “We're dealing with someone who understands the art of murder.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because whoever killed Bertha was waiting for her at the hotel,” Sarah explained. “That person knocked Michael out cold, shot Bertha dead, and left her pocketbook untouched. We're not dealing with a street thug, June Bug. This is someone with a strategy.”

  Amanda looked up at Sarah. “I was afraid of that,” she said in a scared voice.

  Sarah reached out and patted Amanda's hand. “Honey, we're going to find the killer, I promise.”

  “I'm not sure I want to,” Amanda confessed. “Maybe if we
leave the killer alone, he'll...just leave town. Just leave us alone.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Sarah asked and tapped the rock sitting on the table with her index finger.

  Amanda lowered her eyes. “I wish I did,” she whispered, “but deep down in my heart...I know the killer has just begun his awful game.”

  Conrad found the front door to Amanda's cabin standing open. “Not good,” he whispered, holding his gun at the ready as icy winds and heavy snow buffeted his body. “At least the power is still on.”

  “For now,” Andrew said, studying a snow-covered front porch lit by a single fixture aimed out from the house. The cold light from the bulb cast an eerie glow out into the night, bathing the snow with a creepy presence that didn't sit well with Conrad or Andrew. “What do you think?”

  Conrad glanced around. The cabin was surrounded by deep woods, sitting alone down a lonely road by itself. Sarah’s place was miles away, and the nearest neighbor was at least a quarter of a mile closer to town. Amanda's husband, after living in a crowded London flat all his life, prided himself on a home that boasted absolute privacy. Privacy was nice, but it also allowed for criminals to come and go with ease. “You take the back door. I'll go in through the front.”

  Andrew looked at Conrad. Conrad looked like a criminal himself, wearing the black ski mask. At least the guy was finally dressing sensibly. “What do you think is going on?” he asked over the icy winds.

  Conrad turned his attention to Andrew. Andrew, who had lived in Alaska his whole life, never needed to be convinced to dress sensibly for the weather. He was dressed in a thick gray and brown ski suit equipped with winter cap and a brown ski mask. Conrad had learned the hard way that riding in the snow without a ski mask was miserable, though Andrew would never make fun of him. Andrew had taught him how to manage the brutal winters and stay alive. Still, Conrad thought, he didn't like standing out in the snow with his face hidden like a criminal preparing to commit a crime. The New Yorker in him was fussy about appearances. But what could he do? It was either freeze or stay warm. “Someone is out to hurt Amanda,” he said in a careful voice. “At first I thought Amanda was being a drama queen over this mess with her former nanny, but now I owe her an apology.”

  Andrew glanced around the dark night with his gun gripped firmly in both hands. “Amanda is a nice lady, Conrad. She's a good addition to Snow Falls, and so is her husband. Both are good people.” Conrad nodded. “Can't imagine who would want to hurt them.”

  “Them?” Conrad asked.

  “Why not?” Andrew asked back. “Maybe whoever killed that old lady and is out to hurt the wife will use the husband to accomplish the job? Or vice versa? Use the wife to go after the husband?”

  Conrad hadn't considered that option. “That's possible,” he told Andrew as the snow continued to attack his face. Even though he was dressed for warmth, his body was slowly turning to ice. “Let's talk more after we check out the cabin.”

  “Got it,” Andrew said and, without saying another word, he sprinted off into the snow and vanished around the left side of the cabin into the shadows. Conrad looked around and then carefully eased up onto the front porch and began checking for boot prints. When his eyes came up empty, he focused on the front door, maneuvered over to the opening, drew in a deep breath, and then stormed into a cozy living room that looked like a seaside English cottage. Without wasting a second, he kicked the front door closed, scanned the living room, and then raced through a dark doorway, entering a lonely dining room. He saw no one and saw no hints of any entry. He moved on into a dimly lit kitchen and snatched the back door open. Andrew was waiting. He came in and they both peeled their ski masks up so they could talk and breathe easier inside the cabin.

  “Look at this,” Conrad said in a quick voice once they turned the lights on in the kitchen.

  Andrew hurried over and looked down at the polished hardwood floor. He saw small puddles of wet snow. “Someone's been in here.”

  “Back door was unlocked,” Conrad pointed out. “Come on and let’s do a sweep.”

  “I'm with you,” Andrew said and followed Conrad through the cabin, checking every room. When they entered the main bedroom, Conrad urged caution and respect.

  “After all…the puddles could have just been from Amanda coming in to fetch her gun. She didn’t know it had been stolen from the closed box. Let’s be cautious.”

  “I'm with you all the way,” Andrew said, stepping into a lovely bedroom fit for a queen. The bedroom smelled of roses and fresh rain, reminding Andrew of a garden after a summer thunderstorm. But this peaceful thought quickly vanished when he spotted Amanda's gun laying on the large king-sized bed covered with a pink and white quilt. “There,” he said.

  Conrad lowered his gun, walked over to the bed, and looked down at the gun. A note was tucked under the gun. “Got a note,” he said and waved Andrew over. Andrew made his way over after checking the closets and finding no one hidden. Conrad picked up Amanda's gun and smelled the barrel. “Gun has recently been fired,” he pointed out and handed Andrew the gun.

  Andrew took the gun and shoved it inside his right pocket. “What does the note say?” he asked.

  Conrad picked up the note. “‘I could have killed you. In time I will. But first, you suffer. Let Bertha be a clear warning that I'm in charge.’ Well, that’s pretty direct and to the point.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Sounds like we have another crazy on our hands, Conrad.”

  “Yeah,” Conrad said in an uneasy voice. “The note isn't handwritten...looks printed from a laser printer. We won't be able to trace it.” Conrad stared at the words of the note and then placed it into his pocket. “I need to call Sarah.”

  “I'll continue checking around,” Andrew said.

  “Thanks.” Conrad left the bedroom, went back to the kitchen, and phoned Sarah. “Bad news,” he said.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked.

  “We found Amanda's gun in her cabin. It had been broken into, just like you thought.”

  “And you found a note, too, didn't you?” Sarah asked.

  “You'll never stop being a cop, Sarah,” Conrad said with an admiring chuckle, looking around the kitchen.

  “What did the note say?”

  Conrad read Sarah the note. “Someone has it out for Amanda.”

  Sarah bit down on her lower lip and looked toward the doorway. “Amanda is in the bathroom, Conrad. We need to hurry and talk. I don't want her upset.”

  “You can't keep this a secret from her.”

  “I know,” Sarah sighed. “But the poor thing is already so scared and upset. That note is only going to make matters worse.”

  “Amanda is a big girl. I know you want to protect her, but she has to know the truth. She’ll have to file a report, a crime did happen in her house, after all.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and saw Amanda's sweet and beautiful face appear before her eyes. “That woman has saved my life, Conrad. She isn’t just there for me in the hour of danger, but...she’s there for me emotionally, whenever I have felt…broken. She deserves to be happy...and now she's stuck in a nightmare.”

  “I love Amanda, too,” Conrad told Sarah, “but honey, we need her to be strong right now. We have a killer on the loose and no way of tracking him...or her. Right now, we're blind. We have no evidence and no way of seeing through the storm to find evidence.”

  “We're sitting ducks,” Sarah said in a worried voice. “The killer has the upper hand on us for sure.”

  “The killer shot Bertha to show Amanda just who is in charge,” Conrad told Sarah in a worried voice. “I'm going to call the state police and have them track down that convict who delivered Bertha into town. Maybe someone else was with him?”

  “I was going to suggest you do that,” Sarah said, “but I know my husband is way ahead of the game.”

  “Compliments on a stormy night are great if you’re writing one of your books, honey, but—”

  “In real life, compliment
s mean nothing until the killer is caught?”

  “Exactly,” Conrad said.

  Sarah fell silent and listened to the storm crying outside. When she spoke, her voice was focused on the killer and nothing else. “We need to find out if Bertha is working with anyone else. I have a hunch she has relatives involved. Get on the horn with London again and give them a good dressing-down. Time isn't on our side. But before you do anything, come back home. I want to get Amanda down to the station for safekeeping. Have Andrew come with you. Amanda can ride with Andrew and I'll ride with you.”

  Conrad looked down at the puddles of melted snow on the floor. “Whoever this killer is, he is strong. Our Michael is a tough guy, Sarah, and he was knocked out cold. I'm thinking the killer is a man and not a woman. I would suggest the killer is the convict who drove Bertha into town, but I doubt he would be that stupid.”

  “Could be the killer is connected to the convict?”

  “I've considered that,” Conrad replied. “Andrew suggested that maybe the killer is after Amanda's husband and using her to punish him?”

  Sarah closed her eyes. “I didn't consider that. My goodness, Conrad, there's numerous trails to explore and we're caught in a storm.”

  “Call London and speak to Amanda's husband. Drill him about anyone he knows. I'll be back to get you within the hour.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said. “Please be careful. The killer is lurking around and could very well be watching Amanda's cabin as we speak.”

  “I'll keep an eye out,” Conrad promised. “I better get moving. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Sarah said and reluctantly hung up the phone. A minute later Amanda came walking into the kitchen carrying a kitchen knife. “All clear?”

  Amanda blushed. “Better safe than sorry. Even the potty can be dangerous, love,” she said and set the kitchen knife down onto the table. “Did I hear you talking to Conrad?”

  “Yes, you did,” Sarah said, staring into Amanda's worried face. “You better sit down.”

  “Oh dear,” Amanda fretted and quickly sat down. “Okay, love, let me have it...just yank the band-aid off and get it over with...we have to pull the tape off quickly...pull the hair out of the knot and let the pain come...let—”