“Even if we find out who this guy is...how is that going to help us?” Andrew asked.
“I'm not sure...yet,” Sarah said and snatched up a telephone, “but we have all night to come up with a plan. Now, please go get me a cup of coffee while I get Pete on the horn.”
As Sarah called Pete, the man known as Connor Barker eased down onto a soft brown couch in the deserted cabin he had broken into and closed his eyes. “When daylight arrives, the game will become more serious,” he promised Amanda in his mind, and drifted off into a troubled sleep filled with nightmares.
5
Morning began to break. Weak, pale daylight slowly yawned as thick snow continued to fall, thrown about by a cruel, powerful wind patrolling a scared town. The heavy snow held complete power, paralyzing main roads and streets with wide, white eyes. The little town of Snow Falls sat helpless in the midst of a nightmare – a nightmare that was just beginning.
Inside the small police station Sarah checked her watch. “It's time to call Pete,” she whispered to Conrad and pointed at Amanda. “Try not to wake her.”
Conrad looked inside a small cell and spotted Amanda curled up on a cot covered with a brown blanket. The poor woman looked cold and scared, even in sleep, and Sarah didn’t look much better. “You didn't sleep,” he whispered.
Sarah shook her head. “Couldn't,” she explained and pulled Conrad back out into the front public area. Brent was at his desk with his head down, resting on his arms. Michael and Henry were standing at the coffee station talking in low voices. Michael spotted Sarah and Conrad and nodded toward Andrew's office. “Still asleep?”
“Off and on,” Michael nodded and then rubbed the back of his head.
Sarah looked at the white bandage wrapped around Michael's head. The man was in his early fifties and was in the prime of his strength. Even though he was thin as a rail and sported a comically long mustache, Michael was known to be fierce when the situation called for it – though deep down he was nothing but a gentle family man who enjoyed hunting and fishing. Henry wasn't much different from Michael, just a little shorter and more plump around the waist. Both were good men whom Sarah trusted. She was grateful for their presence as she took in the state of the group. “It's been a long night for everyone.”
“You can say that again,” Brent said and raised his head. “If I drink one more cup of coffee, I'm going to turn into a coffee bean.” Brent raised his right arm and wiped drool away from his mouth. “This waiting is the worst part.”
Conrad sat down on the edge of Brent's desk. “All we can do is wait,” he said and folded his arms. “Sarah is going to call Pete. Maybe he'll have some answers.”
Brent picked up the phone on his desk and handed it to Sarah. “Be my guest,” he said and then slowly fished a tobacco pipe out of the top drawer of his desk and clamped it between his teeth. The smell of old cherry tobacco began floating around the air even though it remained unlit.
“Hopefully Pete has some news,” Sarah said and quickly dialed Pete. Pete picked up on the second ring. “Hey partner, what's the word?” she asked in a hopeful voice.
“You always did have good timing,” Pete grinned and paused to slurp at his coffee. “I just got off the phone with my old friend no more than half an hour ago. I was going to call you, but I had to grab some decaf and a newspaper and hit the head.”
“Too much Chinese food?” Sarah joked.
“Doc says I have a heart of a forty-year old, clear as a whistle,” Pete explained, “but he says my stomach doesn't like that...what did he call it...oh yeah, that gluten stuff. Bothers my stomach something awful. But I'm not going to live without my Chinese noodles.” Pete chawed on the cigar he had popped into his mouth and heaved a sigh.
“I don’t imagine you could,” Sarah told Pete, feeling a strong love for the man. She could picture him sitting behind his messy desk, feet propped up as he spoke to her. “So…what's the word?”
“The dead woman is the word,” Pete said and grabbed a notebook.
“What did you find out, Pete?”
“I found out your friend Bertha has a twin sister,” Pete told Sarah.
Sarah had to swallow her disbelief. “A twin sister?”
“Yep,” Pete confirmed. “Identical twin, as a matter of fact. I also found out that the dead woman in your neck of the woods isn't this Bertha woman. It's a good thing you faxed me a copy of the woman's prints, kiddo.”
“Andrew had our guys take a set of prints before they left the morgue at the hospital,” Sarah explained. “He knew the feds would want extra care and attention paid to this, since she’s not an American citizen and the embassy might ask questions. Besides, we're not as primitive as you might think, Pete.”
Pete grinned. “Maybe not,” he said and continued. “The Bertha you're looking for is still in London, locked away in a mental hospital.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
“That woman has been locked away in a mental hospital for many years,” Pete explained. “Why? Who knows. My friend couldn't dig up the facts...yet. He's still hard at work.”
Sarah rubbed her chin. “What’s the name of the twin sister whose body is here, Pete?”
“A woman named Emily Roberson,” Pete said and popped his cigar back into his mouth. “Emily Roberson left England a few days ago, purchasing a ticket under her sister’s name. That woman wasn't coming to shake hands with Amanda.”
“She was coming to kill Amanda,” Sarah whispered.
“That's my guess,” Pete confirmed. “I have more.”
“Let me have it.”
“Emily Roberson's middle name is Bertha…Bertha's middle name is Emily...you follow me?” Pete asked.
Sarah nodded. “That's how Emily fooled Amanda's husband.”
“Exactly,” Pete said. “Emily used her own passport to leave England but because she is her sister’s twin and has almost the same name, well, anyone could be fooled.” Pete studied the notebook in his hand. “Now here's where things get tedious,” he continued. “Bertha, Sarah’s old nanny, had a son. When she was admitted to the mental hospital, legal custody of her son went to her sister Emily.”
Sarah closed her eyes. She had yet to mention the sniper to Pete. “Got a name, Pete?”
“Connor Barker,” Pete said. “The son kept his old man's last name after his folks divorced, which would have been when he was four years old. Court papers state the husband filed for divorce because his wife was mentally unsound...not that the husband was a real winner, either. Records show he got drunk and drowned in a river just last year.”
Sarah kept her eyes closed. “What about Connor Barker, Pete?” she asked.
Pete eyed his empty cup of coffee. “Good lad, I guess,” he told Sarah. “Served in the British military for a while...went into Special Forces. Records show he's clean. Works as a physical therapist in London. He's not married and has no children.”
“No criminal record?”
“Clean as a whistle,” Pete reiterated.
Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Do his records show if he's ever left England?”
Pete scanned the notepad. “Sorry, kiddo, didn't get that far. My friend was gathering all he could in a short amount of time. He gave me a quick analysis and promised to get more in-depth later.”
“Pete, find out if Connor Barker is still in England, okay?”
“Your nose detects something bad?” Pete asked.
“I'm afraid so,” Sarah confirmed.
Pete chewed on his cigar and fought back a yawn. “You got a dead woman in Alaska and her twin sister locked up in a mental hospital...their father was found drowned...guess we do need to look more carefully at this Connor Barker.” Pete tossed his cigar down. “Kiddo, this old man needs some shut-eye. I'll give my friend a call and have him focus on Connor Barker and give you a call back...say...after four or so. I still have my own case to work on…some truly ugly dogs to tame.”
“I wish I could help you, Pete.”
“You can,” Pete said, “by coming home.”
“Pete—”
“I'll call you later, kiddo,” Pete said gently and hung up.
Sarah sighed and put down the phone. “What did Pete say?” Conrad asked.
“Looks like our sniper is a man named Connor Barker...Bertha’s son,” Sarah told her husband. “Bertha Roberson isn't our dead woman, though.”
“She isn't?” Brent asked.
“Bertha Roberson is in England, locked away in a mental hospital. It was her twin sister, Emily Roberson, that came here and was shot and killed,” Sarah explained.
“Twin sister?” Conrad asked.
Sarah bit her lip. “Looks like Emily Roberson traveled to Alaska to do her sister's dirty work...only...Bertha's son shot and killed her. The question is: why?”
Before anyone could answer, a single bullet shattered the front door. “Down!” Conrad yelled. He grabbed Sarah, pulled her down to the floor, and threw his body over hers. “Everyone stay down!”
Andrew, half-asleep and wide-eyed, came crawling out of his office with his gun at the ready. “Is everybody okay?” he yelled. A second bullet answered him. The bullet shattered the front window of the police station. Icy winds and heavy snow began blowing in through the broken glass.
Conrad yanked out his gun, crawled over to the front door, and looked outside. All he saw was a snow-covered white world. “He could be up on the buildings,” he told Andrew and began scanning the rooftops across the street. His eyes came up empty.
“What's happening?” a panicked voice yelled.
“Stay down!” Andrew yelled and grabbed Amanda, who had walked out of the cell where she had been sleeping and was very confused. Amanda toppled down to the floor and looked at Conrad. “He's out there, isn't he?” she cried.
Conrad eased away from the door and crawled back to Sarah. “Whoever this guy is, he has the advantage,” he said in a quick voice. “Take Amanda back to that cell and keep her there. It’s the safest place, it’s got cement walls and no exterior windows.”
Sarah crawled over to Amanda, grabbed her hand, and then quickly duck-walked back to the cell where Amanda had been resting. “Stay here, June Bug,” she begged.
Amanda watched Sarah pull out her gun. “Where are you going?” she asked in a terrified voice.
“The storage room has that small window that faces the street. I'm going to see if I can spot the shooter from there,” Sarah explained.
“Then I'm coming with you,” Amanda declared.
Sarah heard a third shot shatter Conrad's office window. “I guess you should,” she said in desperation, and ran down a short hallway and slid to a stop in front of a closed door leading into a room holding old, dusty items that the department had forgotten about. “Stand guard for me,” Sarah begged Amanda and hurried into the room, stepping past piles of boxes. “Just one shot,” she begged, finally making it to the small rectangular window.
Amanda watched Sarah step up onto a box, carefully ease the window open just enough to see out, block her face from the wind and snow, and search the outside world. “See anything?” she asked in a desperate but quiet voice.
Sarah gazed around the snow-covered street, searched over the buildings across the street, and looked up onto the rooftops. “Nothing,” she said in a miserable voice as a fourth bullet took out the window in Andrew's office. “He's forcing us into a corner...”
Amanda began biting her thumb nail and stared down the hallway. She spotted Andrew and Conrad squatting beside Conrad's office door. “Who is this guy?”
Sarah kept scanning the snow-covered rooftops. The area appeared void of human movement. But suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of movement. “There,” she whispered, spotting snow fall off the roof covering the hardware store. She aimed her gun at the roof and fired off three shots. The bullets struck the edge of the roof. As they did, a man dressed in a white camouflage outfit stumbled back, revealing a high-powered rifle covered with an arctic white cloth. “Found you,” Sarah said and quickly emptied her clip at her target – the only clip she had.
Connor Barker quickly dropped down onto one knee, shocked that his position had been compromised. Fury filled him. “Last mistake I'll ever make,” he hissed and retreated to cross to a different rooftop out of sight and establish a new position. Then he began shooting out every window visible in the buildings across the street. When the windows were shot out, he aimed his rifle at a transformer, shot off a single bullet, and killed the power running down the main street. “I'll let the cold settle in before I make my call,” he said and melted away into the storm.
Back in the police station, Sarah watched helplessly as the man escaped into the storm. “Come on,” she told Amanda, quickly closed the window, and walked at a low crouch back into the front room. “No power.”
Amanda shivered all over. It was not cold yet, but it would be very soon. The loss of power made her heart sink. “We're in the dark...again.”
Conrad put his arm around Sarah. “He shot up the front street pretty good. I heard at least ten windows get shot out before the power went out.”
“Connor Barker wants us in the dark and the cold,” Sarah told Conrad. “When night falls, he'll come at us even harder.”
“How do you know that?” Andrew insisted.
“Pete said Connor Barker served in the Special Forces...in his country, not ours,” Sarah explained. “If he wanted us dead, we would be dead. Right now, he's following through on every word he said.”
“What did he say, exactly?” Andrew asked.
“He wants to make Amanda sweat some,” Sarah explained, “and crippled us in the process. And unfortunately, that's exactly what he's done.” Sarah nodded toward the front door. “We're trapped, powerless and uncertain. Connor Barker could be anywhere, or he could still be right across the street. My guess is he's close, and when night falls, he'll attack again. For now, I think he wanted to let us know who is in charge in order to make Amanda sweat.”
“But why?” Amanda demanded. “What did I ever do to this bloke?”
“Not to him...to his mother,” Sarah told Amanda and hugged her shoulder. “I called Pete, June Bug, and he told me some interesting news.”
“What did Pete tell you?” Amanda asked in a scared voice.
“Honey, the woman your hubby hired to come and babysit you wasn't Bertha,” Sarah explained, forcing her voice to remain calm as the icy winds blew snow through the broken windows and front door. “Bertha has – had – an identical twin, named Emily. It was Emily Roberson, Bertha's sister, who flew here to Alaska. Bertha Roberson is still in England, locked away in a mental hospital...and...Connor Barker, the shooter outside, is her son. Connor was adopted by his Aunt Emily when he was quite young.”
Amanda's eyes grew wide with fear. “Oh dear,” she gasped. “I...I never...oh dear,” was all Amanda could manage to say.
Sarah looked at Conrad. “Station your guys at every entrance,” she said in a quick voice. “All we can do is sit tight and wait.”
Brent crawled over to Andrew with Michael and Henry. “I'll cover the back door,” he said.
“Good,” Andrew said. “Michael, you cover the basement door and Henry you cover the rear exit. Shoot first and ask questions later. In the meantime, I'm going to start calling everyone in town and order them to stay inside.”
Amanda felt her heart sink. “This is all my fault,” she whispered and looked at the broken glass at the front of the station and watched the snow pour in. Sarah followed Amanda's eyes but didn't say a word. Instead, she closed her eyes and began to pray.
“A mental hospital, goodness,” Amanda said, sitting safe in a cell with a blanket wrapped around her. “I knew the woman was insane, but I never imagined she would end up in a mental hospital.”
Sarah helped Mittens up onto the cot Amanda was sitting on. Mittens quickly laid down next to Amanda, looking around as if fully aware of the dangers surrounding her
favorite humans. “Pete said her husband filed for divorce because Bertha was showing signs of mental instability. He said Connor Barker was four at the time...which would mean it happened...about the same years Bertha was your nanny.”
“I never knew the old bat had a son,” Amanda confessed. “I always assumed she had no family.” Amanda cradled her arms together under the blanket. The police station was growing colder and colder by the second. The two front offices Andrew and Conrad occupied were quickly filling with snow. The front room was becoming a giant snow drift. A building that had once offered safety was becoming an icy tomb.
“Connor said he wanted you to suffer for what you did to his mother, June Bug,” Sarah continued. “That makes me wonder if he blames you for his mother being in a mental hospital. But not just you...maybe his daddy and his aunt? It could be he's finally taking revenge on everyone he thinks is responsible for his mother's mental state.”
“But I didn't do anything to Bertha...that old bat was already a mental case,” Amanda told Sarah, hearing anger creep into her scared voice.
Sarah sat down on the edge of the cot and rubbed Mittens’ soft ears. “Connor's father was found drowned...and Connor shot and killed his aunt at the hotel...and now he's after you. Somehow you three are connected.”
Amanda hugged the blanket. “How, love?” she begged.
“Maybe Pete will tell us when I call him later,” Sarah suggested. “In the meantime, all we can do is sit tight.” Sarah studied the sturdy walls of the cell. “You're safe in here, June Bug. No one can harm you.”
Amanda let her eyes roam around the small cell. The walls were gray, and the floor was solid concrete. She felt like she was trapped in a tomb – but at least there were no windows. “I guess this awful cell will have to be home for a while,” she sighed and then felt her belly growl. “I'm hungry.”
“Me too, honey,” Sarah confessed. “When this is over, I promise to treat you to a real comfort food feast at the diner.”
“I could go for a double cheeseburger and a plate of salty fries right now,” Amanda told Sarah and nearly began drooling all over herself. “And then I could go for a strawberry shake.”
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