Conrad looked down at the bare hardwood floor and then studied the walls. No windows had been shot out here. The diner was old but homey. Yet the usual cozy feeling he felt every time he came to the diner for lunch or a cup of coffee was now gone; and that upset him. Instead of feeling like a regular customer visiting his favorite café in town, he felt like an intruder. “Let's hurry.”
Andrew walked to the refrigerator and opened it. “Okay, we have leftover hamburgers...some soup...pie...” he called out.
“Burgers will be fine,” Andrew said and walked over to a wooden table. “I'll leave a note.”
Sarah watched Conrad pull a pad and pen from his front pocket and begin writing a note. “I promise to pay double for what we take,” she whispered and walked over to Amanda, who was peeking through the kitchen door into the dining area. “See anything?” she asked.
“Our usual booth,” Amanda said and closed the kitchen door. “Love, do you really think we're going to trick this bloke?”
“Well,” Sarah said and began nibbling on the inside of her cheek, “if our trap works, one of us might get a clear shot at him.”
Amanda shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Love, no offense, but I think the trap we set was pretty flimsy. Some chairs decorated to look like a person is sitting there and a wire running down to a smoke grenade across the front door? I'm sorry, love, but I just can't find any confidence in the whole thing.”
“The wire is also connected to a high-powered flashlight,” Conrad told Amanda. “If Connor Barker trips the wire, he'll activate the smoke grenade, which should make him move back, and the flashlight should kick on and give us a clear, well-lit shot at him.” Conrad hoped his voice sounded confident but deep down he knew the trap was pretty flimsy. The chances of Connor Barker actually tripping a hidden wire was...well, near zero.
“Connor Barker told you not to leave the police station, June Bug,” Sarah said, taking over for Conrad. “We can’t take that chance. He's assuming he has us scared and pinned down. We have to make him think we're still inside the station house.”
“Decorating some chairs in front of the door is hardly—”
“Connor will know the chairs are a fake decoy,” Sarah explained. “When he sees them...hopefully...he'll realize the station is empty and investigate. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to get him to walk inside.” Sarah rubbed her gloved hands together. “When he calls the station and no one answers, he'll most likely come to investigate...or maybe not. All we can do is try to stay one step ahead of him.”
“I know, love,” Amanda moaned, “that’s what seems so hopeless. He’s already stayed two steps ahead of us the whole time. Oh pooh,” Amanda stomped her foot on the floor, “here you three are fighting and here I am being pessimistic. I'm sorry, you guys.”
Andrew had pulled the tray of hamburgers out of the refrigerator and was putting them on plates. “You're scared and worried, Amanda. Stop kicking yourself,” he said. “My wife is at home ready to call in the army.”
“Why can't we get any outside help?” Amanda begged.
“Because we are pinned down by a storm and we have an active sniper on our hands,” Conrad explained. “Even if the state police could get into Snow Falls, I would order them to stand down. I'm not going to risk their lives when we don’t know where he is.”
“You don't have to worry about the state police,” Andrew told Conrad. “I made a call right before we took off from the station. This storm has locked down most of the state. Nothing is moving. The airport in Anchorage is at a standstill. No flights in or out. We're catching the worst of the storm, and let me tell you, this storm isn't leaving us anytime soon.”
Sarah walked over to Andrew, picked up a hamburger, and handed it to her husband. “Eat,” she begged.
Conrad took the burger from Sarah. “Now you.”
Sarah grabbed a second burger and walked over to Amanda. “My girl eats before I do.”
Amanda stared at Sarah with loving eyes. “You're my girl, too,” she said and took the hamburger. “Now it's your turn.”
Sarah went back to the tray and handed Andrew a burger. “Not before this guy eats,” she said. “Good men need to keep their strength up.”
“So do good women,” Andrew said and handed Sarah a burger.
Sarah accepted the food, said a prayer of thanks, and took a bite. The burger was cold and plain but absolutely delicious. “Anyone thirsty?” she asked.
Conrad spotted a soda dispenser. “I'll get us all some soda.”
Amanda walked over to Sarah as Conrad hurried to fill four plastic diner cups full of cold soda. Luckily the machine did not depend on electricity to work and dispensed the drinks just fine. “Love, you handed us our food like it might be our last meal,” she whispered. “You're really worried, aren't you?”
Andrew took a bite of his food and waited for Sarah to answer. “Connor Barker fought with the British Special Forces,” she finally spoke. “He's a trained soldier and a trained killer.” Sarah lowered her burger. “The trained soldier side of him makes him very deadly...and when you add that skill to a deranged mind, it doubles the threat. We have a man seeking revenge for his mother...a man who has already killed in cold blood...” Sarah shook her head. “Connor Barker is a man on a mission, and he's not about to walk away a failure.”
Andrew quickly gobbled down his burger and grabbed a second one. “No sense in dying on an empty stomach…but Sarah, if Connor Barker doesn't fall for our trap, and none of us get a clear shot at him, then what?” he asked.
Conrad walked over to Sarah and Amanda and handed them each a cup of soda. “That's a good question,” he said.
Andrew took his drink from Conrad and drained it. “Delicious,” he said and let out a burp. “My wife has me staying away from sodas but if I'm going to die, I don't see the sense in depriving myself of something I like.”
“No one is going to die,” Sarah exclaimed. She tossed her burger down on her plate and faced Conrad and Andrew. “We're cops...our job is to fight these snowmen and—”
“Snowmen?” Conrad asked.
“—what?” Sarah asked in a confused voice.
“You said snowmen, honey,” Conrad explained in a concerned voice.
“I did?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, you did, love,” Amanda whispered and put her hand on Sarah's shoulders. “The nightmares are back, aren't they?”
Sarah turned her head and looked into her best friend's worried eyes. “They never left,” she whispered. “The snowman is always around...waiting.”
Conrad put down his soda and pulled Sarah into his arms. “Honey, why didn't you tell me?”
“Because as long as I keep the snowman trapped in the pages of my books, I'm safe,” Sarah explained, hugging Conrad. “But now the nightmare is loose again, and this time it's after Amanda.”
Andrew put down his soda and scratched the back of his head. “Is there something I'm missing?” he asked.
“I'll explain later,” Amanda promised. She put her hand on Sarah's shoulder. “Love, what happens if the nightmare doesn't fall for our trap?” she asked.
Sarah closed her eyes. “We stay hidden,” she said. “If the snowman can't find us, he can't kill us...and maybe…sooner or later…he'll make a mistake and come face to face with my gun.”
Andrew continued to scratch the back of his neck. “Stay hidden…yeah, I guess that's about all we can do. No shame in hiding from a trained sniper.”
Conrad looked into Sarah's eyes. “Are you sure you can handle being alone?” he asked in a worried voice. “Maybe we should all stick together, huh?”
“No,” Sarah objected, “we need to spread out. If Connor Barker catches us in one building, we'll all die for certain. We need to have our eyes in different locations.”
“Okay, honey,” Conrad agreed and hugged Sarah.
Sarah tucked her head into Conrad's shoulder and drew in a deep breath. “I can handle the snowman,” she promi
sed. “I handled him when the water of that hot spring was burning the virus out of me. I can handle him now.”
“I believe you can,” Conrad whispered and looked at Andrew. “Okay, Andrew, let's pack some food and get to our stations.”
“I'll help Andrew pack the food,” Amanda said. She patted Mittens on the head, tossed the dog a burger, and went to work. “If this is my last meal,” she whispered, shoving hamburgers into plastic freezer bags, “then at least I get to share my meal with the people I love.” Mittens agreed.
Sarah unlocked the back door to her coffee shop and rushed into a small kitchen carrying an armload of food. Amanda followed with Mittens at her side. “Hurry and close the door,” Sarah begged.
Amanda let go of Mittens’ leash and fought the backdoor shut against the punishing winds. “It's freezing,” she said, shivering from head to toe.
“Good thing I purchased that generator,” Sarah told Amanda and headed to her office. It was nothing more than a long broom closet, but it held the switch to fire up the generator.
“Oh my, I forgot about that,” Amanda gasped. “Please tell me you have a heater in your office, love?”
“Never took it out,” Sarah replied and set the food she was holding down on a green table and looked around her kitchen. The sight of the kitchen was familiar and soothing. The floors were still the same old hardwood and the walls their familiar, rustic charm – not much had changed except the front dining room, and that was compliments of Amanda. But even the front dining room had been altered from a logging base camp into a cozy, classic, fifties-style diner that offered nostalgia in a sweet, loving embrace. “Why don't you go turn on the heater...but keep the lights off.”
Amanda nodded and ran to the office, found a generator sitting in the far corner, spotted a floor heater attached to the generator, and smiled. “Ah, come to momma,” she said and clicked the heater on. The heater made a metal clinking sound and then turned on. Warm, soothing heat began pouring into the office. “Success!” she yelled.
Sarah made her way to the office. “Okay,” she said, “we'll keep the office door closed and use it as our warming station. If one of us is out of the office, one of us will stay in the front room and one of us will guard the back door.”
“I'll guard the back door,” Amanda said in a quick voice. “I want to stay as close to the heater as possible.”
Sarah sighed. “I assumed you would, June Bug.”
Mittens walked into the office, went to the heater, and laid down. “My kind of dog,” Amanda smiled, trying to feel hope instead of despair. She looked at Sarah. “It'll be dark soon.”
“I know,” Sarah said in a worried voice. She pulled out her gun and checked the clip. “I have three full clips with me,” she said, explaining, “The gun Andrew gave you has a full clip and you have two full clips in your pocket. We have to make every bullet count.”
Amanda patted the right pocket of her coat with a gloved hand that appeared shaky. “Love, I'll do my best to shoot straight,” she promised.
“I know you will,” Sarah said and looked back into the kitchen. “I better get into the dining room. We'll leave the food sitting out. The kitchen is colder than a refrigerator anyway.”
“Love?” Amanda asked in a quick voice.
“Yes?”
“Life is strange, isn't it?” Amanda asked. “I mean, one minute we're fighting a deadly kid in Oregon and then we're going toe to toe with the Back Alley Killer, then we're nearly dying from a deadly virus and now we're trying to outsmart some...well, some momma's baby who is still tied to a diseased apron string.” Amanda shook her head and plopped down in a brown office chair and looked at Sarah's neatly organized desk. “It just seems like yesterday we were focused on nice things like redecorating this lovely café. Then it was on to trying to figure out who killed that poor old man from Los Angeles...and his two sons...oh, they were so sweet...but his daughter sure wasn't.”
“Don't forget about the deadly model, the mafia, and the corrupt FBI agent,” Sarah added.
“How can I forget?” Amanda said and rolled her eyes. “We've sure had our share of the crazies. And the worst part is, we keep thinking the next one will be our last...but they just keep showing up.”
“Crazies keep us detectives in business, June Bug,” Sarah tried to joke but failed.
“I'd rather retire.”
“Me, too,” Sarah agreed. “I better get into the dining room,” she said and began to walk away but then stopped and checked her watch. “It's not time to call Pete yet…but he could be in his office. It's worth a shot.” Amanda picked up the extension on Sarah's desk and handed it to her. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Amanda smiled and dialed Pete's number for Sarah.
Pete picked up on the second ring. “I'm turning into an insomniac,” he complained.
“Your grouchy voice is music to my ears,” Sarah promised Pete.
“It better be, because I've had four hours’ sleep, kiddo,” Pete barked wearily as he grabbed a piece of butterscotch candy and popped it into his mouth. “My friend across the pond woke me up...friends are supposed to let people they care about sleep!”
Sarah fought back a grin. She loved it when Pete was in a grouchy mood. “That's true.”
Pete rolled his eyes and sat down behind his messy desk. “Don't patronize me, kiddo, I'm not in the mood.”
“Grouch,” Sarah smiled and for a second, she forgot all about her troubles. For a second, she imagined herself sitting in Pete's office again, drinking bad coffee and discussing a case. But then the sound of the storm and the fierce chill in her bones brought her back to reality. “What do you have for me, Pete?”
“Bad news,” Pete said, “real bad news.”
“Let me have it.”
Pete grabbed a cup of coffee and took a drink. The coffee mixed well with the butterscotch in his mouth. “Connor Barker was dishonorably discharged from the British military,” he told Sarah. “Guy went mental and tried to shoot his commanding officer.”
“I thought you said his record was clean?”
“His police record is spotless,” Pete confirmed. “His military record is a different story altogether. It was harder to find, but my friend dug it up eventually.” Pete leaned back in his old office chair and closed his eyes. “Sarah, Connor Barker served in the Special Forces, as we know…He was a decorated solider...I mean, the works. But then one day he just went mental and tried to shoot an officer. The official report stated that Connor Barker claimed his commanding officer made a rude remark about Barker’s mother. Witnesses state that Connor Barker became furious, pulled out his gun, and tried to shoot his commanding officer on the spot. He would have succeeded, too, but his gun jammed.” Pete cleared his throat. “Reports state that Connor Barker was already beginning to show signs of mental hardships. He was taken for an evaluation and found to be suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Funny thing is, his doctor said Connor Barker's post-traumatic stress stemmed from his childhood and not strictly from his time in the military.”
“Keep talking, Pete.”
“Connor Barker was found guilty of insubordination and released from the military with a dishonorable discharge. It was a military court trial, so he was never tried in a civilian court. He was simply discharged, not sent to prison for attempted murder. He managed to become a physical therapist, got a job, and kept his nose clean. At least, that's how it appears.”
“What's the real story?”
“Connor Barker made a whole bunch of trips to America, kiddo,” Pete continued.
“Why?”
“To see his half-brother. Turns out Connor Barker's old man remarried after his divorce. He moved to America briefly and married a woman. Unfortunately, he divorced the woman a few years later and returned back to London, but not before leaving a child behind.”
Sarah thought of the convict that drove Emily Roberson into Snow Falls and a sinking feeling filled the pit of her stomach. “Pete, is Connor
Barker's half-brother named Robbie Nelson?” she asked.
“Now, how did you know that?” Pete asked.
Sarah bit down on her lip. “Pete, did you run Robbie Nelson—”
“Already did,” Pete interrupted. “Give me some credit, kiddo.”
“Sorry.”
“You better be,” Pete barked. “Remember, I taught you everything you know.”
“Yes, you did, you old grouch.”
Pete sighed. “Okay, I'll lighten up some,” he promised and moved on. “Robbie Nelson spent time in prison for running drugs. He was released two years ago. Ironically, when this street rat went to prison, Connor Barker stopped making trips to America.”
“Are you suggesting that Connor was helping his brother run drugs?” Sarah asked.
“All the way to England,” Pete nodded. “You see, kiddo, the mental hospital where Bertha Roberson is being housed isn't your run-of-the-mill asylum. That place is practically a mansion and very costly. My guess is Connor Barker needed some extra cash to keep her there in style. But before we go in that direction, let me tell you a real kicker before I forget.”
“What?”
“Connor Barker began working as a physical therapist at the mental hospital his mother is housed in.” And then Pete added: “Part-time, not full time.”
“He wanted to be near his mother,” Sarah said.
“Not only near his mother, but he was assigned to be her physical therapist,” Pete explained.
“Pete, Connor Barker is mentally ill,” Sarah said in a worried voice. “He admitted to killing his own father and has now admitted to killing his aunt, Emily Roberson. He told Amanda he blames them for his mother's pain and the pain he suffered growing up. He's placing that same blame on Amanda.”
Pete could tell Sarah was rubbing the bridge of her nose like she always did when a case was weighing her down. “Kiddo, Connor Barker flew to America just a few days ago. I hate to ask this, but how do you know that he confessed to killing Emily Roberson? It sounds like he's in your neck of the woods. What are you keeping from me?”
Danger in the Snow Page 10
