Fallen Angel: An absolutely addictive crime thriller with a nail-biting twist (Detectives Kane and Alton Book 13)

by D. K. Hood

  Rowley’s wife was expecting twins at the end of the month, but they’d all laid bets that the babies would arrive early. Jenna nodded to herself. “Well, if you need a couple of hours shut-eye, leave Rio in charge and head down to the cells. It’s nice and warm in there. I’d rather have you alert than exhausted from lack of sleep. I’ll wake you when we get back, if need be.”

  “Thank you. That’s a very tempting offer.” Rowley gave a raspy cough. “I’ll have some coffee and I’ll be okay for a time. Are you dropping by the office first?”

  Jenna checked the time. “No, we’ll head straight to the ski resort. Catch you later.” She disconnected and rolled her eyes at Kane. “Let’s hope this isn’t anything to worry about.”

  “It’s a ski resort. The guest is probably in someone else’s room.” Kane shrugged. “Or she’s fallen into a snowdrift and is a Popsicle. Worse case, she’s been murdered.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “The cold weather doesn’t seem to slow down killers around here.”

  “That would complicate things.” Jenna blew out a steamy sigh. “I just wanted one hour to have some fun, one itsy-bitsy little hour. Trust me, one more murder in the dead of winter and I’m moving to Hawaii.”

  Two

  The dark clouds surrounding Black Rock Falls had dropped so low in the last hour they appeared to have cut the mountain range in half. They carried the gray ominous hue that meant more heavy snowfalls and blizzards would soon be making life difficult. Snowflakes built up on the wipers as Kane negotiated the driveway. He pushed on his sunglasses to view the blinding-white vista spreading in all directions. The road ahead was deceptively dangerous and, although he’d equipped his truck with snow tires and had the snowplow attachment fitted, the drive to town would be slow. Due to the sudden drop in temperature, the carpet of white hid a deadly layer of black ice on the blacktop, and unless the salt spreaders had followed the snowplow earlier, the road up the mountain would take some negotiating. The Beast could handle just about any conditions, but if he made one wrong move, it would slide around on the treacherous black ice the same as every other vehicle.

  “It’s fate, isn’t it?” Jenna turned in her seat to look at him. “You know, us wanting to go to the ski resort and we get a call about something suspicious out there.”

  Dave scanned the blacktop ahead, noting the damp patches. They couldn’t be water, not in temperatures this low. “Maybe. Hang on, I’m going off-road.” He eased the Beast over the dirty gray mound left by the snowplow and onto the snow-covered grassy verge alongside the highway. “The truck can handle the drifts, but I don’t like the look of the ice. It might be a bumpy ride, but as long as we don’t run into an open gate or fence, we should be fine.”

  “Then why don’t you take the pastoral trails?” Jenna gripped the seat. “They go through the woods from the end of my ranch and come back around to the highway about half a mile closer to town. There’s a chance the snow won’t be deep there. The trees will have given the trail shelter. It’s worth the chance.”

  Unsure, Kane glanced at her. “I’ve only been along that trail once in all the time I’ve been here, when we were searching for a killer. We’ve no idea what condition it’s in. No one has used it for years.”

  “We should try. I know the Beast can handle an overgrown track and it’s wide.” Jenna chuckled. “Let’s live on the edge, Dave. It will be exciting.”

  He shrugged at her enthusiastic expression. “Okay. I guess we do have a snowplow with us if we get into trouble.”

  “See the gate about twenty yards on the right?” Jenna pointed ahead. “Let me out and I’ll open it.”

  Dave puffed out a sigh. “It’s not posted, is it? I don’t want the owner taking potshots at us for trespassing.”

  “Don’t worry.” Jenna chuckled. “I won’t shoot you.” She grinned at him. “I purchased this parcel of land when the Old Mitcham Ranch was split up. Nobody wanted it because they believed it was cursed. As it borders my ranch, I bought it. It’s over one hundred acres of natural woodlands. How can something so beautiful be cursed?”

  For someone so superstitious, Jenna’s enthusiasm surprised Kane. He raised an eyebrow and pulled up in front of the gate. “We haven’t been that lucky, Jenna. Just how long have you owned this land?”

  “Oh, I got it just before you arrived.” Jenna frowned. “It actually cost me one dollar. It had to be sold, not given. I went to the auction just to see who my new neighbor was going to be. I didn’t intend on buying anything.”

  Trying hard not to grin, Kane shook his head slowly. “Not cursed, huh?” He met her gaze. “I thought bad luck had followed me here and now I discover it was just sitting here waiting for me to arrive.”

  “Oh, and you call me superstitious?” Jenna slipped out of the truck and crunched through the snow to the gate.

  He waited for Jenna to open the old steel gate and drove through. When she climbed back inside, bringing the scent of winter with her, he took off slowly along the track, winding through a dense wooded area. Mostly tall pines lined the way and the denser the forest became the less snow-crusted the trail. “Why haven’t you mentioned owning this land before now?”

  “I don’t know.” Jenna shrugged. “It never came up. It’s not like I need to secure it. There’s nothing here to steal.” She looked at him. “I bet you have things you haven’t told me about either.”

  Kane barked a laugh. “Too many to count. Some I’ll tell you about; some I can’t. But you know that, right?” He drove around a fallen log and moved slowly through the darkening woods. The trail seemed to close in around them, and he switched on the headlights.

  “Oooooh, do tell.” Jenna waved a hand. “This place is creepy good. Tell me a secret.”

  “Okay.” Kane kept the Beast moving. “Let me see… something you don’t know about me… um… I’m obsessed with new socks. I buy heaps of them. When they get those little bobbly bits on them, I throw them in the trash.”

  “That’s not a secret.” Jenna peered ahead. “Give me something really juicy.”

  “Oh Lord.” Kane grinned at her. “I don’t have anything that interesting in my arsenal. Ah, I speak six languages.”

  “That’s not juicy.” Jenna frowned. “You know almost everything about me. This isn’t fair. You know my real name and I know for a fact you’ll never tell me yours.”

  “My real name is David Kane and I have a birth certificate to prove it.” He grinned at her glare. “Okay, okay, something personal. About my family then? My grandpa made his own wine. I think that’s where my appreciation of a great wine comes from. His apparently was really good.”

  “You didn’t get to taste any?” Jenna frowned. “That’s a shame.”

  Kane pushed away memories of his past life. “No, I was too young to drink when he died. There may have been some left in the house. I don’t know. After my sister died, I had the place razed to the ground.”

  “You burned down your grandparents’ place?” She gaped at him. “Why?”

  Unable to continue, Kane shrugged. “I’ve said too much already. You know, it’s dangerous to talk about our pasts. Please, let it go, Jenna.”

  “Sure.” Jenna leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest with a sigh. “One thing and I won’t ask another question: You told Carter your dad was a two-star general, was that true or a lie?”

  Dammit. “That guy gets under my skin sometimes, but yeah, that was the truth. I let slip a clue to my past that could get everyone I care about killed. You, Wolfe and his family, Rowley… everyone. It doesn’t take a genius to trace the families of two-stars and see who has a missing son, does it?” He stopped driving and looked at her. “I have a bounty on my head and, trust me, there are people out there who would pay a fortune to take me down.”

  “I already gathered that, Dave. It seems to be par for the course when it comes to snipers of your caliber. Don’t worry, I understand the need for secrecy, and Carter is a patriot. He might be curious, but I�
�m sure you can trust him. Wolfe does and he’s never been wrong yet.” She squeezed his arm. “When we get through the woods, take a sharp left and there’ll be another gate for me to open.”

  Relieved, Kane resumed the bumpy trip through the woods. The light blinded them as they came out of the darkness. He looked both ways along the highway and whistled. “I figure we should come home this way. It was slow the first time, but apart from the fallen log, it was safer than taking the highway.”

  “I’ll call the mayor later and ask him to salt the road to the ranch. We might need to get to town in a hurry in an emergency.” She slid from the truck to open the gate.

  Kane moved through the gate and waited for her to climb back in. He examined the blacktop. The salt spreader had layered the highway, and the snow was melting on contact. “It looks like we’re good to go. If it’s as good as this all the way to the ski resort, we’ll be there in no time.”

  “I just hope driving through the cursed woods back there hasn’t changed our luck.” Jenna frowned. “All we need is a murder to start the week.”

  Three

  The drive to the ski resort was uneventful, although as they climbed higher up the mountain, the majestic vista was a sight to behold. The deadly yet beautiful snowscape changed the familiar views into a different world, making landmarks hard to detect. Even from this great height, Jenna could see just how many roads the recent heavy snowfalls had blocked. Rows of houses had vanished into the snow and the only clue they existed came from the woodsmoke streaming out of the chimneys. In the distance she made out snowplows, blowing small streams of exhaust into the air as they cut their way through the endless white, leaving a blackened path behind them. Reluctantly, Jenna dragged her attention back to the road. As promised, snowplows had cleared the highway all the way to the top of the mountain. The blacktop glistened with the recent application of salt, and as they turned into the resort entrance, they passed a snowplow heading back down the mountain. Jenna turned to Kane. “Will Duke be okay? It’s freezing out there and the chill factor with the added wind will be way too cold for him. He’ll get frostbite.”

  “He’s wearing his coat. If he gets too cold, he’ll let me know.” Kane tugged down double woolen caps over his ears and pulled up his hood. “I don’t like it this cold either. The headaches from the metal plate in my head are still causing me problems.”

  It hadn’t been easy for Kane. He’d ended up with a metal plate in his head courtesy of a car bombing that killed his wife. Jenna glanced at him. The last thing he appreciated was her worrying about him, so she just nodded, tucked her hair into her hood, and opened the door. “Okay let’s do this.” She jumped down, slipped her backpack over one shoulder, and bending her head against the blinding snow, slipped and slid her way from the parking lot to the main entrance. She couldn’t resist turning round to Kane and inhaling the crisp clean pine-scented air. “It smells so good up here. We must get a few days skiing in after the convention. Maybe we can see if they have rooms available.”

  “Hush, don’t tempt fate.” Kane’s sunglasses reflected her image. “Before we make plans, let’s see what’s going on here first.”

  As Jenna headed through the double doors and made her way to the front desk, she couldn’t help noticing the attention she and Kane were getting from the guests. It wasn’t the usual worried glances. People poked each other in the ribs and pointed as if they’d just witnessed an alien encounter. She leaned on the desk and a young woman dressed in a warm uniform grinned at her. “Our guests will be so glad to see you. They’ve asked about you and Aunt Betty’s Café since they arrived for the convention.”

  Beside her, Kane chuckled and Jenna rolled her eyes at him before returning her attention to the woman. “I hope you didn’t drag us up here just to parade us in front of your guests?”

  “Oh no, of course not, but the author of the Black Rock Falls series gave a reading last night and it was very popular. I was on duty until late and the place was still buzzing with excitement.” The receptionist glanced at Kane, and when he raised both eyebrows at her, she blushed and turned to Jenna. “We called because Agnes, one of the room service staff, delivered breakfast to Miss Storm out at one of our chalets. On her way back past the pond beside the cabin, she claims to have seen a shoe in the water. Our manager, Joe Brightway, went to take a look but couldn’t see anything. Then we received a call from the convention organizers. They’ve been calling Miss Storm since early, to finalize her list of author interviews this morning, but she hasn’t picked up or returned their messages. Mr. Brightway went to check on her and found her room empty. She is nowhere on the premises as far as we can tell.” She blinked at Jenna. “Mr. Brightway said I was to send you right in when you arrived. His office is just over there.” She pointed across the foyer.

  Jenna followed the line of her finger and then turned back to her. “Is Agnes still here? We’d like to speak to her.”

  “Yes, she lives in the staff quarters. Do you need to speak with her now? I’ll send her right along.” The receptionist went to pick up the phone.

  “Just a minute. We’ll talk to her later. You mentioned being on duty last night. Did you see anyone with Miss Storm before she left for her chalet at midnight?” Kane took out his notebook and pen.

  “Oh, yes, I did. She was chatting in front of the fire with the author of the Black Rock Falls series.” The woman waved someone toward the desk. “Here she is now.”

  Jenna recognized the author at once from the image on the back of the book covers and offered her hand. “Sheriff Jenna Alton. Thank you for putting our town on the map.”

  “It’s surreal meeting you, Sheriff, and this must be Deputy Kane?” The blonde woman smiled broadly. “You’re just as I imagined. This is my niece, Rachal Whitley.” She indicated to a young woman beside her. “I’m guessing you’ll want to know when I last saw Dakota? We all came together, same flight. I was attending a book signing out of Wild Woods, Oregon. Last night we had dinner together and I went to my room around ten. She was making notes and drinking hot chocolate in front of the fire when I last saw her.” She frowned. “I hope nothing bad has happened to her. As a literary agent, she has her enemies.”

  “Explain.” Kane removed his gloves and leaned on the counter.

  “Well, she is an excellent agent and subsequently receives a ton of submissions for representation, but she can’t sign everyone and people get disappointed by rejection.” The author opened her hands and sighed. “Such is life.”

  “Oh, Auntie, you never say a bad word about anyone do you?” Rachal rolled her eyes. “The problem with Dakota is that she’s a nasty person. None of her PAs have lasted more than a month or so, and how many husbands has she had—five, or is it six? There would be so many people out there apart from authors she’s upset and who hate her. Honestly, she had her entire house decorated by a New York designer and then blogged he’d ruined her home.” She shook her head. “Okay, so she claims she’s ultra-busy when she declines an author’s pitch, and rather than contacting the authors with a personal note, her secretary sends out a form rejection letter.” She sighed. “Everyone knows what she’s like. For heaven’s sake, she insists people call her Miss Storm. It’s no wonder she gets awful feedback.”

  “Is this normal practice for agents?” Kane looked interested. “The form rejection letter?”

  “Most agents send out more cordial rejection letters. I’ve spoken to Dakota about this, but she’s not one to be tactful.” Rachal sighed. “It’s not just about writing a story. Many authors consider their work as ‘their baby’ and take rejection very personally. Their submission might represent years of hard work, and one single word of encouragement would go a long way.”

  Amazed, Jenna nodded. “Yes, but there must be a ton of writers who’d never have a hope of being published.”

  “I would never say never. Writing is a compulsion, and it takes time to learn how to present a manuscript in a way that makes it attractive to an agent o
r publisher. Dakota never offers any help and makes it worse by adding their names to a list on her rejections page. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be after getting one of her caustic form rejection letters?” Rachal smiled at Jenna. “Although, a formal rejection might have been nicer in my experience. You see, the only other agent I ever approached replied with one word: meh. Whatever that means.”

  “That’s water under the bridge.” The Black Rock Falls series author laughed. “Rachal’s type of thrillers wasn’t to her particular taste, but she has Dakota now.” She chuckled. “As a bestselling author, she can laugh now, but rejection and criticism are part of the job.”

  “I’m sure the agent who rejected Rachal regrets missing out on their percentage of her income.” Jenna smiled. “You obviously need a tough skin to be an author and yet you seem so normal.”

  “We’re all normal.” The author smiled warmly. “For me, sharing my stories and meeting my readers is the charm.”

  “I’ve read all your books.” Jenna patted her backpack. “I was planning on heading down to the book signing this morning before Dakota went missing.”

  “Don’t worry. You go and find Dakota and I’ll be happy to autograph your books.” The author smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Jenna pulled out the books and piled them on the counter. “Thank you. That’s so kind of you.”

  “Is Miss Storm your agent too?” Kane was making notes.

  “Mine? No. We’re just friends. I don’t have an agent.” The author smiled ruefully.

  Pulling herself back to the missing woman’s case, Jenna straightened. “It was great meeting you. We’d better go speak to the manager about locating Miss Storm.” She indicated to the manager’s office door. “If you leave my books here at reception, I’ll collect them when we’re done here. Thanks again. Keep those books coming.” Reluctantly, she walked across the foyer and knocked on the door.