CA 35 Christmas Past

by Debra Webb

  However minimal, it was progress.

  The lobby was crowded with skiers prepared for adventure. All ages and all sizes. Some clearly total amateurs, others obviously seasoned pros.

  He pulled his sunglasses from his pack and pushed them into place. If he was really lucky, no one would notice him. But Aspen was one of those places that drew celebrities. The Hollywood types loved coming here, especially during the holidays, and wherever celebrities gathered, so did the paparazzi.

  All he had to do was get across the lobby without running into one of their spotters.

  MOLLY LINGERED NEAR the massive fireplace and scanned the crowd milling about in the lobby. Still no sign of Fewell.

  Wait.

  There he was.

  He’d ventured across the lobby but hadn’t made it out the main entrance. Instead, he had stopped at an ATM machine.

  Had he noticed the two spotters chatting in the center of the room? A large gathering place with comfy sofas and chairs all grouped into conversation areas was designed to give guests a place to meet and make plans. But the two men filtering back and forth through the crowd were not guests. She didn’t know either of them, but she recognized the tactics. One would chat while the other, seemingly involved in the conversation, scouted for prey. Their body language, more than anything else, gave them away. The false smiles and disingenuous laughter. They were pros, too. The little game they played didn’t miss a beat.

  The hands-free cell phone accessories each wore didn’t set them apart from any of a number of other guests sporting the same technology. But Molly watched the two. Even as they seemingly spoke to each other, their body language warned that another conversation was going on with a third party. They were keeping someone informed of the goings-on in the lobby while they received the latest information on airport arrivals.

  One of the guys had noticed Fewell, was watching his movements at the ATM. If Fewell didn’t get moving soon, he was going to give himself away. How long did it take to make a transaction?

  Fewell had been a public figure plenty long enough to be better at this.

  One of the spotters moved through the crowd, weaving his way in the direction of the ATM station.

  Molly bolted into action. She skirted around the throng of guests, making it to Fewell’s position with scarcely a second to spare.

  “Baby!” She threw her arms around him when he turned to her in surprise. “I thought you were never coming down. You ready to go?” She guided him away from the ATM, keeping an arm curled around his shoulders.

  He didn’t resist as she ushered him out the main entrance into the bitter cold.

  “What the blazes was that all about?” he asked as they cleared those gathered at the valet parking stand.

  “A spotter almost made you.”

  He stared at her. Molly wished she could see his eyes behind those dark glasses, determine if he was annoyed, relieved or suspicious.

  His jaw tightened. “How would you know about spotters?”

  Well, that answered her question. “I run checks on people,” she reminded him as she glanced beyond his broad shoulders. “We should get out of here if you don’t want to draw attention.”

  “My SUV’s in valet parking.”

  “You hang around here and you’ll be made for sure.” She tugged him away from the line gathered at the valet desk. Before he could decide whether he was going to believe her or not, she leaned in close and said, “Come on. I’m parked in the garage. I can get us out of here.”

  He hesitated.

  She didn’t give up, tugging a little more firmly. “Besides, I know a great place off the beaten path that serves a terrific breakfast.”

  He relented.

  Molly hadn’t used the valet parking for precisely this reason. She had to be prepared to go on a moment’s notice and waiting in a line for her car to be delivered to her was not conducive to that kind of exodus. Using the valet parking would be routine for guys like Fewell. He could learn a few things from her.

  When they’d settled into the SUV and she’d started the engine, he broke his silence. “What does running security checks on people have to do with picking a spotter out of a crowd?”

  He was still suspicious. “Okay, the truth is—” she backed out of the parking slot and headed for the exit “—I don’t just work from an office. I interview neighbors. Lots of legwork, following up on the answers people provide on their résumés and applications. Body language is a key element in determining what’s fact and what’s fiction. You know what I mean?”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t completely buy her story.

  She braked for the garage exit. “Duck down until we’re out of here.”

  He didn’t argue, since another clutch of skiers poured out of the lodge’s main front entrance. He wasn’t about to risk being spotted by the celeb stalkers.

  She let off the brake and eased down on the accelerator. “You won’t be sorry,” she said, hoping to make him feel better about having followed her instructions. “Mama Jo’s has the best coffee for a hundred miles.”

  When they were far enough away from the lodge entrance, she gave him the all clear. “It’s safe for you to get up now.” It was still dark, but the village lights made the ice and snow sparkle. A winter wonderland. That was Aspen. God, she’d missed this part of the country. It snowed in Chicago, but the landscape was nothing like this. The only mountains seen from her apartment view were skyscrapers.

  He sat up, twisted around to glance out the rear window. “You do this often?”

  She navigated the increasing village traffic. Tourists were already out in force. “I have to admit, I’ve never facilitated an escape.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  She was going to have to watch her step or he’d figure out she was a little too helpful. A little too around.

  The roads were in good condition despite the recent snowfall. A definite plus when maneuvering the busy streets of the picturesque village. The early hour didn’t deter anyone. They’d come here for the slopes and they weren’t wasting a single moment. The village folks went all-out for Christmas. Lights and greenery in every window. New York’s holiday window displays had nothing on Aspen’s.

  Add the ambience to the great skiing, and tourists flocked to the area. During the winter season the population of Aspen skyrocketed, making for close quarters on the streets and sidewalks and in every other space thereabouts.

  As she left the city streets behind, her passenger spoke up. “Where exactly is this Mama Jo’s?”

  “A few miles outside town.” She’d eaten there a million times. As a kid, her family had often gone for Sunday brunch.

  Then she realized just how deeply she had thrust her booted foot into her mouth.

  “How do you know the place has the best coffee for a hundred miles? You’ve been here before? I thought you said this was your first visit to Aspen.”

  She didn’t have to look at him to know he’d just put two and two together and come up with five. It was inordinately clear in his voice. Not to mention he was staring a hole through her.

  “Don’t you do your research before you take a vacation?” She did look at him then, as if she couldn’t believe he would be so careless. She was skating on thin ice here. She’d taken her cover over the top, given him way too many avenues to question. And just as many for her to stumble over.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Honey—” she turned her attention back to the road “—I check out every restaurant, shop and accommodation I think I might be even remotely interested in. I work too hard for my money to waste it. When the better part of a hundred reviews say Mama Jo’s is the best breakfast stop for a few hundred miles, I believe it’s in all likelihood so.”

  Molly’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. She’d seriously screwed up there. If he didn’t buy her excuse…this whole setup could crumble and her first field assignment would be blown. Not a good way to cement her fledgling career as
an investigator at one of the top agencies in the nation.

  If they could just get past these sorts of questions, she would be good to go. He’d accepted the whole “we have to share a room” setup. And, until now, he’d seemed to be satisfied that she was who she said she was.

  The more experienced investigators at the Colby Agency had warned her about giving too much information when developing a cover. Keep it simple. Give only the absolutely necessary.

  First time out, she’d failed.

  Idiot!

  “I guess,” he finally said, “I prefer taking the risk.”

  Relief made her shoulders sag. Thank God. She’d dodged the bullet on that one. She glanced at him. “That could be because you can afford to. Those of us who can’t, don’t like risks that involve our bank accounts.”

  Stop there, Molly. Answer his questions, don’t dole out any additional information.

  “Well, I hope your sources are right,” he commented. “I could use some serious coffee.”

  “Me, too.” She flashed him a smile. “Can’t hit the trail without serious coffee.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “YOU’RE SURE THIS IS the trail you want to take?”

  Jason had already answered that question. Twice, in fact. “You said you’d considered it yourself.” He remembered distinctly her saying so at the coffee shop. And she’d been right about the coffee. It was the best he’d ever had.

  “I’m okay with it.” Molly opened the SUV’s rear hatch. “Any one of the fourteens is fine by me.”

  Hadn’t she mentioned this one? Maybe he was confusing what she’d said with…three years ago.

  Flashes of Cynthia laughing as they geared up that day three years ago kept twisting his gut. She would point at the mountains in the distance and sigh. Beautiful. Hurry, Jason! We’re wasting the day!

  She’d wanted to take this route, even though it wasn’t recommended in the winter season. With the heavy snowfall only days before their arrival, he’d urged her to reconsider. She’d teased him, reminding him that the route was only a class three. Was he afraid?

  But it had proven a strenuous eleven-hour trek to the summit.

  Would he have noticed something wasn’t right if he hadn’t been so physically exhausted? Could he have done more to talk her out of going over that last cliff face for a photo opportunity?

  The answers were no. He understood that. And yet the fear continued to haunt him. To paralyze him at the most inopportune times.

  “…helmet?”

  He blinked. “What?” He’d missed whatever Molly was rambling on about.

  “Do you have a helmet?”

  “Yes.” Safety First was his motto. He had worn one, as recommended, the last time. So had Cynthia. It hadn’t made a difference. The mountain had still claimed her life as it had so many others.

  Stop.

  He had to focus on now. His palms were sweating. His heart rate had sped up to a ridiculous level. Panic was already clawing at his insides.

  Ten minutes later, they were fully geared up, crampons included, and tramping across the landscape. It was damned cold. Maybe colder than last time. The wind was brisk and the sky was clear, keeping the temperature hovering about the same as it had been at dawn. The snow was packed fairly hard, making for an easier go than he’d expected considering the fairly recent precipitation.

  Molly pointed out the various peaks and the breathtaking scenery as they followed the trail toward Crater Lake. Jason nodded whenever she glanced his way and attempted to come up with something intelligent to say in response. Mainly he focused on trying to slow his heart rate. The increasing speed of the traitorous organ had little to do with the cold and the physical exertion…This was the beginning.

  Slow, deep breaths. Hold it. Release.

  He would not let this happen.

  “Almost there.” She pointed out their goal, the couloir soaring toward the ridges above.

  Because of the extreme mental focus required for forward movement and to keep his heart from bursting from his chest, Molly ended up in the lead. She chattered on about how she’d been planning this kind of adventure for months. That she’d climbed in other places many times. At this point he couldn’t summon a response at all, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  They moved to the right of their destination along climbers at the base of the headwall, then left to avoid some of the more treacherous cliffs. The climbing had begun in earnest.

  His legs felt like leaden clubs. He stumbled once. Couldn’t shake the overwhelming sensation of impending doom.

  Molly did a quick turnaround and ended up on her butt for her trouble. She slid a few feet, picked herself up and laughed it off. He choked out a laugh at her good-natured reaction. Didn’t help the tension pounding in his veins, swelling in his throat.

  Molly stopped, dropped her pack on the ground. “I don’t know about you, but I need a breather.”

  He couldn’t see her eyes or her face around the sunglasses and ski mask she wore. No reason to believe she’d taken this stop for his benefit.

  “A break would be good.” His words sounded tight and breathless. He worked at swallowing back the lump of pulsing panic lodged in his throat. Couldn’t.

  She sat down on the rocky and snow-packed ground, dug through her pack and pulled out her ice axe. “I understand it gets a little tougher from here.”

  He stared at the ice axe; those moments before the latch on Cynthia’s harness had given way completely rushed past his retinas. She had tried desperately to hang on to the axe she’d buried to the hilt as her body hung precariously in the air.

  The band around his chest tightened to the point that any sort of breath was impossible.

  He’d reached for her. Urged her to grab hold of his hand.

  But fear had paralyzed her.

  When he dangled half over the ledge and grabbed for her…it was too late.

  He’d clung to that ledge…in shock…devastated. He didn’t even remember pulling himself back up. It was a flat-out miracle he hadn’t fallen. Apparently instinct had taken over and he’d dragged himself up.

  Pay attention. Molly was talking again. He could see her lips moving, but the words didn’t make it past the haze of extreme anxiety swaddled around his brain. Reach into the pack and get the necessary equipment. The order echoed in his mind but he couldn’t move. He could only watch Molly prepare. Her lips continued to move with her excited chatter.

  Blood roared in his ears.

  Don’t do this.

  “You okay?”

  The question exploded in his ears.

  He blinked. Gave a jerky nod.

  Coming here with her had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have let this morning get out of his control. What the heck was wrong with him? He’d let the woman stay in his room. He’d gone to breakfast with her, and now they were here…starting out just as he and Cynthia had three years ago.

  How had this happened?

  MOLLY DIDN’T NEED TELEPATHIC abilities to know this guy was terrified. His breathing was far too rapid. His responses too slow and vague—if he responded at all.

  According to the information the agency had been given, he had no physical condition that would create these symptoms. He appeared to be suffering from the panic attacks Mr. Harris had warned Victoria about.

  Molly had never experienced a panic attack, but she’d done her research before coming on this assignment. His blood pressure and heart rate would be out of bounds. Cold sweat would break out on his skin. Shaking hands. The inability to interact appropriately. And the worst…a feeling of imminent doom beyond his control.

  She looked around at the sky. “You know we got a pretty late start today. Maybe we should check out the area a little more, plan our ascent a little better and come back tomorrow. I’m starting to get uneasy.” She shifted her attention back to him. “Will you be mad if we go back now?”

  He stared at her for a full ten seconds. She wished she could see his eyes. Like her, h
e wore those dark glasses and the ski mask.

  “If that’s what you want,” he finally offered.

  The words were strained, loaded with tension. How was it that a guy as young and healthy as this could be totally paralyzed by a fear that wasn’t tangible? At least not yet. They hadn’t gotten to the really dangerous climbing. She wanted to understand, but she just couldn’t grasp the concept. Coming here, climbing to the summit of this mountain again was a good decision, in her opinion. But how could he possibly hope to accomplish his goal if he couldn’t make it past this point without freaking?

  She should cut him some slack. Obviously, to him, the fear was real. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  He pushed to his feet, reached an unsteady hand for his pack. “If you’re unsure, to carry on would be a mistake.”

  She surveyed the sky again. “Looks like snow clouds moving in, too. Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.” They had avalanche beacons and every other essential safety device recommended. And the weather forecast hadn’t mentioned snow. But he didn’t know that she understood they were fully prepared, certainly had time, and that the conditions were safe enough for this time of year.

  Mountain climbing came with some amount of danger. Winter expeditions upped the danger factor. Adrenaline junkies liked it that way.

  But this adrenaline junkie had crashed and burned.

  Jason Fewell was afraid. It was difficult to watch. She had four older brothers, two close to his age. She couldn’t imagine any one of them suffering this kind of setback. But it could happen to anyone if the conditions were right. The situation had to be devastating.

  The descent was easier going. Fewell made no attempt to lead the way. Just like on the trek in, he said practically nothing. She kept the one-sided conversation going in hopes of giving him something besides his inner thoughts to dwell on.

  She had to find a way to turn this around. Molly was no psychologist, but she had a fair understanding of the male psyche.

  Men like Fewell considered themselves above fear. This uncontrollable reaction would call into question all that he believed to be true and right about himself. Particularly the ability to protect others.