Melinda stopped short.
Mickey was pointing Chief Messings’ gun at her. “Put down the gun, baby,” he said in a heartbroken voice.
Melinda dropped the gun abruptly onto the dirty carpet. Her face contorted in a mixture of rage and betrayal. “You... I hate you!” she said in a hollow voice, and a flood of fierce tears began to roll down her cheeks.
Mickey stood up and wrapped his arms around his wife. “We’re going to be okay,” he promised her. “Somehow, you, me and Macey, we’re going to be okay. We can’t run anymore, and we can’t hide, but the truth will set us free.”
Melinda struggled against Mickey’s embrace but finally collapsed into his arms, softening in sobs of despair instead of anger. “How, Mickey? We have no money... no home... nothing...”
At that moment Snyder finally freed his wrist. He inched his hand toward his coat pocket—not knowing that Conrad was watching him. Just before Snyder reached into his pocket, Conrad shot out his tied-together feet and kicked the leg of the decrepit chair Snyder was sitting on. The leg gave way, and Snyder crashed down onto the carpet.
As everyone turned to look at Snyder, the door to the room suddenly burst open and two armed men stormed in. A tall, thin woman in an elegant, long jacket walked in behind the two men. “Ah, Mickey,” she said in a disgusted voice. She began brushing snow off her short black hair.
Mickey turned and stared into the cold, gray eyes of Carly McCallister. He swallowed in fear. “Hello, Carly. Where’s my daughter?”
“In the limousine,” Carly replied coolly. She motioned at the two armed men. “Take the lovebirds outside. We’re going to take a ride.”
“No, please – Carly, you promised –” Melinda begged.
Snyder, from his awkward position on the floor, laughed quietly and cruelly at this. Conrad wished he could still reach him to kick him in response.
But Conrad looked up and saw one more thing. Mickey, with his hands still wrapped around Melinda’s shoulders, was still holding Chief Messings’ gun, hidden from Carly’s view.
Conrad read Mickey’s eyes. He knew. “No,” he mouthed urgently.
“What choice do I have, old friend?” Mickey whispered back. Then he said aloud, “I didn’t really want to kill Hank Dean. He threatened to go to Snyder if I didn’t give him more money. I’m sorry, Conrad... I really am.”
“Don’t,” Conrad begged.
Mickey closed his eyes and whispered in his wife’s ear. “I’m so sorry... forgive me... I love you.” Conrad watched, helpless, from his position on the floor.
Mickey drew in a deep breath, but before he could make another move, Sarah appeared in the doorway and yelled, “Freeze!” Conrad was momentarily surprised to see her pointing a shotgun at Carly, but realized she must have found it in Chief Messings’ patrol car. “Drop your guns, now!”
“Yeah, drop your guns,” Amanda ordered, appearing in the doorway brandishing a broom. Conrad almost laughed at the absurdity of this, until he watched her swing the broom handle in a low, vicious arc, surprising Carly’s two thugs with a swift crack at their shins. As they yelped and doubled over in pain, Amanda stood tall and held her broomstick primly. “We’ve got you surrounded.”
Carly’s men dropped their guns and slowly raised their hands into the air.
But it wasn’t enough. Conrad watched his old friend, whose face was still frozen in a mask of sadness and anger.
“No,” Mickey whispered, “she has to die.” He pushed Melinda out of his arms and spun around. With tense hands, he aimed his gun at Carly and prepared to fire. Carly threw her hands up as if she could protect her face and screamed.
Click... click...
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. The gun was empty. She heard Chief Messings mumble a quick apology to Mickey. “I guess I forgot to load the gun.”
“No!” Mickey yelled, tossing the gun aside. “That woman has my daughter.”
“Oh, no she doesn’t,” Amanda smiled and looked behind her. “Sweetheart, come here.”
A precious little girl in a white coat, her eyes wide with fear, appeared next to Amanda. “Mommy... Daddy?”
“My baby,” Melinda cried out and ran to her daughter. Mickey followed.
“Hey, untie me,” Conrad called out to Sarah.
Amanda laughed. “I’ll handle him, you handle the thugs,” Amanda told Sarah and hurried over to Conrad. Sarah kept the two thugs covered with the shotgun while she watched Amanda out of the corner of her eye.
When Amanda finished untying the knots, Conrad stood up, rubbing his wrists. He walked over to stand next to Sarah. Cautiously, he studied the two men standing in front of him with their arms still raised in the air. “Sarah, I want nothing more than to turn them in, but I don’t even know who we can trust here in this state. You heard what the chief was saying about that earlier.” Sarah nodded. She had reluctantly come to the same conclusion as Conrad.
“It’s over,” Conrad told the two men as he scooped up their guns. “Take that woman and get lost.”
Carly looked daggers at Conrad at this, but turned to lock eyes with Mickey. “This isn’t over,” she hissed. “You can run, Mickey Slate, but I’ll find you.”
“Get lost,” Conrad snapped at Carly in a voice that sent chills through her. “And lady, trust me, if anything ever happens to Mickey or his family, I’ll come looking for you personally. I’ll make it my life’s mission to track you down. I have contacts in the FBI, the CIA, and the NSA as well as overseas. You’ll be the one who won’t be able to hide from me. It won’t matter if you run to Russia, China or even North Korea. I’ll find you.” Conrad stared Carly down, his gaze livid with vitriol for what she had done to his friend.
Sarah knew if she had been the target of that look, she would have been nearly crippled. Watching the fear on Carly’s face, Sarah knew that this red-haired woman knew—in her heart—that if she dared attempt to harm Mickey Slate and his family again, then she would certainly become a hunted woman. “You’re not worth it,” she spat futilely at Mickey and walked out into the snowy night.
“Go,” Conrad told the two men. Cowed by his dismissive tone, the two men followed Carly out into the snow and vanished into the night.
“What now?” Mickey asked Conrad as he pulled his daughter lovingly into his arms.
“You go to jail for murder,” Conrad said sadly. “Mickey, you have five minutes with your family and then... I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Hank Dean.”
Snyder began to snicker from his chair where it had collapsed onto the floor. But then, he made a strange, half-strangled sound. “Help... I can’t breathe... my chest...” he said in a panicked voice.
Sarah turned and with a sinking feeling, she knew Snyder wasn’t acting. She ran over to the man just as he lost consciousness. Hastily handing the shotgun to Conrad, she checked for a pulse and then for breathing and then rapidly untied him as she cried out, “Amanda, help me. We need to do CPR. I’ll breathe for him, you pump. Conrad, get an ambulance out here.”
“Why?” Melinda cried. “Let that awful man die.”
“Because we’re cops,” Sarah explained grimly, getting into position, “and cops seek justice through the law. Not through luck.”
Amanda ran to Sarah’s side, dropped to her knees and positioned herself. “Ready?”
“Start pumping.” Sarah leaned down to breathe life into Snyder.
Conrad was already on the phone calling for an ambulance. As soon as he hung up, he swiftly untied Chief Messings and helped him sit up. Then he went to stand next to his old friend and patted his shoulder.
In the quiet of the dingy motel room, Mickey and Melinda clutched their young daughter, and everyone watched as Sarah and Amanda worked to save the life of an evil man.
Sarah sat wearily in the rental SUV in the parking lot an hour later, watching as the dead body of Snyder Smith was rolled out of the room on a stretcher. She closed her eyes briefly. It had all happened so swiftly.
While she and Amanda had given brief statements to the paramedics, and then to another cop from the local police department, Mickey Slate had been arrested for the murder of Hank Dean. Sarah had watched Conrad’s stiff posture as Chief Messings drove Mickey’s wife and daughter back into town in his patrol car.
The ambulance finally pulled out of the parking lot. In all her years on the force she never got used to the feeling of seeing an ambulance leaving a crime scene with no lights or sirens. It meant that something was over. It meant that some things cannot be undone.
Sarah climbed out of the SUV and approached Conrad where he stood at the far end of the parking lot, staring into the dark, snowy line of trees just past the motel building.
“Are you okay?” she asked him gently.
Conrad wiped at a tear as snowflakes settled in his hair. “No,” he said brokenly. “I had to put handcuffs on my friend, Sarah. I had to see his little girl cry out for her daddy and his wife crumble. And for what? A stupid gambling bet?”
Sarah watched Conrad wipe his tears, her heart aching for him. “I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.” Conrad turned away from the trees to look into Sarah’s sincere, beautiful eyes. “Thanks for being there when I needed you,” he said. Leaned forward, he kissed Sarah on her forehead. “You’re something special.”
Sarah felt a warm sense of peace and security surrounding her when she felt the touch of Conrad’s lips on her forehead. To her own surprise, she impulsively reached out and wrapped both of her arms around Conrad’s right arm. “Let’s go home, Conrad. I’m tired of Minnesota.” Despite the events of the day, she felt a small smile curling her lips.
Conrad nodded his head and walked Sarah back to the SUV, where Amanda was waiting for them. When Amanda saw Sarah hugging Conrad’s arm, she smiled to herself, crawled into the backseat, and buckled up. “Time to go home,” she announced happily.
Chapter Nine
Two weeks later, Conrad knocked on the back door to Sarah’s cabin. Sarah answered the door wearing a fuzzy pink robe. “Kinda early, isn’t it?” she asked him with a puzzled look.
“Yeah, kinda early, isn’t it?” Amanda echoed cheerfully from her seat at the kitchen table, where Conrad could see she too was wearing a robe, in a lighter shade of pink. Conrad looked again at Sarah and then looked past her at Amanda. Both women had their hair tied into tight buns and their faces covered with some kind of strange mud. “I... brought coffee and muffins,” he said and smiled nervously.
“Oh, just let him in,” Amanda told Sarah, “and close the door. You’re letting out all the good heat.”
Sarah leaned her head outside and looked up at the low, dark gray clouds. A storm was on its way. “Come in,” she told Conrad.
Conrad stepped inside, kicked the snow off his boots, and followed Sarah over to the kitchen table carrying a bag of chocolate muffins and a cardboard drink holder containing three tall cups of coffee. “I talked with Mickey’s wife last night,” he said, sitting down.
“Coffee and muffins first,” Amanda ordered.
“Yes, Miss Creature from the Black Lagoon,” Conrad teased.
“Not funny,” Amanda said, but she grinned despite herself.
Conrad looked up at Sarah. Even though Sarah’s face was covered with what appeared to be mud, her amazing beauty shined bright to him. “Coffee?”
“Sure,” Sarah smiled behind her masque, and sat down next to him. “So, what did Melinda have to say?”
“Well,” Conrad began, doling out the coffee cups, “Macey has been placed in the custody of her aunt for the time being. Melinda has been ordered by the courts to get counseling and perform a whole bunch of community service. But I think she’s going to be okay. Mickey’s testimony that he forced Melinda to help him is really what kept her out of a prison cell.”
Sarah took her cup of coffee from Conrad and removed the lid, inhaling its fragrant aroma. “What about Mickey?”
Conrad sighed. “Mickey will spend the rest of his life in prison,” he replied.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, placing her hand over Conrad’s comfortingly.
“Me, too,” Amanda agreed somberly. “But... I have to say it’s hard to stay sad with these muffins,” she added with a small smile.
Conrad nodded and forced a smile to his face at Amanda’s joke. “On a more positive note,” he said, “Chief Messings will be arriving in town in three days to begin his new job here in Snow Falls.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Let’s just hope he gets along with the grizzly bears. Who knows, maybe the grizzly bears will think he’s one of them?”
“Stop it,” Sarah laughed. “Chief Messings is a good man. I think he’s going to fit in well.”
“And take up a whole lot of sidewalk,” Amanda grinned. “Okay, no more fat jokes. I promise. I think Chief Messings and his wife are going to be upstanding citizens of our fine community... and give the diner a whole lot of business.”
Conrad rolled his eyes. “You’re hopeless.” He turned to Sarah. “How’s your book coming?”
“I still have writer’s block,” she answered miserably.
“You’ll get there. I know you will,” Conrad comforted her and sipped his coffee. “Anyway, I have today off. I figured I could help you ladies at the coffee shop a while.”
Sarah looked into Conrad’s eyes. She saw a hurt and lonely man who, at this moment, needed a friend more than he needed romance. She wanted nothing more than to be there for him. Swallowing down her own budding feelings for him, she smiled cheerfully. “I have a lot of renovation work to do. You might regret the offer.”
“I doubt it,” Conrad grinned. He looked at Amanda. “Hurry up and eat, Swamp Thing,” he teased.
Amanda stuck her tongue out at him and polished off her muffin in one bite.
Sarah smiled and took a sip of her coffee. Outside, the winds began to howl through the trees as the storm picked up. Another case was behind her and she was back home in her cabin, safe and sound. Life was good.
Or was it?
Far away, a shadowy figure walked down the street leading to Sarah’s old neighborhood in Los Angeles, stopped in front of a quaint two-story home, and grinned under the clear blue California sky. “Oh, Sarah, let the games begin,” the figure whispered in a gleeful voice. “Let the games begin and the snowmen be built, Sarah. Oh yes, my love, the snowmen will write the first chapter for us and after that, we’ll go where the snow takes us.”
Dear Reader,
Hi there. Thank you for reading.
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Thanks again,
Wendy Meadows
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About the Author
Wendy Meadows is an emerging author of cozy mysteries. She lives in “The Granite State” with her husband, two sons, two cats and lovable Labradoodle.
When she isn’t working on her stories she likes to tend to her flower garden, relax with adult coloring and play video games with her family.
Get in Touch with Wendy
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[email protected]
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Snow is not the Time (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 9
