by Joanna Wayne
“You don’t know the area.”
“I’ll stick close to you.”
“You’ll only slow me down. Besides, there’s no reason for both of us to fight the ice and snow. You might as well stay close to a fire.”
The fire sounded a lot more inviting than tramping through the mountains in a snowstorm, but his attitude galled her too much to let her accept the offer. “I’m sure one of Maizie’s neighbors or her daughter or granddaughter will stay with her. I’ll go with the search team.”
“The search team is me.”
“I thought you said the neighbors would help.”
“They’re up there now, but they’ll turn back soon. They’re older guys. They don’t have the stamina for dealing with the storm, and getting stranded up there won’t help Tom.”
“If you find him, you may need help getting him down the mountains, especially if he’s out of his head or hurt. I’m going with you.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, giving up the argument a lot more easily than she’d expected. “There’s a couple of extra wool sweaters in the trunk. I suggest you put one on when we stop. There are extra socks, too.”
Luckily he’d come prepared. All she had were her parka and the hiking boots and ski mask that she’d fortunately thought to rescue from the trunk of the wrecked patrol car before it had been towed into town.
Maizie ran out to meet them the second they parked. Snowflakes stuck to her gray hair and thin eyelashes, making her look like one of those snow figures people put on their mantels at Christmas. But the sculptures couldn’t have captured the fear in her eyes.
She grabbed both their hands, but her pleading was directed at Rich. “Find him. Please find him. He’s all I’ve got.”
“We’ll find him, Maizie. You stay inside and keep warm. Make him some soup. He’ll need that to warm up his insides when we bring him home.”
Rich sounded positive, but when Carrie looked up at the bleak sky and out to the enormity of the mountains, her heart sank. They could promise, but that didn’t mean they’d be able to deliver.
And all of a sudden she knew how Bart must have felt when he realized he couldn’t save the abducted woman from her killer. Their job was to save lives. Failing, or even the possibility of failing, was difficult to face.
“Ready to go?” Rich asked, once they’d both changed into warmer boots and donned their gloves.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Then let’s do it.”
The ghosts were forgotten as she trudged after him. Reality was all she could handle.
AN HOUR LATER, Carrie was really glad she’d pulled on the extra layers of clothing. She was cold clear through to the bone, but she tried not to think about it. She needed all her concentration for keeping up with Rich and not slipping on the icy rocks.
The snow fell steadily, covering their footsteps as quickly as they made new ones. She’d lost all sense of direction. All she knew was that they were steadily climbing, and that if she became separated from Rich, she’d never find her way back to Maizie’s.
Rich obviously knew that, too. He leaned against a tree from time to time and waited for her to catch up with him. He was doing that now, waiting and calling Tom’s name the way he’d done every few yards of the search.
His voice was hoarse from yelling into the wind. This time she took over the task for him, calling Tom’s name as loudly as she could and watching her breath vaporize in the frigid air.
There was no answer.
“I don’t see how we can possibly find him without a larger search team and helicopters,” she said. “There’s too much land to cover.”
“Are you ready to give up and leave him to freeze to death?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He exhaled sharply, but his features softened. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” Coming from Rich, that was an impressive compliment, the first she’d ever heard come out of his mouth, at least the first that applied to her.
“There’s a cave not too far from here. I know he knows where it is because he’s the one who showed it to me when I was a snotty-nosed kid. I’m hoping he’s holed up there.”
“Why do you think he came up here in the first place?”
“I wouldn’t even venture a guess, except that he’s roamed these mountains all his life.”
But other possibilities filled Carrie’s mind. What if he hadn’t had a stroke the day he’d become disoriented? What if he and Selma had actually seen something in the mountains that had pushed them beyond the edge of reason. What if that something had drawn him back into the storm to destroy his body the way it had destroyed his mind?
Oh, geez. The cold must be numbing her brain. Tom was an old man who’d had a stoke. Selma might be schizophrenic or suffering the repercussions of hallucinatory drugs she’d used in the past or might still be using.
And Marjorie Lipscomb?
“Are you okay?”
Rich was waiting on her again. She was slowing him down and letting herself get spooked wasn’t helping her move any faster.
“I’m fine.” She sucked in a deep breath and the cold stung her lungs.
Rich called Tom’s name again. It caught on the wind and echoed through the mountains. She froze at the sound of a low moan almost lost in the echo. “Did you hear that?”
He rushed toward the sound and she tried to keep up. Her foot slipped on an icy rock and she had to grab hold of a tree trunk to keep from falling. When she looked up Rich had disappeared from sight.
Darn it. She hadn’t kept up and now all she could see was endless trees, rocks and snow. And she wasn’t about to call out yet and admit she was lost.
She darted a few feet in one direction, then retraced her steps and went in the other. And then she saw Rich. He was hunched over a man who was sprawled out as if he’d been making snow angels.
Rich turned back to her. “I think he’s had another stroke, or a heart attack.”
“Oh, no.” Carrie hunched down beside Rich, then checked Tom’s pulse to be certain he was alive. He certainly didn’t look it.
When she touched him, he opened his eyes for a second and seemed to be staring at her. “She’s got no face.”
She thought he was talking about her, and she yanked off her ski mask so he could see her features.
“I don’t think he means you,” Rich said. “I’m not even sure he realizes we’re here. He’s talking out of his head.”
“He looked right at me.”
“He looked at me, too,” Rich said, “but he called me by his son’s name and Harry’s been dead for six years.”
“His pulse is weak,” she said. “We have to get to a doctor.”
“First we have to get him down the mountain,” Rich reminded her.
It was going to be a formidable task. He’d be too heavy to carry, and he couldn’t possibly walk.
Tom grabbed Rich’s hand. “I tried, but I couln’t help her.”
“That’s okay. I’ll help her for you.” Rich tore off his ski mask and slipped it over Tom’s head. “We’re going to take you home, Tom. You can sit by the fire with Maizie and then you can tell me all about it.”
He mumbled something else, but this time his voice was so low Carrie couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Rich pulled up the collar on his jacket, covering his face with it as best he could, then he picked up Tom and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes—a very heavy sack of potatoes.
“You can’t carry him all the way,” she said.
“You got a better idea?”
She did, but she hated to say it. “I’ll stay with him while you go for help.” Stay here in the snow with a seriously sick man mumbling about a woman without a face. She’d surely lost her mind to suggest it, but what else could she do?
“You’d do that?”
She gritted her teeth. “Sure.”
“You might make a decent partn
er after all.” But he didn’t put Tom down. He started walking, slower now that he was carrying a load.
“I meant what I said. I’ll stay with him while you go for help.”
“That’s real spunk, Carrie. But there’s no way I’d let you do that. Either we go down together, or we ride it out together.” He kept walking.
The wind picked up, blowing the snow into Carrie’s eyes and mouth and making it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them as they plowed their way toward Maizie’s.
She shivered, but not from the cold. Crazy, but she had the weirdest feeling that someone was watching them. She knew it was impossible, but this time she easily kept up with Rich. She couldn’t wait to get off the mountain, couldn’t wait to go home.
CARRIE MADE IT off the mountain. She didn’t make it home. By the time they got to Maizie’s and got Tom to the small county hospital just east of Cedar Cove, the roads to town were impassable.
Now Carrie was toasting by a blazing fire that Rich had built in the stone fireplace that dominated the front room of his grandparents’ house. He was a few steps away, in the small kitchen, putting together a pot of chili from ingredients he’d found in Maizie’s well-stocked cupboard and freezer.
For the first time since they’d come in from the storm, Carrie actually felt warm, at least on the outside. Her insides were still shaky, her mind cluttered with befuddling thoughts that she refused to deal with anymore tonight.
It was bad enough that she was stranded in a small mountain cottage with Rich McFarland. That in itself could freak a woman out. But she wasn’t going anywhere before morning, so she might as well make the most of it.
On the up side, Rich had so far gone out of his way to be hospitable. Apparently being host brought out the best in him. And the odors coming from the kitchen were causing her mouth to water and her stomach to growl now and then in anticipation.
She stretched her feet in front of the fire and wiggled her toes inside the red socks Rich had confiscated for her from his grandmother’s bureau. She was wearing one of his grandmother’s chenille robes as well. She looked like an unmade bed in it, but it was warm and dry and the only thing in his grand mother’s closet that didn’t just slide off her when she pulled it on.
Rich, on the other hand, looked damn good. He had a few changes of clothes at the house. Guy must have been a Boy Scout at one time in his life. He was definitely prepared for anything. Probably carried his toothbrush in his pocket and a pack of condoms in his wallet, just in case he got lucky one night.
This wouldn’t be the night.
Not that she could even imagine Rich putting the make on her. Hard to come on to a woman without making small talk. She was pretty sure the guy didn’t have a clue how to do that.
She stretched to a standing position and walked over to the bookshelves. She scanned the titles. Some classics. A few bestsellers. A couple of poetry collections. And volume after volume of nonfiction books, mostly history, but a few on the Cascade mountains.
Her gaze fastened on one of those. Mountain Myths and the Paranormal. She picked up the trade-size paperback and read the tag line.
True tales of the supernatural from those who lived to tell them.
A chill slithered down her spine as she took the book back to her fireside chair and opened it to the first page. The lights blinked, but she barely noticed. The first line had carried her into the ghostly world of the undead.
THE POWER had gone out an hour ago, leaving the hotel guests to dress for dinner by candlelight and the dim glow of the generator-powered emergency lights. There was an air of excitement in the air, as if the storm and the loss of electricity were reason for a celebration.
The mood surprised Katrina. She’d never liked storms. By their very nature, they were unpredictable. They held the power to destroy anything in their paths, just as a fire did when it blazed out of control.
She pushed through the wide doors to the Glacier Ballroom. It was quiet tonight. Even if a band had been scheduled to play, they wouldn’t have been able to get to the hotel in the storm. She made her way across the floor in the darkness, not stopping until she reached the glass doors that led to the stone patio and beyond that the gardens.
Snow covered the grounds and new flurries danced in the halo of gas lanterns. The lanterns were a new addition to the landscape, a way to light the pathways leading to the individual cabins when the power was out. She wondered if any of those guests would brave the weather tonight or if they’d order room service and let the hotel crew fight the elements.
As for her, she was glad to be inside the beautiful hotel. But she wouldn’t be for long. Her time was running out and her chance of success was becoming more uncertain by the day. What frightened her most was that she might have missed her best chance the other night when Carrie had slept in the hotel.
But the timing hadn’t been right. Things weren’t in place. And now, she wasn’t even sure she could do this without help. She needed someone Carrie would listen to and trust, someone whose orders she’d follow without having her suspicions aroused.
Katrina’s concentration intensified. She hadn’t heard footsteps behind her, but she knew that Bart had just joined her in the dark ballroom. His essence was as strong as the storm, invading her senses.
He walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “I thought I might find you here.”
“I was watching the storm and hoping it will be over and done with soon.”
“No reason to worry when you’re in a warm, dry hotel like the Fernhaven.”
“So I guess I should stop worrying?”
“Or seek comfort in someone’s arms.”
She loved his easy ways. It was so different from what she was used to. He was different. Smart. Funny. Rough, yet gentle. It amazed her that the combination could be so sexy. Especially gentleness. Perhaps that was what she loved most about him.
“Sit out the storm with me, Katrina. We can keep each other company while we listen to the wail of the wind and dance by candlelight.”
“What shall we do for music?”
“I always hear music when you’re around.”
The invitation was the kind of thing dreams were made of—if she’d had the right to dream. She didn’t. She reached to her neck and touched the pendant, the reminder that she was here for only one reason and seeking her own happiness wasn’t it.
“I can’t go with you, Bart.”
“Sure you can. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, and that’s a promise.”
A heated flush shot through her. It was what she wanted him to do that made this whole thing impossible.
“Or I can do anything you want,” he said, as if he’d read the torrid hunger that had infiltrated her senses.
“I’m not what you think.”
He trailed a finger down her arm. “You’ve said that before.”
“It’s still true.”
“Then let’s not think of truth tonight. Let’s not think at all, Katrina. Let’s let whatever happens, happen. That can’t possibly do you harm.”
She wanted to believe him, wanted it so desperately. But she knew he was wrong. Her destiny was already decided, and he wasn’t part of it. Still, the desire that coursed through her was so strong. One night. Would it be so wrong to take one night out of all eternity for herself?
She turned and pressed against him. “If I go with you, you have to promise me one thing.”
“I’ll try.”
“When the night’s over, you have to let me go and not try to see me again.”
He didn’t promise. He just touched his lips to hers and she melted so completely, she couldn’t fight the attraction any longer. She let him lead her across the dance floor to wherever it was he was taking her. She didn’t care. She’d go anywhere with him as long he could feed the storm of passion that rocked her soul.
Chapter Eight
When they exited the elevator on Bart’s floor, he swooped Katr
ina into his arms and carried her down the empty hall to his room. He was excited and nervous, sure he was making a mistake and way too far gone to turn back. He kicked open the door and lay her across the bed.
The west wing would ring with the sounds of talk and laughter soon. All that was left to do was install the carpet in the hall. But for now the wing and the night belonged just to him and Katrina.
“I’ll light a candle,” he said, trying to think where he’d put the one he’d taken from the dining room.
“No, please. I don’t mind the dark.”
“You’re much too beautiful to be kept in the dark.”
“Candles make me nervous.”’
The alarm in her voice surprised him. He dropped to the bed beside her and let his fingers tangle in the silky locks of her golden hair. He should say something, whisper the kind of compliments women loved to hear. Some men did that well. It always sounded stupid when he’d tried it.
“Why do you want me, Bart?”
“I don’t know. I just do. I have ever since that first night in the ballroom.”
“It’s the same for me,” she whispered. “But I’m afraid of us, afraid of this.”
“I won’t hurt you. You surely know that.”
“I know. It’s just that… Oh, Bart, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know to satisfy you.”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying, Katrina. You were married. You must have made love.”
“But it wasn’t like this. I mean I didn’t feel the way I feel tonight, the way I feel with you….”
That did him in. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Most of all he wanted to hold her. “I’m glad, Katrina. I know it’s selfish. I don’t want to think of you with another man.”
“Oh, Bart. This seems so right, but it isn’t real. It’s an illusion. A dream. That’s all.”
“Then I don’t want to wake up.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Let’s not talk anymore, Bart. Just make love with me.”
He was so ready, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her having any regrets. “Are you sure you’re ready, Katrina?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
