Shane straightened. Despite his personal feelings, he had a job to do. They both wanted to find Walt’s killer.
“You wavered before,” he said. “Initially you stated you were in the program, then you said you weren’t. Which is it?”
“The guy I gave evidence on died earlier this year,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “He was the only person who was a danger to me. The threat level was deemed low once he died. Low enough that if I decided to voluntarily leave the program, I doubt they’d put up much of a fuss.”
“Are you certain of that?” he asked.
“I can’t be certain of anything, but I don’t understand how this could be connected.” This time her voice held a note of conviction. “Maybe someone wanted revenge in the beginning, but fifteen years in civilian life is like fifty years in street life. People die. Leadership changes. People go straight. I doubt anyone even remembers Nick, let alone mourns him.”
A fresh wave of sympathy enveloped Shane. Kara was tough, it was one of the things he admired about her. Now he wondered how much she had suffered to earn her thick skin.
“The guy you put in jail must have been dangerous,” Shane said. “They wouldn’t have entered you in the program otherwise.”
She snorted a humorless laugh. “He was dangerous, yes. And he wasn’t too happy with me, that’s for sure. He put a hit on me during the trial, then tried a couple times from jail. The marshals kept an eye on him. After a few years, he stopped trying. Didn’t seem like he cared anymore.”
Shane absorbed her matter-of-fact words. At some level, she’d spent the past fifteen years in fear. Always looking over her shoulder. Always wondering if the passing stare of a stranger revealed a threat. Always waiting for a phone call giving her bad news. Had she ever felt safe?
He caught her expectant gaze and started from his reverie. “Did you witness a murder?”
What else would put an eighteen-year-old in the program?
“Yes,” she said, straightening her spine.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“The details don’t matter. I witnessed a murder, and my testimony put the guy in jail.”
“I’ll need a name, at least. To look up the case.”
“Nick Amato. It was a big story at the time and all over the news. They kept my name out of the papers, but there’s plenty of references to an unidentified witness.”
The name Nick Amato rang a bell, but Shane didn’t remember the details. He’d look it up later.
“And your contact in the marshals?”
“Tom Winter.”
She rattled off his number.
Shane wasn’t surprised she didn’t want to relive the event, and he didn’t press her. Sometimes people wanted to talk, as though telling the story from a distance excised the memories. Some people simply wanted to bottle it up and pretend nothing ever happened.
He tipped his head back and studied the ceiling with a thousand-yard stare. Her answers left a lot of holes to be filled. Ninety-nine percent of the people in WITSEC were criminals. Unlike in the movies, the average joe rarely witnessed a crime. People on the wrong side of the law were generally the ones hanging out in the dark alley when the bullets started flying.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “But I wasn’t involved. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.”
He lowered his gaze. “You don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Then what were you?” she demanded, her posture defensive.
“I was thinking how incredibly young you must have been.” He rarely spoke of his own past. Certainly not when he was acting in a professional capacity. He decided to make an exception. Just this once. “After my mom died, I spent a lot of time with an aunt who lives in Anchorage. When I turned eighteen, she pulled me aside and said something that I never forgot. She said, You can leave everything behind you now. Any regrets. Any shame. Any mistakes you made. You can let it all go and start fresh. Kids do dumb stuff because they’re kids. Don’t spend the rest of your life beating yourself up over it.”
He hadn’t understood what she was trying to tell him until years later. “She knew that I had regrets about my mom’s death. Things I should have said. Things I should have done. She gave me permission to let go of that weight. She was right. We do the best we can with what we have. We can’t expect kids to make adult decisions and then punish them for making immature choices.”
Her eyes reddened and the tip of her nose turned pink.
He sighed inwardly. The thought that her past might have had something to do with Walt’s death was crushing her. The fact that she’d been living with the threat from Nick Amato for fifteen years must have done a number on her, as well. It was no wonder she wasn’t interested in giving out a lot of personal details. For the past fifteen years, one slipup risked her life.
What an insensitive jerk he’d been while they were dating. He’d assumed there was something wrong with him. He’d been defensive rather than understanding.
Uncertain of his current standing with her, he stood and crossed the distance between them, then sat on the edge of the sofa beside her. He fixed his gaze straight ahead.
“Thank you,” he said. “For telling me. There’s a lot of ways this can go. The work Walt did for the marshals was dangerous. Who’s to say that someone didn’t wait twenty years to get revenge on him? Nothing is certain, and I can’t rule out anything.”
Walt’s murder didn’t fit with a professional hit aimed at Kara. The collateral damage was unnecessary. If someone had come this far to kill her, she was an easy target. She lived alone. She traveled alone. She worked with the public.
He also had to consider the information the marshals had. They didn’t lower the threat level for people from the program unless they knew for certain the danger was mitigated.
She tipped into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. He turned and wrapped both arms around her, holding her close, wishing there was something he could do to make her pain disappear. Even for a moment.
Her closest friend, someone who’d been a father to her, had been murdered. And there was a chance someone from her past was the most likely suspect.
Until he learned differently, all possibilities were on the table. He’d done an initial search of the hotel’s guest list and come up empty. The resort had fifty guests and all of them had traveled with a spouse or companion, which made twenty-five pairs. Only a handful of them were under sixty, and nothing in any of their backgrounds had raised an alarm.
An initial search of the employees had come up empty, as well. Including Graham, there were fifteen employees on site. Thus far, all of their alibis checked out. It appeared the killer had taken a different escape route. But even though everything looked clear at the resort, he was keeping his guard up.
He had too many questions and no answers in sight. For now, all he could give her was comfort.
Kara’s hair was silky against his fingers. The same thought he’d had for weeks whispered through his head. He wanted to know whether there could be something between them again. Even if it was only friendship. Maybe if he did things right this time, instead of getting caught up in his own insecurities, they could get along.
She trusted him a little just now. Enough to share her painful truth. There was a glimmer of hope that in time that trust might grow. He missed her. He missed talking with her, laughing with her, debating with her. Their last argument had been stupid and unnecessary. He’d gladly lose all the arguments if they could go back to being friends.
She didn’t need any of that burden right now. What she needed was someone to understand the depth of her loss. That much he could do.
As they sat like that, neither talking, their thoughts drifting to things long since forgotten, the floor trembled.
For a
moment the odd sensation didn’t register, then it hit him. Adrenaline spiked through his system.
He sprang to his feet and started toward the window.
The crystal chandelier overhead jingled merrily. A low rumble rattled the windowpanes. He’d been fearing this for so long, it seemed almost inevitable now.
Kara raised her startled gaze to him. “What is it? Is that an earthquake?”
He’d felt something similar once before, and he’d never forgotten the sensation. “It’s an avalanche. And it’s a big one.”
* * *
The lobby was in pandemonium.
Kara leaned against a narrow table at the back of the room, away from the melee. Her leg ached and her head pounded with the noise. The cheerful Christmas lights strung from the rafters were at odds with the mood of the crowd. What had started as a light grumbling had turned into a cacophony of voices demanding answers.
Graham was attempting to bring order to the confusion. The differences between the stepbrothers were striking. While Shane appeared as though he belonged outdoors, Graham was strictly corporate. His jeans had a little too much bling, and his Western shirt with its mother-of-pearl snaps probably cost more than Kara’s entire wardrobe. His blond hair and gym-sculpted build reminded her of the jock character from an eighties movie aimed at teenagers.
While Shane seemed to be a product of his rugged surroundings, Graham struck her as being purposefully manufactured. Like he was trying too hard to look like he wasn’t trying at all.
He raised his arms and flashed his palms. “There’s no need to be alarmed. We’re assessing the situation. I’ll have answers for you as soon as possible.”
The din of incensed voices never faltered. Shane and another man had left over an hour ago to assess the damage. The more time that went by without news, the more anxious the guests were becoming.
Cell phone reception was spotty, and the landlines had been knocked out by the avalanche. That’s all anyone knew for certain.
Graham’s reassurance was doing nothing to quiet the growing dissent in the crowded lobby. She searched the flood of guests and her attention landed on a man separate from the crowd.
He stood in a small alcove, his stance rigid and his arms crossed stiffly. His gaze was intense, and it didn’t waver when he noticed her interest. He was staring at her.
Goosebumps prickled along her arms.
His large, square tortoiseshell glasses dominated his face. Amber-tinted lenses prevented her from seeing his eyes.
“Please,” Graham called, drawing her attention to the front of the room once more. “Let’s retire to the dining room for coffee and drinks while we sort this all out.”
When she glanced back at the man in the alcove, his interest had focused elsewhere.
She turned to the older woman beside her and gestured. “Do you know who that is?”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s an odd duck, that’s for sure. Doesn’t spend much time with the guests. He’s always down by the hot springs.”
“I said,” Graham shouted over the disgruntled chatter. “Dessert is available in the dining room.”
Judging by the noise level, no one was interested in dessert.
The man in the glasses flashed a look of disgust toward Graham, glanced at her, then swiveled on his heel. Kara’s heart raced. She wasn’t paranoid. He’d been watching her.
She started to follow him, but the front door swung open.
Shane tromped through it. His pants were covered in snow up to his thighs, his hat was coated and his beard was white with flakes.
A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Heads turned. Voices grew hushed. Annoyance tripped across Graham’s face, but it was quickly followed by relief when he realized Shane’s presence had quieted the crowd.
Graham had been trying to bring order for the past hour, and Shane had calmed the crowd without a word. He joined Graham at the front of the room.
Shane scraped his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his dark hair, mussing the strands. Her fingers itched to smooth it before her gaze dropped to his lips. She’d never kissed him with a beard.
She jerked upright. Where had that thought come from?
“Okay, folks,” he began, “I’ll give you the good news first. Because of the quick action of the local troopers, there are no injuries to report.” A wave of relieved murmurs undulated through the crowd. “Now for the bad news. The road is completely impassable.”
The room exploded into nervous chatter.
A woman in an ivory fisherman’s sweater held up her hand like an eager schoolchild. “What does that mean for us?”
Shane turned his head and spoke softly to Graham. They exchanged a few more sentences before he faced the crowd once more.
“I’ve been informed there are more than enough supplies for a day or two. Helicopters are grounded until further notice.” Graham whispered something and Shane nodded. “The Wi-Fi is working fine and the kitchen has prepared a dessert buffet in the dining room for anyone who’s interested. The home page on the television in your room will have the latest updates.”
Shoulders sagged and voices calmed. An elderly gentleman with a salt-and-pepper beard turned toward the dining area. The others in the lobby, as though released from some sort of stupor, turned to follow.
Shane strode toward Kara. The milling guests, perhaps sensing his purpose, parted.
He stopped and she tilted back her head, looking up and up and up into his scowling face.
“You shouldn’t be putting weight on that leg,” he said. “Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m fine,” she replied, her eyebrows raised. “And I was as curious as everyone else about the avalanche.”
“You shouldn’t be out of your room. Not without me or one of the security guards.”
“We’ve been over this. No one staying at the hotel fits the description of a killer. Besides, no one is going to murder me in a crowd of people.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You win. I will no longer appear in public without an armed guard.”
“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder, then guided her farther away from any curious ears. “We can’t afford to make a mistake. Clearing the road in two to three days is optimistic. Which means we’re all trapped here.” With another glance over his shoulder, he continued, “Let’s get you back to your room. There’s something we need to talk about.”
The tone of his voice set off alarm bells.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at the number and heaved a sigh. “It’ll have to wait another ten minutes. Can you wait for me in the dining room?”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll be murdered over the cheesecake?”
“I may have overreacted. Slightly. Grab me a piece of chocolate cake.”
Kara made her way to the vaulted dining room and studied the crowd. About twenty or so people had decided to take advantage of Graham’s offer.
She limped to a table near the enormous double doors. Noting her injury, a waiter offered to serve her.
As she ordered, she caught sight of the man who’d been staring at her in the lobby. He was making his way to the buffet.
Kara slouched, putting the waiter between herself and the man’s view. Confident he hadn’t seen her, she followed his progress to one of the empty tables.
This had to be the safest place in the hotel right now. There were cameras mounted in the corners, and plenty of people around. Shane’s initial searches had come up empty on the guests.
Gathering her courage, she stood. She wouldn’t have to worry about a murder after this because Shane was going to kill her.
SEVEN
Kara took a seat next to the man and stuck out her hand. “I’m Kara Riley. I just checked in. How about that avalanche?”
On the off
chance he was here to kill her, there was no point in hiding her identity. He’d already know who she was.
He was shorter than average with a higher BMI than he probably wanted. His beard beneath the tortoiseshell glasses was scruffy in that artful way men groomed themselves in order to look like they just rolled out of bed. His cinnamon-brown cable-knit sweater featured a patch on one shoulder and blended seamlessly with the color of his hair and eyes. She could picture him wearing a bush hat with one of the sides pinned up.
His fork hovered in the air. “Oh, um, nice to meet you.”
She let her hand drop. “How’s the cake?”
“Good.” His gaze skittered away, then back to her. “Everything is good here.”
Her nerves prickled. He seemed out of place among the guests. Everyone else in the room reeked of entitlement. This guy looked like he was afraid someone was going to snatch his dessert if he let down his guard.
“Have you stayed here before?” she asked.
“First time.”
His voice didn’t set off any alarm bells, but she’d only heard Walt’s killer’s voice raised in anger. Not exactly a situation she wanted to re-create in a crowded dining room.
Using his index finger, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m Finn Dyer, by the way. I’m a—a geologist. I’ve been studying the hot springs.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s fascinating work. Quite a few organisms can survive and even thrive in the heated water.” A flush crept up his neck. “I’m boring you.”
That definitely did not sound like the opening salvo of a cold-blooded killer. Then again, maybe pretending to be a bashful geologist was part of his cover. Or maybe she’d watched too many police procedurals over the years. She was applying artificial menace to even the most mundane situations.
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