by Cindi Myers
Nate braked hard and angled the truck in front of the Jeep. They wouldn’t be able to move forward without hitting him, and backing up would send them perilously close to the embankment. As the two suspects reached the Jeep, Nate emerged from his truck, his Glock drawn. “Stop, and put your hands up where I can see them,” he ordered.
The two young men—teenagers, he guessed—inched their hands into the air. This wasn’t Alex and Tim. So why had they run from him? “Don’t shoot,” the slighter of the two said, staring out from beneath a red knit beanie and a fringe of blond bangs with frightened blue eyes.
“Who are you?” His companion, a handsome, broad-shouldered kid dressed all in black, demanded.
“Officer Nate Hall,” he said. “Who are you?”
The teens looked at each other. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” the blond said.
“You were trespassing on private property,” Nate said. Technically, the land on which the cabins sat belonged to the Forest Service, but the cabins themselves were private. “What were you doing at the cabins?”
“We were just looking for a friend,” the blond said. His voice wavered and his hands shook.
“Who were you looking for?”
“We don’t know their names,” the boy dressed darker said. His expression wasn’t exactly a sneer, but he showed none of his friend’s nervousness. “They’re just a couple of climbers we met. We followed them here and figured they were staying at the cabins.”
“When did you meet them?” Nate asked.
The darker boy shrugged. “I don’t know. A week ago?”
“It was last Monday,” his friend said.
“Turn around and place your hands against the vehicle.” Nate motioned with the Glock.
“You don’t have any right—” the dark-haired boy said.
“He’s got a gun,” the other boy said. “Just do what he says.”
Nate frisked each of them. They weren’t armed, but he extracted their wallets and flipped them open. “Giuseppe Calendri and Greg Eicklebaum,” he said, examining the driver’s license photos, which gave local addresses. He holstered the Glock and returned the wallets, then took out the flyer with the pictures of Alex and Tim and held it out to them. “Are these the two climbers you met?” he asked.
The darker boy—Giuseppe—stuck out his lower lip. “I don’t know.”
“They had on stocking caps and sunglasses,” the blond, Greg, said. “These look like driver’s license photos. Nobody really looks like their driver’s license photo, do they?”
Nate folded the flyer and stuck it back in his pocket. “Why did you run from me just now?” he asked.
“We didn’t know you were a cop,” Greg said. “You could have been anybody. I mean, there’s a guy running around killing people. For all we knew, that was you.”
“The Ice Cold Killer only kills women,” Nate said.
“So far,” Greg said. “But what if he changes his mind?”
“And it’s not like you’re in uniform, or even in a cop car.” Giuseppe frowned. “You didn’t show us a badge, either.”
Nate pulled out his ID and flipped it open.
The boys leaned over to study it. “Aww, man,” Greg said. “You’re not even a real cop.”
“I’m a real cop.” Nate returned his credentials to his pocket.
“Well, we aren’t fishing without a license or hunting out of season,” Giuseppe said, his cockiness back. “And we didn’t do anything to those cabins. Maybe we just got lost while we were out hiking and decided to cut through there to our car.”
Nate didn’t waste time arguing with him. “You can go,” he said. “For now.”
He waited until the boys were in their vehicle before he got into his own and pulled up far enough to let them out. Then he fell in behind them and followed them all the way to town. They turned off toward the gated neighborhood where they both lived, and Nate headed to the sheriff’s department, to find out more about Giuseppe Calendri and Greg Eicklebaum.
* * *
JAMIE AND TRAVIS were going over the evidence database she had compiled when Nate walked into the office. How long was it going to be before this goofy, lightheaded feeling stopped sweeping over her every time she saw him? She had to fight to keep a sappy smile from her face, though there was no way she couldn’t look at him. If nothing else, she wanted to see if she could detect whatever Donna had seen that convinced her sister that Nate was in love with her.
Okay, so maybe there was a little extra warmth in his eyes. And he really looked at her, his gaze lingering, instead of just sweeping over her. But that didn’t really mean he was in love—did it?
“What can you tell me about Giuseppe Calendri and Greg Eicklebaum?” Nate asked, sinking into the chair Travis offered him.
“Where did you run into those two?” Travis asked.
“At Sundance cabins,” Nate said. “I wanted to see where Alex and Tim burned the Highlander, then I walked up to the cabins. Those two took off through the woods like a couple of startled deer.”
“Giuseppe goes by Pi,” Travis said. “He and Greg and a third boy, Gus Elcott, got in a little trouble a couple of weeks ago. They had some kind of competition going, racking up points for whoever could do the most outrageous dare. I had them do community service, shoveling snow, as punishment.”
“I think they know something about Alex and Tim,” Nate said. “When I asked them what they were doing at the cabins, they said they met a couple of climbers last Monday. They thought they were staying at the cabins and were looking for them. I showed them the pictures of Alex and Tim and they said they didn’t recognize them, but I think they’re lying.”
“Do you know Pi and Greg?” Travis asked Jamie.
She shook her head. “I remember seeing their names as possible witnesses for Christy O’Brien’s murder.”
“They were spotted near the site of the murder that night,” Travis said. “But they swore they didn’t see a thing.” He stood. “I think you and I should have a talk with Pi. He’s the ringleader of that group.”
“He struck me as a smug brat,” Nate said.
“He’s smart,” Travis said. “He’ll make a good witness if we can get him to tell us what he knows.”
“Why did you want to take me to question this boy, instead of Nate?” Jamie asked when she and Travis were in the sheriff’s cruiser, headed toward the exclusive neighborhood where the Calendris lived.
“I could say I want to give you more experience questioning suspects,” Travis said. “That’s true, and it would be the politically correct answer. But also, Nate already struck out questioning the boys. He cornered them and they dug in their heels. Pi strikes me as the type who likes to be the star of the show. You’re closer to his age, and a woman, so I think he’ll want to impress you.”
Jamie smiled. She could always count on the sheriff to be honest. “I’ll do my best to appear to hang on his every word,” she said.
Chapter Eighteen
The Calendris lived in an impressive stone-and-cedar home with views of the snow-capped mountains. The young man who answered Travis’s knock was handsome as any teen heartthrob, with thick dark hair flopping over his brow and deep-set, intense brown eyes. “Hello, Sheriff,” he said, showing no surprise at the lawman’s appearance. He nodded to Jamie as she walked past. “Hello, Deputy.”
He closed the door and led them into an expansive great room, with soaring fir-plank ceilings and a massive stone fireplace in which a fire crackled. “I suppose you’re here to ask me more about the two climbers we told Officer Hall about,” he said, taking a seat on an oversize leather ottoman. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know anything else to tell you.”
“Where did you meet them?” Travis asked.
“Those ice falls by the national forest campground,” Pi said. “It’s not an official climbing a
rea, but with all the snow and cold we’ve had this winter, there are some impressive features there. We wanted to give it a try and they were just finishing up a climb, but they gave us some good route-finding tips.”
“Who is we?” Travis asked.
“Gus Elcott and Greg Eicklebaum were with me.” Pi flashed a smile at Jamie. “They were busy unloading our climbing gear, so I did most of the talking with the two climbers.”
“Did they tell you their names?” Jamie asked.
Pi shook his head. “No.”
“Did they say where they were from? Where they were staying?” Travis asked.
“No.”
“You told Officer Hall that you had followed them to the cabins,” Travis said. “When was that?”
Pi waved a hand. “Oh, after we finished climbing I thought I spotted the guys’ truck on the side of the road. I slowed down, thinking I’d stop and thank them for their help, and ask if they knew other good climbing areas around there. But as I slowed down, they pulled out in front of me. So I followed them until they pulled into the cabins. When they saw me, though, they pulled out and left.”
“If they left, what made you think they were staying there?” Jamie asked.
Pi shrugged. “Just a hunch I had. I believe in following hunches.”
“Have you seen either of these two since that day?” Travis asked.
“No.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Why are you so interested in them? Have they done something wrong?”
“We’d like to question them in connection with a case,” Travis said.
Pi sat back and nodded. “You think they have something to do with those women who were murdered,” Pi said. “Maybe they’re the Ice Cold Killer. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Describe these two,” Travis said, ignoring Pi’s suspicions. “How old do you think they were? What did they look like?”
“They were in their twenties, I think,” Pi said. “One was about my height—six feet—and the other was an inch or two taller.”
“What color hair?” Travis prompted.
Pi shook his head. “They were wearing knit caps and those face things—balaclavas? It was really cold out, and when you’re climbing ice, it gets even colder.”
“What color eyes?”
“They had on sunglasses.”
“Anything else?” Travis asked. “Did they have accents? Say where they were from?”
“No. We just talked about climbing.”
Travis frowned, but closed his notebook and stood. Jamie and Pi rose also. “What are you and Greg and Gus up to these days, besides climbing?” Travis asked.
“We’re staying out of trouble,” Pi said.
“No more dares?”
Pi laughed. “No more dares. Thought it was fun while it lasted. Gus ended up with the most points, though we never declared an official winner.”
“Points?” Jamie asked.
Pi flashed his movie-star smile again—a smile that had probably left more than one teenage girl weak at the knees, Jamie thought. “We had a little competition going where we accumulated points for different accomplishments. Some of them were a little risky, but we didn’t mean any harm.” He glanced at Travis. “Though I guess things were getting a little out of hand there at the end. It was probably just as well that we stopped.”
“Don’t start up again,” Travis said. “Someone might get hurt.”
“We won’t,” Pi said as he walked them to the door. “Although I think about it sometimes, things I might have done to earn more points. Just as a mental exercise, of course.” He opened the door and Travis and Jamie exited. Pi followed them onto the steps. “I hope you catch your killers,” he said. “That’s something that would have been worth a lot of points when we were playing our game. Someone who caught a serial killer would have been the ultimate winner.”
“This isn’t a game,” Travis said. “If you know something that would help us, you need to tell us.”
“I don’t know anything,” Pi said, his expression remaining pleasant. “Just another mental exercise.” He returned to the house and closed the door behind him.
“There’s something he’s not telling us,” Jamie said as she buckled her seat belt. “We need to talk to Greg and see what he says.”
“We’ll talk to Greg.” Travis started the cruiser. “And maybe Pi is hiding something. Or maybe he just wants us to think he’s smarter than he is.”
“He probably isn’t smarter than the killers,” Jamie said.
“They’re making mistakes,” Travis said. “Leaving behind more evidence. We’re going to find them.”
“That would be a nice wedding present, wouldn’t it?” Jamie said. “Closing this case before you leave on your honeymoon.”
“Yeah,” Travis agreed. “I know Lacy would appreciate it if we could start our marriage without this hanging over us.”
“They haven’t killed anyone in six days,” Jamie said. “Maybe because we’re closing in on them, forcing them to spend more time running.”
“I wish I could think that’s a good thing,” he said. “But everything I’ve read says serial killers feel compelled to chase the high they get from killing. It’s like a drug and the longer they go without it, the more the craving builds.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to create some saliva for her suddenly dry mouth. “Nate thinks the killers have targeted me,” she said.
“I don’t think he’s wrong,” Travis said. He glanced at her, then refocused his attention on the road. “That’s another reason I wanted you with me this afternoon. I don’t want you patrolling alone until this is settled. And before you say anything, I would do the same if a killer appeared to be stalking a male deputy.”
“Yes, sir.” As much as she wanted to protest that her training enabled her to look after herself, the truth was, these two killers frightened her. She never wanted to be in the position where she had to face them down alone.
* * *
MONDAY AFTERNOON, JAMIE devoted herself to helping Donna get ready for the party. Henry’s mom had answered all her questions and reassured her that the birthday party would be well supervised and safe. Donna could enjoy the party and Jamie didn’t have to feel like a terrible person for keeping her home. Donna had been ecstatic at the news and had spent hours going through her clothes, deciding what to wear
Though her sister had attended homecoming dances and senior prom with groups of friends, and she had met Henry and his mother at the masquerade ball, this was her first real date, and she threw herself into it with all the fanfare of a Hollywood actress preparing for her first red carpet premiere. A long bubble bath was followed by a session with blow dryer and curling iron. She sat in a kitchen chair before her dresser mirror and fidgeted while Jamie shaped her hair into dozens of short ringlets all over her head.
“Close your eyes,” Jamie ordered before she sprayed a liberal application of hair spray. A sparkly pink bow carefully clipped over one ear formed the finishing touch. Though Jamie had feared the final effect would be more French poodle than femme fatale, Donna ended up looking perfectly lovely.
“I need perfume,” Donna said, jumping up from her chair. “Something that smells really good.”
Jamie didn’t normally wear perfume, but she unearthed a bottle of her mother’s favorite scent in the back of a closet. She dabbed some on Donna’s wrist and her sister sniffed appreciatively. “It smells pretty,” she said. “Like Mom, when she dressed up to go out.”
Jamie had a sudden memory of watching her mother put on her makeup before going out to dinner with their father. When she was done, she would call both girls to her and give them a little spritz of her perfume “to have a little bit of me with you while I’m away.” Now it felt like she was here again with them. “Mama would be so proud of you now,” Jamie said, then turned away before
she started crying and Donna, always so sympathetic to others’ emotions, joined in. “Let’s finish getting you ready.”
Half an hour before Henry and his mother were due to arrive, Donna stood before Jamie. The orange ribbed tights she had chosen to go with her pink party dress—because orange was Henry’s favorite color—made her look like a sherbet dessert—but a charming one. Henry would no doubt be delighted. Jamie’s gaze shifted to the silver high heels Donna had borrowed from Jamie’s closet. “Are you sure you don’t want your pink flats?” she asked. “They’ll be more comfortable for dancing.”
“I don’t want to be comfortable,” Donna said. “I want to be pretty.”
“Your flats are very pretty,” Jamie said, resisting the impulse to rant about a culture that made women believe beauty was something they had to suffer for. Donna didn’t care about any of that—she just wanted to be like the other young women she saw, with their high heels and fancy dresses.
“Is my face okay?’ Donna turned and peered anxiously into the mirror. With Jamie’s help, she wore not only powder and lip gloss, but eye shadow and mascara, which made her look older and, yes, more sophisticated.
“You look beautiful,” Jamie said, hugging her gently, so as not to muss her hair.
The doorbell rang and the dogs began to bark. The sisters raced downstairs to answer it, but instead of Henry and his mother, Nate stood on the doorstep, his arms full of flowers. “Hello,” he said. He offered a bouquet to Donna. “These are for you.”
“Flowers!” Donna buried her nose in the blossoms—a handful of pink and white carnations and a single overblown rose.
“And these are for you.” Nate extended a second bouquet—more carnations and alstroemeria—to Jamie.
“Where did you find flowers?” she asked. “I’m sure the florist hasn’t had a delivery in weeks.”
“They had a few blooms left,” he said. He turned back to Donna. “You look beautiful.”
