by Diane Capri
“We’ll light a fire when we get to the room,” Trent offered, and Mandy nodded, looking relieved at the thought. Maybe with a fire and the moonlight they’d forget exactly how odd this power outage was. A lodge where a woman had gone missing only weeks earlier and the generator had never failed before.
At the reception desk, Asher looked dumbfounded. He was staring at his cell phone as if it had been struck by lightning.
“Everything okay, Carl?” Trent asked.
Asher shook his head, “Yes, yes, of course. Just waiting for the handyman. So sorry for the inconvenience.” He flashed a tight smile.
Another gust of air battered the building, and this time Trent felt a distinctive chill skitter up the back of his neck.
“You’ll want to stick to one of the rooms with a fireplace. Of course, your suite has one, but the bar and the veranda both have fires going, too. The heat is electric for the most part and, well—” Asher gestured around. “Obviously, that’s going to take some doing.”
“Of course,” Mandy nodded and snuggled a little closer to Trent. “Fires are romantic as well as warm.”
“I have a flashlight if you’d like me to lead you to your room and start a fire for you. I’m quite the expert.”
Another gust of wind, this time positively icy, flooded the room and Trent turned around just as a hulking, snow-swept man in coveralls and a heavy winter coat trudged through the door looking like a Yeti.
“Evening,” he said in a loud, booming voice. Trent distinctly heard Mandy let out a faint squeak.
The man unwrapped the snow-covered scarf to reveal a sculpted face, surrounded by a thick dark beard dotted with patches of gray. He rubbed his chin before nodding at Asher. “Came quick as I could. Storm’s really whipping up fast.”
Asher nodded. “I appreciate that.” Gesturing for Trent and Mandy, he added, “This is Jim Kubiak, our handyman. He lives in the single cabin behind the lodge. He’s a genius with this type of thing. Should be handled in no time.”
Kubiak grunted his agreement. “Might as well get started. If you need me, I’ll be out back.” He lifted his scarf up again to protect his lungs from frostbite.
Trent’s raised both eyebrows. “Are you really going out into the blizzard? You could freeze to death. Can’t even see two feet in front of you.”
Kubiak shrugged. “I’ve lived around here for years now. I’ll be fine. Generator’s up against the back of the lodge. Don’t need to see. Just need to feel.”
Trent frowned. “Let me go out there with you, hold the flashlight or whatever. You’re going to need both hands to fix the generator.”
“Absolutely not, sir,” Asher said, shaking his head as Kubiak cut in.
“No, no, I can’t ask you to do that.” Kubiak’s eyebrows caved into a scowl.
“Come on, man. I can’t have you on my conscience,” Trent said. “It’ll make things even quicker if I help. Asher, if you don’t mind, you could show Mandy up to the room and light the fire, and we’ll be back before you know it.”
“It’s not the guests’ responsibility to fix the generator. The owners wouldn’t like it at all if they knew I allowed you to go out in this weather for that,” Asher fretted, tugging at his mustache.
Trent adopted a conspiratorial tone. “Well then we won’t tell them, will we, Carl?”
“I don’t want you going out in this blizzard, either,” Mandy grumbled, but Trent squeezed her shoulder gently.
“You’ve got a phone call to make, and I’m from Denver. I’m used to blizzards. Nothing to worry about. Be done before you know it. Back in a jiffy.” Trent turned to the big man. “Come on, Jim, let’s see if we can’t save the day.”
Asher led him to a closet full of coats they kept on hand for staff or guests who misplaced theirs, and Kubiak waited as Trent pulled on a coat and grabbed a flashlight.
Nodding to Mandy, he reminded her that he’d be right back and then headed off into the snow at the big Yeti’s side.
CHAPTER FOUR
What little conversation Kubiak had to offer was lost in the howling wind and the torrent of snowflakes teeming down in an infinite white wall.
Trent kept his arm poised protectively in front of his face as he slogged through the mounds of ever-piling powder and followed Kubiak’s barely visible silhouette.
“Much farther?” Trent asked. The big man grunted in response.
The generator was outside the back door of the lodge. A pair of cellar doors rested nearby, protected by an overhang and at an angle that kept them only lightly dusted with snow.
“All right, sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can warm up. I’m counting on you, Jim,” Trent said, and Kubiak grunted again.
Aiming the flashlight where Kubiak directed, Trent moved to get a better angle. His boot slipped. He slid backward. A moment later, he hit an icy patch and toppled toward the snow-covered ground. He threw his hand out, desperate for purchase, waiting breathlessly for the cold, icy mound of deep snow to close around him.
Instead, he landed on something hard. Yet also kind of soft. And almost warm.
He scrambled backward and closed his fingers around the flashlight that had slipped from his hand.
He pointed the snow-dappled light at the thing that had broken his fall.
Dread clawed his throat.
His stomach pitched.
He stared at the familiar face.
“Rebecca,” he gasped.
She was crammed into the space between the generator and the shed. Her body was covered in a few inches of new snow, save for the place where Trent had fallen on her and dislodged it.
“Kubiak,” he called against the wind. When Kubiak turned his head, Trent called out, “We’ve got a problem over here.”
Trent scrambled to his feet and moved toward Rebecca. He dusted the snow gently from her face with a quaking hand. Her eyes were closed, and no visible bruises so far as he could tell, although she wore a long-sleeved nightgown. He didn’t see any blood, but most of her body was covered in snow.
“Well, shit,” Kubiak grunted.
Moving closer, Trent pressed two fingers to her neck, searching frantically for a pulse. He felt nothing, but damn it, he knew she hadn’t been out here long. Her skin was chilled, but not frozen, and her flesh was still soft and pliable.
He glanced at the shed and noted again the light dusting of snow around the door. He pointed to the doorframe. “They must have knocked the snow off when they brought her out here.”
Kubiak frowned but made no comment. Trent’s mind raced as he tried to think through the thick haze of cold, adrenaline, and surprise.
“Are there many homes nearby?” Trent asked. If the killer wasn’t in the lodge now, it was possible that he was hiding someplace close. Someplace he didn’t think he’d be caught while dumping Rebecca back here.
Kubiak shrugged. “Me and then about four of five other ski cabins in a two-mile radius.”
“Where can we take her?” Trent gestured to Rebecca, but Kubiak’s frown deepened.
“I get paid to fix the generator. That’s what I’m going to do.” He set back to work and Trent stared at him, baffled. Was he seriously going to crouch down in the snow and pretend he wasn’t working a few inches from an injured woman? Was he some kind of sociopath?
Still stunned by the turn of events, Trent shined the flashlight into the surrounding snow. The only tracks were his and Kubiak’s, which seemed to mean that whoever dragged her out here had come from inside the lodge’s cellar.
Trent pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to stay calm. “The generator can wait. We need to get her back inside.”
“Those fireplaces are built for ambiance, not warmth,” Kubiak grumbled. “The whole place will be a meat locker inside of three hours if we don’t get the heat going.”
“We’ll come back. After we get her inside. I can’t carry her through this thick snow alone. Come on.” Trent moved toward Rebecca and started to dislodge her from the s
pace.
Kubiak’s low growl interrupted him. “If she’s dead, it’s a crime scene. You can’t go messing with—”
“If this is a crime scene, it’s already a mess because we came trudging through before. There will be another two feet of snow covering it all before the cops ever get here anyway. They can’t get to us in this weather. Attempting to come up that mountain road would be a suicide mission tonight. We’ve got to do something for her. We can’t just leave her out here. I don’t feel a pulse, but I don’t see wounds, either. She might make it if we get her to a doctor right away.”
He knew it was a long shot, but maybe the cold weather had helped slow her heartbeat down. Maybe there was a tiny chance… “While we’re out here yammering, we could have her inside. We’ve got to try. A little help, Jim. Please.”
Kubiak’s face remained as impassive as ever, but after a long moment, he crouched over and helped Trent lift her from the snow.
Progress through the deep drifts into the wind was slow and painstaking. Trent slipped and fell twice. When they pushed through the lobby doors, they were both breathing hard.
They set her down on the area rug near the fireplace, and Trent knelt beside her, heedless of the gasps from the few hotel guests in the room. Vaguely, he could hear Kubiak explaining to someone what had happened. Trent tried again to find her carotid pulse using his cold fingers.
That was when he saw it.
On the side of her head, almost covered by her hair, was a small bullet hole slightly below her temple.
“She’s dead.” He looked up to find that he’d announced the truth not only to Kubiak, but also to Asher, Sean the bartender, and Mandy.
Everyone looked utterly stunned. Asher’s face went white. Sean looked as though someone had struck him. Mandy’s brow creased, intensely concerned. But then, Mandy had seen homicide victims before. Trent guessed the others had not.
Kubiak crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Well, it’s not like we didn’t figure. Body don’t go missing for a month and anything good come of it.” He scrubbed at his bearded chin.
Trent got to his feet and took Mandy none-too-gently by the arm. “Please, let us know as soon as the authorities are contacted.”
He pulled her toward the staircase, willing her to stay quiet with every step. Behind them, the staff murmured to each other about calling the police and their cell towers being down.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mandy whispered, but Trent shook his head as he lit a pathway with the flashlight he still carried.
Trent pulled her up the staircase with him. She gave up the struggle and walked along.
When they were back in their room, he said, “Rebecca’s been missing for weeks. The weather here has been below zero the whole time. But her body is still slightly warm. Definitely not frozen.”
Mandy’s eyes widened, and a hand flew to cover her mouth. Like Trent, she knew what that meant.
Whoever had killed Rebecca had done it today. Because of the blizzard, that could mean only one thing.
The murderer was almost certainly still here, in the lodge. Snowed in with everyone else.
Trent nodded. “Looks like the cheating young Alex Lloyd didn’t kill her after all.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“You could’ve been killed,” Mandy murmured, eyes wide as Trent finished explaining what had happened by the generator. “The murderer could’ve been right beneath your feet in that cellar, or even nearby, watching everything.”
Neither of them said what they both were thinking. Rebecca’s killer could’ve easily been Kubiak. He’d had opportunity enough. The question was, did he have a motive? He’d certainly been against the idea of Trent going outside to help with the generator.
“Were you able to reach Jess while I was gone?” Jess would know what to do, and from outside the lodge, she’d have a better chance to get the authorities up here as soon as the storm let up.
Mandy nodded. “I talked to her, but the connection was bad. I told her what was going on, but it’s anybody’s guess whether she actually heard me or not.”
Trent pressed redial on his cell phone for the hundredth time, just hoping for a connection. The gods finally cut him some slack, and a ring tone sounded in his ear.
“Sheriff’s Department.”
“Hello? Hello, we’re staying at the Black Pines Lodge, and we’ve just found the body of a dead woman outside in the snow. We believe it’s Rebecca Anderson.”
There was a muttered curse and then a long pause as static crackled over the line.
“Hello? Are you there?” Trent repeated into the phone. “This is Trent Brennan. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Brennan. I heard what you said, and I’m mighty sorry to get that news, but there’s just no getting there until the storm breaks. The highways are all shut down, and this part of the state has declared a weather emergency. Even if I could get there on a snow machine using back roads, can’t see your hand in front of your face out there.”
Trent raked a hand through his hair and blew out his frustration. He’d known that would be the answer, but damn, it still made his blood run cold to hear it.
“Anything you can do to get here as soon as possible, please do it. I believe we found the body very shortly after her murder and I believe the murderer is likely still on the premises. We have no power here, and things are tense to say the least.”
The connection faltered again, and all he heard was choppy pieces of a reply that he couldn’t make out before the line went dead again.
He tossed the phone on the bed with a frustrated growl. “That girl is dead and the second this weather permits, the killer will have a chance to escape. I found her out there in the snow. How can I face her parents and tell them that I knew her killer was within these walls and I did nothing?”
Jess Kimball’s words played in his head like a sermon. This wasn’t about money or solving a case. This was about integrity and getting justice for Rebecca Anderson.
“While you were on the phone, I managed to get a text to go through to Jess. I gave her the name of the lodge and asked her to check if Jim Kubiak has a rap sheet. I also asked her to try to get a bead on Alex Lloyd and confirm his alibi.” Mandy smiled. “She’s on it, and, in the meantime, nothing we can do but sit tight.”
“You’re really good at this, you know?” He pulled her into his arms for a hug and then stepped back. “I’m going down to the cellar and look around. Before the killer has any more time to cover his tracks. Lock the door when I leave and then push this dresser in front of it, all right?”
She jerked back, and let out a crack of nervous laughter. “Have you lost your mind? Geez, it’s like you’ve never seen a horror movie before. You don’t split up, Trent. That’s how you get your butt killed.” She shook her head and pocketed her cell phone before picking up the flashlight. “We go together, or you don’t go at all.”
He studied the determined look in her eyes and the set of her jaw. No way was he going to win this argument. He could tell. The thought of putting her in harm’s way made his gut twist. But when he opened his mouth to tell her she couldn’t come along, the image of Rebecca’s pale face and blue-tinged lips floated through his mind.
“It’s okay,” Mandy said softly. “I get it, and I’m a big girl. If I didn’t think we should go, I’d be fighting you on it. Sometimes doing the right thing is hard and scary, that’s all. But I’m in. Let’s do this.”
Trent made a mental vow to make everything up to her somehow once they got out of this mess.
If you get out of this mess.
He took a deep breath and silenced that naysaying inner voice and ushered Mandy into the hallway on silent feet. He took the flashlight from her and extinguished it. She laced her fingers in his as they tiptoed down the front stairs using the walls to guide them.
As they reached the main floor, he strained to hear what the people in the lobby were saying, to no avail. The wind was still creating a cacopho
ny that drowned out the murmured voices. Bad on the one hand, because he couldn’t tell who was there and who wasn’t. Good, because it masked the creaking floorboards as he and Mandy slipped past and skulked down the hallway toward what his usually reliable sense of direction said was the inside entrance to the cellar.
When they reached a door at the end of the hall, they both paused.
“Ready?” he whispered.
She didn’t reply, but he could sense her nodding. He tugged on the doorknob, but it didn’t budge.
He tried again, tugging harder. The third time, he planted both feet and leaned his full weight back on the handle. When it came swinging open, he and Mandy both stumbled back but managed to stay on their feet.
For a full thirty seconds, they stood at the top of the stairs, the eerie silence only broken by Mother Nature’s wrath and the sound of their own harsh breathing.
No one came running down the hallway brandishing a flashlight or any other weapon, and his heart finally started beating again.
He put a hand on Mandy’s arm and urged her to follow him. Once they were on the stairs, she closed the door behind them, and he turned on the flashlight.
If the killer were still down there, he’d hear them coming. Trent gripped the heavy flashlight like a club. He peered into the darkness, in case the guy tried to rush them. Which was cold comfort as they descended the steps to the cellar.
The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees as they reached the bottom step. Their breaths made puffy white clouds in the air.
“Anyone here?” Trent called, moving the beam of the flashlight around the room in a slow, half-circle.
It was a standard basement, complete with cobwebs painting the ceiling and old tools littering the corners. A massive vice-grip sat on an ancient workbench against the back wall. A set of worn tractor tires formed a pillar beside it.
