He curled his hand into a fist. “There was no call for that.”
“There most certainly was,” Alex said, ready to act if that fist should raise to this woman.
Breathing hard, Whiney turned her attention to Alex. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’re making this worse, so step off. I’ve got this.”
He wanted to listen to her and walk away, but there was no way he would budge even an inch. He’d let his temper get to him, and he’d made a mess of the situation. He needed to try to salvage it.
He forced a conciliatory expression on his face and focused on McCray. “Say, buddy, what say we bury the hatchet and grab a drink at the bar?”
“Drink? Me and you? No way.” He let his gaze smolder for tension-filled moments then shouldered past Alex. He’d gone only a few steps before he looked back, his gaze going between Whitney and Alex. “You haven’t heard the end of this. Either one of you.”
Great. Alex has messed things up big time. Both with McCray and Whitney.
McCray stumbled out the front door, and Alex turned to Whitney.
She flashed him an angry look. “Do you have any idea what you just did? That man is a frequent guest, and he spends a lot of money at the resort. I’ll likely lose my job for slapping him.”
“But he deserved it.”
“Sure he did.”
Alex frowned. “Then why did you put up with it?”
“Because I need this job. You have no idea how much I need it, and now I might lose it. Thanks to you.” Tears formed in those gray-blue eyes, one escaping down her cheek.
Aw, man. This was the worst. He had to fix it. He reached up to gently wipe it away.
Her eyes widened, and she lurched back. Right. She didn’t want him to touch her any more than she’d wanted McCray to.
“Excuse me.” She pivoted and all but ran to the kitchen door.
He’d botched this big time. He was usually pretty smooth when meeting a woman. He knew he was good-looking and women were often attracted to him. Plus, he had a great sense of humor and could charm women easily.
But with Whitney? His brain turned to mush, and he muddled things. Made a big pubic spectacle of all of them.
He took a look around. Found people watching him. He picked up the chair and pitcher, feeling like he could at least right something. Head down, he crossed over to his table and dropped into the chair across from Sam.
She didn’t say anything for the longest time. That made things even worse.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Say it.”
“That didn’t go so well.”
“You think?” he snapped and instantly regretted hurting two women in less than five minutes. “Look. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m just mad at myself, and I’m taking it out on you.”
Head tilted, Sam studied him like she did the forensic evidence she collected for the team. “She really got to you.”
“Yeah.” Why, he had no idea.
He took a long sip of his now lukewarm cocoa. “One of us should see where McCray went.”
Sam gestured over her shoulder at the window. “Not like he’s going to go far with this storm ramping up.”
Alex didn’t have to look outside to know the wind howled around them, and a blizzard was on the way. Not unusual in the Oregon mountains as they neared Thanksgiving. Many guests had already left the lodge, but others waited too long and would now have to ride out the storm. McCray was one of them, and—as the people assigned to tail him—so were Sam and Alex.
But McCray didn’t need to go outside to access his room. The priciest of rooms at the popular ski resort faced the slopes with ski-in and ski-out lodging where guests could depart for the slope on their skis. But with the blizzard on the way, the manager had moved everyone to rooms with interior access. Why McCray was going outside, Alex didn’t know.
The guy was the worst kind of criminal, selling guns to people who had no business owning weapons because they had dangerous criminal records, but Alex didn’t want him to stumble around outside and die.
“As drunk as he is, I should probably go after him to be sure he makes it back to his room.” Alex started to rise.
The kitchen door swung open, and Whitney stepped out. He dropped back to his chair to watch her. She’d put on an oversized bright blue fake-fur-trimmed parka over her uniform of white shirt and black slacks and wore furry boots. She stormed toward the front door, the boots clomping on the wood floor. She passed by him, casting a glare his way, and stepped into the howling wind.
“You think she really did get fired?” Sam asked.
“I hope not.” Feeling lower than low, he watched out the window.
Just after noon, the sky should be clear and bright with the sun reflecting off the brilliant white snow and skiers whizzing down the slopes, but the skies were gray and overcast. The angry swirls of heavy snowfall were in a brief lull right now but hadn’t let up before dropping two feet of snow and had brought the ski resort to a halt.
The staff continued to plow the walkways to outbuildings and the main arrival area out front, but the parking lot down the hill and other areas hadn’t been touched. Forecasts called for the storm to continue for several days.
He’d much rather it had been sunny where he’d likely be on the slopes trailing McCray down a steep hill. Going top speed, fighting the elements, wind rushing his face and adrenaline pumping. Not sitting in a restaurant watching the guy. Watching Whitney. Blowing his encounter with her.
He changed his focus to Sam. “You’re a woman. Should I go after her and try to apologize again?”
Sam frowned. “I would recommend letting it be.”
He took another long sip of the cocoa, wishing he could turn back time and have a do-over. Had he really gotten her fired? If so, he couldn’t live with that and had to find a way to fix it. First, he had to do his job.
“I need to go after McCray.” He got up.
A gunshot cracked through the air, echoing and reverberating through the mountains.
“Whitney.” Alex grabbed his jacket and bolted for the door. He shoved it open, and for a minute was stunned into silence.
A man lay faceup on the snowy ground a few feet from the main porch, a pool of bright red blood already forming on his chest and oozing down into the snow. His eyes were open and vacant.
Whitney was a few feet away, bolting away from the man—her blue jacket a blur, her boots clomping on the cleared walkway to the staff apartments. She kept glancing back before disappearing from view near the workers’ living quarters.
“You think she shot him?” Sam asked from behind him.
Did he? There was no one else in the area, including McCray. Was Whitney, this woman he just met, capable of murder?
All Alex knew about her was that he found her attractive and was drawn to her. “I have no idea, but if she ran to get away from danger, coming back inside the lodge would be much closer. Making a mad dash for the apartments left her wide open for a bullet in the back.”
“She could’ve panicked and bolted for whatever building came into view.”
“True.” He considered following her but nixed that idea. She couldn’t go far, and he had to check on the man, though Alex had seen death often enough in combat to know from this man’s open eyes that he was gone.
Alex knelt beside the body and felt for a pulse. Found none. Snow swirled to the ground, sticking on the deceased’s clothing but melting on his warm face. He wore jeans and a gray parka. No boots, but street shoes, which was odd for the conditions.
“Dead?” Sam asked.
He nodded. “What do you think he was doing out here? He’s not dressed for the elements.”
Sam shook her head. “It’s odd for sure. Maybe he was trying to get a cell signal.”
“Maybe. Thankfully, I have the SAT phone to call the sheriff.” Alex grabbed his phone from his ski jacket and scrolled down his contact list to find Sheriff Nate Ryder.
“Sheriff Ryder’s top-notch.
” Alex tapped the call button and waited for the signal to connect which always took longer via satellite. “I worked with him on an investigation a year or so back when Jackson caught that case involving Maggie.”
Sam nodded her understanding as she’d been fully briefed on the investigation when their teammate Jackson’s fiancé, Maggie, had been in extreme danger in a remote Oregon town.
The call connected. “Sheriff Ryder.”
“It’s Alex Hamilton with Blackwell Tactical. We worked the university investigation together.”
“Right. Yeah. What can I do for you, Alex?” His deep voice was garbled by a crackle of static.
“I’m at Powder Point Ski Resort. We have a situation here.” Despite adrenaline still lingering in his body, Alex gave concise details of the shooting, including Whitney’s abrupt departure, which was at best suspicious.
A huff of air filtered through the phone. “Protect the scene as best you can. With this storm, I’ll have to snowmobile in there, but I’ll be there soon.”
“No way!” Sam cried out. “No. Not now. No.”
Alex spun to look at her. “What?”
“Look.” She pointed down the hill by the parking lot.
Alex shifted his gaze, searching in the area she pointed. Massive white clouds of snow raced down the mountain and glided across the ground like a curling ocean wave. They swallowed the cars and everything in the path, eliminating them like an eraser on a whiteboard. Gusty wind exploded from the snow vortex, whipping a frenzy around it, creating a blackout situation, the residual winds climbing the hill and buffeting Alex’s body.
He turned, planted his feet, and arched against the force, holding his breath until it washed over them and the air calmed. Snow clung to his face, his neck. Slid down into his coat. Icy cold.
“Sam?” he called out and spun to check on her. She stood, back to the wind, her body crusted with snow.
“You okay?” he shouted against the wind.
“Fine.” She was staring at the body that was now nearly buried in snow. “I’m going to the manager to see if he has a tent that we can use to protect this scene before all the evidence is obliterated.”
“Be careful,” Alex said and watched her head inside.
“You still there, Hamilton?” Nate asked.
“Barely.” Alex let out a long breath and inhaled a snowy one as he assessed the scene in front of him. Everything was white. Stark. Buried.
“What happened?” Nate asked sounding impatient.
“Avalanche. The quick accumulation of snow and wind must have triggered it. The resort entrance is impassable. Parking lot buried. Can’t even see the top of a vehicle.”
“Not now! I’ll head out to assess the situation. I need to count on you to handle things up there until we can get the road open again.”
Alex didn’t like the sound of that. Not with already being on assignment, and the murder could very well be related to the ruthless McCray. Nate had a right to know about the job.
“You should know. We’re undercover tailing a gun runner. A Frisco McCray. Our guy was out here a few minutes ago and could even be the shooter. Either way, this is going to blow our cover.”
“Tough.” The word exploded from his mouth. “Your cover will just have to be blown. The safety of the people at that resort are in your hands until I can get through. As is protecting that scene so we can catch this killer.”
Alex knew Nate was right. He got the message loud and clear. “You can count on me to do everything within my power to contain things. And you should know, Blackwell has a new team member, Samantha Willis, who’s with me here. She’s a former PPB criminalist. She’s already talking to the manager about getting a tent to cover the body.”
“Good. Good.” The call went quiet for a moment, and Alex thought Nate might be thinking about how he could use Sam’s former experience in working with the Portland Police Bureau. At least that’s what Alex would be thinking about.
“PPB’s criminalists are all sworn officers,” Nate finally said. “Means if I can’t get up there soon, she has the experience that would allow me to deputize her and feel good about the decision.”
Alex sure hoped it didn’t come to that. “How long do you think it will take for you to get through?”
“No telling yet. Depends on the severity of the damage and the debris field. We’ve experienced avalanches in that spot before. The slope by the road is forty degrees, which is more likely to trigger one. The last one took four days to dig out, and then the road crumbled, and we had to repair that. I could chopper in there, but not until this blizzard lets up. Which isn’t forecasted to happen for days.”
At the news, Alex swallowed hard, and ran his gaze over the sea of snow as far as the eye could see.
A bad feeling sent a chill running through him. “So what you’re saying is we’re stuck on a mountain for days with a killer running free and no law enforcement support on the way.”
3
Whitney couldn’t breathe. Percy was here. He’d come for her. For them. Killed the man standing next to her. It had to be Percy. A missed shot. Whitney lived—the man didn’t. And with the snow piled up over her car she had no escape. The kids had no escape.
Cold shivers racked her body and not from the bitter wind whipping into the protected breezeway between apartments. She fell back against the wall and gaped at the snow, her little Honda Accord vanished. Every inch of it. Her way out gone. Buried under a wall of snow.
Now what? Did she run up to the small staff apartment and lock the door? Cower with the kids, waiting for Percy to come get them? Get her? Lifting his gun. Aiming. Succeeding this time.
She wasn’t surprised his aim was off. He was an investment banker. A sit in the office and sip cocktails with his pinkie finger out kind of guy. Not a hunter or a shooter.
But he was smart, incredibly smart, which was how he got away with embezzling from his company for so many years. If Vanessa hadn’t accidently found out, he’d still be doing it.
And he was a planner. He likely had cash stashed in multiple places. Maybe fake IDs in case he ever had to run. He would’ve planned for every eventuality. Except maybe pushing Vanessa down the stairs. And Whitney could have just led him to her apartment building.
She looked over her shoulder. Searched the whipping snow. Visibility was about twenty feet right now, the storm kicking back in. If he was hot on her trail, she should be able to see him, but he wasn’t in the snowy courtyard.
Then where did he go? She doubted he was a registered guest. Or at least he wouldn’t register under his real name. But if he wasn’t staying at the resort, where could he be?
Whitney had to act now, but she felt paralyzed. Frozen in place like the icy banister leading up the stairs to her small staff apartment. If he really did fire the shot, he would come after her. She could ask the kids’ babysitter for help, but Whitney couldn’t put Yuki in danger, too. Whitney had to get up to the apartment and send Yuki away before Percy came for them.
Mind-blowing terror gripped her, but she carefully made her way up the slippery steps, keeping her eyes focused on the snow swirling around her feet. The last thing she or the kids needed would be for her to slip and tumble down the stairs. They needed her for protection. She had a gun in her room and maybe that was enough.
It had to be.
She reached the landing where undulating drifts of snow packed against the walls. She dug out her keys, but as she reached for the lock, the door swung in and Yuki Fujita poked her head out.
A worried look on her face, her dark eyes narrowed, the little five-foot dynamo of a woman scanned the area. “Was that a gunshot?”
Not trusting herself to speak, Whitney nodded.
Yuki frowned, an unusual expression for the cheerful resort manager’s wife who babysat while Whitney worked. “Must be someone hunting nearby. Happens all the time.”
Whitney knew better, but she was still totally shaken. How was she going to keep from breaking down e
nough to coherently tell Yuki that a man had been murdered in front of her?
“Are the kids okay?” A tremor ran through Whitney’s words.
Yuki’s eyes widened as she studied Whitney. “They’re fine, why?”
Whitney shrugged. “What are they up to?”
“Isaiah is having quiet time, and Zoey is napping.” She frowned. “What are you doing home anyway?”
That Whitney could talk about. The anger might help. But not out here. Not exposed in the cold, her back to Percy if he climbed the stairs with his gun. She gestured at the door. “Let’s go in.”
Perceptive, Yuki didn’t move, but eyed Whitney. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Whitney hustled Yuki inside then twisted the deadbolt and wished the door was made of metal instead of wood. She tried the lock a few times. Just to be sure.
“Whitney?” Yuki’s voice was raised now. Alarmed. “Did something happen at the restaurant?”
No outside. “I got into a fight with McCray. Some guy tried to help out. He botched things, and McCray stormed out. Before Tomio could blow up, I asked him to let me go home.”
Yuki let out a breath and a hint of a smile came at the sound of her husband’s name. “Good. I’d hate to think he got mad and blew his top like he often does.”
Whitney felt bad at her relief. Not for Tomio not blowing his top, but for not sharing about the shooting and the avalanche right up front.
“Um, there’s two other things you should know.” She took a long breath. “There was an avalanche. The parking lot and road out of here are buried.”
“Again, oh, no. That stupid slope. Third time since we’ve been here.” She reached for her jacket dangling from a wall hook by the door. “I have to go. Tomio must be worried sick.”
Whitney held up her hand stopping her. “That’s not all. The gunshot. A man was killed. I don’t know if it’s safe for you to leave.” Or safe for you to stay.
“Killed! Where?” She swiped a hand over graying hair pulled back in a severe bun.
“Just outside the restaurant. Almost on the porch. He was standing right next to me.”
Cold Pursuit Page 2
