by Cindi Myers
“Could she have turned off the trail before she reached the creek?” Travis asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ryder said. “The brush is pretty thick on either side of the trail in there. She was wearing snowshoes, like us, so it would have been tough to maneuver through the underbrush.”
“Emily and I were searching along the creek and we saw Jamie and Tammy ahead of us,” Gage said. “We stopped to talk to them, and then started all searching together. We didn’t see Fiona until we stumbled over her body.”
“Did you see anyone else?” Travis asked.
Gage shook his head. “No.”
“I told Dwight not to let anyone leave until we’ve questioned them,” Travis said. “I want to know where everyone was and what they were doing when she was killed.”
“The murderer isn’t necessarily one of your guests,” Ryder said. “It wouldn’t have been that hard to find out this party was going on up here this afternoon. The killer might have taken it as a personal challenge to kill under a bunch of cops’ noses, so to speak.”
“Or maybe it’s a copycat,” Jamie said. “Someone with a grudge decides to get rid of Fiona and make it look like a serial killing.”
“We’ll look into Fiona’s background,” Travis said. “But I never heard anything about her having trouble with anyone.”
“Why doesn’t anyone around here get killed in a nice warm building?” Medical Examiner Butch Collins trudged into view, his booming voice the only clue to his identity, the rest of him concealed by a calf-length leather duster, a yards-long red wool scarf wrapped several times around his throat, the ends trailing down his back, a black Stetson shoved low over his ears, oversize dark glasses shading his eyes. He stopped in front of them and whipped off the glasses. “And while I’m ordering up the perfect murder, it needs to happen on a weekday, when coming to see you people is a good excuse for getting out of the office, instead of away from a nice warm fire in my own home.”
“When we catch the killer, we’ll be sure to pass along your request,” Gage said.
Butch surveyed the body in the creek. “I hope you catch him soon,” he said. “I’m tired of looking at lovely young women whose lives have been cut short.” He shrugged out of his backpack and set it in the snow. “I’ll be done here as soon as I can, so we can all get warm.”
“Ryder, I want you and Gage to go up to the house and start questioning people,” Travis said. He didn’t say before one of them tries to leave but Ryder knew that was what he meant.
The two men didn’t say anything on their trek to the ranch house. Ryder’s mind was too full of this new development. How had the killer been so close, and he hadn’t had any inkling? Was one of the people waiting for him at the ranch house responsible for this and the other murders?
Emily must have been watching for them. She met them at the front door. “Everyone is in the living room,” she said. “I had Rainey make hot chocolate for everyone—with whiskey or schnapps if they wanted—and plenty of snacks.”
Conversation rose from behind them. “They don’t sound too upset,” Gage said.
“They were, at first,” Emily said. “Then I had everyone show their scavenger hunt finds and got them to talking. It’s not that everyone isn’t horrified, but I didn’t see any point in dwelling on the tragedy—and I didn’t think you’d want them talking about it amongst themselves. Not before you’d had a chance to question them.”
“Good thinking.” Gage patted her shoulder. “Is everyone here?”
“Everyone,” she confirmed.
A woman appeared in the doorway behind Emily. Nearly six feet tall, her blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, blue eyes lasering in on them from a weathered face. “These are for you,” she said, pushing two mugs of hot chocolate toward them. “Get those coats and boots off and warm up by the fire before you go to work.”
“Ryder, this is our cook, Rainey Whittington,” Gage said. “In case you haven’t noticed, she’s bossy.”
“Hmmph.” She turned and left the room.
Ryder sipped the chocolate—it was rich and creamy. His stomach growled—he’d have to snag some of the hors d’ouevres he’d spotted on trays around the room to go with the chocolate.
He and Gage left their boots and coats in the foyer and moved into the next room—a large space with windows on two sides, a massive stone fireplace, soaring ceilings and oversize cushioned sofas and chairs. Almost every seat was filled with men and women, who looked up when Gage and Ryder entered.
Some of the women looked as if they had been crying. Most of the men showed tension around their eyes. “What’s going on out there?” Ken Rutledge demanded.
“The medical examiner is at the scene,” Gage said. He sipped his chocolate, watching the others over the rim of his cup. The two college guys, Alex and Tim, fidgeted. Tammy looked as if she was going to cry again. Ken prodded the fire with the poker.
Darcy cradled a mug with both hands and met Ryder’s gaze. She looked calm, or maybe a better word was resigned.
“We’re going to need to question each of you,” Gage said. “To find out where you were and what you were doing shortly before Fiona’s body was found.”
“You don’t think one of us killed her, do you?” Alex asked.
“You might have seen or heard something that could lead us to the killer,” Gage said.
Rainey appeared in the doorway with a fresh tray of hors d’ouevres, a thin, freckled young man behind her with a second tray. She began passing the food. The young man walked up to Ryder with his tray. “I’m Rainey’s son, Doug,” he said.
Ryder took a couple of the sausage balls from the tray. “Thanks.”
Gage shook his head and Doug moved on. “Ken, why don’t you come in the library with me and Ryder,” he said.
Ken jumped up and followed them down a short hallway to a small room just past the area where everyone had gathered. “You think because I was teamed up with Fiona that I had something to do with her death,” he said. “But I don’t know what happened to her. She didn’t even tell me she wanted to split up—she just left.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Gage motioned to an armchair. He and Ryder arranged the desk chair and another armchair to face him. Ken looked flushed and agitated, his face pale. His jeans, Ryder noted, were wet from the knees down.
“When I saw you on the trail, you were chasing Alex and Tim,” Ryder said. “What was that about?”
“They stole the bird’s nest Fiona and I found by the creek,” Ken said. “I wasn’t going to let them get away with that, so I chased them.”
“Did you catch them?” Gage asked.
Ken looked sullen. “No. They must have veered off the trail into the woods.”
“How far did you chase them?” Gage asked.
“I don’t know. Not that far, I guess. It’s too hard to run in snowshoes.”
“What did you do after you stopped chasing them?” Ryder asked.
“I went looking for Fiona. I figured she’d be waiting for me, back on the trail, but she’d disappeared.”
“Did that upset you?” Gage asked. “When you couldn’t find her?”
“I was a little annoyed, sure. But I didn’t kill her.”
“You were annoyed because she ditched you,” Ryder said.
“I thought maybe she got lost or something. Most women aren’t good with directions.”
Gage and Ryder both stared at him. “What?” Ken asked. “It’s true.”
“Okay, so you were by yourself, for how long?” Gage asked.
“I don’t know. Twenty minutes? I was trying to find the others.”
The desk chair squeaked as Gage shifted his weight. “Did you find them?” he asked.
“No,” Ken said. “I finally gave up and came back here. That’s when I heard what happened to Fiona. I feel sick a
bout it.”
“How did your pants get so wet?” Ryder asked.
Ken flushed. “I fell in the creek getting the bird’s nest out of the tree. That’s when those jerks came along and got it, while I was in the water. Fiona was screaming at them to stop and they just laughed.”
“How did you and Fiona come to team up?” Ryder asked.
“I asked her to come with me. She wasn’t here with anybody, so I figured, why not?”
“Had the two of you ever dated?” Ryder asked.
“Nah. We’d flirted some, when I had dinner at Kate’s Kitchen. I was thinking about asking her out. I figured this would be a good way to get to know each other better.”
“While you were looking for Fiona, did you see anyone else?” Gage asked. “Talk to anyone?”
He shook his head. “No. Not until I got back to the house. Travis was here, and his fiancée. Maybe some other people.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to get inside and get warm. Then they told me about Fiona and I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I thought this guy killed women in their cars. What’s he doing out in the woods?”
Good question, Ryder thought. They sent Ken on his way. “What do you think?” Gage asked when he and Ryder were alone again.
“I don’t know,” Ryder said. “Maybe he’s telling the truth. Or maybe he caught up with Fiona and slit her throat.”
“But first he bound her wrists and ankles with duct tape and no one else saw or heard a thing?” Gage grimaced. “I’m thinking it had to be a job for two people.”
“Let’s talk to Tim and Alex,” Ryder said.
Tim Dawson and Alex Woodruff had the easy-going, slightly cocky attitudes of young men for whom everything in life came easy. They dressed casually, in jeans and fleece pullovers and hiking boots, but the clothes were from expensive designers. They had straight teeth and stylish haircuts, and Alex wore a heavy copper and gold bracelet that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an art gallery. He and Tim shook hands with Ryder and Gage, and met their gazes with steady looks of their own. “You’ve certainly got your hands full, investigating something like this,” Alex said. “I don’t imagine a sheriff’s department in a place like Eagle Mountain is used to dealing with serial murderers.”
“You might be surprised,” Gage said, which had the two younger men exchanging questioning looks.
“How did you two end up in Eagle Mountain?” Gage asked when they were all seated in the library.
“We heard the ice climbing here was good,” Tim said.
“Tim heard the ice climbing was good and wanted to come,” Alex said. “I sort of invited myself along.”
“Why is that?” Gage asked.
Alex shrugged. “I didn’t have anything better to do. Getting away for a few days sounded like a good idea.”
“We didn’t plan on getting stuck here,” Tim said.
“But we’re making the best of it,” Alex said.
“What are you studying at the university?” Ryder asked.
“Business,” Tim said.
“Psychology.” Alex’s smile flashed on and off so quickly Ryder might have imagined it. “So this whole case interests me—as an observer.”
“How did you come to be invited here today?” Gage asked.
“We know Emily from school,” Alex said.
“Alex knows her,” Tim said. “He introduced me when we ran into her in town a few days ago and she invited us to come.” He shrugged. “It was fun until that girl was killed.”
“Did you know the woman who died?” Gage asked.
They both shook their heads.
“Take us through the afternoon,” Gage said. “What you did and when.”
The two exchanged glances. Alex spoke first. “We got the list and decided to head to the creek. I guess a lot of people did that, but we ran to get ahead of them.”
“Why the creek?” Ryder asked.
“It seemed to me that a lot of the items on the list could be found there,” Alex said. “And I was right. We found the heart-shaped rock and the red berries right away. And then we got the bird’s nest.”
Tim made a noise that was almost like a snicker. “Where did you find the bird’s nest?” Ryder asked.
“That big blond guy—Ken—was standing on the creek bank in the snow, trying to get to this nest up high. He had hold of a branch and was trying to bend the tree down toward him.”
“Except he slipped and fell into the water,” Alex said. “When he let go of the branch, the tree sprang back upright, and the nest flew out of it and landed practically at Tim’s feet.”
“So I picked it up and ran,” Tim said. “The guy was screaming bloody murder, and so was the woman, too, but hey, I figure ‘finders keepers.’”
“Losers weepers,” Alex added.
“What happened next?” Ryder asked.
“You know,” Tim said. “You saw. We took off, with the blond coming after us. He couldn’t run that fast in snowshoes, and he gave up pretty quick.”
“What did you do next?” Gage asked.
“We kept on finding the stuff on the list,” Tim said. “We had everything but the horseshoe when the cops herded everyone back to the house.”
“We figure we must have more items than anyone else,” Alex said. “We’re bound to win the prize.”
“Did you see Fiona or Ken again after you ran off with the bird’s nest?” Ryder asked.
“No,” Alex said. “We didn’t see anyone until that cop told us to go back to the house.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Are you going to keep us here much longer?”
“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?” Gage asked.
“Not really.” Alex grinned. “But it’s Saturday night. We thought we’d go out, have a few beers, maybe meet some women.”
“Where are you staying?” Gage asked.
“My aunt has a little cabin on the edge of town,” Tim said. “It’s a summer place, really, but it’s okay. At least we’re not paying rent.”
Gage took down the address and both men’s cell phone numbers. “That’s all the questions I have.” He looked at Ryder.
“That’s all I have for now,” Ryder said.
Tim and Alex stood. “You know where to find us if you need more,” Alex said.
They ambled out of the room, shutting the door softly behind them. Gage let out a sigh. “Both of them working together could have done it,” he said.
“They could have,” Ryder said. “Or they could just be a couple of cocky college guys who didn’t do anything but swipe a bird’s nest that really didn’t belong to anyone, anyway. They’re not wet from being in the creek and they don’t have blood on them.”
“They might have a change of clothes in their vehicle or their pack,” Gage said. “And Jamie was right about the blood—if they were careful, they wouldn’t get much, if any, on them.”
“We’ll check their backgrounds, maybe talk to the aunt and their neighbors at that cabin,” Ryder said.
A knock on the library door interrupted him. “Come in,” Gage called.
Travis stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “How’s it going?” he asked.
“Not much to go on yet,” Gage said. “We’ve talked to Ken and Tim and Alex. That’s all the non-law enforcement men. Except for Doug, the cook’s son. I guess we’d better talk to him.”
“I sent Jamie back early and she and Dwight interviewed the women,” Travis said. “None of them saw or heard anything.”
“Anything turn up at your end?” Ryder asked.
“We’ll go over the body more closely tomorrow, but we found this.” He took an evidence envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and passed it over. Ryder stared at the single square of water-soaked pasteboard. A business card, the words Ice Cold barely legible on the front.
“It’s the same killer,” Ryder said. “Not a copycat. The same man or men who killed Kelly and Christy.”
“It’s the same one,” Travis said. “He’s challenging us right under our noses now.”
Chapter Ten
Darcy arrived home to a chorus of complaining cats and the beginnings of more snow. She dealt with the cats by serving up fresh seafood delight all around, and dispensed with the snow by turning her back on it, drawing the shades and standing under the strong stream of a hot shower until the icy chill that had settled over her hours ago had receded and the tension in her shoulders and neck began to relax.
She and Ryder had exchanged a brief goodbye as she filed out of the ranch house with the rest of the non-law-enforcement guests. Earlier she had given her version of their encounter on the trail with Ken and Fiona to the female deputy, Jamie. “I’ll call you when I can,” Ryder said, and squeezed her hand.
She checked the locks on her doors and windows again, turned on the outside lights and settled on the sofa with a fresh cup of tea and a peanut butter sandwich—her idea of comfort food. She had just picked up a favorite Regency romance novel and turned to the first chapter when strains of Vivaldi sounded from her cell phone.
Spirits lifting, she snatched up the phone, but her mood dropped again when she saw that the call wasn’t from Ryder as she had hoped, but from Kelly’s mother. “Darcy, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.” Cassidy Farrow spoke with a tremor as if she was very old, though she was probably only in her early fifties.
“Not at all.” Darcy tucked her feet up beside her and pulled a knitted blanket up to her knees. “What can I do for you?”
“I don’t know, really. I just...I just wondered if you’ve heard anything about...about Kelly’s case. If they’re any closer to finding out who did this awful thing.” Her voice caught, and Darcy pictured her struggling to regain her composure.
“I know the officers are working very hard to find out who killed Kelly,” Darcy said. Should she mention the other women who had died? No. That would only be more upsetting, surely.
