Ice Cold Killer

by Cindi Myers

  “Odd time of night to be climbing,” Ryder said. “And shouldn’t you have ropes and a helmet?”

  “He said he’s fine.” The second young man spoke. “Why don’t you leave us alone?”

  “He doesn’t look fine.” Ryder pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call for help.”

  “No!” The man on the ice sounded frantic. “I’ll be okay. I just need to find the next footho—” But the word ended in a scream as the ledge holding him broke and he slid down the ice.

  Ryder sprinted forward, though the young man’s companions remained frozen in place. He was able to break the kid’s fall, staggering back under the sudden weight, then dropping hard to his knees on the snowy ground, the young man collapsed against him. They stayed that way for a long moment, catching their breath.

  The sound of an engine roaring to life made Ryder jerk his head around. The climber’s companions were gone. “Looks like your friends ditched you,” he said.

  The young man grunted and tried to stand, but his left leg buckled when he tried to put weight on it.

  Ryder knelt beside him. “You’re hurt,” he said. “Lie still. I’ll call for help.”

  “I don’t need help.” The young man tried to stand and succeeded this time, though he favored his left leg. “It’s just a sprain.” He glared at Ryder. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t interfered.”

  “I’d better take you home,” Ryder said.

  Sullen, the young man limped ahead of him down the trail. Ryder waited until he was buckled into the passenger seat of the Tahoe before he spoke. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Greg Eicklebaum,” he said. “You can drop me off at the school. I’ll walk home from there.”

  “You can’t walk home with a bad ankle.” Ryder started the Tahoe. “What’s your address?”

  Greg reluctantly rattled off an address in one of Eagle Mountain’s more exclusive neighborhoods. “My parents are going to freak when a cop shows up at the door,” he said.

  “What did your friends back there mean about the climb not counting if you didn’t finish?” Ryder asked.

  “It was nothing. Just stupid talk.”

  “I gathered you made the climb on a dare.”

  Greg said nothing.

  “What other dares have the three of you tried?” Ryder asked.

  Greg stared out the window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Did you decide to break into some houses on a dare? Maybe the tiny house out at Lusk Ranch where the veterinarian lives? Or the Starling place on Pine Drive? Fred Starling said he thought the guy he surprised was wearing a letter jacket like the one you’ve got on.”

  Greg slumped down farther in his seat. “I don’t have to talk to you,” he said. “I’m a minor and you can’t question me without my parents around.”

  “You’re right. Let’s wait and talk to your parents. I’m sure they’ll be interested in hearing about this dare business.”

  Greg sat up straighter. “We’re not doing anything wrong,” he said. “It’s just, you know, a way to pass the time. So we dare each other to do stuff, like climbing without ropes. Stupid, maybe, but it’s not against the law.”

  “Attempting to break in to someone’s home is against the law.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “What other kinds of dares have you done?” Ryder asked.

  “Gus ate a live cricket.” Greg grinned. “It was disgusting.”

  “So there’s you and Gus. Who’s the third kid?”

  Greg’s expression grew closed off again. “I don’t have to say.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll run the plate on his vehicle and find out.”

  Greg glared at him, then slumped down in his seat.

  “The night of those break-ins, a woman was murdered,” Ryder said.

  “Are you trying to pin that one on us, too?” Greg asked.

  “The murder wasn’t far from the Starling house. The weather was bad and there weren’t many people out. The person or persons who attempted the break-in might have seen the murderer, or his car.”

  “Can’t help you.”

  “Think about it,” Ryder said. “The sheriff might be willing to overlook an attempted burglary charge in exchange for evidence that helps us track down a killer.”

  “Right.”

  When Ryder pulled into the driveway at the Eicklebaum house, no lights showed in the windows. Greg unsnapped his seat belt and was opening the door before Ryder came to a complete stop. “Looks like nobody’s home,” he said. “Thanks for the ride.” Then he was out of the Tahoe and sprinting up the drive.

  Ryder waited until the young man was in the house, the door shut behind him. He could have waited for the parents to return, or he could come back later to talk to them, but he doubted they would be able to shed any light on the situation. He’d run the plates on the SUV, and let Travis and his men know about the three young men and their series of dares. He couldn’t prove they were the ones behind the break-in at Darcy’s house, but it felt right. And if he could find the right pressure to put on them, they might have some evidence that could help break this case.

  * * *

  “GOOD MORNING, Trooper Stewart.”

  Ryder was startled to be greeted by Adelaide Kinkaid when he entered the sheriff’s office Sunday morning. “What are you doing working on a Sunday?” he asked.

  “No rest for the wicked,” she said.

  “She doesn’t think we can manage without her,” Gage said as he joined Ryder in the lobby.

  “You can’t,” she said. “And as long as there’s a killer terrorizing my town, I don’t see any sense sitting at home twiddling my thumbs. It’s not as if at my age I’m going to take up knitting or something.”

  “I have a job for you,” Ryder said. He handed her a piece of paper on which he’d written the license plate information from the SUV Greg’s friends had driven. “Find out who this vehicle is registered to.”

  Adelaide studied him over the top of her lavender bifocals. “Does this have something to do with the killer?”

  “Probably not. But I still need to know.”

  “All right. But next time call it in to the highway patrol.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ryder grinned, then followed Gage into his office where Dwight was already slouched in the visitor’s chair.

  Dwight straightened and stifled a yawn. “I guess you’re here to go with me to interview Doug Whittington,” he said.

  “That’s the plan.” Ryder leaned against the doorjamb. “No rush. I’d like to get the information on that license plate from Adelaide first.”

  “What’s up with the plate?” Gage asked.

  Ryder told them about his encounter the night before with Greg Eicklebaum. “The plate belongs to the SUV they were in. His friends drove off without him, so I didn’t get their names, though I take it one of them has the first name of Gus.”

  “Gus Elcott.” Adelaide spoke from the doorway. “The SUV is registered to his father, Dallas, but Gus is the one who drives it.”

  “What do you know about Gus?” Ryder asked her. Adelaide was known for having her finger on the pulse of the town.

  “He’s the star forward on the high school basketball team. An only child of well-off parents, which means he’s spoiled, but aren’t they all these days?” Her eyes behind the bifocals narrowed. “Why? What’s he done?”

  “Nothing that I know of,” Ryder said. “I caught him and some friends ice climbing in the dark without safety equipment. One of them fell and sprained his ankle and I took him home.”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose if that’s the worst trouble they get into, we should be thankful.” She left them.

  Gage moved over to the door and shut it. “Now, tell us what’s really going on,” he said.

/>   “I’m not sure,” Ryder said. “Greg said something about a series of dares they were doing, and apparently there’s some kind of point system. I take it whoever racks up the most points wins. Wins what, I don’t know, and Greg wouldn’t elaborate. But I think Greg and Gus and one other kid, whose name I don’t know yet, were behind the attempted break-ins at Darcy’s house and at Fred Starling’s the night Christy O’Brien was killed.”

  “Fred said he thought the burglar wore a high school letter jacket,” Gage said.

  “Yeah,” Ryder said. “And Darcy said the car that pulled out of her driveway that night was a dark SUV. And I saw three high school boys at the grocery store not long before the break-ins.”

  “It doesn’t sound like we have enough evidence to charge them with anything,” Dwight said.

  “No,” Ryder agreed. “But there’s a chance those boys saw something that night that could help us track down the murderer—a vehicle, or maybe the murderer himself. We just have to find a way to make them talk.”

  “Maybe we gather more evidence about the burglaries and use that to put pressure on them,” Gage said. “Offer to make a deal.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Ryder said. “Right now we don’t have much else.”

  Dwight stood. “Maybe after today we’ll have more,” he said. “You ready to go interview Doug?”

  “Be warned that Rainey isn’t going to welcome you with open arms,” Gage said. “She’s very protective of her son.”

  “Any particular reason why?” Ryder asked.

  “Apparently, his dad was out of the picture early on, and she raised him by herself. It really broke her heart when he went to jail. She’s determined to keep him from going back.” He pulled a folder from a stack on the corner of his desk. “Take a look at this before you go out there. Dwight’s already seen it.”

  Ryder read through the file. Doug Whittington had been convicted two years previously of beating up his girlfriend during a drunken argument. He broke her jaw and her arm and cracked several ribs. She had ended up in the hospital, and he had ended up in jail. After he had served fifteen months of a two-year sentence, he was eligible for parole. He looked up at Gage. “Did he come to the ranch right after he was paroled?”

  Gage nodded. “Rainey begged my parents to let him stay with her on the ranch until he could get on his feet again. He had completed both anger management and alcohol rehab while behind bars, and wasn’t going to mess up in a household with two lawmen as part of the family.”

  “If he is the killer, he’s taking a big risk, murdering women while two lawmen are in and out of the house practically every day,” Dwight said.

  “This particular killer seems to enjoy taking risks and taunting lawmen,” Ryder said. “So he would fit that pattern.”

  Gage took the folder Ryder handed him. “I hope he has nothing to do with this. It’s going to be messy for my folks if he does, but we have to check it out. Still, Rainey isn’t going to be happy.”

  Twenty minutes later Ryder parked in front of the ranch house and he and Dwight made their way up a recently shoveled walkway. Emily answered their knock, dressed in ripped jeans and a button-down shirt, her hair piled in a loose knot on her head and her feet bare. “Mom and Dad are away, but Travis told me you were coming,” she said, ushering them inside. “He asked me not to say anything to Doug. He and Rainey are both in the kitchen.”

  She showed them into the kitchen, a modern, light-filled space with expanses of cherry cabinets and black granite countertops. The cook, Rainey, was rolling dough on the kitchen island while Doug chopped carrots by the sink. Rainey looked up as they entered, her gaze sweeping over them. “Hello, officers,” she said, her tone wary.

  “You remember Sergeant Stewart and Deputy Prentice from my party yesterday, don’t you?” Emily asked.

  “We need to ask Doug a few questions,” Ryder said.

  At the sink, Doug stopped chopping and raised his head, but he didn’t turn around.

  “Doug can’t tell you anything,” Rainey said.

  “You don’t know what we need to ask him,” Ryder said.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Rainey went back to rolling dough. “He doesn’t socialize with folks in town. He stays here at the ranch with me and keeps his nose clean. He’s had culinary training, you know. He plans to open his own restaurant one day, or maybe do catering. He’s been a big help to me, preparing for this wedding.”

  “If he hasn’t done anything wrong, then he doesn’t have anything to worry about,” Dwight said.

  Rainey sniffed. “Go ahead and ask, then. He doesn’t have anything to hide, do you, Doug?”

  Doug wiped his hands on a dish towel and turned to face them. He had a square, freckled face under closely cropped hair, his nose off-kilter as if it had been broken and not set properly. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  “I’ll leave you all to it,” Emily said and slipped out the door.

  Ryder turned to Rainey. “If you could excuse us a moment,” he said. “This won’t take long.”

  “It’s my kitchen and I’m not leaving.” She assaulted the dough on the counter with vigorous strokes from her rolling pin. “And he’s my son. Anything you want to ask him, you can ask in front of me.”

  Ryder and Dwight exchanged looks. They could always insist on taking Doug down to the sheriff’s department to interview, but that would no doubt cause trouble for the sheriff and his family. And it might be interesting to see how Rainey reacted to their questions. There was still the possibility that the killer had had an accomplice. “All right,” he said and took out his notebook. “During the party yesterday, what were you doing?”

  “I worked with Mom, in the kitchen here,” he said. “We made snacks for the party.”

  “Did you take a break from the work anytime?” Ryder asked. “Maybe step outside for a cigarette?”

  Doug looked at his mother, who had given up all pretense of rolling out dough and stood with her arms crossed, watching them. “Mom doesn’t like me to smoke,” he said.

  “But did you smoke?” Ryder pressed. “Maybe stepped outside to grab a quick cigarette?”

  Doug nodded slowly.

  “When?” Ryder asked.

  “I dunno. A couple of times. But I didn’t go far.” He nodded toward the back door. “Just behind the woodpile out there.”

  Ryder walked to the door and looked out the glass at the top. A wall of neatly stacked wood extended from the corner of the house, forming a little alcove between the back door and the side of the house. “Did you see anyone while you were out there?” he asked. “One of the party guests, or maybe someone who wasn’t supposed to be there? Did you speak to anyone?”

  “No. I try to stay back, so no one sees me.”

  “How long were you out there?” Dwight asked.

  “A few minutes. Maybe ten. As long as it takes to smoke a cigarette.”

  “What about last Tuesday?” Ryder asked. “What were you doing that day?”

  He looked again to his mother, his gaze questioning. “I dunno,” he said. “I guess I was here.”

  “That’s the day they found those women,” Rainey said. “And yes, he was here. With me. What are you implying?”

  Ryder ignored the question. “You were here all day?”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Rainey moved around the counter toward him. She was almost as tall as Ryder, and though she had left the rolling pin on the counter, he was aware that it was still within reach, as were half a dozen knives in a block on the edge of the counter.

  “If you can’t remain quiet, Mrs. Whittington,” Ryder said, “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  She said nothing, but didn’t advance any farther toward him.

  Trusting Dwight to keep an eye on her, Ryder turned his attention to Doug. “Did you know Kelly Farrow or Christy O’Bri
en or Fiona Winslow?” he asked.

  “No,” Doug said.

  “You’d never seen any of them around town, or spoken to them?” Ryder asked.

  “I saw Fiona at the restaurant where she worked,” he said. “She waited on my table once.”

  “Did you speak to her?” Ryder asked.

  “I maybe said hello.” He shifted his weight and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “There’s no law against that.”

  “She was a very pretty woman,” Ryder said.

  “They were all pretty,” Doug said.

  An innocent statement, maybe, but it gave Ryder a chill. “I thought you said you didn’t know Kelly or Christy.”

  “I saw their pictures in the paper.”

  “Did you ask Fiona to go out with you?” Ryder asked.

  “What makes you think that?” Doug asked.

  “Just a guess. Maybe you asked her out and she turned you down. When you saw her at the party, it reminded you of that and made you angry. Maybe you followed her into the woods and confronted her.”

  “No!” Doug and Rainey spoke at the same time.

  “How dare you make up lies like that about my son,” Rainey said. “Just because he made a mistake once, people like you want him to keep paying for the rest of his life. Instead of going out and finding the real killer, you can just pin these murders on him and your job is done.”

  “I haven’t accused your son of anything,” Ryder said.

  “Does the sheriff know you’re here?” she asked. “I can’t imagine he’d put up with you bullying someone who is practically a member of his own family.”

  “Can Mr. or Mrs. Walker, or someone else, confirm that you didn’t leave the ranch on Tuesday?” Ryder asked Doug.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess you’d have to ask them.”

  “Please don’t ask them.” Rainey’s tone had turned from strident to pleading. “You’ll only embarrass all of us. Doug was here because he was with me. I make it a point to keep him busy. He doesn’t need to go to town for anything.”

  “He obviously went to town at some point and met Fiona at the restaurant,” Dwight said.