Ice Cold Killer

by Cindi Myers

  Worry shadowed her face. “You’re probably tired of people asking you if you have any suspects.”

  “I only wish I had a better answer to give than no.” He shut the back of the Tahoe. “Maybe a day in the woods will give me a new perspective on the case.”

  They climbed into the truck and he turned back onto the road. “Where should we go skiing?” she asked. “I know the trails up on Dixon Pass are popular.”

  Ryder shook his head. “The avalanche danger is too high up there right now. I thought we’d head down valley, to Silver Pick Recreation Area. There are some nice trails through the woods there, sheltered from the wind.”

  “Kelly and I hiked there this fall,” she said. “Right after we moved here. The color in the trees was gorgeous.” She settled back in her seat and gazed out the side window. “One of the things I love about living here is there are so many places to go hiking or skiing or just to sit and enjoy nature. The city has plenty of parks, but it’s not the same.” She glanced at him. “And before Kelly died, I always felt safe out here, even when I was alone. I guess I couldn’t imagine any harm could come to me in such a peaceful place.”

  He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I hate that this killer has taken that peace away from you—and from a lot of other people.”

  “I guess we’re naive to think small towns are immune from bad things and bad people,” she said. “Or maybe, because crime is so rare in a place like this, it has a bigger impact.”

  “You would think that a killer hiding in a small population like this would be easier to find,” he said. “But that isn’t proving to be the case.”

  She leaned over and squeezed his arm, a gentle, reassuring gesture. “Today let’s try not to think about any of that,” she said. “Let’s just enjoy the day and each other’s company.”

  He covered her hand with his own. “It’s a deal.”

  There were several cars and trucks parked at the recreation area, including a couple of trailers for hauling snow machines. “Snowmobilers have to use the trails on the other side of the road,” Ryder said. “We’ll probably hear them, but the trails on this side are only for skiers and snowshoers.”

  They unloaded their skis and packs and set out up an easy groomed trail. After a few strides they fell into a rhythm. The snow had stopped altogether now, only the occasional cascade of white powder sifting down from the trees that lined the trail. The air was sharp with cold, but the sun made it feel less biting and more invigorating.

  They had traversed about a half mile up the trail when a loud boom shook the air. Darcy started. “What was that?”

  Ryder looked in the direction the explosion had come from. “Sounds like avalanche mitigation up on the pass,” he said. “That’s good news. The weather forecast must call for clear weather and they’re working to get the roads open.”

  “Oh.” Darcy put a hand to her chest. “I guess I knew they used explosives—I just didn’t expect for them to sound so loud.”

  “Sound carries a long way here. And those howitzers they use can be pretty loud.”

  “Howitzers?” she asked. “As in military weapons?”

  “Yeah. They’re actually on loan from the army. A lot of the avalanche control crews are ex-military. Their experience with explosives comes in handy. They’ll try to bring down as much snow as possible, then get heavy equipment in to haul it off.”

  “So the highway could be open soon?”

  “Maybe as early as tomorrow.”

  She grinned. “Everyone will be glad to hear it. You wouldn’t think a whole town could feel claustrophobic, but it can. And it’ll be good to restock all the stores.”

  “Hopefully the roads will stay clear for all the wedding guests who’ll be arriving at the Walker ranch over the next few weeks,” Ryder said. “Since some of the party live far away, the family has asked them to stay for an extended visit. They’re making kind of a reunion of it, I guess.”

  “That sounds nice,” she said. “It should be a beautiful wedding.”

  “Would you like to come to the ceremony and reception?” he asked. “I’m allowed to bring a date.”

  “Oh. Well...”

  He cringed inwardly as her voice trailed off. Had he asked too much too soon?

  “Yes. I’d love to come with you,” she said.

  “Good.” He faced forward and set out again, though it felt as if his skis scarcely touched the snow.

  They paused several times to rest and to take pictures. She snapped a shot of him posed near a snowman someone had built alongside the trail, then they took a selfie in front of a snow-draped blue spruce.

  Their destination was a warming hut at the highest point of the trail. They reached it just after noon and raced to kick off their skis and rush inside. The rough-hewn log hut contained a wooden table, several benches and an old black iron woodstove that someone had stoked earlier in the day, so that the warmth wrapped around them like a blanket when they entered.

  They peeled off their jackets and Ryder added wood to the stove from the pile just outside the door, while Darcy unpacked a thermos of hot cocoa, two turkey and cheese sandwiches, clementines and peanut butter cookies.

  “What a feast,” Ryder said as he straddled the bench across from her. He sipped the cocoa, then bit into the sandwich. “Nothing like outdoor exercise to make such a simple meal taste fantastic.”

  She nodded her agreement, her mouth full of sandwich, laughter in her eyes. A few moments later, when they had both devoured about half the food, she said, “Kelly and I didn’t hike this far in the fall. I didn’t even know this was up here.”

  “At the solstice a bunch of people ski or hike up here and have a bonfire,” he said. “You should come.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Maybe she would come with him. It felt a little dangerous to think that far ahead, but satisfying, too. Maybe the two of them would have what it took to make it as a couple. This early in their acquaintance, when they were just feeling their way, getting to know each other, anything felt possible.

  “Did you make these?” he asked, after taking a bite of a soft, chewy cookie.

  She nodded. “I like to bake.”

  “They’re delicious.”

  They sat side by side on a bench in front of the hut’s one window, a view of the river valley spread out before them. “Road closure or not,” he said, “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be right now than here.” He turned to her. “With you.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I feel the same.”

  There wasn’t anything more that needed saying after that. They sat in companionable silence until the cocoa and cookies were gone. “Ready to ski back down?” he asked.

  “Yes. I want to stop near the river and take some more pictures of the snow in the trees.”

  They traveled faster going downhill, racing each other to the flat section of the trail along the river where they stopped and she took more pictures. By the time they started out again, the light was already beginning to fade, the air turning colder and the wind picking up.

  When Ryder first heard the snowmobile, he mistook the noise for the wind in the trees. But Darcy, skiing ahead of him, stopped abruptly. “Is that a snowmobile?” she asked. “It sounds like it’s heading this way.”

  “The snow and the trees can distort sound,” he said. “All snowmobile traffic is on the other side of the road.”

  They skied on, but the roar of the machine increased as they emerged into an open area just past the river. “It’s probably someone headed to the parking lot,” Darcy called over her shoulder.

  Ryder started to agree, then saw a flash of light over Darcy’s shoulder. The snowmobile emerged from the trees ahead, a single headlight focused on them, a great rooster tail of snow arcing up behind the vehicle.

  “What is he doing?” Darcy shouted as t
he machine bore down on them. She sidestepped off the main trail, but there was nowhere they could go that the snowmobile wouldn’t be able to reach. The driver, face obscured by a helmet, leaned over the machine and gunned the engine. He was headed straight for them and showed no sign of veering away or slowing down.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Darcy stared at the snowmobile charging toward them. The roar of the engine shuddered through her, and the stench of burning diesel stung her nose. Move! a voice inside her shouted, but her limbs refused to obey, even as the machine closed the gap between them with alarming speed.

  And then she was falling as Ryder slammed into her. They rolled together, a tangle of skis and packs and poles. The snowmobile roared past, a wave of snow washing over them in its wake.

  “We’ve got to get out of these skis!” Ryder shouted. He reached back and slammed his hand onto the release of her skis, then untangled his own legs and pulled her to her feet. The snow off the trail was deep and soft, and she immediately sank to her knees, but Ryder held on to her, keeping her upright. “We have to get into the trees!” he shouted.

  She followed his gaze behind them and her stomach turned over as the snowmobile driver made a wide turn and headed back toward them.

  “Come on.” Ryder tugged on her arm. In his other hand, he held a gun. Was he really going to shoot the driver? If he did, would that even stop their attacker in time?

  The snowmobile bucked forward, and she lurched ahead, as well, Ryder still gripping her arm tightly. They fought their way through heavy snow, every step like walking in a dream, her legs heavy, trapped in the snow. They were in an open field, the line of trees fifty yards or more away, the roar of the snowmobile ever louder as it raced toward them again.

  “He’s crazy!” she shouted. “How can he hit us without wrecking?”

  Ryder shook his head but didn’t answer, all his energy divided between breaking a path for them through the drifts and keeping an eye on the snowmobile.

  We aren’t going to make it, Darcy thought, when she dared to look back and saw the snowmobile only a few dozen yards from them.

  The report of Ryder’s gun was deafening, and she screamed in spite of herself. The snowmobile veered, then righted. Ryder fired again, and the bullet hit the windscreen, shattering it.

  The snowmobile wobbled, then righted itself once more, then the driver turned and headed back the way he had come, away from them.

  “I have to go after him,” Ryder said. He tucked the pistol into the pocket of his parka. “Can you make it back to the parking lot okay on your own? I’ll meet you there.”

  She nodded, too numb to speak.

  He half jogged through the snow, back to the trail and his skis, then took off, kicking hard, making long strides, and was soon out of sight.

  She moved much more slowly, her legs leaden. By the time she reached the trail she had begun to shake so hard it took her half a dozen tries to put on both skis. Then she started slowly back toward the parking lot, her movements more shuffle than glide, tears streaming down her face, her mind replaying over and over the sight of that snowmobile bearing down on them.

  Ryder met her near the end of the trail. He took her pack from her and skied beside her all the way to the Tahoe, saying nothing. Then he helped her out of her skis and into the truck. “He was gone by the time I got here,” he said. “I followed his tracks across the road, but he disappeared into the woods.”

  “Do you think you hit him when you fired?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

  “No. I hit the machine, but not him.”

  Neither of them spoke on the drive back to her house. Ryder turned the heat up and Darcy huddled in her seat, unable to get warm. At the house he took her keys and unlocked the door, then she followed him inside.

  He closed the door behind them, then pulled her close. They stood with their arms wrapped around each other for a long moment.

  “I thought we were going to die,” she said, unable to keep her voice from shaking.

  He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. “We didn’t die,” he said. “We’re going to be okay.”

  She slid her hands around to the back of his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him as if this might be the last chance she ever had of a kiss. Need surged through her—the need to be with him, to feel whole again with him.

  She had wasted so much time being cautious, waiting to be sure. Sure of what? What was more sure than how much she wanted him right this minute? What could be more sure than the regret she would have if she didn’t seize hold of this moment to live fully?

  Ryder returned the kiss with the same ferocity, sliding his hands down to caress her ribs, then bringing them up to cup her breasts. She leaned into him and moved her own hands underneath his sweater, tugging at the knit shirt he wore underneath the wool.

  His stomach muscles contracted at her touch, and heat flooded through her. She spread her fingers across his stomach, then slid up to his chest, the soft brush of his chest hair awaking every nerve ending.

  He nipped at her jaw, then pulled her fleece top over her head and tossed it aside, followed by her silk long underwear top. Then he began kissing the top of her breasts where they swelled over her bra, and her vision lost focus and she sagged in his arms.

  He paused and looked up at her. “How far do you want this to go?” he asked. “Because if you want me to leave, I should probably stop now.”

  She hugged him more tightly. “Don’t leave.” Smiling, she reached back and unhooked her bra, then sent it sailing across the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as one of the cats—Pumpkin, she thought—pounced on the lacy toy, which only made her grin more broadly.

  The look in Ryder’s eyes was worth every bit of the cold chill that made her nipples pucker. He started to reach for her, but she intercepted his hands. “Come on,” she said, and led the way to the stairs to the loft.

  The stairs were steep and narrow, but they negotiated them in record speed. In the loft Ryder had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, but once sprawled on the queen-size bed, his height didn’t matter so much. They wasted no time divesting each other of their clothes, then, naked, they slid under the covers.

  “This is nice and cozy,” he said, pulling her close. “I like the flannel sheets.”

  “Not as sexy as silk, maybe, but a lot warmer,” she agreed.

  “Trust me, with you in them, flannel is incredibly sexy.” He kissed her, long and deep, while his hands explored her body, learning the shape and feel of her while she did the same with him.

  Their leisurely movements gradually became more intense and insistent. Ryder leaned back to study her face. “I probably should have asked this before,” he said. “But do you have any protection?”

  Smiling, she rolled away from him and opened the drawer in the bedside table. She handed him the box of condoms.

  “This has never been opened,” he said. “Did you buy them just for me?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “I’ve been planning to seduce you for weeks now.” Then she grew more serious. “Actually, Kelly gave them to me in a whole box of things when I moved into this place. She said coming here was my chance to get out of my shell and improve my social life. I told her she was being overly optimistic, but maybe I was wrong.”

  “She was a good friend,” Ryder said. “I wish I’d known her better.”

  “Ha! If you had known her, you never would have looked twice at me,” she said. “Men took one look at her blond hair and knockout figure and they couldn’t see anything else.”

  “I prefer brunettes.” He took a condom from the box. “And your figure definitely knocks me out.”

  She sat up and watched him put on the condom, almost dizzy with desire, and then he started to push her back down on the mattress. She stiffened in spite of h
erself, then tried to force herself to relax. This was Ryder. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Everything was going to be fine.

  Ryder stilled, then took his hands from her and sat back. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Something’s wrong. I felt it. Tell me what I did so I won’t do it again.”

  She looked away, ashamed, and then angry at the shame. “I just...I don’t like someone looming over me. A man. I...I can’t relax.”

  Understanding transformed his face. “I should have realized,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She sat up, arms hugged across her stomach, fighting back tears. Things had been going so well, and she had to ruin it.

  “Hey.” He touched her shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” He lay down and patted the sheet beside him. “We don’t have to rush. We’ll take our time and do what feels good for both of us.”

  Hesitantly, not trusting herself, she lay down beside him again. He stroked her arm, gently, then moved her hand to rest on his chest. “Feel that?” he asked.

  She waited, then felt the faint beat of his heart beneath her palm. She looked into his eyes. “Your heartbeat,” she said.

  He lifted her palm and kissed it, the brush of his tongue sending a jolt of sensation through her. “That’s the sound of me, wanting you,” he said.

  She closed her eyes and he kissed her eyelids, then she was kissing his forehead, his cheek, his ear. They began to move together, desire rebuilding, but somehow deeper, more intense, this time. Facing him, she draped her thigh over his and, eyes open, watching him, she guided him into her. She didn’t feel afraid or overwhelmed or anything but aware of her own body and of his—of the tension in his muscles and the heat of her own skin and the wonderful sensation of being filled and fulfilled.

  She kept her eyes open as they moved together, and when her climax overtook her, he kissed her, swallowing her cries, and then she saw his face transform with his own moment of release. They held each other, rocking together and murmuring words that weren’t really words yet that conveyed a message they both understood.