“I’m not going out with anybody,” Jamie said. She wasn’t going to deny that Nate was good-looking. He had been handsome in high school, but time and working out, or maybe the demands of his job, had filled out and hardened his physique. Though the bulky parka and pack he had on today didn’t reveal much, the jeans and sweater he had worn to the party at the ranch had showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist in a way that had garnered second and third looks from most of the women present.
“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” Donna asked. It wasn’t a new question. Donna seemed determined to pair up her sister with any number of men in town.
“I’m too busy to have a boyfriend,” Jamie said. “I work and I take care of you, and I don’t need anyone else.”
“But I want you to have a boyfriend,” Donna said.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I have a boyfriend!” Donna grinned and hugged herself.
“Oh?” This was the first Jamie had heard that Donna was interested in anyone in particular. “Who is your boyfriend?”
“Henry. He works in produce.”
Donna worked part-time bagging groceries at Eagle Mountain Grocery. Jamie made a note to stop by the store and check out Henry. Was he another special-needs young adult like Donna, or the local teen heartthrob—or even an adult who might have unknowingly attracted her? It was an easy mistake for people to think of Donna as a perpetual child, but she was a young woman, and it was up to Jamie to see to it that no one took advantage of her.
She slowed to pass a blue Chevy parked half off the road. The car hadn’t been there when they had come this way earlier. If she had more time, she would stop and check it out, but a glance at the clock on the dash showed she was cutting it close if she was going to drop Donna off at Mrs. Simmons’s house and change into her sheriff’s department uniform before the meeting.
“What is wrong with that car?” Donna looked back over her shoulder. “We should stop and see.”
“I’ll let the sheriff’s office know about it,” Jamie said. “They’ll send someone out to check.”
“I really think we should stop.” Donna’s expressive face was twisted with genuine concern. “Someone might be hurt.”
“I didn’t see anyone with the car,” Jamie said.
“You didn’t stop and look!” Donna leaned toward her, pleading. “We need to go back. Please? What if the car broke and someone is there, all cold and freezing?”
Her sister’s compassion touched Jamie. The world would be a better place if there were more people like Donna in it. She slowed and pulled to the shoulder, preparing to make a U-turn. “All right. We’ll go back.” Maybe the sheriff would accept stopping to check on a disabled vehicle as an excuse for her tardiness.
She drove past the car, then turned back and pulled in behind it, angling her vehicle slightly, just as if she had been in a department cruiser instead of her personal vehicle. “Stay in the car,” she said to Donna, who was reaching for the buckle on her seat belt.
Donna’s hand stilled. “Okay,” she said.
Cautiously, Jamie approached the vehicle. Though she didn’t usually walk around armed, since the appearance of the Ice Cold Killer, she wore a gun in a holster on her belt at all times. Its presence eased some of her nervousness now. The late-model blue Chevrolet Malibu sat parked crookedly, nose toward the snowbank on the side of the road, the snow around it churned by footsteps, as if a bunch of people had hastily parked it and piled out.
She leaned forward, craning to see into the back seat, but nothing appeared out of order there. But something wasn’t right. The hair rose up on the back of her neck and she put a hand on the gun, ready to draw it if necessary.
But she didn’t need a gun to defend herself from the person in the car. The woman lay on her back across the front seat, eyes staring at nothing, the blood already dried from the wound on her throat.
Nate reached his truck parked at the base of Mount Wilson just as his radio crackled. Though a recently installed repeater facilitated radio transmission in this remote area, the pop and crackle of heavy static often made the messages difficult to understand. He could make out something about needing an officer to assist the sheriff’s department. He keyed the mic and replied. “This is Officer Hall. What was that location again?”
“Forest Service Road 1410. That’s one-four-one-zero.”
“Copy that. I’m on my way.” The trailhead on 1410 was where he had left Jamie and her sister. Had they found something? Or had something happened to them?
He pressed down harder on the gas pedal, snow flying up around the truck as he raced down the narrow path left by the snowplow. The Ice Cold Killer’s next to last victim, Lauren Grenado, had been found on a Forest Service road not that far from here. Maybe Nate shouldn’t have left Jamie and her sister alone. He could have asked them to give him a ride back to his truck, as an excuse to stay with them. But Jamie had said she was running late for work, so she probably would have turned him down.
Who was he kidding? She definitely would have turned him down. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with him, apparently still holding a grudge over their breakup all those years ago.
And yeah, maybe he hadn’t handled that so well—but he’d been nineteen and headed off to college out of state. He had thought he was doing the right thing by ending their relationship when it was impossible for them to be together. He had told himself that eventually she would see the sense in splitting up. Maybe she would even thank him one day. But she wasn’t thanking him for anything—the knowledge that he could have hurt her that deeply chafed at him like a stone in his boot.
He spotted her SUV up ahead, parked behind a blue sedan. Jamie, hands in the pockets of her parka, paced alongside the road. He didn’t see Donna—she was probably in the car.
He pulled in behind Jamie’s SUV and turned on his flashers. Jamie whirled to face him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I got a call to assist the sheriff’s department.” He joined her and nodded toward the car. “What have you got?”
“Another dead woman.” Her voice was flat, as was her expression. But he caught the note of despair at the end of the sentence and recognized the pain shining out from her hazel eyes. He had a sharp impulse to pull her close and comfort her—but he knew right away that would be a very bad idea. She wasn’t his friend and former lover Jamie right now. She was Deputy Douglas, a fellow officer who needed him to do his job.
“I’ve got emergency flashers in my car,” he said. He glanced toward her SUV. Donna sat in the front seat, hunched over and rocking back and forth. “Is your sister okay?”
“She’s upset. Crying. Better to leave her alone for a bit.”
“Do you know who the woman is?”
She shook her head. “No. But
