snowshoeing was fun, and would be a good way to get to know each other without a lot of pressure.”
“When was this—when they met?” Travis asked.
“I think it was Thursday when he first came into the bank.” Sarah nodded. “Yes, Thursday. Because Friday she and I met for lunch and she told me about him—then she called me later that day to tell me he’d come back in and they’d made a date for Monday. She had the day off, and I guess he did, too.”
“Did she say where he worked?” Travis asked. “Or what kind of work he did?”
“No.” Sarah sighed. “I asked her that, too. She said she didn’t know and it didn’t matter, because that was the kind of thing they could get to know about each other on Monday. She told me I was too uptight and I worried too much. But I was right to worry! He must have been the one who killed her.”
“What time were they supposed to meet?” Travis asked. “Or did he arrange to pick her up at your parents’ house?”
“She said they were meeting at eight thirty at the trailhead for the snowshoe trails,” Sarah said. “She told me she was being smart, driving herself, because if the date didn’t go well, it would be easy for her to leave.”
Travis looked to Jamie. “You said you got to the trailhead about nine thirty?”
“Yes,” Jamie said. “There wasn’t anyone else there. And no other cars in the parking area. We didn’t pass any cars on the way in, either.”
“Her parents said she left their house at eight,” Drew volunteered.
“She didn’t tell them she was meeting a man,” Sarah said. “Just that she was going snowshoeing with friends.”
Travis nodded. “Tell me everything your sister said to you about this man—even if you don’t think it’s important. Did she describe what he looked like? Did she say where he lived, or if he gave her his phone number?”
“She just said he was cute. And funny. I guess he made some joke about how nobody could rob the bank with the road closed, because they wouldn’t be able to go very far and she thought that was funny.”
“What was he doing at the bank that day?” Travis asked. “Was he making a deposit or cashing a check?”
“I don’t know. Sorry. I don’t know if she had his number, though I think she said she gave him hers.” She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking and thinking about this ever since we got the call from my dad, and there really isn’t anything else. She got kind of defensive when I started quizzing her about the guy, and I didn’t want to make her mad, so I changed the subject. I made her promise to call me when she got back to the house and let me know how things went, but I wasn’t worried when I didn’t hear from her by lunch. I just figured they were having a good time and decided to go eat together. But all that time, she was already dead.” She covered her hand with her mouth and took a long, hiccupping breath.
Travis took a box of tissues from a drawer of his desk and slid it over to her. “Thank you for coming to talk to us,” he said. “We’ll follow up with the bank, see if anyone there remembers this man. If we’re lucky, he’ll be on the security footage. And we may want to talk to you and to your parents again.”
“Of course,” Drew said. He stood and helped his wife to her feet, also. “Please keep us posted on how things are going.”
“We will.” Travis came around the desk to escort the Micheners to the lobby. Jamie stepped aside, then followed them into the hall. She was still standing there, reviewing everything the Micheners had said, when Travis returned.
“I’ve got Dwight checking Michaela’s phone records for a call or text that might be from Al,” he said. “Meanwhile, I want you to come to the bank with me. I’ll call Tom Babcock and ask him to meet us there. We need to get those security tapes and see what this guy looks like. Maybe we’ll recognize him.”
“Do you really think he’s the Ice Cold Killer?” Jamie quickened her steps to keep up with the sheriff’s long strides.
“He’s the best lead we’ve had so far,” Travis said. “I’m not going to let him get away.”
Abel Crutchfield lived in a mobile home on the west side of town that backed up to the river. His truck sat beneath a steel carport next to the trailer home, which was painted a cheerful turquoise and white. A trio of garden gnomes poked out of the snow around the bottom of the front steps, and a Christmas wreath with a drooping red ribbon still adorned the door.
Abel answered Gage’s knock and his eyes widened at the sight of the two officers on his doorstep. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions.” Gage handed him a business card.
Abel read it, then looked past Gage to Nate. “You’re the game warden I talked to this morning, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Nate gave him a reassuring smile. “This isn’t about that. We’re hoping you can help us with something else.”
“You’d better come in.” Abel pushed open the screened door. “No sense standing out in the cold.”
The front room of the trailer was neat but packed with furniture—a sofa and two recliners, a large entertainment unit with a television and a stereo system, and two tall bookshelves filled with paperback books and ceramic figurines of dogs, bears, more gnomes, angels and others Nate couldn’t make out. Abel threaded his way through the clutter and sat in one of the recliners and motioned to the sofa. “It’s my wife’s afternoon for her knitting club,” he said. “So I’m here by myself. What can I help you with?”
“Did you see anyone else while you were fishing this morning?” Gage asked.
“Nope. I had the lake to myself.”
“What about on the way to and from the lake?” Nate asked. “Did you see anyone on the road, or in the parking area?”
“What’s this about?” Abel asked. “Not that it makes any difference in my answers, but I’d like to know.”
“Another young woman was killed in that area this morning,” Gage said.
Abel sat back, clearly shocked. “You don’t think I killed her, do you?” he asked. “I was just out there fishing. I go fishing every Monday. Usually I bring home something for supper.”
“We’re not accusing you,” Gage said. “But we’re hoping you might have seen or heard something that could help us find the killer. Where were you between eight and ten this morning?”
“I was at the lake. I always try to get there by eight, and I leave about eleven to come home for lunch.” He turned to Nate. “You saw me there. It must have been about nine or so when we talked.”
Nate nodded. “That’s about right. And you didn’t see anyone else while you were at the lake?”
“Not
