Ice Cold Killer. Cindi Myers

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       Chapter Three

      Ryder met no other cars on the trip to Darcy’s house. Following the directions she had given him, he turned into a gravel drive and spotted her Subaru Forester parked in front of a redwood-sided dwelling about the size of a train caboose. She got out of the car when he parked his Tahoe beside her, a slight figure in black boots and a knee-length, black puffy coat, her dark hair uncovered. “I haven’t looked around to see if anything was messed with,” she said. “I thought I should wait for you.”

      “Good idea.” He took his flashlight from his belt and played it over the ground around the house. It didn’t look disturbed, but it was snowing hard enough the flakes might have covered any tracks. “Let me know if you spot anything out of place,” he said.

      She nodded and, keys in hand, moved to the front door. “I know most people around here don’t lock their doors,” she said. “But I’m enough of a city girl, I guess, that it’s a habit I can’t break.” She turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, reaching in to flick on the lights, inside and out.

      Ryder followed her inside, in time to see two cats descending the circular stairs from the loft, the smaller, black one bounding down, the larger silver tabby moving at a more leisurely pace. “Hello, guys.” Darcy shrugged off her shoulder bag and bent to greet the cats. “The black one is Marianne. Her older sister is Elinor.” She glanced up at him through surprisingly long lashes. “The Dashwood sisters. From Sense and Sensibility.”

      He nodded. “I take it you’re a fan of Jane Austen?”

      “Yes. Have you read the book?”

      “No.” He couldn’t help feeling he had failed some kind of test as she moved away from him, though she couldn’t go far. He could see the entire dwelling, except for the loft and the part of the bathroom not visible through the open door at the end, from this spot by the door—a small sitting area, galley kitchen and table for two. The space was organized, compact and a little claustrophobic. It was a dwelling designed for one person—and two cats.

      Make that four cats. “I stopped by Kelly’s place and picked up her two cats,” she said. “Will you help me bring them in?”

      He followed her back to her car and accepted one of the cat carriers. The cat inside, a large gold tabby, eyed him balefully and began to yowl. “Oh, Pumpkin, don’t be such a crybaby,” Darcy chided as she led the way back up the walk. Inside they set the carriers side by side on the sofa that butted up against the table on one side of the little house. “I’ll open the carrier doors and they’ll come out when they’re ready,” she said. “They’ve stayed here before.”

      “I’ll go outside and take a look around,” he said, leaving her to deal with the cats.

      A closer inspection showed tire tracks in the soft snow to one side of the gravel drive, and fast-filling-in shoe prints leading around one end of the house to a large back window. He shone the light around the frame, over fresh tool marks, as if someone had tried to jimmy it open. Holding the light in one hand, he took several photos with his phone, then went back inside.

      “I put on water for tea,” Darcy said, indicating the teakettle on the three-burner stove. “I always feel better with a cup of tea.” She rubbed her hands up and down her shoulders. She was still wearing her black puffy coat.

      Ryder took out his notebook. “What can you remember about the vehicle you saw?” he asked.

      “It was a dark color—dark gray or black, and an SUV, or maybe a small truck with a camper cover? A Toyota, I think.” She shook her head. “I’m not a person who pays much attention to cars. It was probably someone who was lost, turning around. I shouldn’t have called you.”

      Ryder thought of the 4Runner that had cruised past him in the grocery store parking lot. “There are fresh footprints leading around the side of the house, and marks on your back window, where someone might have tried to get in.”

      All color left her face, and she pressed her lips together until they, too, were bleached white. “Show me,” she said.

      She followed him back out into the snow. He took her arm to steer her around the fading shoe prints, and shone the light on the gouges in the wooden window frame. “I’m sure those weren’t here before,” she said. “The place was brand-new when I moved in four months ago.”

      “I’ll turn in a report to the sheriff’s office,” he said. “Have you seen the vehicle you described before?”

      “No. But like I said, I don’t pay attention to cars. Maybe I should.”

      “Have you seen any strangers out here? Noticed anyone following you? Has Kelly mentioned anything about anyone following her?”

      “No.” She turned and walked back into the house. When he stepped in after her, the teakettle was screaming. She moved quickly to shut off the burner and filled two mugs with steaming water. Fear seemed to rise off her like the vapor off the water, though she was trying hard to control it.

      “I know this is unsettling,” he said. “But the fact that the person didn’t stay when you arrived here by yourself tells me he was more likely a burglar who didn’t want to be caught, than someone who wanted to attack you.”

      “I was supposed to be safe here,” she said.

      “Safe from what?”

      She carried both mugs to the table and sat. He took the seat across from her. “Safe from what?” he asked again. “I’m not asking merely to be nosy. If you have someone you’re hiding from—someone who might want to hurt you—it’s possible this person confused you and Kelly. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”

      “No, it’s not like that.” She tucked her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear, then brought the mug to her lips, holding it in both hands. When she set it down again, her eyes met his, a new determination in their brown depths. “I was raped in college—in Fort Collins. I moved in with Kelly after that and she really helped me move past that. My mother and I aren’t close and my father has been out of the picture for years.”

      He thought of what she had said before—that she was used to looking after herself. “Women who have been through something like that often have a heightened awareness of danger,” he said. “It’s good to pay attention to that. Have you seen anyone suspicious, here or at Kelly’s or at your office? Have you felt threatened or uneasy?”

      “No.” She shook her head. “That’s why I thought Eagle Mountain was different. I always felt safe here. Until now.”

      He sipped the tea—something with cinnamon and apples. Not bad. It would be even better with a shot of whiskey, but since he СКАЧАТЬ