“But the terrain around here makes it slow going, especially since I ordered them not to leave a twig unturned. Yesterday, when the storm moved in, I was forced to call off the search. We’re hamstrung as long as this weather keeps up. And I don’t have to tell you what it’ll do to evidence.”
As he gestured toward the front of the building, he saw Wes Hamer and Marilee Ritt approaching the entrance from opposite directions, reaching the door at the same time. Wes held it open for her, then quickly followed her in. They were chuckling over the snow that clung to their clothing. Standing just inside the door, they stamped their feet to shake the snow off their boots.
Wes removed his hat and gloves. Marilee pulled a cap from her head, and he laughed when static electricity made her hair stand on end. The tip of her nose was red, but Dutch was struck by how pretty and animated she looked this morning.
William called to her, and she hurriedly joined him behind the soda fountain. Wes glanced toward the booth where Dutch sat with the FBI agents. He didn’t seem surprised to see him there with them. Ritt, in his self-cast role as town busybody, had probably called Wes to inform him of the meeting.
Last night he and Wes had exchanged some harsh words and parted angry at each other. After Dutch’s crack about Wes and women, Wes had shoved open the passenger door of the Bronco and stepped out. “You can’t afford to piss me off, Dutch. Not when I’m about the only friend and ally you’ve got left.” He’d slammed the door before stamping off into the maelstrom of snow.
Now they acknowledged each other with a curt nod, then Dutch returned his attention to Wise and Begley.
“I spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Gunn last evening,” he continued. He didn’t tell them that Millicent’s parents had sought him out, not the other way around. He was glad he had even this to report. It made him appear on top of the case, proactive.
“I updated them on our canvass of the people that Millicent had contact with on the day she disappeared, first at the high school, later at work. We had compiled a comprehensive list but couldn’t get around to interviewing everyone before this storm hit. I have a small department and limited personnel. I operate on a shoestring budget.” Because his excuses had begun to sound like whining, he stopped and took another sip of coffee.
He glanced toward the soda fountain. Hawkins sat with his shoulders hunched, holding his coffee cup between his hands as though both were required to keep it steady. Wes was holding court for Ritt and Marilee. He was talking softly, but he had their rapt attention. Dutch wondered what he was saying that was so bloody captivating.
Shifting his attention back to business, he addressed Wise. “Did you learn anything from reading Millicent’s diary?”
Let them share the hot seat, he thought. They were on this case, same as he was. With all the resources at their disposal, they hadn’t solved it either.
“An entry or two snagged my curiosity,” Wise replied. He added another packet of sweetener to his coffee and idly stirred it. “Chances are they’re insignificant insofar as her disappearance goes.”
“Insignificant?” Dutch scoffed. “If it was insignificant, you wouldn’t be here. SAC Begley sure as hell wouldn’t be. What got your curiosity up?”
Wise glanced at Begley. Begley continued to stare at Dutch without speaking. Wise cleared his throat and looked at Dutch again, peering at him through his large lenses. “Do you know a man named Ben Tierney?”
• • •
Tierney woke up with a start.
He’d been in a deep and dreamless sleep one second. The next he was wide awake, sensors tingling as though he’d been shocked with a cattle prod.
Instinctively he pushed off the blankets and made to sit up. A battery of pains assaulted him, causing him to gasp, his eyes to tear. He was assailed by dizziness. He remained still, taking light, shallow breaths, until the pain receded to a tolerable level and he regained some equilibrium, then cautiously lowered his feet to the floor and sat up.
Lilly was already up, probably in the bathroom.
Although the room was dark, he knew it must be after dawn. He tried the lamp on the end table, and it came on. The cabin still had electricity. However, it was so cold he was shivering. Apparently the propane had run out during the night. First order of the day was to build a fire.
Ordinarily, he would have acted on that immediately. This morning, however, merely sitting upright had seemed an insurmountable task. His muscles were sore, his joints stiff from sleeping all night in one position—the only position the sofa allowed. Even the expansion of his rib cage when he breathed was painful.
Lifting his coat and sweater, he examined his torso. The entire left side was the color of eggplant. Gingerly, he felt along each rib. He didn’t think any were broken, but he wouldn’t swear to it. It couldn’t hurt any worse if they were. Luckily he didn’t have a punctured organ, or if he did, it was leaking slowly. In any case, he hadn’t bled to death during the night.
His head wound had left spots of blood on the pillowcase, but it wasn’t a substantial amount. No more shooting pains through his skull, just a dull headache and the recurring dizziness, which he could control if he didn’t move too suddenly.
Fortunately he wasn’t as nauseous as he’d been last night. In fact, he was hungry, which he took as a positive sign. The thought of coffee made his mouth water. He would ration enough of their water reserve to brew them one cup each.
He glanced toward the closed door of the bedroom. Lilly was taking her time in the bathroom, and it had to be even colder in there than it was here. What was she doing that could possibly take this long? A delicate question, and not one you posed to a woman.
Hell of a thing, being trapped in this cabin with her. Hell of a thing.
Easing himself off the sofa, he hobbled to the window. The wind was still blowing, though not as hard as the night before. That was the only improvement. Snow was falling in such abundance it had begun to build up against vertical surfaces. The ground cover was at least knee-deep, he guessed. They wouldn’t be getting off the mountain today. He’d hated like hell making those trips to the shed, but it was a good thing he had. They would need the extra firewood.
He let the drape fall back over the window, crossed to the bedroom door, and knocked softly. “Lilly?” He put his ear to the wood and listened but detected no movement or sound.
Something isn’t right.
He didn’t just sense it, he knew it. He knew it as positively as he knew that his feet were cold and that his head had begun to hurt again, probably because of his rising blood pressure.