Deep Freeze

  “You never know. How many prints in her bedroom?” Carter asked, looking up at the behemoth that was her house. Smoke curled from a tall rock chimney, and steam rose from a side deck, where, he supposed, a hot tub was uncovered. Nestled in the trees, complete with icicles dripping from the roof, the rustic house looked like something out of a Christmas card. But beneath the quaint facade lurked something treacherous, something evil.

  “There were a few prints around the room…some larger than hers.”

  Carter nodded, his jaw suddenly tight at the thought of a man in Jenna Hughes’s bedroom.

  Montinello lifted the small case he was carrying. “I took everyone in the household’s prints to compare them to. If I need to, I’ll check with the other people who’ve been there—her personal trainer, the guy who keeps the ranch up. His wife. But for now, I’ll start with these. Meanwhile, I told her to beef up security, and while I was here two guys, Wes Allen and his nephew, were fixing the alarm system and the electronic gates. Both work now. I double-checked, but she says the security system needs to be either completely updated or torn out and a new one installed. She’s called someone, so she’s on it, I think.”

  “Good.” Carter should have felt better about Jenna’s safety, but didn’t. There was something about this place—picture-postcard perfect and yet so isolated—that worried him. He glanced at the surrounding forest and isolated, snow-covered acres and too many outbuildings. Stable, barn, garage, windmill, pump house, sheds…a lot of places for a criminal to hide. Too many.

  Montinello opened the door of his Blazer and tossed the kit inside.

  “Let me know what you find out.”

  “You got it.”

  As Montinello drove away, Carter walked along the breezeway and knocked sharply on the back door. The dog began to bark and as Jenna inched open the door, threatened to rush out.

  “Shh! Critter,” she ordered as she pushed the door open. The dog was going out of his head, turning in circles wildly. “And you didn’t think he was a guard dog,” she said with a laugh. Her hair was pinned to the back of her head and she smelled faintly of the same perfume he’d noticed before.

  “He seems to have risen to the occasion.”

  “It was the threat of being replaced by a pit bull, I think.” She grinned as she caught hold of the dog’s collar. “Come in if you dare.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit at the sight of him, and he told himself that he was being an idiot. She was glad to see him because she was scared and he was the law, or she was faking it—she’d had a lot of practice. All those years of acting. “Welcome to my nightmare,” she invited.

  He took off his boots as she let go of the dog, who immediately nuzzled his legs and whacked him hard with his tail.

  “Oh, Critter, you’re blowing your cover,” Jenna admonished as she led Carter into the kitchen.

  Along with Christmas decorations, boxes, tissue paper, and lights strewn all over the floor, there was also black or silver dust in a few places, residue from the prints Montinello had taken. The younger girl was fiddling with a string of lights, changing bulbs and barely looking up.

  “Allie, this is Sheriff Carter, remember?”

  “Yeah.” She barely glanced up.

  “You can call me Shane,” he said. To Jenna, he added, “It’s less intimidating. Right, Allie?”

  The girl shrugged and kept at her task.

  “Kids love me,” he joked, and Jenna laughed, her gaze touching his for the briefest of instants, just long enough to captivate him.

  “I can tell.”

  “Whatever you say.” Her eyes took in the mess on the floor. “Kinda makes you feel like you’re in a winter wonderland, huh?” she quipped, calmer than she had been earlier in the day.

  “Right.” He eased around an open box of tree ornaments and pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. On the page were the names and phone numbers of three men he trusted. “I haven’t called these guys, but they might be available to help with security.”

  “Bodyguards?”

  “Potentially. Yeah.” He nodded. “I can personally vouch for them.”

  Something seemed to soften in her and she bit her lip, then looked up at him, her eyes shinier than they had been. “Thanks, Sheriff. This was above and beyond.”

  “Part of the job.”

  She arched a dark brow. “If you say so.”

  “I do,” he said, but the silence stretched between them and he noticed how her eyelashes swept her cheek when she blinked. He heard the clock ticking and a television in another part of the house. “Want to show me where the note was discovered?”

  “Oh…sure…this way…” She cleared her throat and stepped over a long string of bubble lights, then led him up the stairs. Carter tried not to notice her hips moving beneath her jeans or the way a few strands of black hair escaped from the knot clipped to her head as he followed her, but it seemed impossible. He barely noticed the dog streaking ahead as she opened double doors on a floor midway up the staircase. Her bedroom was on a floor all its own, and as he stepped into the room, he knew he was in trouble. The smells of cedar, soap, and lilacs assailed him. A queen-size bed was pushed against one wall and a white silk robe was tossed casually over one of the iron bedposts. Candles and potpourri were scattered around the room, and thick rugs covered the smooth, hardwood floors. A television peeked from behind doors slightly ajar in a large armoire, and a bank of paned windows looked out to the forested hills.

  Black or silver fingerprint dust was pretty much everywhere, especially around one of the nightstands, the bureau, armoire, window latches, and doors.

  “Mind if I look around?”

  “Be my guest,” she said, and he stepped into an attached bathroom with sunken tub, shower, and sauna. Next to it was a walk-in closet the size of his living room. It was cut up by different shelves and rods, even drawers. Long gowns, slacks, blouses, dresses, sweaters, all hung above cubbyholes filled with shoes and shelves lined with handbags. More clothes than any one woman had the right to own. One of the drawers was open slightly, revealing a red lace bra. His throat tightened a second and he visualized her in the garment, then brought himself up short and walked out of the closet to the bedroom again.

  She was standing near a bedside table, waiting for him.

  “This is where I found the note,” she said, opening a drawer gingerly. It was empty now. “As I said, no one uses it. I don’t think it’s been opened since I moved in.”

  “Except by whoever left the note.”

  “Yeah.” Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her middle and walked to the windows. “You know, when I first came here, I felt so free. As if this was a haven. But lately…” She turned, faced him, and stared at a rug for a half a second. “I know this sounds paranoid, but I’ve had this feeling…a sense that someone’s watching me.” She bit at the edge of her lip. “And I had it before I got this note, even before I got the first one. It’s…just…this strange sensation. I get cold inside just thinking about it.” She blushed a little. “I know—paranoid, huh?”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Yeah.” She stole a glance at the nightstand. “To think that he was here. Inside my house. My bedroom.” Her voice quivered a bit. “He could have been inside when I was sleeping. God, he could have been in the girls’ rooms. Do you know how creepy that is?”

  He nodded and heard the sound of a truck’s engine rumbling closer. “You might consider moving into a hotel for a while.”

  “I’m not letting some…weirdo push me out of my own home. No way. I’ll hire people. I called a locksmith this morning. He’s already changed all the locks. Wes Allen worked on the security system earlier today, and I bought shells for the shotgun.”

  “You did what?” He was shocked. This little woman with a weapon? “Do you know how to use one?”

  “I’m hoping I won’t have to.”

  “But you have kids in the house and—”

  “And I’m going to protect
them. I did learn how to shoot years ago, for my part in Resurrection. Anne Parks was a killer. She usually used other weapons, but there were two scenes with guns. My director wanted me to look like I knew how to handle a handgun, so I took lessons. Have I ever shot a living thing? No. Would I? Yeah. If it meant protecting my kids.”

  “That was a handgun, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You might want to practice with the shotgun. Shot scatters and…it wouldn’t be my weapon of choice.”

  “It’s what I had and better than nothing.”

  He thought of all the statistics about gun owners killing themselves or their loved ones with their own weapons. “Just be safe.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said as the dog lifted his head, then growled loudly. Nails clicking as he scrambled over the hardwood floors, Critter began barking his fool head off and took off down the stairs.

  “He takes his job seriously,” Jenna quipped as she followed Critter downstairs.

  He’d better, Carter thought, he’d damned well better.

  Harrison Brennan was on the back porch, peering through the window mounted into the door.

  He was also looking angry as all get-out.

  Great, Jenna thought as she opened the door and the dog let out a disgruntled woof. Critter had never been a fan of Harrison Brennan, but then neither had either of her girls. With all his good intentions, he was still irritating.

  “The sheriff here?” he asked. “He stopped by my place earlier.” Brennan looked over her shoulder and his jaw tightened slightly, his lips becoming a flat, unhappy line.

  “Harrison,” Carter said, close enough behind her that she felt his breath against the back of her neck. A little tingle danced down her spine, but she ignored it.

  “Guess that answers your question.” Jenna tried not to be irritated with her neighbor. After all, Harrison always seemed to have her best interests in mind. Critter didn’t seem to be of the same mind and growled at Harrison.

  “Shh,” she warned the dog, “or you’ll be out in the snow.”

  “Damned mutt never has warmed to me,” Harrison said, but tried to reach down and pat the dog’s head. The growling ceased, though the hairs on the back of Critter’s neck never quite laid flat and his tail remained motionless. He accepted the touch, but kept his head down, his eyes watching Harrison’s every move. “Hell, he’d like to bite my hand off.”

  “Ignore him. Come on in,” she invited, then shot the dog a warning glare. “You. Be on your best behavior. Go to your bed.”

  Critter shuffled off to his favorite spot under the table, and Carter, as if to give her some privacy, said, “Mind if I look through the house…I’d like to check out the layout.”

  “Anything you need to do,” she said, waving him off and grateful that he was taking her threats as seriously as she was. It felt safe to have him in the house and she relaxed a little, even though Harrison was fit to be tied. As Carter moved from one room to the next and eventually up the stairs again, Jenna shepherded Harrison into the den, fending off his questions out of Allie’s earshot, then explained what had been happening over the past few days.

  With each turn in her story, Harrison grew more grim, his jaw tightening, his thumbs rubbing restlessly against his forefingers. But he didn’t say a word, just stood in the den, staring at her with intense blue eyes, his lips compressed tightly.

  When she was finished, he rubbed his chin and glared at her. “You mean you’re telling me you had someone leave a threatening note in your house and you didn’t call me?”

  “I thought the police could handle it,” she said, hearing the creak of footsteps on the stairs.

  “Or me. I’m next door,” he pointed out, his eyebrows knotted together. “And I’ve got connections. The FBI should be in on this!” He shoved one hand through his short, bristly hair, making the silvery strands stand straight on end. “Just what the hell is going on here?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Carter said.

  Brennan was agitated. Face flushed, he turned his anger on Carter. “So do you think she’s safe here?”

  “I’m fine, Harrison,” she cut in.

  “But the security system. It’s been a mess. I’ll call Seth. If he can’t fix it, I’ll find someone who can.”

  “Already done,” she said. “Wes Allen was over earlier.”

  Beside her, Carter tensed. Brennan snorted through his nose. “What does he know? He tinkers around with sound systems and the like. This is serious.”

  Jenna snapped, “Believe me, I realize that.”

  “I’ll double-check the system. Get someone who knows wiring. If not Seth Whitaker, then Jim Klondike—he’s a helluva handyman.” She started to argue, but Harrison wasn’t about to be put off as he turned his attention to the sheriff. “What are you and your department doing about this?” he said, pointing a finger at Carter’s chest.

  “Everything we can.” The sheriff folded his arms over his chest and didn’t give an inch.

  “Humph.” Harrison lifted disbelieving silver eyebrows, then faced Jenna again. “You need protection. A woman all alone with kids out here. I don’t like it.”

  “This is my home.”

  “And it’s not very secure.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I could stay over.”

  Carter’s nonchalance dissipated in a heartbeat, and Jenna said, “That won’t be necessary, Harrison. I’m hiring a bodyguard.”

  “A bodyguard? Who?” he demanded.

  “I’m not sure yet. I’m hoping to start interviewing today. Sheriff Carter came up with some names—”

  “Jake Turnquist,” Brennan said quickly, his blue eyes narrowing. “I’d feel better if it was me staying here, but if not, then contact Jake. He’s a friend of mine and an ex-Navy Seal. Has done P.I. work after a stint with the Portland Police. He lives in Hood River now, and single—no wife or kids to tie him down, so he could probably move in.”

  Jenna felt every muscle in her back tighten as she tried to keep her temper in check. She was dead tired and scared, hadn’t eaten for nearly a day, and she wanted to jump down Harrison’s throat. What was it about her that made Harrison Brennan think he could run her life? Was she such a wimp? “Look, Harrison, I’ll see what I want to do,” she said, her jaw locked, quiet fury shooting through her bloodstream. “But first I’ll talk to the people the sheriff knows.” Slowly she unclenched fists she didn’t even realize had curled.

  “Turnquist’s on the list,” Carter said, staring Harrison Brennan down. “Harrison’s right. Turnquist is a good man. I worked several cases with him before he retired.”

  Brennan’s expression lost a little of its rigidity. “Then it’s decided.”

  “Not yet,” Jenna said, wanting to strangle the man. “But I’ll give him a call.”

  “Good.” Carter glanced around the house one more time. “I’ll stay in touch. Call me if you have any hint of trouble or need anything.”

  “I will,” she promised, and felt more than a little trepidation as she walked him to the back door. Then she was waiting, staring through the panes on the back door and watching as the sheriff drove through the open gates. That warm feeling of safety she’d felt in his presence dissipated in his wake. She was left with Harrison and the bald fact that he was becoming a nuisance. A concerned nuisance, but a nuisance nonetheless. She didn’t push the button to close the electronic gates that, Wes had promised her, were working again. She’d lock them once Harrison left.

  He was waiting for her in the kitchen, one hip pressed against the counter, her portable phone in his hand.

  “I called Jake,” he said with a smile that told her he was proud of himself. “Mission accomplished.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He’ll take the job.”

  She was floored. “Sight unseen? Without meeting me or even looking around?” She motioned to the interior of the house. The setup didn’t seem right. “Did you discuss pay? Hours? Jesus
, Harrison, you’ve got to stop doing this, right now. You cannot run my life.” She was advancing upon him, her face turned up to his, anger radiating from her in hot, furious waves.

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “You’re suffocating me.”

  “You’ll like Jake.” The man was impossible, staring at her as if he didn’t understand a word she said.

  She squared her shoulders and set her jaw. “That’s not the point, okay? I don’t need you to protect me.”

  “Because you’re doing such a bang-up job on your own?” he asked, a nasty gleam surfacing in his eyes.

  “Because I don’t want you to! It’s as simple as that. Maybe you should just leave, okay? Whatever you think we’ve got going here, is a mistake.”

  He stared at her as if she’d gone insane. “Wait a minute. You’re not making any sense. You need help.”

  “But I don’t need to be smothered! I’m a grown woman, for crying out loud. So back off. And, please, just leave me the hell alone.”

  For a second he just stood in the kitchen, his boots unmoving, his mouth slack, and then, as if he finally got it, he sucked his breath in through his teeth. “If that’s what you want.” Zipping his jacket, he made his way to the back door. “I’m sorry I was so pushy, Jenna,” he said, one hand resting on the doorknob as he looked at her over his shoulder. “It’s just my way. Years of taking command, you know.”

  She didn’t back down. Just glared at him.

  “Listen, I’ll look over the security system just for my own peace of mind, and then I’ll leave you alone. If you change your mind, give me a call.”

  She wouldn’t. She knew it.

  Most likely, he did, too.