Snowblind Justice Read online

  The ranch cook was an angular woman in her late forties or early fifties, who had reigned over the Walker kitchen for the past decade. Though she shooed Emily and her friends out of the kitchen whenever they invaded that sacred territory, she had also been known to spoil the youngest Walker sibling with homemade cookies and grilled pimento cheese sandwiches at every opportunity. Rainey’s son’s recent incarceration had subdued the cook a little, but she had also confided to Emily’s mother that she felt less stressed, since at least now she knew her son was somewhere safe, and not causing trouble for anyone else.

  “Everything will be delicious,” Emily said, and handed the menu back to Bette. “And I definitely want to keep this simple. This close to the wedding, I don’t want to burden either one of you.”

  “She’s got this, and the wedding, taken care of,” Rainey said.

  “Rainey has been a big help with the reception preparations,” Bette said, quick to praise the woman who, on her initial arrival at the ranch, had been her biggest foe.

  Emily’s cell phone rang. She fished it from the back pocket of her jeans and her heart sped up when she saw Professor Brandt’s number. “I have to take this,” she said, and hurried from the room.

  Alone in the sunroom, she answered the call. “Hello, Professor.”

  “Hello, Emily. I asked around about Alex Woodruff and I found out a few things, though I don’t know if they’ll help you much.”

  Emily grabbed a notebook and pen from the table and sat on the sofa. “I’m all ears.”

  “This is an odd situation,” he said. “And I’ll admit, I’m curious now, too. Alex doesn’t have any close friends that I could find, though he spent more time with Tim Dawson than anyone else. Do you know him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oddly enough, Tim failed to return to school also,” the professor said. “I wasn’t able to learn anything about him. When I contacted his family, they didn’t want to talk to me about him. His father hung up on me.”

  Maybe the Dawsons didn’t want to reveal that their son had been killed while committing a crime, or that he was a suspect in a series of murders. Emily was pretty sure Travis had talked to Tim’s parents, but she had no idea what had come of that conversation. “What about Alex’s family?” she asked.

  “He’s apparently estranged from them, though he has a trust fund that pays for his schooling and living expenses, and from what I gather, anything else he wants.”

  “Oh.” That explained how he was able to spend a month in Eagle Mountain with no worries about money.

  “I have a name for you, of a young woman he apparently dated for a while. Grace Anders. She’s a student here. You understand I can’t give you her contact information.”

  “I understand.” If she couldn’t figure out how to get hold of Grace on her own, Brodie or Travis could help her.

  “When you return to school, you shouldn’t have much trouble finding her here on campus, if you want to talk to her.”

  “Okay, thank you. Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all. But do me a favor and let me know what you find out. Like I said, I’m curious now.”

  “I’ll do that.” Though if things went well, Professor Brandt would be able to read about Alex and his arrest for murder in the Denver papers.

  She hung up the phone and stared at the name she had written on her pad. Grace Anders. She could give the name to Travis and have him or Gage or one of his officers contact the young woman. They were trained to elicit information from witnesses. But would Grace really confide in them? Wouldn’t she be more likely to open up to another woman at the university, someone close to her own age?

  She picked up her phone again and punched in the number for the sheriff’s department. Adelaide answered, all crisp professionalism. “The sheriff is out at the moment,” she said, after Emily identified herself.

  “It’s really you I want to talk to,” Emily said. “I’m doing a little job for Travis and I need help finding a phone number for a friend of Alex Woodruff. Grace Anders, in Fort Collins.”

  “Travis did mention something about you helping with the case,” Adelaide said. “He wasn’t too happy about the idea, if I recall.”

  “I’m staying safe, just making a few phone calls for him,” she said. “Can you find Grace Anders’s number for me?”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  Emily doodled in her notebook while she waited for Adelaide. She was coloring in circles around the word trust fund when the older woman came back on the line and rattled off a phone number. “Thanks, Adelaide,” Emily said, and hung up before the office manager could question her further.

  Before she could lose courage, Emily dialed the number Adelaide had given her. On the third ring a young woman answered. “If you’re trying to sell something, I’m not interested,” she said.

  “I’m not selling anything, I promise,” Emily said. “I’m calling about Alex Woodruff.”

  The silence on the other end of the line was so complete, Emily feared Grace had hung up. “What about him?” she asked after a minute.

  “My name is Emily Walker. I’m a grad student at the university. Is this Grace Anders?”

  “Why are you calling me? What has Alex done?”

  Emily thought it was interesting that Grace assumed Alex had done something. Something wrong? “I understand you dated him at one time.”

  “Not for months. I haven’t had anything to do with him for months and I’d just as soon keep it that way.”

  No love lost in her tone, Emily decided. “I’m trying to help a friend who had a rather unpleasant encounter with Alex,” she said. That wasn’t a complete lie—Denise was her friend, and Alex had killed her. Emily was trying to help find him and see that he was punished for the crime.

  “Sorry about your friend,” Grace said. “Alex is a creep.”

  “But you went out with him.”

  “Because I didn’t know he was a creep at first,” Grace said. “He was good-looking and he could be charming. We had a good time, at first.”

  “But something happened to change that?” Emily prompted.

  “What did he do to your friend? I mean, did he steal money from her or something?”

  “Did he steal money from you?”

  “No. He had plenty of money of his own. I just wondered.”

  “He didn’t steal from my friend.” How much should Emily say? She wanted Grace to feel comfortable confiding in her, but she couldn’t say anything that might jeopardize Travis’s case against Alex.

  “Did he assault her?” Grace blurted. “I mean, rape her or something?”

  “Or something.”

  Grace swore. “I knew it. I should have said something before, but what would I have said?”

  “Did Alex rape you?” Emily asked, as gently as possible.

  “No! Nothing like that. It was just... I got really bad vibes from him.”

  “What kind of vibes?” Emily asked. “I know that’s a really personal question, but it could really help.”

  Grace sighed dramatically. “We had sex a couple of times and it was fine, and then he wanted to do things different.” She paused, then continued, “It feels so icky even talking about it, but he wanted to choke me.”

  Emily gasped. “Choke you?”

  “Yeah, you know that autoerotic thing some people do where they choke themselves while they’re getting off. It’s supposed to give you some super orgasm or something, but it’s crazy. People have died like that.”

  “But he didn’t want to choke himself—he wanted to choke you.”

  “You get how creepy that is, right? I told him no way. I was really freaked out.”

  “How did he react when you refused him?”

  “He got all huffy. He really pressured me, and that made me freak out even more.”

  �
��Because you had a really bad vibe.”

  “Yeah. I guess. It just seemed to me that it wasn’t the sex he was so into, but the choking. I was worried he might like it so much he wouldn’t stop. Is that what happened to your friend?”

  “Something like that. You’ve been really helpful. If the police were to contact you about this, would you be willing to talk to them?”

  “I guess. I’m sorry about your friend.”

  “Do you know of any other women he dated?” she asked.

  “No. Like I said, I’ve stayed as far away from him as I could. Somebody told me he didn’t come back to school this semester. I was relieved to hear it.”

  “Did Alex ever threaten you?” Emily asked.

  “No. I just never felt comfortable around him after the choking thing came up.”

  “You were smart to turn him down. You have good instincts.”

  “Maybe I’ve had too much practice dating creeps. I just want to meet a good guy, you know?”

  They said goodbye and Emily reviewed the conversation, organizing her thoughts to present to Travis. Maybe Alex had merely been interested in experimenting sexually, but her instincts told her Grace had read him correctly—he wasn’t so much interested in the sexual experience as he was in choking a woman and knowing what that felt like.

  He hadn’t choked his victims, but maybe he had ruled out that method after being turned down by Grace. Or maybe he had intended her to be his first victim. He could murder her, and if anyone found out, he could claim she had died accidentally while they were experimenting. He might even have been able to get away with it.

  Maybe he had gotten away with it. Maybe somewhere in Denver was a young woman who had died at Alex’s hands, though he hadn’t yet been charged with the crime.

  With trembling hands, Emily punched in Travis’s number. “Are you calling to tell me you’ve decided to cancel the bonfire tonight?” he asked.

  “No! Why would I do that?”

  “I told Lacy I thought you should. I’m concerned Alex will try to repeat his performance at the scavenger hunt.”

  “Alex is not invited to this party.”

  “That might not stop him.”

  “It’s too late to cancel the bonfire,” she said, trying to quell her annoyance and not succeeding. “All the invitations have already gone out, and the ranch hands have been accumulating a mountain of scrap wood and brush that needs to be burned. Not to mention Rainey and Bette have been cooking party food for days. I’m certainly not going to tell them their extra work will be wasted.”

  “Which is pretty much what Lacy said. But she agreed that I could station a deputy and one of the ranch hands at the gate to check the ID of every person who enters against your guest list. So I’ll need a copy of the list, first chance you get.”

  “All right.” Part of her thought this was overkill, but the rest of her was grateful for this extra measure of safety.

  “If you didn’t call about the party, why did you call?” Travis asked.

  “I talked to a woman Alex used to date,” she said. “She said they broke up when he tried to talk her into letting him strangle her while they had sex.”

  “That’s interesting. Does she have any idea where he is right now?”

  “No. She hasn’t had anything to do with him for a couple of months. But do you think this is how he started? What if some other woman agreed to his proposal and she died and everyone thought it was an accident, when really it was murder?”

  “I haven’t found anything like that in my research, but I can add it to his file.”

  “You could call someone in Fort Collins and Denver and try to find out.”

  “I could. But that won’t help us discover where Alex is right now, and that’s what I need to know if I’m going to stop him.”

  “No one in Fort Collins knows where he is,” she said. “His professor told me he didn’t have any friends but Tim, and he’s estranged from his parents. Oh, and he has a big trust fund that pays for everything.”

  “Yes, we knew that.”

  “Then why did you even ask me to try to find out about him?”

  “You’ve learned useful information,” Travis said. “I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate your help. But we really need to focus on where Alex might be hiding right now. Did he know anyone in Eagle Mountain before he arrived here? Does he have any relatives who live here? Did he ever complete an outdoor survival course or express an interest in winter camping?”

  If Travis wanted her to ask questions like that, why hadn’t he given her a list? “I don’t think any of the people I talked to know those things,” she said.

  “Maybe no one does,” Travis said. “But it’s important to try everything we can think of. Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

  “No.”

  “Then I have to go.”

  He ended the call and Emily frowned at her phone, fighting frustration. She felt like she had learned something important about Alex, but Travis was right—it wasn’t going to help them find him and stop him. The longer it took to locate him, the more time he had to attack and kill another woman.

  She studied her notebook, hoping for inspiration that didn’t come. “Emily?”

  She turned toward the door, where Lacy stood. “The ranch hands brought up that load of hay bales you asked for,” she said. “They want to know what to do with them.”

  “Sure thing.” She jumped up, pushing aside thoughts of Alex for now. Time to distract everyone else—and herself—from the danger lurking just outside their doors.

  * * *

  FOR THE REST of the day, Emily focused on making sure the party was a success, and counted it a good sign that, though the highway was still closed due to multiple avalanches, no new snow had fallen in a couple of days, and clouds had receded to reveal a star-spangled night sky and an almost-full moon like a shining silver button overhead.

  As an added bonus, though the wedding favors and guest book hadn’t been delivered before the road closed again, Paige Riddell and her significant other, DEA agent Rob Allerton, had arrived and moved into the last empty guest cabin. Lacy was thrilled her friend had made it and had thanked Emily half a dozen times today for arranging the bonfire.

  All the guests seemed happy to be here, gathering in a semicircle as Travis, Gage and Emily’s father lit the bonfire, then cheering as it caught and blazed to life. Even before the blaze gave off much warmth, the sight of it made everyone more animated. The flames popped and crackled as they climbed the tower of old pallets, scrap wood and brush the ranch hands had spent days assembling; the sparks rose like glitter floating up into the black sky, the scent of wood smoke mingling with the aroma of barbecue and mulled cider.

  From the fire, guests gravitated to a buffet set up under tents. Rainey and Bette had prepared big vats of chili, pans of corn bread and half a dozen different salads. They had also arranged skewers of kabobs and sausages guests could toast over the fire. Guests could opt for cookies for dessert, or create their own s’mores.

  Seating was provided by hay bales draped in blankets and buffalo robes, shaped into surprisingly comfortable couches—some long enough for half a dozen people, others just the right size for cuddling for two. Two of the ranch hands played guitar and sang for the appreciative crowd. Alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages added to the festivities.

  “Travis tells me you’re the genius behind all this.” Brodie’s voice, low and velvety, pulled Emily’s attention from the music. She hoped the dim lighting hid the warm flush that seemed to engulf her body at his approach. He indicated the crowd around the bonfire. “It’s a great party.”

  “Travis wanted to cancel the whole thing, but I had Lacy in my corner,” she said.

  “He doesn’t look too upset right now.” Brodie nodded toward the sheriff, who was slow dancing with Lacy on the edge o
f the firelight, her head on his shoulder, both dancers’ eyes half-closed.

  Emily couldn’t help but smile at the lovebirds. “They’re so good together,” she said. “It’s great to see Travis so happy.”

  “Gage has found his match, too,” Brodie said.

  Emily shifted her attention from Travis to her other brother, who sat on a hay bale with his wife, Maya. The two were feeding each other toasted marshmallows and laughing, eyes shining as they gazed at one another. Emily sighed. “I never would have guessed my two brothers could be such romantics,” she said.

  “Are you kidding? When it comes to love, most men are completely at a woman’s mercy. We may not always show our romantic side, but it’s definitely there.”

  “I’m not talking about buying a woman flowers and delivering a convincing line to get her to go out with you—or to go to bed with you,” Emily said.

  “Neither am I. I think most people want to be in relationships, to love and be loved. Maybe one of the reasons a lot of men—and maybe women, too—have a hard time expressing that desire is that they know it’s so important. They’re really afraid of messing things up and getting it wrong.”

  Brodie was the last person in the world she had ever expected she’d have a philosophical conversation about love with. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Are you sure you’re really Brodie Langtry? Mr. Heartbreaker?” He certainly hadn’t hinted that he was so keen on that kind of deep relationship when the two of them had been together. And she still wasn’t sure she believed he had never received the letter she had sent to him after their breakup. Pretending he’d never seen it made him look much better than if he had read the letter and decided to blow her off—which was what she had always believed.

  “I grew up,” he said, her own image shining back at her in the reflection of the firelight in his eyes. “We all do. Besides, I was never as shallow as you thought I was. When someone is important to me, I will do anything to protect them and support them.”

  Now he was getting really hard for her to believe. “Have you ever had a serious relationship with a woman in your life?” she asked.