Stranded with the Suspect Read online

  “I’m following up on a case.”

  The deputy glanced at Andi. They were close enough now that he could clearly see she was pregnant. He was going to ask about her next, and Simon wasn’t in the mood to explain. “It’s cold out,” he said. “I’d like to get the young lady to someplace safe for the night, and take my car to a repair shop.”

  The deputy glanced behind them, up the pass. “Denver would be the best bet to get those airbags replaced, but you won’t be going there tonight,” he said.

  “Why not?” Simon asked.

  “The pass is closed. You were probably the last vehicle through before we put the gate down.” He gestured ahead of them. “It’s socked in on both sides of the pass. Ground blizzards can ice up the road, and we get people sliding off left and right. Better for everybody to close it.”

  “We can’t spend the night here,” Simon said. Alone, he wouldn’t have cared so much, but Andi couldn’t spend the night sitting up in a freezing car.

  The deputy scratched his chin. “You can try to make it to Fairplay. We’ll have a wrecker here in a bit to get this Kia out of the way, and you can follow him.”

  “It doesn’t look like we have much choice.”

  “Pull your vehicle over to the side there and put on your flashers. I’ll radio for some help.”

  Simon climbed into the cruiser and put it into gear. “What’s going on?” Andi asked.

  “The road behind us is closed now. We’re going to wait here for a wrecker that’s coming to deal with the Kia, then we’ll follow it to Fairplay, a little town up ahead.” He had passed through Fairplay a few times on his way to and from Denver, but he didn’t remember much about it, except that it was small and not close to much else. “Are you warm enough?” Simon asked. She had the coat pulled tightly around her. “I can turn up the heater.”

  “I’m fine. The coat isn’t my style, but it’s warm.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not your style?”

  “Daniel bought it for me. He thought it was what I should wear.”

  “But you don’t like it.”

  She shrugged. “It’s too flashy and conspicuous. I hate standing out.”

  “I don’t think a woman like you can help standing out.”

  “If I’m supposed to be flattered by a comment like that, I’m not.” There was no missing the chill in her words.

  Strike out for Simon. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, fatigue dragging at him. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in the past twenty-four, and that had been sitting up in the chair in Andi’s hospital room. As soon as he had Andi safely settled for the night, he was going to pass out.

  He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because he jerked awake to a loud, beeping noise and had to hit the wipers to clear the windshield of snow. A massive orange snowplow was crawling down the road toward them, followed by a wrecker, lights strobing. “The deputy must have called the snowplow too,” he said. “Good thinking.”

  “You must be exhausted,” Andi said. “I hope we can find a hotel room in Fairplay.”

  “We’ll find something.” If he had to drain his bank account to bribe someone to give them a room, he would do it.

  The wrecker winched the Kia up onto the flatbed while the plow turned around. Simon pulled his cruiser in behind them, and they headed south at a crawl. Even with the plow scraping the road surface and spreading sand, the trip was treacherous. Whirlwinds of snow swirled in front of the cruiser, rocking the vehicle and obscuring the way ahead. Simon hunched over the steering wheel, gripping it until his knuckles ached, focused on the dull red glow of the wrecker’s taillights and hoping the driver didn’t slide off the pavement, taking Simon with him. Beside him, Andi was rigid, and absolutely silent.

  After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only twenty minutes, the wrecker signaled a right turn. The wind had died and the road was less icy. Simon followed him onto the main street of Fairplay, Colorado. Through the curtain of snow, he could just make out the lighted signs of the businesses along the town’s main street—a real estate office, bank, liquor store and taxidermist.

  “That was horrible,” Andi said. “I thought we would slide off the road—and maybe off the side of a mountain—at any minute.”

  “I knew we’d be fine,” Simon lied.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  He spotted a large lit-up sign. The red letters spelled out Hotel. “I think we get a couple of rooms for the night.”

  * * *

  THE FOOTE HOTEL reminded Andi of a grandmother’s house—if her grandmother had gone for moose heads, bear skins and cozy, flowered furniture. A string of cowbells on the door announced their arrival as she and Simon stepped into a wood-floored front room. Heat from the fire blazing on a stone hearth blasted them—she was so tired she could have stretched out on one of the chintz-covered sofas and fallen asleep with only her coat for a coverlet.

  A tired-looking, genial-faced man looked up from behind a counter. “Nasty night out,” he said.

  “Do you have any rooms?” Simon asked.

  “We’ve got one room left. Grandpa Foote. It has two beds and a private bath. The rate includes a full breakfast in the morning.”

  “We’ll take it.” Simon pulled out his wallet and handed over some bills.

  “Where you folks from?” the man asked.

  “Denver,” Simon said. “Apparently, the road closed behind us.”

  “You’re lucky you made it through.” He handed over Simon’s change and an old-fashioned key on a brass fob. “The room is at the end of the hall on the left. If you need anything, I’m Mike, the manager.”

  “It’s such a charming hotel.” Andi slid her hand along the back of a polished oak rocker. “Has it been here a long time?”

  “Since the thirties,” Mike said. “Some people say we’re haunted, if you’re interested in that kind of thing.”

  “Haunted?” Andi gaped at him, sure he must be teasing her.

  “People say they’ve seen Grandpa Foote rocking in that chair there. And there’s a young man who supposedly walks around upstairs, but personally, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “I don’t either,” Andi said, but she moved her hand away from the back of the rocker.

  “Is there any place close we can get some dinner?” Simon asked.

  The hotel manager glanced over at Andi. She must have looked as bad as she felt. “I’ve got some lasagna left over from a dinner I catered,” Mike said. “I can fix plates for you, eight dollars each.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Andi said before Simon could answer. “Thank you.”

  “You go on up and I’ll bring it up to you,” Mike said.

  Simon went out to fetch their bags. “Where are you headed?” Mike asked.

  “Breckenridge,” Andi said.

  “With snow like this, the ski resort will be opening soon,” Mike said. “Could be the earliest opening in a while.”

  “Do you ski?” Andi asked, more to be polite than because she was interested.

  “Over a hundred and thirty days last year,” Mike said.

  Simon returned and led the way up the wooden stairs, which creaked loudly as they made their way up. Each room had a name as well as a number—School House, China Jane, Nature. Grandpa Foote, at the end of the hall, featured two iron bedsteads covered with patchwork quilts, a rocking chair and a bathroom with an old-fashioned white cast-iron tub on claw feet.

  Andi stared at the rocking chair. “Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked.

  “No.” He set down their bags and shed his coat. “But I believe they probably make a good marketing hook for tourists. Do you want to change clothes or anything before we eat?”

  “A hot bath sounds so good,” Andi said, hugging her arms across her chest.

  “Go ahead,” he
said. “I’ll let you know when the food gets here.”

  She felt self-conscious, undressing with Simon just on the other side of the door. He was still the cop who had harassed the people she cared about for the past months—but she was beginning to see other sides to him. The memory of waking up in the hospital to find him by her side stirred something in her. He made her feel vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel since her mother’s death. As much as she had cared for Daniel, their relationship had always been about him—what she could do for him, what he needed from her.

  Simon was different. He didn’t seem to expect anything of her, and seemed more concerned for her comfort than his own.

  She stepped into the warm bath water, sighing as it flowed over her body. She smoothed her hands over the taut mound of her belly, smiling as the baby shifted at her touch. This little life inside her had transformed her, from a woman whose whole identity was defined by her looks and her position in society, to someone who scarcely ever thought about such things. She hadn’t looked in a full-length mirror in months. Her body had changed, but her way of thinking had changed, also. All the things that used to matter to her—clothes and shopping and parties—felt silly and empty now. The most important thing was providing a good, safe life for her child.

  She thought she had found that safety with the Prophet, but obviously she had been wrong. She touched the necklace, the rough surface of the diamond and the smooth warmth of the gold. She had lied when she had told Daniel she took it as a way to feel closer to him. She had taken it because she was angry with him for cheating on her with other women. She looked at the necklace as payment for the grief he had put her through. Part of her had even been disappointed that he hadn’t been more upset by her theft of the piece. He had actually seemed happy for her to have it.

  She slid her hand up to her throat, and touched the rough lines where the knife had cut her. It seemed so unreal—a terrible nightmare. That a man she had loved could do such a thing...a chill ran through her in spite of the heat from the bathwater.

  From there her mind drifted to the Kia driver who had followed them. He had looked so familiar to her, but she couldn’t place him. Who did she know who was blond with a beard? Not a beard, exactly—more like a goatee.

  The image of the man by the elevator in the Brown Palace, the one with the Russian accent, made her sit upright, water sloshing over the side of the tub. But why had he been following them?

  When she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a loose gown and robe, Simon indicated a tray that sat on an old-fashioned wooden chest of drawers. “Mike just brought up the food,” he said.

  Her stomach cramped with hunger. “I’m starving.” She started to lift the tray, but Simon intercepted her.

  “Sit in the rocker,” he said. “I’ll bring it to you.”

  “You don’t have to wait on me,” she protested.

  “I do,” he said. “Otherwise, my mother might come back to haunt me. She was a Southern belle from Atlanta and believed in old-fashioned manners.”

  She smiled at the idea of this stoic, rather severe lawman being schooled by his mother to say Yes, ma’am and hold open doors. She settled into the rocker and he brought a plate to her. The aroma of the lasagna made her mouth water, and she feared her own manners suffered as she devoured it, as well as the salad and bread that accompanied it.

  Hunger sated, she looked across at Simon. Head down, his shoulders drooped, as if they carried a burden that was too heavy. She should tell him that she thought the driver of the Kia had been the Russian, but what could he do about that now? It would only make him worry. He might even try to go out in the storm to search for the man. She would tell him tomorrow, after they had both had a chance to rest. “Why don’t you take a bath now and I’ll carry the dishes down,” she said.

  “I can take them down,” he said, starting to rise.

  “No, please.” She stood and added his plate to hers on the tray. “I’d like to stretch my legs, after sitting in the car all day.”

  “I should go with you,” he said.

  “Oh please,” she said. “Who’s going to bother me here? With the snow and the roads closed, no one can reach us here—if they could even find us. And you’ll feel better after a bath. It will take the chill off.”

  “All right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The hot water would feel good.”

  He went into the bathroom, and she gathered the dishes on the tray and headed downstairs. She found Mike in the kitchen. “Dinner was delicious,” she said, as he hurried to take the tray from her. “Thanks so much. I wasn’t looking forward to going back out in that storm.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it.” He carried the dishes to the sink at the back of the kitchen, and she followed him a few steps inside. “If you need anything else, let me know,” he said. “I remember when my wife was expecting our kids, she would get hungry a lot.”

  “I do that too.” She smiled, relaxed for the first time in a long while.

  “When are you due?” he asked.

  “I have another couple of weeks, I think,” she said. The doctor had told her the baby could be born any time now, but she didn’t want to worry this nice man. And she felt fine. A little awkward and uncomfortable, maybe, but she had felt that for months.

  “Tough time to travel,” Mike said. “Do you have family in Breckenridge?”

  The question puzzled her, then she remembered that she and Simon were supposed to be on their way to Breckenridge. If she lied and said yes, she had family there, Mike might ask their names, and that would lead to a whole other mess of lies. “No. Simon has business there and we didn’t want to be apart, with my due date so close.” That sounded better—all sweet and romantic, even.

  “I remember when my first was born, I felt that way too,” he said. “I didn’t want to let my wife out of my sight.”

  She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat. If only someone really felt that way about her. It sounded so nice. Instead of someone who loved her watching over her every move, she was being stalked by a man who wanted to do her harm.

  The bells on the front door jangled and Mike looked in that direction. “I’d better go see who that is,” he said.

  “Is it all right if I make tea?” she asked, indicating the tea and coffee service on the table just outside the door.

  “Help yourself,” he said, and moved past her into the front room.

  She selected a tea bag and filled a mug with hot water, then stood waiting for it to brew before she added sugar.

  “Do you have a room for the night?” The familiar voice, with its softly accented tones—definitely Russian—sent a chill through her.

  “Sorry, but we’re full,” Mike said.

  “I don’t require anything fancy,” the voice said. “My car broke down, and I hitchhiked into town. The other places I asked said they were full too.”

  Scarcely daring to breathe, Andi tiptoed to the door that separated the dining area from the front room and peered out. The blond with the goatee who had addressed her by name at the Brown Palace stood across from Mike. He wore a stocking cap and a dark blue ski jacket, but it was the same man, she was sure.

  “I can let you sleep on the sofa,” Mike said, indicating the chintz-upholstered furniture in front of the fireplace. “That’s the best I can do.”

  “I would be so grateful. Do you have a restroom I could use?”

  “Right over there.” Mike pointed to the men’s room.

  As soon as the blond closed the door to the men’s room behind him, Andi left the dining room and headed for the stairs.

  “Did you change your mind about tea?” Mike called after her.

  “Yes. Thank you,” she said, and all but ran up the stairs to the room at the end of the hall. She shoved her key into the lock with shaking hands and pushed open the door.

 
Simon emerged from the bathroom, bare chested, toweling his hair. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She sank onto the bed, her wobbly legs unable to support her. “There’s a man d...downstairs,” she managed to stammer. “He just came in. I’m sure he’s the man who was talking to me at the Brown Palace—the one by the elevator who knew my name.”

  “You’re sure it’s the same man?” Simon asked.

  She nodded. “He has an accent—Russian, I think.”

  Simon sat beside her, not touching her, but his presence so close steadied her. “I’m wondering now if he was the man in the Kia,” she said. “I think I recognized him.”

  “It might have been him,” Simon said. “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t think so. I was in the kitchen. I overheard him talking to Mike, then I peeked around the door. It was definitely him.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he wrecked his car and had to hitchhike to the hotel. He looked pretty cold, but not too frozen. Mike told him he could sleep on the sofa by the fire, since all the rooms are full. He went into the restroom and I hurried up here.”

  She gripped Simon’s arm. “What are we going to do? We can’t leave without him seeing us, and where would we go in all this snow?” Her throat tightened and she fought down panic. When they had left Denver, she had thought they were safe. Instead, they had ended up in a worse predicament. “We’re trapped here—with a man who probably wants to kill us.”

  Chapter Nine

  Simon’s first instinct was to hustle Andi into the car and drive to safety, but common sense overruled that impulse. They were both too exhausted to go anywhere that night, and in this weather he was as likely to drive off the side of a mountain as to reach his destination safely. He reached for his shirt. “I’m going downstairs to check him out,” he said. “Lock the door behind me and don’t let anyone in.”

  “All right.” Andi’s lower lip trembled, but she steadied herself. “Be careful.”