Cold Sweat (8 page)

Her mother would be looking for her—that much was certain—and Colonel Matheson would expect her daughter to say and do what was needed in order to stay alive until she was rescued.

Taking a deep breath, Quest forced her muscles to relax. Both thumbs snapped. Dislocating her joints was a painful, but useful trick she’d learned from Grampy. He would be proud.

The tight loops slipped along her wrists, scorching her skin.

***

“The senator is expecting you, Sheriff. Please go in.”

Verna’s pleasant greeting resounded like a death knell. If not for the chance the senator had received another email concerning the teenage girl, Rich would have ignored the man’s invitation.

He entered the lion’s den.

“Ah...Sheriff Morgan. Please, come in.” Standing in front of his desk, Senator Norman welcomed him with a smile as fake as the veneer on his teeth. “May I introduce Senhora Marcella and her husband, Senhor Phillipe De La Costa?”

Caught off guard by the identity of the dark beauty from the bridge, Rich mumbled some mundane salutations.

“Sheriff Morgan, the senator tells me you’re the one investigating the scandalous pictures of Marcella circulating on the Internet?” The betrayed husband, a sophisticated man much older than his wife, sounded genuinely concerned.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation.” Feeling like a sacrificial pawn thrown in the middle of a political game in which he didn’t know the rules, Rich glanced at the senator.

Norman had retreated behind his desk without inviting anyone to sit. “Senhor De La Costa is leading a trade delegation from Brazil. He called me when he saw the pictures. I was as shocked and appalled as he was by the resemblance with his wife. Would you please tell him you identified the culprits behind the fake pictures?”

The senator deserved an award for his shameless performance. So did the lovely married woman who stood helplessly by her husband’s side, fluttering long eyelashes over dark brown eyes filled with anguish and pain. Too bad Rich didn’t carry any trophies with him.

“My wife is very distressed over those awful accusations, Sheriff.”

The allegedly distressed woman timidly slipped a hand under her husband’s elbow. “I swear I never met the senator until my husband dragged me here.”

Never met the senator?
Unlike Norman, it appeared Marcella had forgotten about the kiss
and
the friendly walk on the trails.

Rich had no doubt the senator had purposely set him up in order to deflect the wrath of an angry husband, but if he played his next hand correctly, the tides might turn in his favor.

“Without giving too many details, I can say we identified the man posing as the senator. It’s only a matter of time before we find the other participants. In the meantime, I would appreciate if you kept this information to yourself.”

“Yes. Of course. Thank you, Sheriff.” Relief lifted years from De La Costa’s features. “Senator, I’m sorry for my rather...abrupt and rude entrance. I was angry for no reason.”

“Apology accepted, Senhor.” The senator’s arrogance, as he shook the husband’s hand, churned Rich’s stomach.

As soon as the door closed behind the couple, Norman removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves. “You avoided a diplomatic incident, Morgan. You can go now.”

“We’re not done, Norman.” Unfazed by the senator’s unfriendly glare, Rich sat in a deep burgundy padded chair with his elbows on his knees. “Once I arrest Serpent, I’ll make sure he produces all the other pictures he snapped of you and Marcella, and testifies under oath of their authenticity. I can easily expose your little secret—or I can protect it. Your choice.”

Blood rose to the senator’s head. “Are you blackmailing me, Morgan?”

“Yes.” The few people to ever call his bluffs had ended up dead or seriously injured. Rich wasn’t ready to make an exception for the senator.

Norman’s nostrils flared as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “What do you want?”

“The truth.” A girl’s life depended on the answers Rich extracted from the man. “I don’t care how many women you slept with. Did you get any of them pregnant?”

“There...there might have been a few accidents.” Defiance seeped from every pore of his body. “I sent them to Barry. I don’t have any other children.”

“Is Barry a place or a person?” Rich needed details.

“He’s a doctor. I don’t know his first name.”

Hell, you don’t.
“That’s what Serpent meant when he accused you of having your children’s blood on your hands, isn’t it?” The senator’s arrogant behavior incensed Rich. “Except Serpent seems to be under the impression you or your doctor forgot to get rid of one daughter.”

“For the last time, Morgan, I wasn’t sloppy. Nobody knew about them.”

Someone had broken the silence and Serpent had listened.

Sooner or later, the truth always comes out.
“I want those women’s names.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to keep a list?”

Chapter Nine

Still reeling from his encounter with the politician and his short conversation with his female deputy, Rich entered the maintenance bay at Snowy Tip.

Two mechanics in royal blue overalls stained with grease patches, fiddled with the engine of a snowmobile. A plump blonde in her mid-forties held two hoses out of the way of a burly young fellow maneuvering a wrench. When the man glanced in his direction, Rich inwardly winced. The large bruise on the side of the fellow’s jaw looked fresh and painful.

From the back of the bay, Wayne River motioned for Rich to approach. The master map of the mountains had been taped to the wall and color-coded for easy reference. Two-thirds of the quadrants were crossed off.

“As you can see, we’re making progress. We’re just not finding anything.” A soulful sigh rose from Wayne’s chest. “It’s been two nights, Sheriff. Two very cold nights. Human beings are not built to sustain such conditions for that long.”

Assuming Hope was lost or injured in the mountains, which Rich doubted, the only way she would have survived was by seeking refuge in some sort of shelter.

“Tell me again about the trails.”

“The green trails are open. The red ones are currently closed. The farther ones in grey are hiking trails. We don’t maintain them in the winter.”

All the green trails and roughly half of the red trails had been marked as searched. Rich had to give the search parties credit; they were not wasting their time. “Those pentagons of different colors along the trails, are they shelters?”

“Small wooden lodges equipped with solar panels and painted the color shown on the map. They’re warm enough to keep a stranded skier alive for days. Unfortunately, they were all empty.”

All the pentagons fell within the searched area, except for one located deep in the mountains along an unsearched grey hiking trail. “What about that orange lodge?”

“That particular trail consists of steep slopes and narrow tortuous paths. The young lady wouldn’t have made it that far on her own. Not on skis, and not on foot. Besides, that lodge isn’t heated. We keep it locked until the spring to avoid vandalism.”

Locks can be broken.
“Could she have been taken there on a quad or a snowmobile?”

“It’s possible, but...” River pointed at a curvy segment of the trail. “This part is treacherous. There are crevices hiding beneath the snow. Your rider would need to be familiar with the landscape.”

That scenario implied local involvement. Someone who’d worked or still worked at the training center. Someone, who might pretend to search for Hope.

“We can’t ignore that lodge, River.” It presented too much of a convenient hiding place.

“All my people are out. As soon as Erik and Kris report back, I’ll send them. They
can
be trusted.” It hadn’t taken long for River to catch on to Rich’s conclusion regarding an inside job. “Which reminds me, I faxed the list you requested to your office an hour ago. I even attached a work schedule.”

“Good, but I’m not waiting for your guys.” The sooner he checked it out, the sooner Rich could cross it off. “Get me a snowmobile and a detailed map of the area. I’m going now.”

A disapproving frown creased the maintenance chief’s forehead. “No offense, Sheriff, but going there alone when you’re not familiar with the terrain is a stupid idea. Would you at least take my son with you? He grew up in these mountains. He knows them inside out.”

Had River suggested any other name, Rich might have refused, but no father would intentionally place his son in harm’s way.

“Get your boy ready. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

As Rich left the bay, the chief yelled at his mechanics to hurry up.

***

Serpent’s address corresponded to a decrepit apartment complex overseen by an overweight matron in her sixties.

“I’m Deputy Thompson and this is Colonel Matheson.” The military officer by Gil’s side remained silent and motionless. “We were told someone by the name Sly Serpent lives here. We’d like to see his apartment.”
Assuming this isn’t another hoax.

The landlady barely ventured a glance at Gil’s badge, but she openly studied Matheson from head to boots.

“Back in the days, my husband wore the same uniform. The poor devil is buried in it. God bless his soul. Third floor. Come with me.”

Unsure how to respond to the comparison, Gil stepped behind the matron—and focused on the case. “What can you tell us about Mr. Serpent?”

“I haven’t seen...Mr. Serpent in ten days.” Wheezing and whistling
hindered the woman’s ability to climb more than three steps before she had to stop and catch her breath. “Did...something happen to him?”

“That’s what we’re hoping to find out.” The civilian landlady didn’t need to know he was the suspect of an investigation. “When did he rent the apartment?”

“November 18
th
...paid three months...cash.”

Three days later, Serpent rented the postal box.
The time line was consistent. “Did he provide any references?”

“To live in this dump?” She gave him a dubious look. “I’m lucky if...if I can rent half the place.”

Beside Gil, the colonel seemed to eye the hallway with perplexity.

When the matron stopped in front of door 313, he took the keys jiggling from her hand.

“Please, stay back.” He knocked. “Deputy Sheriff Gil Thompson. Open the door.”

No sound stemmed from inside. He unlocked. Still no sound...

His weapon drawn, he stepped into a bare living room.
A couch, a coffee table, an empty bookcase...

The door closed behind him.

“With your gun, you nearly gave the poor woman a heart attack.” Colonel Matheson peeked inside the entrance closet. “No coat, no boots. Doesn’t look like anyone lives here.”

He agreed. “Shouldn’t you be armed?”

“I don’t need a gun to be dangerous—or to kill someone.” Issued in a deadpan voice, that didn’t sound like an empty threat. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Envious of Matheson’s nerves of steel, Gil proceeded down a narrow corridor. The door to the bathroom was open. Water dripping from a leaky faucet thumped in the ceramic sink. No soap, toothbrush, or towel.

Aside from a discolored shower curtain pushed at one end of a rusty rod, the room was void of personal items.

“Bathroom is clear. I’m checking the bed—” The word
room
died on Gil’s lips as he entered into the bedroom.

The far wall was plastered with newspaper articles and magazine clips, all featuring pictures of Senator Craig Norman with an assortment of beautiful women.

“Thompson? You okay?” Hurried steps resonated in the apartment, culminating with Matheson’s intrusion. “Blistery fire, that’s...interesting.”

The woman was smirking, a rather disconcerting sight coming from an officer in uniform.

“He’s taunting us, Colonel.”

“What did you expect from a snake?” Without touching the evidence, Matheson examined the wall. “The dates are visible. They’re posted in chronological order. It’s a time line, Thompson. Do you have evidence bags in your cruiser?”

“I’ll go get them and request a guy from the lab. He may be able to lift some prints.”

“Serpent forgot his book.” Matheson pointed at the naked bed. Amid the dark spots staining the sunken mattress lay a book.

“50,000 baby names?” The title unnerved Gil. “You think he might have been stupid enough to highlight the name of the girl he kidnapped?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” With her black gloves on—which she’d never removed in his presence even when she’d removed her coat—Matheson picked up the book and leafed through the pages.

A piece of glossy paper fell from the book onto the floor, face up.

Air hissed through her teeth. “This can’t be.”

***

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Sly cleaned the deep cuts his captive clawed on his left cheek. He was lucky to still be able to see. Had the teenager aimed an inch higher, she would have scratched his eye out.

Wild, fierce, and unpredictable.
The senator’s daughter was as much of a force to reckon with as the rising snowstorm.

When Sly had gone into the bedroom with a glass of juice and sandwich to feed her, she’d attacked him. For someone of small stature, she’d packed a punch. If she hadn’t slipped on the juice puddle, she would have escaped him. Hitting her had been the only way to subdue her.

I should have let her starve.

How she’d managed to untie her rope, he couldn’t fathom, not with the fisherman’s knots he’d used. To prevent another escape attempt, he’d shackled one of her ankles to a bedpost with a ten-foot chain. Once she regained consciousness, it’d give her the freedom to wander around her prison while pondering her fate.

I’m done playing nice guy.
She didn’t deserve his compassion any more than her father did.

The bleeding had stopped. He threw the bloody towel in the corner shower before walking into the kitchen where he kept his laptop.

The suggestive pictures on the bridge had received over ten thousand hits since he posted them. It didn’t matter Norman had issued a statement refuting any allegations of infidelity and disputing the authenticity of the pictures. The senator’s reputation had been tarnished with a stain that would never completely disappear.