Deep Freeze (42 page)

She wasn’t looking out the window. That was your guilty imagination working double time.

The wind whistled wildly. Eerily. Cassie ducked behind one tree, reached into her backpack, and after tearing off one glove with her teeth, fumbled through the pockets until she found her cigarettes and a lighter. She lit up with trembling fingers, then shouldered the pack and walked toward the logging road. Maybe Josh was waiting for her in the warmth of the truck. He probably had his music on so loud he couldn’t hear his damned phone ring.

But that didn’t seem right. He was never without his phone. Always answered. “First time for everything,” she thought, and spied a flash of light through the curtain of snow. She drew hard on her cigarette and stared, saw the flash again. Headlights! He was waiting for her. Well, the idiot. He was going to get a piece of her mind! She marched through the trees, heard the music from his CD player, saw him sitting behind the wheel.

The son of a bitch wasn’t even going to get out of the truck to greet her. “Hey! I’ve been waiting over there where we were supposed to meet!” she said, but he didn’t move, didn’t act as if he could even see her. That was it. She had to break up with him. She’d thought someone was better than no one, but she’d been wrong.

“Cassie!”

She froze, turned toward the sound.

“Cassie!” Allie’s voice rang through the trees.

What was the kid thinking? This was a nightmare. She had to turn back. Tossing her cigarette into the snow, she walked to the passenger door of the pickup and yanked it open. “Look, I can’t do this,” she said, before she really looked at Josh. He still didn’t turn in her direction. “Josh, did you hear me? I’ve got to go back to…”

Something moved behind her. Soft, stealthy footsteps in the snow.

Josh moved then—slid, really—his body falling across the seat of the pickup, his eyes staring up sightlessly, blood staining the front of his black shirt. A dark, oozing gash sliced across his throat.

Cassie screamed. Turned. Saw her attacker and felt him pin her against the car. Frantically, she kicked and clawed, slammed her fist into his nose. Beneath his ski mask, he yelped. She kicked upward, aiming for his groin, but, as if anticipating her attack, he shifted so that her knee hit him in the thigh. Over his shoulder she spied something, a movement. Her heart soared for an instant, thinking it might be help—and then she spied Allie.

“Run!” she shrieked, still fighting. “Run, run, run!!!!!”

Her attacker glanced over his shoulder. “Son of a bitch!” he growled in a familiar voice Cassie felt she should recognize.

“Run!” she yelled. “Get help!”

Allie took off through the trees, darting into the thicket.

“Shit!”

Cassie slid from his grasp, but he caught her again, his gloved hands catching her stocking cap. It came off and his fingers snagged in her hair. He pulled so roughly she was yanked backward, her feet slipping from beneath her. She fell into the snow and he was on top of her in an instant, strong legs straddling her, his crotch stretched beneath her breasts, one arm grabbing both her wrists and holding them over her head.

She flailed and bucked, but he didn’t seem to notice as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a device that looked like the remote control to the television.

A second later he pressed it against her throat and Cassie’s body jolted, electricity zapping through her tissues to leave her helpless as a lamb. She moaned, couldn’t move, and just before she blacked out she sent up a prayer that Allie would be safe.

The vigil fast became a media circus. Despite the bad weather, half the citizens of Falls Crossing gathered with candles in the square and walked into the church where Reverend Swaggert asked them all to pray, gave a short sermon, and seemed to turn on for the cameras. Jenna told herself that she was being overly suspicious, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the service seemed, if not phony, at least all for show. Oh, sure, the preacher cried a little, claimed that Lynnetta was his “personal angel sent from heaven,” and prayed fiercely for the other women as well. Flowers decorated the altar, along with large posters of each woman’s face, propped on easels and looking out at those in attendance. Jenna, head bowed, sneaked a glance at the display while Derwin Swaggert, his eyes closed, sweat beading on his red face, held onto the top of the pulpit in a white-knuckled death grip.

The lights flickered.

People looked up from their prayers while the reverend’s voice, filled with supplication and reverence, droned on. Jenna tried to concentrate on his words, but the wind had picked up again, whooshing around the building.

Again the lights winked.

Carter’s hand was on her elbow.

“You’d think God was listening,” Rinda said, just as the lights went out. But the church wasn’t in darkness, not with everyone holding candles.

Even the reverend’s eyes opened and he held up his hands, quieting the crowd that had begun to whisper and shift. “The Father is with us,” he proclaimed, “and we pray that He’s with Sonja, Roxie, and my precious Lynnetta. Peace be with you and good night.”

Slowly they filed out of the church, brushing up against other townspeople, whispering as they walked outside and moved slowly down the front steps of the church to the dark streets. Rinda paused, turning her back to the wind as she tried to call her son, then gave up in frustration. The windows of the surrounding businesses were dark, the streetlights out, the only illumination from candles, flashlights, and headlights of cars and trucks passing through the town.

Carter’s cell phone rang and he paused, pulling the phone out of his pocket. “Carter…what? Great…the power’s out in town here, too. Yeah…” His conversation became muffled.

“Jenna!”

She turned and spied Travis Settler making his way through the crowd to her. He had his daughter’s gloved hand clasped tightly in his. In her free hand she carried a votive candle.

“Is Allie here?” Dani asked, her wiry brown hair poking out from beneath her ski cap in wild loops.

“She stayed home tonight. Didn’t feel all that great.”

“Bummer,” Dani said.

“We were hoping she could come over and spend the night. Dani wants to go ice-skating on the pond we’ve got out back.”

“Maybe tomorrow, if she feels better…and we have electricity,” Jenna said and felt Shane step closer to her.

Travis glanced at Carter, then at Jenna. “Let’s hope the power isn’t out for the night.”

“I think it’s cool,” Dani said, her hazel eyes alive in the faint glow of her candle. That was Dani, always ready for action.

“That’s because you don’t have to chop the wood, keep the fire going, or worry about the pipes freezing,” her dad teased.

“No, it’s because we play games instead of watch sports all the time.”

Travis’s mouth lifted into a half-smile. “She loves drubbing me at chess and poker.”

Dani rolled her eyes but grinned, showing off a bit of an overlap in her front teeth. “I think he lets me win.”

“No way! Come on, kiddo, I think we’d better go home. See ya,” he said to Jenna, then nodded to Carter and Rinda. Carter snapped his phone shut and his jaw was suddenly rock-hard.

“Have Allie call me!” Dani said as Travis pulled her toward his pickup.

“Trouble?” Jenna asked.

“Lots of it. Not only is the power out here, but for miles. A car went off the Bridge of the Gods and there was a wreck on 84. Bad one. I’ve been called to it. Life Flight might not be able to get there with the storm.” He motioned to the SUV. “I’d better take you home.”

“That’s the opposite direction,” Rinda said. “I’ll drive Jenna.”

“I should have driven my Jeep.”

Carter’s phone blasted again. He answered it, swore, and had a short conversation. When he was finished, he said, “It just gets better and better. Another car slid out of control at the site of the wreck, slammed into a State Police cruiser, and killed an officer. I have to get out there.”

“I’ll call Turnquist to come and get me.”

“Don’t be nuts,” Rinda said. She turned to Shane. “I’ll run her home.”

Carter hesitated.

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ve been driving in this crap all my life, except for those stupid ‘I’ve-got-to-find-myself’ years in California. My Subaru’s got four-wheel drive. It’s a dream in the snow.”

His phone went off another time and he nodded. “Okay. But if anything goes wrong, if you smell any kind of trouble, call me. On second thought, call me when you get home. Let me know what’s going on.” He squeezed her arm, then brushed a kiss against her cheek and took off at a jog toward his Blazer.

“Oh, wow, a kiss? From tough-as-old-leather Sheriff I-don’t-need-another-woman? That’s something.”

“Is it?” Jenna asked as they hurried, heads bent against the wind, to Rinda’s little wagon. “I thought he was still hung up on his wife.”

“She’s gone, honey.” They slid inside and Rinda fiddled with the heater and defrost. The crowd was thinning out, and without electricity, the town was nearly dark, only a few backup generators illuminating shops. “Carolyn was my best friend…” she glanced over at Jenna. “Ironic, huh? Seems like Shane has a thing for people I like. Anyway, we all had a great time together, had known each other since high school. Wes and Shane and David Landis were really tight.” Craning her neck to look over her shoulder, she pushed on the gas and did a quick U-turn, then headed out of town. “Anyway, David was killed when he tried to climb Pious Falls—Shane was with him. They were both sixteen and it was tough on Shane, but he eventually got together with Carolyn, at my urging, and they were pretty happy for a while.”

“Just awhile?”

“A few years, and then…” She stared out the windshield, squinting against the snow piling on the glass. “…then I guess they did that old drifting apart thing. Shane was really into his work and Carolyn was bored and…well, to make a long story short, she had an affair with my brother.”

“Wes?”

“Um-hmm. I think it about killed Shane. Worse yet, after a huge fight one night—a really cold, nasty night, kind of like this—Carolyn took off and lost control of her car and died.” She stopped for a darkened traffic light, then eased through the empty streets. “If you ask me, Shane never forgave himself. Not only for David’s death but Carolyn’s as well.”

Which explained a lot.

“You sure you want to get involved with him?” Rinda asked.

“I’m not sure of anything right now.”

“You’re hedging. Something big’s going on between you two. I can tell. Shane isn’t one for public shows of affection. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him kiss a woman, except like, maybe on New Year’s Eve.”

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as her Subaru plowed on through the snowfall. “In fact, he really hasn’t dated much since Carolyn’s death. Believe me, I know. I’ve been trying to set him up for years, but, no, I don’t think it’s a torch he carries around for her, it’s just plain old guilt.”

They passed an abandoned car on the side of the road, snow piling over it, and Rinda turned on the radio. The weather report was grim—more of the same, with temperatures dropping. “I don’t see how that’s possible,” Rinda said, and turned to a station playing Christmas music.

None of the houses they drove by had any lamps glowing in the windows. The dim illumination that escaped through blinds or cracks in the curtains seemed to come from candles, or a fire, or flashlights.

They met one snowplow, amber light flashing, fighting the onslaught from the heavens, pushing piles of snow onto the shoulder, and a dump truck spreading sand in the plow’s wake. The road was treacherous, and they were held up nearly forty-five minutes by another accident on the main road—a farmer’s truck had collided with a sedan and there was no way to drive around the accident. Jenna tried to reach the house and realized that the phones, all electricity-based, wouldn’t work. She then called Turnquist, Cassie, and Allie, but no one answered.

“Why wouldn’t they be picking up their cells?” she asked, worry creeping into her heart.

“That
is
weird. Weren’t they staying home?”

“Supposed to.”

“Maybe a cell tower’s failed. That happens sometimes in remote areas. I was at the beach once, and I couldn’t get through to anyone for two days—had to use a land line to get to the cell phone company.”

“Or all the circuits are busy because of the storm.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably what it is. At least
try
to call Shane. Or the station,” Rinda suggested, adjusting the heater. She had to keep the car running most of the time, as the minute she turned it off, the temperature inside the little Subaru plummeted.

“I will. If this doesn’t clear up soon.” She held onto her cell phone and tried to tamp down her worries.

“Good thing I have a big bladder,” Rinda observed as a tow truck finally pulled the car blocking the road to one side and an officer from State Police waved traffic through. “And an excellent selection of CDs.” They listened to Christmas songs while they waited and now, finally, drove past the weary officer. Rinda’s little car crept along the icy road. The storm hadn’t let up a bit and highway crews couldn’t keep up with the snowfall. She flipped out the CD and turned on the radio and heard reports that most of the roads in Lewis County had been closed.

“Worst storm of the century,” Rinda said, flipping off the radio. “Isn’t that just the icing on the cake?”

“It has to let up,” Jenna said, but wasn’t as worried about the weather as she was about her family. Again she tried to call them, again she failed. She even punched out Carter’s cell phone number, but he didn’t pick up and she didn’t leave a message. They were almost home, inching their way through the blizzard.

“This is pretty damned creepy,” Rinda said, her lips folding over themselves as she nosed her car along the road that ran parallel to the river, the tires sliding, only to grab the frozen asphalt again. “I just hope Scott is at home and not out in this mess.”

“Can’t you call?”

“All of my phones are remotes, you know, with hand-held receivers. They need electricity to work, so I can’t get through to the house. I’ve been meaning to get one that is just a regular, old-fashioned cord-to-the-handset type, but never think about it. Until the middle of the coldest friggin’ storm in fifty years.”

“What about his cell?”

“I’ve tried—three or four times. All I get is his voice mail, with a promise that he’ll call me back. Yeah, right.”

Fifteen minutes later, as the final notes of “Jingle Bell Rock” faded away, Rinda nosed her Subaru into the drive of Jenna’s house.

The gate was open.

No lights visible.

A huge knot of dread tied up all of Jenna’s insides. “This isn’t right,” she said as the little wagon slid to a stop near the garage. “Not at all.” Jenna was out of the car in a second. Her boots slid as she ran to the back door and told herself to remain calm. Of course it looked dark. The power was out. No big deal. Everyone along the river was dealing with the same emergency.

So why hadn’t her daughters answered their cells? Why hadn’t Turnquist?

She tried to push her key into the lock but the door swung open and the dark house was cold. Lifeless. “Cassie!” she yelled, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “Allie! Hey, I’m home. Cassie! Jake!”

“What’s going on?” Rinda asked, one step behind her.

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.” But Jenna’s heart was pounding fearfully, the hairs on the back of her neck at attention. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She smelled it in the cold air, heard it in the silence.

A fire burned low in the grate and she fumbled in a kitchen drawer for a flashlight, flicked it on, and yelled again. “Cassie! Where are you? Allie!”

But the house was silent, aside from the sound of wind gusts buffeting the gables, the rattle of windows high in the attic. Only her own voice seeming to echo back to her. The interior was more than cold. It felt lifeless. As if no one were home.

A chill as frigid as death hissed down her spine. “He’s got them,” she whispered, a brutal fear grabbing hold of her throat. “He’s got them.”

“Who?”

Her cell phone jangled in her pocket.

“Thank God.” For a second, her worries scurried back into the dark corners of her mind. Jake had probably taken the girls into town or somewhere safe when the power had failed, and he, too, was held up by impassable roads. That was it. That
had
to be it. “Hello?” she called into the phone, but no one answered. “Hello? Who is this? Jake? Carter?” She was nearly screaming when she heard something, not a voice, but the haunting notes from a movie…her first starring role, the theme song from
Innocence Lost
.

She nearly collapsed.

Him!
He was taunting her. She looked wildly around, the yellowish beam of her flashlight sweeping over the chairs and counters in the kitchen. “Who is this?” she demanded. “Who the hell is this?” But the phone went dead in her hands. She sank against the kitchen counter because she knew it was true. Her worst fears were now reality: the madman, whoever the son of a bitch was, had her daughters.