In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel (24 page)

Now that she was no longer enveloped in the
warm water, the air in the small room felt sharply cool against her
wet skin. She stood there for a moment, almost completely still,
simply allowing the moisture to drip to the floor and the contrast
in temperature to shock her out of the lull of relaxation.

Maybe some of the edge was gone from her
physical exhaustion; she still felt like she could sleep for two
days straight. Unfortunately, the long shower had gone a long way
toward reinforcing that desire. The pervasive tiredness was still
trying to pull her under, and according to what she’d seen in the
mirror earlier, her face was showing it. However, it seemed that
some of the eight plus hours of wrestling with the comforter had
helped a little, because her mind actually seemed to be
clearing—for the moment, at least. How long it would stay that way
was the big question.

After a deep yawn and a few purposeful deep
breaths, she forced herself to pull down a fresh towel from the
bent wire rack hanging on the wall over the back of the toilet. As
she began to dry herself, her eyes briefly fell upon her
unholstered semi-automatic pistol resting atop a folded hand towel
she had laid across the cracked lid of the stool’s porcelain
tank.

She was sure of one thing. Whatever sleep she
might have managed definitely hadn’t been enough to quell her
paranoia. Whether warranted or not, it was still firmly entrenched
in her gut, and that could turn into a serious problem.

If it hadn’t already…

PLOWING
parking lots apparently wasn’t
a high priority in Hulis, especially not at a motel with only one
paying guest and an owner who was rumored to be a cheapskate. After
pushing out her door and trudging through the drifts, Constance
checked with the office and discovered that a relative of the owner
was supposed to be taking care of snow removal sometime today.

Maybe.

Since the aforementioned relative was doing
the job as a favor, the owner didn’t know exactly when, or even for
sure
if
it would be happening. Unfortunately, that was the
best he could do, because everyone else wanted money to plow the
lot.

Constance reminded him why she was here and
that she would definitely need to use her car later in the day,
which meant she had to be able to actually drive it off the parking
lot. He simply gave her his non-committal answer once again.
Frustrated with the circular conversation, she gave up and headed
back out into the cold, firmly convinced that the cheapskate rumor
had now been officially promoted to undeniable fact.

She was already out the door when she
realized that she had forgotten to ask him whether he knew offhand
if
That Place
was open today. She considered turning around
and going back in but decided she really wasn’t in the mood to deal
with him again right now. Besides, he’d probably charge her for the
answer. She thought about returning to her room so that she could
look up their number and give them a call but abandoned that idea
as well. The motel wasn’t all that far from the center of town.
Just a few blocks in fact, and since she’d missed her morning
workouts for three days now, the exercise would do her good. Maybe
it would even help to wake her up and clear her head some
more
.

Given the dim view of the holidays that was
pervasive around Hulis, she had a feeling they would be open for
business, even though it was Christmas Eve day. If she was wrong
and they were closed, she could just turn around and walk back to
the motel. There was, after all, still an MRE in her suitcase and
plenty of paper that she needed to go over for a third time. Not to
mention a confusing riddle that was waiting for an answer.

After readjusting her scarf and donning her
gloves, Constance set out on the short trek. In front of the motel
she waited while a lone, four-door sedan rolled slowly by,
carefully negotiating the plowed but still snowy street. Once
clear, she crossed and aimed herself toward the center of town.

EVEN
at a distance of less than
twenty-five yards away, Constance couldn’t really see into the
diner all that well due to the fogged windows. However, that in
itself was a good sign, not to mention several cars were parked in
the diagonal spaces out front.

A minute later when she reached the end of
the shoveled sidewalk outside
That Place
, she could see the
open sign and detect movement beyond the hoary condensation. She
stomped her feet a few times, knocking off the excess snow her
shoes had collected, then opened the door and went in. The warm
interior of the diner felt good, and the intertwined aromas of
eggs, bacon, and just food in general made her stomach gurgle with
anticipation.

Even with the added labor of hiking around
drifts and when necessary through a half foot of freshly fallen
snow, the distance she had walked was only a fraction of her normal
morning run. However, you couldn’t convince her legs of that fact.
They were already feeling rubbery before she was within sight of
the diner. By the time she arrived they were numb. Of course, the
temperature hadn’t helped in that department.

The leading edge of the predicted arctic
front was already hitting the town, and the breeze it carried had
sharp teeth. The exposed areas of her cheeks bore the
weather-reddened bite marks to prove it.

Constance peeled off her gloves and scarf,
stuffing them into pockets, then pulled off her coat. As she
perched herself on one of the vinyl-topped stools at the lunch
counter, she draped the heavy outer garment across her lap in a bid
to warm her frozen legs. Snatching up a folded paper menu, she
looked it over while her stomach serenaded her yet again.

That Place
was far busier than it had
been the last time she’d visited. It wasn’t at capacity, but she
counted nearly one-dozen customers with a single quick glance. She
had positioned herself at the empty end of the U-shaped counter,
the farthest position away from any of the other patrons. She
already knew they weren’t overly excited about her presence here in
town—or so she’d been told. Thus far the receptions she’d received
seemed to support that, so why make them any more uncomfortable.
Besides, as it happened, she wasn’t feeling particularly social at
the moment either, so she broke one of her own rules and sat with
her back to the door. She was too tired and hungry to worry about
it.

It was only a few moments before Stella came
over and asked, “Coffee?”

Constance gave her an animated nod. “Yes,
please.”

“Regular?”

“Absolutely.”

The girl’s demeanor was suitably cordial, but
her body language was patently guarded, much as she had been the
times before. Once she had filled a mug and placed it in front of
the federal agent she said, “What can I get you?”

Constance shot a last glance at the menu then
placed it to the side and said, “How about a short stack, and two
eggs on the side. Scrambled.”

“Do you want bacon or sausage with that?”
Stella asked, her words flat and automatic.

“Do you have turkey bacon?” Constance
replied.

“No ma’am, just real bacon.”

She started to decline then felt her stomach
rumble. “That’s fine. Bacon sounds good. Do you have any grapefruit
juice?”

Stella shook her head. “Just orange or
cranberry.”

Strike two. Constance mulled it over for a
second, then nodded. She preferred grapefruit and would normally
just skip juice if it wasn’t available, but she also knew her
kidneys were probably screaming for something besides coffee and
cola. “Okay. Cranberry will work. And a large water.”

“Okay. I’ll have that out in just a couple of
minutes.”

Once Stella had started toward the doors at
the back of the lunch counter, Constance set about doctoring her
java. Two sugars, one creamer, as usual, unless Ben was responsible
for making it, of course. You simply couldn’t resuscitate his
coffee, no matter what you dumped into it. She’d already tried more
time than she could count. It was a lost cause.

She glanced at her watch. Almost 8:30. Ben
had been planning to take the day off since they were supposed to
be spending it together. She’d try him after breakfast. Maybe he
could help her with that bizarre holiday riddle, and a friendly
voice definitely wouldn’t be unwelcome either.

The murmur of unintelligible conversations
between patrons provided a dull base rhythm for the kitchen noises
issuing at odd intervals from beyond the café doors at the back of
the small restaurant. Punctuating the muddy soundtrack came the
sudden clang and grind of an old, mechanical cash register.
Constance looked up to see a diner paying his bill, and after he
exchanged a pleasantry or two with Stella he waved to some of the
other customers and started for the door. When he hooked around the
end of the counter he glanced at Constance, his lips stitched
together in a thin frown. When their eyes accidentally met, he gave
her a curt nod. The motion was tense, as if it was something he
didn’t want to do, but because custom dictated it so, he had no
choice. She returned the gesture and focused her attention back on
her coffee.

A moment later, a bell pealed out a metallic
jangle, and a stiff blast of icy wind immediately groped at her
back. She could feel the uncomfortable massage of its chilled
fingers even through her heavy sweatshirt and the insulated crew
top she was wearing underneath.

She gave a slight shudder as she hunched
forward, trying to escape the gust, then finished stirring her
coffee and laid the spoon aside on a napkin. She cupped her hands
around the mug and huddled over it, allowing its warmth to soak
into her palms. The brass bell finally rattled a second time as the
door swung shut, ending the unwanted touch of Old Man Winter.

However, the reprieve didn’t seem to
last.

She didn’t hear the man at first. In fact,
she felt his presence and then she smelled him. A deep chill was
radiating outward from his coat, just as it would from a block of
dry ice. It expanded through the air between them and brushed
against her cheek. With it came the unmistakable scent of spicy
aftershave. It reminded her of something she used to give to her
grandfathers for Christmas when she was a little girl.

She had just lifted her cup and was taking a
sip of her coffee when the man slipped onto the stool at her right
side. Even though there were several others available, he had
chosen the one immediately next to hers. She heard him shifting on
his seat, and then his upper arm briefly pressed against her own.
However, it was not as if it were an accidental brush. It lingered
there just long enough that it seemed almost deliberate.

She immediately tensed and her mind began
ticking through the options.

Her first inclination was to fire off a
sarcastic volley, asking if she was in his way. However, she
thought better of it before the words escaped. She needed to keep
her foul mood contained, especially given her pariah status among
the people of Hulis already. Barking at one of them certainly
wouldn’t gain her any friends.

Of course, since she was an outsider, that
also narrowed the field a bit too. The only person she could think
of off the top of her head who would purposely sit next to her was
Sheriff Carmichael. Since the sheriff’s department was across the
street, he seemed a likely candidate. All except for the fact that
he was a cop and an unnaturally observant one at that. She was
absolutely certain he would realize that placing himself in such
close proximity on the side she carried her weapon would make her
painfully uneasy. She couldn’t fathom him doing such a thing,
unless for some odd reason making her uncomfortable was his
intent.