Snow Blind

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Wrong again. I’m a legal assistant right now, but I’m going to school to learn how to become a mediator and...” She stamped her furry boot. “Sorry, when I get nervous I talk too much. And there isn’t time. Oh, God, there isn’t time.”

He responded to her sense of urgency. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s easier if I show you. Come out here.” She led him onto the balcony and slapped a pair of binoculars into his hand. “I was looking through those at the hotel, and I witnessed an attack. There was a lot of blood. Now do you understand? This woman might be bleeding to death while we stand here.”

He held the binoculars to his eyes and adjusted the focus. The view into the hotel rooms was crystal clear. As unlikely as her story sounded, it was possible.

“Exactly what did you see?”

“Let’s go back inside. It’s freezing out here.” She bustled into the condo, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “Okay, there was a black-haired woman in a white jumpsuit sitting at a table opposite a guy I couldn’t see as well, because there was a plant in the way. I think he was wearing a turtleneck. And I think he had brown hair. That’s right, brown hair. She had a gold necklace. They were eating. Then I looked away. Then I looked back.”

As she spoke, her head whipped to the right and then to the left, mimicking her words. Her long blond hair flipped back and forth. “Go on,” he said.

“The woman was standing, gesturing. She seemed angry. The guy came at her. I could only see his back. When the woman stepped away, there was blood on the front of her white jumpsuit. A lot of blood.” Sasha paused. Her lower lip quivered. “The man caught her before she fell, and that was when I got a clear look at his face.”

“Would you recognize him again?”

“I think so.”

The details in her account made him think that she actually had seen something. The explanation might turn out to be more innocent than she suspected, but further investigation was necessary. “Do you know which room it was?”

She shook her head. “They turned out the lights. I’m not even sure it was the fifth floor or the sixth. Not the corner room but one or two down from it.”

“I want you to remember everything you told me. Later I’ll need for you to write out your statement. But right now I want you to come with me to the hotel.”

For the first time since he’d come into the condo, she grinned. Her whole face lit up, and he felt a wave of pure sunshine washing toward him. He stared at her soft pink mouth as she spoke. “You believe me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Immediately, he reined in his attraction toward her. She was a witness, nothing more.

“I don’t know. It just seems... I don’t know.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Get dressed.”

She turned on her heel and dashed across the condo to the hallway. He heard the sound of a door closing. As he moved toward the exit, he checked out the high-end furnishings and electronics. Bubbly little Sasha seemed too lively, energetic and youthful to be comfortable with these polished surroundings. She lacked the sophistication that he associated with high-priced attorneys.

It bothered him that she’d expected he wouldn’t believe her statement. Even though she’d related her account of the assault with clear details, she seemed unsure of herself. That hesitant attitude didn’t work for him. He was about to go to the hotel and ask questions that would inconvenience the staff and guests. Brady needed for Sasha to be a credible witness.

When she bounded down the hallway in red jeans and a black parka with fake fur around the collar, she looked presentable, especially since she’d ditched the fuzzy boots for a sensible pair of hiking shoes. Then she put on a white knit cap with a goofy pom-pom on top and gave him one of those huge smiles. Damn, she was cute with her rosy cheeks and button nose. As he looked at her, something inside him melted.

If they’d been going on a sleigh ride or a hike, he would have been happy to have her as his companion. But Sasha wasn’t his first choice as a witness. At the hotel, he’d try to avoid mentioning that she’d been peeping at the hotel through binoculars.

* * *

SASHA CLIMBED INTO the passenger side of the SUV and fastened her seat belt. A combination of excitement and dread churned through her veins. She was scared about what she’d seen and fearful about what might have happened to the woman in white. At the same time, she was glad to be able to help. Because of the circumstance—a strange, unlikely moment when she’d peeked through those binoculars at precisely the right time—she might save that woman’s life.

She glanced toward Deputy Brady. “Is this what it feels like to be a cop?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“My pulse is racing. That’s the adrenaline, right? And I’m tingling all over.”

“Could be the champagne,” he said drily.

She’d all but forgotten the three glasses of champagne she’d had in the hot tub. “I’ve been drunk before, and it doesn’t feel anything like this.”

When Brady turned on the flashing lights and the wailing siren, her excitement ratcheted up higher. This was serious business, police business. They were about to make a difference in someone’s life, pursuing a would-be killer, rescuing a victim.

Her emotions popped like fireworks in contrast to Brady’s absolute calm. He was a big man—solid and capable. His jawline and cleft chin seemed to be set in granite in spite of a dimple at the left corner of his mouth. His hazel eyes were steady and cool. In spite of the sheriff’s department logo on the sleeve of his dark blue jacket and the gun holster on his belt next to his badge, he didn’t look much like a cop. He wore dark brown boots and jeans and a black cowboy hat. The hat made her think he might be a local.

She raised her voice so he could hear her over the siren. “Have you lived in Arcadia long?”

“Born and raised,” he said. “My uncle Dooley owned the land where your condo, the hotel and the ski lodge are built.”

“You’re related to Matthew Dooley?”

“I am.”

That wily old rancher was one of the four investors in the Arcadia development. Dooley was big and rangy, much like Brady, and he always wore a cowboy hat and bolo tie. During most of the meetings in the conference room at the Three Ss, he appeared to be sleeping but managed to come alive when there was an issue that concerned him.

“I like your uncle,” she said. “He’s a character.”

“He plays by his own rules.”

And he could afford to. Even before the investment in his land Dooley was a multimillionaire from all the mountain property he had owned and sold over the years. Brady’s relationship to him explained the cowboy hat and the boots. But why was he working as a deputy? “Your family is rich.”

“I’m not keeping score.”

“Easy to say when you’re on the winning team.” Her family hadn’t been poor, but with five kids they’d struggled to get by. If it hadn’t been for scholarships and student loans, she never would have finished college. Paying for her continuing education was going to be a strain. “What made you decide to be a deputy?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

She sensed his resistance and wondered if he had a deep reason for choosing a career in law enforcement. “You can tell me.”

He gave her a sidelong look, assessing her. Then he turned his gaze back toward the road. They were approaching the hotel. “When we go inside, let me do the talking.”

“I might be able to help,” she said. “I’m a pretty good negotiator.”

“This is a police matter. I’m in charge. Do you understand?”

“Okay.”

Though she was capable of standing up for herself, she didn’t mind letting him do the talking. Not only was he a local who probably knew half the people who worked here, but Brady had the authority of the badge.