Snowblind Justice

Travis indicated Brodie should follow him. “I need you to get to work on identifying Lynn Wallace’s vehicle,” he said. “I think Alex will ditch it as soon as he can, but he might not have had a chance yet. You can use my office.”

“Tell me what you know about Alex,” Brodie said.

“Alex Woodruff. A college student at the Colorado State University—or he was until recently. He doesn’t have any priors, at least under that name, and that’s the only name I’ve found for him.”

“Emily goes to the Colorado State University, doesn’t she?” Brodie asked. Knowing he was coming to Eagle Mountain, he’d checked her Facebook page. “Do they know each other?”

The lines around Travis’s mouth tightened. “She says he participated in a research study she and her colleagues conducted, but they weren’t friends, just acquaintances.”

“What brought him to Eagle Mountain?”

“He and Tim supposedly came here to ice climb over their winter break and got stuck here when blizzards closed the highway. They were staying at an aunt’s vacation cabin until recently.”

“I’ll get right on the search for the car,” Brodie said. As he walked to his SUV, he considered the connection between Alex Woodruff and Emily Walker. His work investigating crimes had taught him to be skeptical of coincidence, but until he had further proof, he wasn’t going to add to Travis’s concerns by voicing the worry that now filled his mind. What if the thing that had brought Alex and Tim to Eagle Mountain wasn’t ice climbing—but Emily?

Chapter Three (#ub3f277e0-5cc8-542e-906f-5c3a77de35ab)

“Thank you, Professor. That would be so helpful. I’ll review everything and be ready to discuss it when I see you next week after the wedding.” Emily hung up the phone and mentally checked off one more item on her Tuesday to-do list. All her professors had agreed to excuse her for another week so that she could help with the preparations for Travis and Lacy’s wedding. Though she could have made the six-hour drive back to Fort Collins to attend a few classes and try to catch up on all she had missed while stranded by the snow, the last thing she wanted was for the road to close again, forcing her to miss the wedding.

Instead, someone in her department had volunteered to make the drive out here to deliver files for Emily to review. She had protested that it was ridiculous to make such a long drive, but apparently more than one person had been eager for the excuse to get off campus for a while. The risk of getting stranded in Eagle Mountain if another storm system rolled in had only heightened the appeal.

She moved on to the next item on her list. She needed to check on her horse, Witchy. The mare had developed inflammation in one leg shortly after the first of the year and veterinarian Darcy Marsh had prescribed a course of treatment that appeared to be working, but Emily was supposed to exercise her lightly each day and check that there was no new swelling. Slipping on her barn coat—the same one she had worn as a teenager—she headed out the door and down the drive to the horse barn. Sunlight shimmered on the snow that covered everything like a starched white sheet. Every breath stung her nose, reminding her that temperatures hovered in the twenties. She still marveled that it could be so cold when the sun shone so brightly overhead, giving the air a clean, lemony light.

The barn’s interior presented a sharp contrast to the outside world, its atmosphere warm from the breath of animals and smelling of a not-unpleasant mixture of molasses, hay and manure. A plaintive meow! greeted Emily, and a gray-striped cat trotted toward her, the cat’s belly swollen with kittens soon to be born. “Aww, Tawny.” Emily bent and gently stroked the cat, who started up a rumbling purr and leaned against Emily’s legs. “It won’t be long now, will it?” Emily crooned, feeling the kittens shift beneath her hand. She’d have to make sure Tawny had a warm, comfortable place to give birth.

She straightened and several of the family’s horses poked their heads over the tops of their stalls. Witchy, in an end stall on the left-hand side, whinnied softly and stamped against the concrete floor of her stall.

Emily slipped into the stall and greeted Witchy, patting her neck, then bent to examine the bandaged front pastern. It no longer felt hot or swollen, though Darcy had recommended wrapping it for a few weeks longer to provide extra support. Emily breathed a sigh of relief. For a brief period during her childhood, she had considered studying to be a veterinarian, but had quickly ruled out any job that required dealing with animals’ suffering.

“Are you contemplating climbing down out of your ivory tower and hiring on as the newest ranch hand?”

Emily froze as Brodie’s oh-so-familiar teasing tone and velvety voice flowed around her like salted caramel—both sweet and biting. She was aware of her position, bent over with her backside facing the stall door, where she sensed him standing. She turned her head, and sure enough, Brodie had leaned over the top half of the stall door, grinning, the cat cradled in his arms.

With as much dignity as she could muster, she released her hold on the horse’s leg and straightened. “Brodie, what are you doing here?” she asked.

He stroked the cat under the chin. Tawny closed her eyes and purred even louder. Emily had an uncomfortable memory of Brodie stroking her—eliciting a response not unlike that of the cat. “I was looking for you,” he said. “Someone told me you’re in charge of a bonfire and barbecue here Wednesday.”

“Yes.” She took a lead rope from a peg just outside the stall door and clipped it onto Witchy’s halter. The mare regarded her with big gold-brown eyes like warm honey. “What about it?”

“I was hoping to wrangle an invite, since I’m staying on the ranch. It would be awkward if I felt the need to lock myself in my cabin for the evening.”

She slid back the latch on the door and pushed it open, forcing Brodie to stand aside, then led the mare out. “I have to exercise Witchy,” she said.

He gave the cat a last pat, then set her gently aside and fell into step beside Emily, matching his long strides to her own shorter ones. “I didn’t realize you were staying at the ranch,” she said. He hadn’t been at dinner last night, but then, neither had Travis. The two men had been working on the case. Frankly, she was shocked her parents had invited Brodie to stay. They certainly had no love lost for him, after what had happened between him and Emily.

“When the CBI agreed to send an investigator to help with the Ice Cold Killer case, Travis asked your parents if they could provide a place for the officer to stay. They were kind enough to offer up one of their guest cabins.”

“Wouldn’t it be more convenient for you in town?” she asked.

“There aren’t any rooms in town,” Brodie said. “They’re all full of people stranded here by the road closure. I imagine that will change now that the avalanches have been cleared and it’s safe to travel again, but in the meantime, your folks were gracious enough to let me stay.” He fell silent, but she could feel his eyes on her, heating her neck and sending prickles of awareness along her arms. “Does it bother you, having me here?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

She led Witchy out of the barn, along a fenced passage to a covered arena. Brodie moved forward to open the gate for her. “Are you going to ride her?” he asked.

Emily shook her head. “She’s still recovering from an injury. But I need to walk her around the arena for a few laps.”

“I’ll walk with you.” He didn’t bother asking permission—men like Brodie didn’t ask. He wasn’t cruel or demanding or even particularly arrogant. He just accepted what people—women—had always given him—attention, time, sex. All he had to do was smile and flash those sea-blue eyes and most women would give him anything he wanted.

She had been like that, too, so she understood the magnetism of the man. But she wasn’t that adoring girl anymore, and she knew to be wary. “Of course you can come to the bonfire,” she said. “It’s really no big deal.”

She began leading the mare around the arena, watching the horse for any sign of pain or weakness, but very aware of the man beside her. “Tell me about Alex Woodruff,” he said.

The question startled her, so much that she stumbled. She caught herself and continued on as if nothing had happened. “Why are you asking me about Alex?”

“I’ve been reviewing all the case notes. He was here, at the scavenger hunt the day Fiona Winslow was killed.”

“Yes. He and his friend Tim were here. I invited them.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I knew the road closure had stranded them here and I felt sorry for them, stuck in a small town where they didn’t know many people. I figured the party would be something fun for them to do, and a way to meet some local people near their age.” She cut her gaze over to him. “Why are you asking me about Alex?”

He did that annoying thing Travis sometimes did, answering a question with a question. “You knew Alex and Tim from the university?”

“I didn’t really know them.” She stopped and bent to run her hand down Witchy’s leg, feeling for any warmth or swelling or sign of inflammation. “They both signed up as volunteers for research we were doing. Lots of students do. Most of the studies only pay five to ten dollars, but the work isn’t hard and cash is cash to a broke student.”

“What kind of research?” Brodie asked.

She straightened and looked him in the eye. She loved her work and could talk about it with almost anyone. If she talked long enough, maybe he’d get bored and leave. “I’m studying behavioral economics. It’s sort of a melding of traditional psychology and economics. We look at how people make the buying decisions they make and why. Almost every choice has a price attached to it, and it can be interesting what motivates people to act one way versus another.”

“How did Alex and Tim hear about your experiments?”

“We have flyers all over campus, and on social media.” She shrugged. “They were both psychology majors, so I think the research appealed to them. I ran into Alex in a coffee shop on campus two days later and he had a lot of intelligent questions about what we were doing.”

“Maybe he had studied so he’d have questions prepared so he could keep you talking,” Brodie said. “Maybe he was flirting with you.”

“Oh, please.” She didn’t hide her scorn for this idea. “He was not flirting. If anything, he was showing off.”

One eyebrow rose a scant quarter inch—enough to make him look even cockier than usual. “Showing off is some men’s idea of flirting.”

“You would know about that, wouldn’t you?”

His wicked grin sent a current of heat through her. “When you’re good, it’s not showing off,” he said.

She wished she was the kind of woman who had a snappy comeback for a line like that, but it was taking all her concentration to avoid letting him see he was getting to her. So instead of continuing to flirt, she started forward with the horse once more and changed the subject. “Are you going to be able to help Travis catch the Ice Cold Killer?” she asked.

Brodie’s expression sobered. Yes, nothing like a serial murderer to dampen the libido. “I’m going to do my best,” he said. “We know who we’re looking for now—we just have to find him.”