Deep Freeze Page 7

Jenna glanced at the leaden sky as they hurried to the parking lot. “I believe it.”

  “Got time for a cup of coffee before the storm breaks?”

  “I’d love one, but I’d better take a rain check. I’ve got some problems with my Jeep and pump and who-knows-what else.”

  “Something I could help you with?”

  Jenna grinned. “Careful,” she said, “you don’t know what you’re getting into.” She yanked open the door of her truck and Critter started wagging his tail wildly as she hoisted herself up behind the steering wheel. “But I might just take you up on it if Hans can’t fix the problem.”

  “Do. Really.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  She pulled the door shut and forced the old truck into gear before she maneuvered the big rig out of the icy parking lot. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Travis, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jacket, walking to his truck. He was fit and good-looking, with sharp features and eyes that didn’t miss much. His hair was a warm brown that, she suspected, lightened in the summer, and whatever baggage he carried around about being a single father, he managed to stash away somewhere. Jenna had heard it rumored he’d lost his wife to some disease, but she wasn’t sure if that was unfounded, small-town gossip or a hard-and-fast fact. Someday maybe he’d tell her.

  If she gave him the chance.

  “Come on, let’s ditch.” Josh’s arm was around her shoulders and his face was only inches from hers as they sat, smoking, in his pickup, a relic from the 1970s that he’d “cherried-out” with huge tires, chrome rims, mag wheels, and a stereo system that could almost blow the roof off the cab. The body of the truck was lifted so high that Cassie had to use the running board to climb inside. Josh thought it was cool. Cassie thought it was kind of stupid. “We’re already tardy,” he was saying. “Why not make it a day?”

  “Cuz my mom will kill me,” Cassie argued. “I can explain why I’m late to class, come up with something, but if I miss the day, she’ll ground me for life!”

  “She’s always grounding you,” he grumbled.

  That was true, Cassie thought, dragging hard on her cigarette and letting the smoke curl out of her nose.

  “You’ll talk your way out of it.”

  “I already have to deal with last night.”

  “Shit.” He rolled down his window and flicked out the butt of his Marlboro. “You should have been more careful.”

  “We,” she reminded him, trying to tamp down her anger. “We should have been more careful.” She glanced out the side-view window to the park, empty now, the playground equipment vacant, the trees bare of any leaves. “I probably shouldn’t have snuck out.”

  “You had a good time, didn’t you?” He nuzzled her neck, lips brushing her nape, and she shrugged him off.

  “It was all right.”

  “No, babe, it was great.” He squeezed her to add emphasis to his position.

  “Yeah,” she said, without any enthusiasm. She had enjoyed herself, she supposed, parked far up on the mountain, getting a nice little buzz from the weed and beer, but she still had a bad feeling about it. Not because she’d gotten caught. Not because she’d snuck out. But because of Josh. Sometimes…sometimes he came off like a real hick, and she thought that he might be more interested in her famous mother than he was in her. Unlike the girls in her class, who were obviously jealous. She sighed. In the eighteen months she’d lived here, she hadn’t made one single friend she could really count on. Aside from Josh. And sometimes he was questionable. In L.A. she’d had lots of girls she hung out with at the private school her father had insisted upon. Rich kids, some with famous families, most connected in some way to the film or music industry. Paige and Colby and Bella…real friends who understood. The yahoos in Falls Crossing all looked at her as if she were some kind of freak.

  Maybe she was.

  She shivered. Even though Josh had cranked the heat in the pickup to high, she was still cold. This damned weather and the stupid truck weren’t part of her fantasy date. In L.A. it would be warm. Maybe even hot. And she’d be sitting in a BMW or Range Rover or Mercedes convertible. New cars that didn’t need to be “tricked out.” They came with all the bells and whistles.

  “I think we should drive up to Catwalk Point,” he said, and she felt her insides turn to ice.

  “Why?”

  “Haven’t you heard? They found a body up there.”

  “And you want to go?”

  “It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in years. I think we should check it out.”

  “No way.”

  “Chicken?”

  “There are cops up there, and we’d be caught for cutting class.”

  “Not if we’re careful.”

  “Forget it.”

  “I can’t,” he said, and his eyes glinted with a bit of macabre excitement. She felt a frisson of fear—or was it intrigue?—skitter up her spine. But she couldn’t risk it. Not today. “Look, I’ve really got to go.” She squashed out her cigarette in the ashtray and pushed open the door.

  “Oh, come on. Do you really want to go to chemistry and English?”

  “No. I don’t.” Hopping onto the hard ground, she looked up at his hangdog expression. His hair was shaved nearly to his scalp, his sideburns pencil-thin, his goatee a shadow that was against school rules. He claimed his folks didn’t care about him, that his stepdad thought school was “a waste of time.” His mom, it seemed, had given up on her kids. College wasn’t in his future. Unless he joined the military. “I’ve really got to go.” Before he could argue, she walked briskly toward the school. She’d already missed the first class of the day, a fifteen-minute mini-period held for the express purpose of announcements and attendance, so she was screwed. The school would call her mother before noon. Great.

  She cut through an alley and heard Josh’s truck scrape into gear, then the engine roar as he gunned it. His big tires chirped as he angrily headed out of town.

  Well, fine! She didn’t look over her shoulder, just in case he could see her in his rearview mirror. No matter what her mother thought, Cassie didn’t always do what Josh wanted. God, it wasn’t as if she was under his spell or he was her Svengali or anything dumb like that. Sometimes her mom bugged the hell out of her.

  She ran up the steps to the school.

  Get a clue, Mom, she thought disgustedly. And while you’re at it, get a life!

  CHAPTER 7

  “I know a helluva lot more about horses than I do about machines,” Hans admitted as he wiped his hands and stared at the pump in the tiny pump house between the barn and garage. Hans Dvorak was a short, wiry man with silvery stubble on his chin and a flat nose that looked as if someone had punched it in years before. He’d worked outdoors with horses all his life and had the ruddy complexion to prove it. He’d managed to replace the taillight in the truck, but this pump was another story. “It’s froze up solid.” Red-faced, ski cap pulled over his ears, he’d bent onto one knee. “And here’s the reason, I think. Check out this wire.”

  Using the beam of a flashlight, he pointed to the electrical connection in question. The wire had become loose, the ends ragged, as if they’d been chewed by an animal. “I can probably patch this up, but look around.” He swept the beam across the interior of the old building, which was little more than a shed. It was dirty, dusty, lacked proper insulation, and was freezing inside. The single lightbulb in the ceiling was dim.

  The pump house was one of the areas pointed out by the inspector who’d checked out the place before she’d bought it. Even though he’d suggested new wiring, updated plumbing, a new roof, improved security system, and countless other updates to the buildings, she’d had her heart set on moving to this remote spot and had promised herself to take care of all the needed repairs. She’d made a good start, but some of the old equipment—this pump, the electronic gates, the security system—seemed to have minds of their own. No matter how many times they were fixed, they continued to b
reak down.

  “You know, I told the McReedys for years that the place needed new wiring. Would Asa listen? Hell, no! And when he put it on the market, I was sure he’d fix things up, but you came along before he had to do anything.”

  “I should have taken care of everything the minute I moved in, but there was too much.” She’d spent a lot of time and money replacing windows and doors, refinishing the wood floors, and attending to the wiring inside the house. She’d figured the outbuildings could wait. Apparently she’d been wrong. “I planned to do some more updating this coming spring. I guess I waited too long,” Jenna said, her breath fogging. God, it was cold. And getting colder by the minute.

  “Well, we’ll figure something out,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I’ve got enough water for the horses in the troughs, but that’s gonna freeze tonight.” Hans squinted and shook his head. “I should have come over last night and started a drip to keep the water flowing through the pipes. If I had, I might have noticed the wiring and we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “It’s not your fault, okay? I think I’d better get a plumber out here pronto.”

  “And an electrician.”

  “And a mechanic.” They’d already looked at the Jeep and tried to jump it. The damned engine didn’t so much as turn over.

  “Isn’t there anyone I can hire that can fix everything?”

  “Maybe. Jim Klondike’s a good all-around handyman but he’s probably pretty busy.” Hans lifted his hat and rubbed his near-bald head. “Then there’s Seth Whitaker and…oh, what’s his name, the guy that lives up the river—” He snapped his fingers. “Don Ramsby. Owns his own garage. They all could be pretty busy. Other folks are probably in the same spot as you today.”

  “I imagine.” As Hans turned to the stable where she housed the five horses Allie adored, Jenna walked into the house and hoped to find a local handyman who could help her. “Fat chance,” she thought aloud. In the den, she opened the drawer where she kept her phone books and noticed the red light blinking on her answering machine. Crossing her fingers that Allie hadn’t decided she was feeling worse or that she’d left something else in the truck, Jenna played the messages. The first was from the high school. Cassie, whom she’d dropped off a couple of blocks from the school, was officially AWOL. “Fabulous,” Jenna muttered sarcastically, but refused to panic. Obviously Cassie was with Josh. A lot of good grounding did. The second call was from Harrison Brennan, her neighbor. He was nearly fifty, retired from the Air Force, single, and had intimated more than once that she needed a man to help her out with her place.

  Today, she thought unhappily, he was right.

  The problem was that Harrison considered himself a prime candidate for the job. They’d dated a few times and it was obvious that he was interested in her. She wasn’t certain what she felt for him, but he certainly wasn’t the love of her life, nor her “soul mate,” a term she didn’t understand nor really trust. He was a friend. She doubted he would ever be more.

  “I’m sorry I missed you,” Harrison had recorded. “I was just checkin’ in. I hear we’re in for one helluva storm and wondered if you needed a hand with anything. Give me a call when you get in.”

  She hesitated. She didn’t want to depend on Harrison or let him know that some of his instincts were valid or that she couldn’t handle these rugged acres on her own. When she’d moved to Falls Crossing, she’d been determined to make it on her own and didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. If she’d learned anything from her marriage to Robert, it was that the only person on whom she could count was herself. So she’d better be strong.

  Sighing, she wondered if everyone in California had been right. Maybe her move north had been a rash decision. It had seemed like a good idea to give up her cheating husband, stalled career, and glitzy life in Southern California. She’d opted for something more “real” for her two children and herself, and this large estate set in the mountainous terrain of the Columbia River had caught her attention when she’d been up visiting her friend Rinda and noticed the “For Sale” sign bolted onto the gate. She’d called a local realtor, been shown the ranch, and made an offer. Private, if isolated, her new home was close enough to I-84 that she envisioned herself popping onto the freeway and driving into Portland in a little over an hour.

  The place had seemed perfect when she’d moved here. Set in the hills with oak, pine, and fir trees, a creek, five horses, and an old, half-blind dog that came with the rambling, three-storied log cabin, the hilly acres had appeared to be just what her splintered little family had needed. Charming paned windows, a sharply peaked roof, dormers, and French doors stained to match the rest of the wood interior were complemented by two massive stone fireplaces. Once owned by a timber baron, the house and acres were quaint. Bucolic. A refuge.

  Jenna had fallen in love with the ranch.

  Of course, she’d first seen the gated acres in the waning days of summer when the weather was dry and warm, the view of the swift, dark river spectacular. And it had been at a time when she’d needed to escape the nightmare that had become her life. This house was so roomy, yet cozy, with its north-woodsy, log-cabin charm, and it was only half an hour away from skiing on Mount Hood. The private log home had seemed custom-made for her and her kids.

  But not today, she thought. With the wind whistling down the gorge, the impending threat of snow and ice, and no running water, the place wasn’t quite so enchanting.

  A second after she clicked off the recorder, the phone rang. Jenna picked up the receiver and before she could say a word, she heard, “Mom? It’s Cassie. I missed first period, but I’m here at the school and I have to go or Mr. Rivers will mark me absent in Chemistry.”

  “Why were you late?”

  “It’s complicated. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. I just wanted you to know I’m okay. ’Bye.”

  “Cassie, wait—” she said, but heard her daughter click off. “’Bye,” she said to herself and sighed. “Fabulous.” She glanced down at Critter, who thumped his tail against the floor obligingly. “Just damned fabulous.”

  “I called the Oregon Department of Transportation. ODOT’s got sanding crews and plows ready. We could get freezing rain as well as snow. In that case we’ll not only lose road service, but we’ll have power outages and people will be stranded. So far, I-84 is clear and passable, but if it gets bad, the State Police will shut it down,” Deputy Hixx was saying from his patrol car somewhere in the county. Carter had the guy on speaker phone in his office and while listening with half an ear, was also skimming his e-mail, hoping for something from the crime lab on the Jane Doe that Charley Perry had discovered.

  “Just keep me posted on the road conditions. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the storm won’t hit.”

  “Yeah, right,” Hixx said, without so much as a chuckle. “You know the old saying ‘when hell freezes over?’ Well, I think this is it.”

  Twenty-nine-year-old Bill Hixx was a glass-is-half-empty sort, but this time, Carter thought as he hung up, the kid was probably right. And the storm, if it was as bad as predicted, would make life hell for everyone, especially the electrical crews, road service people, and, of course, law enforcement. He looked through the window and noticed how the sky had darkened, the gray clouds burgeoning ominously, seeming to collect over this part of the Columbia Gorge.

  The door to his office was ajar and he heard his secretary say, “Just a minute…I’ll see if he’s busy—”

  Too late. Rinda Dalinsky suddenly appeared in his doorway.

  “Are you?” she asked with a familiar smile. “Busy?”

  “Always. Just ask Jerri.”

  His secretary had followed Rinda into the office, and it was evident from the glare she sent Rinda that Jerri was furious. “I tried to stop her,” she explained, with a but-what-can-you-do frown pursing her lips.

  Carter waved Jerri off. “It’s all right. You know she’s an old friend.”

  “Just don’t put the emphasis on ‘old,’” Rind
a suggested. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Jerri was nearly spitting nails.

  “Never.” For the first time that day, Carter felt one side of his mouth lift into a smile. He’d known Rinda Allen since they were kids, lost touch with her when she got married and moved to California, reconnected when she’d returned to Falls Crossing, newly divorced, a kid in tow. There had never been any romantic connection between them, but a lifetime ago Rinda Allen had been Carolyn’s best friend. She’d been the one who had set up the blind date where both Carolyn and Shane, both reluctantly, had met. And that counted. For that, and countless other favors over the years, Rinda Dalinsky could bend a few rules here and there.

  “You’re the one who suggested we stick to protocol,” Jerri reminded him huffily. She had a temper that she was always trying to contain but she was hardworking and honest.

  “That I did, and you, accordingly, did your duty.”

  “Her barging in here is not protocol.”

  “I know. But it’s okay. Thanks.” He winked at Jerri and noticed her cheeks begin to redden. “Would you mind shutting the door?”

  “Not at all.” Direct orders she understood.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Rinda groaned and rolled her huge eyes. “You’re insufferable, Carter.”

  “So they claim.”

  “But she’s a drill sergeant.” Rinda flopped into a side chair and studied the single bloom on the Christmas cactus that rested on the corner of his desk, the only plant he hadn’t killed. Yet. “Things a little tense around here lately?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Have an ID on that woman up at Catwalk Point?”

  “You came here to try and pry information out of me? What happened, did you give up the theater for the newspaper?”

  “No—it’s just on everyone’s mind, I guess.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “Are you?”

  “Trying to keep things in perspective,” he said, not ready to admit to anyone, not even Rinda, that the Jane Doe case bothered him on a lot of levels. There was something about it that gnawed at him. Yeah, he was worried. Big-time. “Look, I guess I’m here because we’re friends.”