Eve was happy to be outside, not cooped up in the sheriff’s office, but it would have been nicer if Morgan hadn’t delegated them an impossible task. Despite their efforts, they weren’t any closer to identifying the mysterious snow bunny than they were two hours earlier.
After no one at the resort recalled seeing the blonde girl with the senator, they shifted their attention toward the grey, teal, and purple snowmobile. By visiting every dealership in town, Eve hoped one of the employees might recognize it and give them a name.
“Next dealership is Winter Adventure. Second intersection on the left.” An outdoor enthusiast, Gil knew every sales and rental place in town. “There’s a parking lot on the side of the building.”
As Eve parked, a low rumble in her ever expanding belly reminded her she needed to eat something. “After this one, I’m grabbing a coffee and a donut. Baby needs her afternoon snack.”
The door of the dealership chimed. They entered the showroom, their steps resonating on the concrete floor. A dozen or so models were on display. No purple and teal snowmobiles.
As they approached an employee fiddling with the engine of a Polaris 600IQ, the man lifted his head in their direction. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Do I look like I have a moment?” Baby had eaten Eve’s patience. “Where’s your manager, Tool Boy?”
Beside her, Gil muffled a chuckle. Though they both shared the rank of deputy, Eve had nearly a decade, both in age and seniority, over her twenty-four year old partner.
“Sorry, ma’am.” The employee, who didn’t appear any older than Gil, wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m the manager. Is something wrong?”
She pulled the picture from her jacket. With her thumb covering Norman’s face, she showed him the compromising picture. “What can you tell us about this snowmobile?”
A smile split the guy’s face, exposing a missing bottom tooth. “2012 MXZ 800 Special Edition. Custom painted.”
Impressed despite herself, Eve raised a brow. “Would you know by any chance who bought that Special Edition?”
“No, but Sherry will. She’s been riding it all month.”
“Sherry?” The name rang like music to Eve’s ears. “Where can we find this Sherry?”
“Not sure, but sometimes she crashes at my cousin’s place.” The helpful employee returned the picture. “1287 Spruce Drive. First floor. Last apartment on the left.”
Without stopping at the donut shop, Eve drove to a two-story apartment complex at the other end of town.
One step ahead of her, Gil knocked on the door of apartment 117. “You stay behind me. Sheriff’s order.”
Ever since he learned she was pregnant, Sheriff Morgan had relegated her to safe and boring jobs. Looking for a snowmobile was as much excitement as—
The door opened.
At the sight of the teenage girl clad in furry bikini, Eve revised her definition of excitement. “Are you Sherry?”
“Yeah. Are you here for the photo shoot?”
Eve exchanged a dubious look with her partner whose eyes had popped out of his skull.
Men.
“Can we come in?”
“Sure.” The girl took a step back. “You’re not going to arrest me, are you?”
One hand on his holster, Gil entered first. “No, not unless you give us probable cause.”
Eve followed him into a messy apartment. “How old are you, Sherry?”
“Twenty-one. Why? You want to see my driver license.”
“Yes, please.” To Eve’s disbelief, the license looked genuine. “Okay, Sherry. Tell me about that picture.”
When she was presented with the incriminating evidence, Sherry’s face lit up like spotlights.
“Don’t I look great! Those are my real boobs. Once I get a copy of the calendar, I’m sending it to Playboy. I’ve always dreamed of becoming a Centerfold.”
Disheartened, Eve rubbed her belly.
Baby girl, you’re so going to college.
***
Hope didn’t earn the moniker Quest for nothing. When she set her mind on something, there was no obstacle she couldn’t handle. That included the two guys who bound, gagged, and blindfolded her.
Her mother had taught her many survival skills, the most important being not to let fear paralyze her. Despite years of trying, Quest had never conquered her fear of the dark, but she’d learned to wrestle it into submission. Today, she’d prove to herself that she mastered her mother’s lessons.
Deprived of her sight and hearing, she concentrated on her other senses. Sandwiched between the backrest of a snowmobile and the back of the driver, she couldn’t bail out of the moving vehicle even if she’d been inclined to dive head first into nothingness.
Her center of gravity shifted, the vibrations of the engine grew louder, and gusts of wind pricked her face. They were climbing on a slope where trees were becoming few and far between.
The jacket of the driver reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. Quest nicknamed him Smelly. If his demeanor was any indication, he was the leader. He was also the one who’d asked her name, meaning this wasn’t a random abduction. The other guy, the one who’d covered their tracks with a rake and kept scratching the front of his pants, appeared to be the lackey. Calling him Scratchy fit his personality. He’d taken her skis, poles, and weapon. If she could only get her hands on her rifle, she’d put an end to his itching misery.
The snowmobile came to an abrupt halt.
She bumped her face into Smelly’s shoulder. Disgust wrenched her stomach. This training session was going down in history as the worst one. Ever.
Someone grabbed her by the arm and yanked her off the seat. She fell into the snow. Sore, undignified—and livid.
Her blood simmered inside her veins, ready to boil over. The handkerchief covering her mouth was removed and the blindfold pulled from her eyes. Blinded by the light, she struggled to sit as she blinked away the dancing stars.
A shadow suddenly blocked the sunlight. She diverted her gaze onto the figure looming over her. It was a tall and lanky white man with short brown hair and a rigid stance. “Are you Hope Craig?”
“No. Can I go now?”
A lopsided smile contorted his face. “Lexa used to be feisty too—until your father got a hold of her.”
“What?” Either she read him wrong or he didn’t make sense. “What father?”
“I read your biography on the Internet. Quite impressive for a deaf girl.”
A storm raged inside her chest. No one belittled her without suffering the consequences. “What do you want?”
The man tilted his chin toward Smelly and Scratchy. “Get her inside the cabin, boys, and be nice. I don’t want any bruises on her.”
Deeply touched by his consideration, she rolled her eyes. There would be bruises all right, but not on her. When Scratchy got her up on her feet, she kicked him where it itched. Victim of her ski boot, he fell to his knees, his mouth wide open.
Bound at the wrists, she stretched her arms in front of her and spun around. With her fists, she hit Smelly square in the jaw. As he stumbled backward, he swung back at her. The butt of his gun connected with the side of her head.
Darkness engulfed her.
***
“Let me get this straight. The guy in the second picture is
not
the senator. Snow Bunny is
not
a minor. She’s an aspiring model named Sherry Clark who was paid two thousand dollars cash on December 5
th
to sit naked in the cold on the lap of a guy named Joel while a photographer named Sly snapped the pictures which were destined for a calendar.”
Gil wished he could see Morgan’s face through his phone. “That’s right, Sheriff.”
Across the table, Eve munched on her donut. The glee in her eyes matched the amusement tickling Gil’s funny bone.
“Let me run Sherry Clark’s name in the DMV.” Steady breathing punctuated by clicking sounds filled the line. “That’s the girl. She has no record. Do you have a last name for Joel and Sly?”
“No, but wannabe Miss December gave us Joel’s address. We’ll pay him a visit as soon as Eve’s baby girl stops eating.”
“Baby is done.” Gobbling her last bit of donut, his partner stood. “Let’s go, Thompson.”
“This little scheme isn’t an accident, Gil.” Morgan’s voice resonated loud and insistent in the handset. “One of these guys may be our blackmailer. Be careful out there.”
With a pregnant woman in tow, being
careful
took a different meaning. “Maybe I should go back to the office and drop Eve before I—” An intense maternal glare struck Gil’s idea. “Nevermind. I’ll call back later.”
“I’m pregnant, not an invalid.” Eve snatched the car keys from the table. “Are you coming or not?”
They ended up in an upscale neighborhood in front of a blue house. A silver Porsche was parked in a shoveled driveway alongside a black pickup truck.
Shaking her head, Eve killed the engine. “We’re in the wrong line of work.”
“At least we get to keep our clothes on.”
A grin sneaked past her stern ‘on-duty’ demeanor. “You go first and be baby’s shield. That way we can both kick your arse.”
When she was in mission mode, Eve was a force to reckon with. Protecting her against herself wasn’t a task that Gil relished. At times like these, he didn’t envy her husband’s or Morgan’s position.
Painfully aware of Eve’s presence behind him, Gil knocked on the door.
A man in his late twenties sharing facial characteristics with Senator Norman answered the door. “May I help you?”
“I’m Deputy Thompson. This is Deputy Ford.” As he jerked his head backward, he kept an eye on the suspect in the doorway. “Are you Joel?”
“Yes. Please come in.” The door opened wide. Joel invited them into his living room, as if he had nothing to hide. “What can I do for you?”
Gil showed him the compromising picture with Snow Bunny. “Can you explain this?”
“Nice shot, hey? Sherry was a bit cold by the end of—Oh no—” Dropping the picture, he stared helplessly at the two of them. “I didn’t know. I swear. She said she was twenty-one. She had her driver license. I checked the date. I—”
“Take it easy, Winter Boy.” Eve seemed to take pity on the distraught young man. “She’s not underage. We just want to know what happened.”
“Nothing happened.” The male model seemed to relax. “I kept my clothes on. It was a sexy calendar shoot. That’s it.”
Both participants had given the same cover story, but Gil had a hard time believing either of them.
“So you’re the man in the photo?” When Joel acquiesced, Gil presented him with the other picture. The one with Black Beauty. “What about that one?”
“No. Not me...wait a sec...” Joel’s brows scrunched over his nose as he took a closer look. “That’s the old guy.”
Gil exchanged a quizzical look with his partner. “What old guy?”
“Sly gave me a close-up of that old guy. He told me I needed to look like his twin brother for the calendar shoot. Getting the right shade of gray was a challenge. It took me a few days and lots of hair color, but I succeeded. You can’t tell the difference between him and me, can you?”
While Gil hated to absolve Norman, the senator was clearly not the man in the second picture. Someone had framed him. “Okay, Joel. Who’s Sly?”
“He’s the photographer.” Suspicion washed over his face. “I did look at his credentials. He’s legit. He gave me his business card. I don’t know why you’re making a big case out of a few naked pictures.”
The reasoning didn’t impress Gil much. Any crook with a computer and a printer could look legit nowadays. “Does Sly have a last name?”
“Serpent. He said it was a French surname.”
“It means
snake
, Joel.” A groan of frustration rumbled inside Gil’s chest. “How much did Mr.
Serpent
pay you?”
“Two thousand cash, and he let me keep the clothes.”
Eve took a closer step toward their suspect. “What clothes?”
“The clothes Sly bought for the shoot. The winter jacket, the gloves, the pants...everything.”
No wonder the senator wore the same winter coat in both photos.
The sheriff might not be pleased to learn the blackmailer had gone through lots of trouble to ensure the second picture looked authentic.
“Do you still have the clothes?” If Gil convinced the young man to surrender the clothes without a warrant, it would save them time. “They could be evidence in a case we’re investigating.”
With any luck, the lab might find a hair or a print on them.
“They weren’t my style. I threw them away.” Joel offered a smile that looked anything but apologetic. “I may still have Sly’s business card though. You want it?”
If the blackmailer was stupid enough to print a real address and phone number, he deserved to be arrested.
***
Coach Goldman paced the shooting range. Wind gusts from the west played havoc with his athletes’ accuracy, and he didn’t like the results.
Dammit.
The weather was a factor over which his athletes had no control. It wasn’t an excuse for not focusing on the target.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen.
Message from Hope Craig.
By now, she should have returned from her solo training session. After a quick snack, she was supposed to meet them on the shooting range. The girl was running late, which was out of character.
He read the message.
Finished morning practice. Something came up. Need rest of day to sort things. See u tomorrow. Hope
Hope? She never signed Hope. Whatever came up must have rattled her good.
Oh well...
The girl was a dedicated athlete, and the sharpest shooter he’d ever trained. If anyone deserved a break, it was Quest.
Chapter Three
The morning newspaper wasn’t tainted with any new political scandals. So far, Norman’s blackmailer had held up his side of the bargain.
Thankful for the reprieve, Rich poured himself a second cup of coffee before flipping to the sport section.
A key rattled in the doorknob. He glanced through the window at his unplowed driveway. Maria’s car was parked beside his cruiser. His maid was early.
“Good morning, Señor Morgan. Me happy to see you before you go work. Can ask something?”