Deep Freeze (26 page)

“Except that he has the hots for you.”

“Cassie!” The box cutter slipped and she nicked the thumb of her other hand. “Damn!”

“It’s true.”

Allie turned on her sister. “He was in the Army. Dani showed me some stuff, okay? Medals and pictures and awards. Mr. Settler was—like a sergeant—in some kind of elite unit.”

Jenna’s shoulders tightened as she pressed her bleeding thumb to her mouth. She reached into a cupboard by the sink for a box of Band-Aids and tore one of the smaller plastic strips open. Why hadn’t Travis mentioned his past? She wrapped her thumb with the Band-Aid, covering the cut. It showed red through the plastic, but the blood didn’t seep out. She was back in business again. “So,” she said, leveling her gaze on her youngest daughter. “Did Mr. Settler know you looked at his things?”

Allie shrugged.

“Allie?” Jenna reprimanded gently as she sliced open a box of clear lights.

“Dunno. Dani said it didn’t matter.”

“Geez. What’s with that girl?” Cassie asked, uncoiling a final strand of lights. “Doesn’t she take tai-kwon-do and shoot guns at the rifle range and ride horses bareback?”

“So what?” Allie said, bristling even more.

“Does she think she’s a guy, or what?”

“Hey! Maybe we should all do some of the things Dani does,” Jenna said as she untangled the string of lights. She thought of the holiday ahead and wondered how she’d ever find a shard of Christmas spirit. Not only was she still dealing with Jill’s death, but now she had this…this stalker…watching her—entering her house.

Happy Holidays
, she thought morbidly.

The neighbors were a bust. One of the ranches bordering the Hughes estate was boarded up, no sign of life; another was owned by an elderly couple who’d noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from Harrison Brennan being overly concerned and bristling at the prospect of someone “bothering” Jenna Hughes, no one had seen or heard anything they thought was worth mentioning.

By the time Carter parked his Blazer in Jenna Hughes’s driveway, it was early afternoon and Montinello was just leaving. He’d finished taking prints, remarking, as he met Carter, about the chances of finding a needle in a haystack. “There were so many prints in the house. She’s got two kids, friends, a housekeeper, a ranch foreman, a personal trainer, and then the kids have friends and she’s had repair guys in.” Montinello was standing next to one of the department’s SUVs, the rig he’d parked in front of Jenna Hughes’s garage. “Unless whoever left the note is a class-A moron, I doubt if we’ll get lucky,” he said, shaking his head. A few snowflakes swirled from the sky, and though it wasn’t yet twilight, the day was dark, the gloom of winter settling into the surrounding trees and buildings.

“You never know. How many prints in her bedroom?” Carter asked, looking up at the behemoth that was her house. Smoke curled from a tall rock chimney, and steam rose from a side deck, where, he supposed, a hot tub was uncovered. Nestled in the trees, complete with icicles dripping from the roof, the rustic house looked like something out of a Christmas card. But beneath the quaint facade lurked something treacherous, something evil.

“There were a few prints around the room…some larger than hers.”

Carter nodded, his jaw suddenly tight at the thought of a man in Jenna Hughes’s bedroom.

Montinello lifted the small case he was carrying. “I took everyone in the household’s prints to compare them to. If I need to, I’ll check with the other people who’ve been there—her personal trainer, the guy who keeps the ranch up. His wife. But for now, I’ll start with these. Meanwhile, I told her to beef up security, and while I was here two guys, Wes Allen and his nephew, were fixing the alarm system and the electronic gates. Both work now. I double-checked, but she says the security system needs to be either completely updated or torn out and a new one installed. She’s called someone, so she’s on it, I think.”

“Good.” Carter should have felt better about Jenna’s safety, but didn’t. There was something about this place—picture-postcard perfect and yet so isolated—that worried him. He glanced at the surrounding forest and isolated, snow-covered acres and too many outbuildings. Stable, barn, garage, windmill, pump house, sheds…a lot of places for a criminal to hide. Too many.

Montinello opened the door of his Blazer and tossed the kit inside.

“Let me know what you find out.”

“You got it.”

As Montinello drove away, Carter walked along the breezeway and knocked sharply on the back door. The dog began to bark and as Jenna inched open the door, threatened to rush out.

“Shh! Critter,” she ordered as she pushed the door open. The dog was going out of his head, turning in circles wildly. “And you didn’t think he was a guard dog,” she said with a laugh. Her hair was pinned to the back of her head and she smelled faintly of the same perfume he’d noticed before.

“He seems to have risen to the occasion.”

“It was the threat of being replaced by a pit bull, I think.” She grinned as she caught hold of the dog’s collar. “Come in if you dare.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit at the sight of him, and he told himself that he was being an idiot. She was glad to see him because she was scared and he was the law, or she was faking it—she’d had a lot of practice. All those years of acting. “Welcome to my nightmare,” she invited.

He took off his boots as she let go of the dog, who immediately nuzzled his legs and whacked him hard with his tail.

“Oh, Critter, you’re blowing your cover,” Jenna admonished as she led Carter into the kitchen.

Along with Christmas decorations, boxes, tissue paper, and lights strewn all over the floor, there was also black or silver dust in a few places, residue from the prints Montinello had taken. The younger girl was fiddling with a string of lights, changing bulbs and barely looking up.

“Allie, this is Sheriff Carter, remember?”

“Yeah.” She barely glanced up.

“You can call me Shane,” he said. To Jenna, he added, “It’s less intimidating. Right, Allie?”

The girl shrugged and kept at her task.

“Kids love me,” he joked, and Jenna laughed, her gaze touching his for the briefest of instants, just long enough to captivate him.

“I can tell.”

“Whatever you say.” Her eyes took in the mess on the floor. “Kinda makes you feel like you’re in a winter wonderland, huh?” she quipped, calmer than she had been earlier in the day.

“Right.” He eased around an open box of tree ornaments and pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. On the page were the names and phone numbers of three men he trusted. “I haven’t called these guys, but they might be available to help with security.”

“Bodyguards?”

“Potentially. Yeah.” He nodded. “I can personally vouch for them.”

Something seemed to soften in her and she bit her lip, then looked up at him, her eyes shinier than they had been. “Thanks, Sheriff. This was above and beyond.”

“Part of the job.”

She arched a dark brow. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he said, but the silence stretched between them and he noticed how her eyelashes swept her cheek when she blinked. He heard the clock ticking and a television in another part of the house. “Want to show me where the note was discovered?”

“Oh…sure…this way…” She cleared her throat and stepped over a long string of bubble lights, then led him up the stairs. Carter tried not to notice her hips moving beneath her jeans or the way a few strands of black hair escaped from the knot clipped to her head as he followed her, but it seemed impossible. He barely noticed the dog streaking ahead as she opened double doors on a floor midway up the staircase. Her bedroom was on a floor all its own, and as he stepped into the room, he knew he was in trouble. The smells of cedar, soap, and lilacs assailed him. A queen-size bed was pushed against one wall and a white silk robe was tossed casually over one of the iron bedposts. Candles and potpourri were scattered around the room, and thick rugs covered the smooth, hardwood floors. A television peeked from behind doors slightly ajar in a large armoire, and a bank of paned windows looked out to the forested hills.

Black or silver fingerprint dust was pretty much everywhere, especially around one of the nightstands, the bureau, armoire, window latches, and doors.

“Mind if I look around?”

“Be my guest,” she said, and he stepped into an attached bathroom with sunken tub, shower, and sauna. Next to it was a walk-in closet the size of his living room. It was cut up by different shelves and rods, even drawers. Long gowns, slacks, blouses, dresses, sweaters, all hung above cubbyholes filled with shoes and shelves lined with handbags. More clothes than any one woman had the right to own. One of the drawers was open slightly, revealing a red lace bra. His throat tightened a second and he visualized her in the garment, then brought himself up short and walked out of the closet to the bedroom again.

She was standing near a bedside table, waiting for him.

“This is where I found the note,” she said, opening a drawer gingerly. It was empty now. “As I said, no one uses it. I don’t think it’s been opened since I moved in.”

“Except by whoever left the note.”

“Yeah.” Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her middle and walked to the windows. “You know, when I first came here, I felt so free. As if this was a haven. But lately…” She turned, faced him, and stared at a rug for a half a second. “I know this sounds paranoid, but I’ve had this feeling…a sense that someone’s watching me.” She bit at the edge of her lip. “And I had it before I got this note, even before I got the first one. It’s…just…this strange sensation. I get cold inside just thinking about it.” She blushed a little. “I know—paranoid, huh?”

“Maybe not.”

“Yeah.” She stole a glance at the nightstand. “To think that he was
here. Inside
my house.
My bedroom.
” Her voice quivered a bit. “He could have been inside when I was sleeping. God, he could have been in the girls’ rooms. Do you know how creepy that is?”

He nodded and heard the sound of a truck’s engine rumbling closer. “You might consider moving into a hotel for a while.”

“I’m not letting some…weirdo push me out of my own home. No way. I’ll hire people. I called a locksmith this morning. He’s already changed all the locks. Wes Allen worked on the security system earlier today, and I bought shells for the shotgun.”

“You did what?” He was shocked. This little woman with a weapon? “Do you know how to use one?”

“I’m hoping I won’t have to.”

“But you have kids in the house and—”

“And I’m going to protect them. I did learn how to shoot years ago, for my part in
Resurrection.
Anne Parks was a killer. She usually used other weapons, but there were two scenes with guns. My director wanted me to look like I knew how to handle a handgun, so I took lessons. Have I ever shot a living thing? No. Would I? Yeah. If it meant protecting my kids.”

“That was a handgun, right?”

“Yes.”

“You might want to practice with the shotgun. Shot scatters and…it wouldn’t be my weapon of choice.”

“It’s what I had and better than nothing.”

He thought of all the statistics about gun owners killing themselves or their loved ones with their own weapons. “Just be safe.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said as the dog lifted his head, then growled loudly. Nails clicking as he scrambled over the hardwood floors, Critter began barking his fool head off and took off down the stairs.

“He takes his job seriously,” Jenna quipped as she followed Critter downstairs.

He’d better,
Carter thought,
he’d damned well better.

Harrison Brennan was on the back porch, peering through the window mounted into the door.

He was also looking angry as all get-out.

Great,
Jenna thought as she opened the door and the dog let out a disgruntled woof. Critter had never been a fan of Harrison Brennan, but then neither had either of her girls. With all his good intentions, he was still irritating.

“The sheriff here?” he asked. “He stopped by my place earlier.” Brennan looked over her shoulder and his jaw tightened slightly, his lips becoming a flat, unhappy line.

“Harrison,” Carter said, close enough behind her that she felt his breath against the back of her neck. A little tingle danced down her spine, but she ignored it.

“Guess that answers your question.” Jenna tried not to be irritated with her neighbor. After all, Harrison always seemed to have her best interests in mind. Critter didn’t seem to be of the same mind and growled at Harrison.

“Shh,” she warned the dog, “or you’ll be out in the snow.”

“Damned mutt never has warmed to me,” Harrison said, but tried to reach down and pat the dog’s head. The growling ceased, though the hairs on the back of Critter’s neck never quite laid flat and his tail remained motionless. He accepted the touch, but kept his head down, his eyes watching Harrison’s every move. “Hell, he’d like to bite my hand off.”

“Ignore him. Come on in,” she invited, then shot the dog a warning glare. “You. Be on your best behavior. Go to your bed.”

Critter shuffled off to his favorite spot under the table, and Carter, as if to give her some privacy, said, “Mind if I look through the house…I’d like to check out the layout.”

“Anything you need to do,” she said, waving him off and grateful that he was taking her threats as seriously as she was. It felt safe to have him in the house and she relaxed a little, even though Harrison was fit to be tied. As Carter moved from one room to the next and eventually up the stairs again, Jenna shepherded Harrison into the den, fending off his questions out of Allie’s earshot, then explained what had been happening over the past few days.

With each turn in her story, Harrison grew more grim, his jaw tightening, his thumbs rubbing restlessly against his forefingers. But he didn’t say a word, just stood in the den, staring at her with intense blue eyes, his lips compressed tightly.

When she was finished, he rubbed his chin and glared at her. “You mean you’re telling me you had someone leave a threatening note in your house and you didn’t call me?”

“I thought the police could handle it,” she said, hearing the creak of footsteps on the stairs.

“Or me. I’m next door,” he pointed out, his eyebrows knotted together. “And I’ve got connections. The FBI should be in on this!” He shoved one hand through his short, bristly hair, making the silvery strands stand straight on end. “Just what the hell is going on here?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Carter said.

Brennan was agitated. Face flushed, he turned his anger on Carter. “So do you think she’s safe here?”

“I’m fine, Harrison,” she cut in.

“But the security system. It’s been a mess. I’ll call Seth. If he can’t fix it, I’ll find someone who can.”

“Already done,” she said. “Wes Allen was over earlier.”

Beside her, Carter tensed. Brennan snorted through his nose. “What does
he
know? He tinkers around with sound systems and the like. This is serious.”

Jenna snapped, “Believe me, I realize that.”

“I’ll double-check the system. Get someone who knows wiring. If not Seth Whitaker, then Jim Klondike—he’s a helluva handyman.” She started to argue, but Harrison wasn’t about to be put off as he turned his attention to the sheriff. “What are you and your department doing about this?” he said, pointing a finger at Carter’s chest.

“Everything we can.” The sheriff folded his arms over his chest and didn’t give an inch.

“Humph.” Harrison lifted disbelieving silver eyebrows, then faced Jenna again. “You need protection. A woman all alone with kids out here. I don’t like it.”