Deep Freeze (41 page)

His cell phone chirped and he reached into his pocket, tried to stop his galloping heart when he recognized Jenna’s number on the digital display. “Carter.”

“Hi, it’s Jenna.” Her voice was flat. Obviously she was still stung from her discovery of Carolyn’s pictures. Damn. “I thought I’d let you know that I just called Robert and wonder of wonders, he was in. I asked him about Ruskin. He never met the man, but someone had left a leaflet with Ruskin’s work on the set up at the ski resort.”

“Someone who worked on the film?” He swung a legal pad around on the desk and grabbed a pen.

“Most likely,” she said, and adrenaline rushed through Carter’s bloodstream. “Robert had seen the poem and liked the wording.”

“Did he get any legal releases to use the work?”

“It never got that far,” she said, her words clipped and impersonal. “Because of the accident and the movie being scrapped. He did say that the company he hired for makeup and special effects was a firm named Hazzard Brothers, the same company Robert used in a lot of his horror films. It’s a Burbank company owned by Del and Mack Hazzard and nearly went out of business after
White Out
because of the insurance claims. The families of the people who were killed and some of the workers who were injured sued the production company.”

“And they paid?”

“The insurance company for Hazzard Brothers did.”

“Thanks.”

“Does this help?”

“Of course it does.”

“Good.”

“Jenna—”

Click.
She hung up.

Carter sighed through his nose and looked up to find BJ observing him.

“So now it’s ‘Jenna,’ is it?”

“No big deal.”

BJ’s lips pulled down at the corners. “If you say so.”

He wasn’t going to be lured into some woman-conversation about relationships. Especially since there
was
no relationship. “I want to find out everything we can on Hazzard Brothers, which is a company that does makeup and special effects, located in Burbank, California. See if they have any ex-employees who moved up here after working on
White Out
.”

His cell phone rang again and he answered. “Carter.”

“Christ, Shane, what kind of witch hunt have you got going?” Wes Allen demanded. “Someone’s got a tail on me and I want to fucking know why!”

“Maybe you should come in and we’ll talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” Wes demanded. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to pin the murders on me.”

Carter tensed. “You mean abductions, right?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, you know we all think those women are dead. I hope to hell not, but come on…does it seem likely that the creep who’s got ’em is keeping them all prisoners?”

“You tell me.”

“Oh, fuck this! I’m calling my lawyer, Shane. I’ve got rights. I haven’t done anything wrong and you’ve got someone watching me! This is a vendetta and I’m going to sue your ass from here until hell’s gates if you don’t let up.”

“Sue to your heart’s content.”

“You sanctimonious, hypocritical bastard! I’ll have your job.”

“Go for it,” he said, but Allen had already slammed down the phone.

“Your fan club?” BJ asked.

“Just the president of it.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to get yourself in real trouble?” BJ wasn’t smiling. It wasn’t a joke.

“Because you’re a perceptive woman, BJ. Very perceptive.”

“What’s going on, Shane?”

“I think we’re going to nail the son of a bitch who’s behind all this, that’s what. Call Hazzard Brothers and see how much alginate they use, if they’re missing any, who their supplier is. Then ask them about their recent employees. Let’s see if we can come up with a name that matches one of the names on this.” He thumped two fingers on top of the printout of people who had rented or bought Jenna Hughes’s movies. “I’ll bet you a hundred to one, there’s a match.”

“I’ll be there,” Jenna said, leaning a shoulder against the cupboard door as Rinda sniffled on the other end of the phone.

“I hate to ask. I know you’re going through your own thing, but I really think I should attend the vigil. I could go with Scott, but he’s kept to himself lately, always out, never around…” She sighed heavily. “Sometimes I don’t think I know him anymore.”

“I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“When they’re sixteen. Not when they’re twenty-four. When I was his age, I was already married and a mother…okay, strike that thought. I’d hate for him to go through what I did.”

“He’ll find his way,” Jenna said, cringing at the sound of her own platitudes. She didn’t believe it for a minute, but right now, when Rinda was still feeling guilty about Lynnetta’s disappearance, wasn’t the time to remark that Jenna found Rinda’s son a little offbeat, if not an out-and-out weirdo. No mother wants to hear that.

“I hope so…God, with all that’s going on, I just wish he’d stay home. Close.” That much Jenna did understand as she thought of her own two girls. “So anyway, where do you want to meet me?”

“I think I still owe you a cup of coffee, so let’s hook up at the Java Bean at six-thirty. We can go to the vigil together. It’s at seven, right?”

“I think so. I’ll call back if I hear differently. Thanks, Jenna.”

“No problem.” And it wasn’t. Not only did Jenna want to be a part of the candlelight vigil planned for the three women, she had to get out. She’d been cooped up in the house with the kids all day. Allie, coming down with a cold again, had been crabby, and Cassie had reverted to her normal brooding self. They were out of nearly everything grocery-wise, and Jenna, after the roller coaster of last night, was climbing the walls. One minute she was thinking about the horror of finding the damned fake finger, the next she remembered Shane’s passionate lovemaking, then she would remember the pictures of Carolyn Carter fluttering onto her carpet. On top of all that, somehow, probably through a leak in one of the police departments or from Reverend Swaggert’s camp, word had spread that she’d received a macabre gift in her home, a replica of a finger. She’d hung up on the reporter who’d called and was screening her messages. But she couldn’t stay caged up another night. She needed to get out, even if Turnquist objected. Which he did.

“I don’t think it’s safe,” he protested as they sat around the dinner table eating spaghetti.

“At a candlelight vigil in the church? It’ll be fine. We’ll all be together.”

Allie’s ears perked up. She’d been stirring her pasta listlessly with her fork. “I don’t want to go.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She sighed loudly. “I don’t know.”

“Because it’s morbid,” Cassie said. “I don’t want to go, either.”

“Wait a minute. I promised Rinda.”

“So go,” Cassie said.

“And leave you guys here alone? After what happened last night?”

“You don’t know that the finger was left last night,” Cassie said. “That’s when you found it. It could have been there for days.”

“I would have noticed.”

“Would you have?” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Memo to Mom—you haven’t been yourself lately.” She twined some spaghetti on her fork and took a bite.

“I promised Rinda I’d go. I’m meeting her at six-thirty.”

“So go. I can’t,” Cassie said.

“Why not?”

She glanced at Turnquist, then whispered, “It’s not a good time for me. I don’t feel all that great.”

“You, too?” What kind of conspiracy was this?

“No, I don’t have a sore throat, but, you know, I feel…” Her face turned red. “…crampy.”

“Oh.” Jenna got it and felt like a fool for not understanding that her daughter was trying to tell her that she was on her period, and since Jenna kept track of this monthly event, she did a quick calculation and realized it wasn’t a lie. This was definitely Cassie’s “time of the month,” which, considering her infatuation with Josh, was always a relief.

Cassie said, “Yeah, ‘oh.’”

Jenna tossed her napkin onto the table. “Look, girls, I have to go in to town, but I’ll be with Rinda, so I’ll be all right.”

“You’re not going alone,” Turnquist cut in.

“Someone has to stay with the girls.”

He didn’t so much as argue, just pulled out his phone, dialed quickly, and to Jenna’s mortification, spoke to none other than the sheriff himself.

“Wait a minute!”

But it was too late. Turnquist snapped his phone shut. “Carter will pick you up. Six o’clock.”

“No way.” Not after last night and this morning. She wasn’t ready to face Carter again, much less spend the night two inches from him.

“Absolutely. You hired me to do a job, Ms. Hughes, and now you seem determined to thwart me. I can’t let that happen. Your life and my reputation are on the line. I’ll stay with the girls. You go with the sheriff.”

“I’m supposed to be the boss.”

“You are. But we either do this my way or I walk. No compromises.” His blue eyes were cold with determination, his lantern jaw set.

Jenna’s blood was boiling, but she managed to hold her tongue. “All right. Tonight we’ll do it this way, but in the future, we’ll discuss any plans for outings until this thing is over.”

“Fine with me.”

The phone rang and Allie ran for it. “Wait. Don’t answer,” Jenna reminded her, and the message machine clicked on. There was giggling and then a naughty little voice saying, “Hey, Allie, I heard your mom got the finger!”
Click!

Allie was stunned. “Who would do that?”

“Some little prick. Don’t worry about it,” Cassie said and scraped her chair back. “Whoever called has a brain the size of a pea and a dick that’s even smaller. The only thing he’s got that’s big is his mouth!”

“Cassie!” Jenna said, but let out a laugh and Allie giggled.

Turnquist turned several shades of red and excused himself.

Jenna had no recourse but to accept a ride with the sheriff. She only hoped he had the good sense not to bring the snapshots of his wife along.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight,” Jenna said as he held the door open for her and she hoisted herself into his Blazer. “This wasn’t my idea. I could have driven myself into town but Jake wouldn’t hear of it. So, whether we like it or not, we’re stuck with each other for the next couple of hours.”

“I’ll try to survive,” he said dryly and was rewarded with a stare meant to cut through steel. He slammed the door shut and walked through the cutting wind to the driver’s side. Once he’d started the car and they were easing out of the gate that Turnquist had opened, he said, “You know, I think we should both lighten up. It’ll make the night a lot more enjoyable.”

“Okay.” She nodded slowly as if to convince herself as he flipped on the wipers. “But I think I should explain about last night.”

“Is there something to explain?”

“Yeah, I think there is. I know that you probably think everyone from L.A. is ultra-hip and sexually free and sleeps around.”

“That’s not what I think at all.”

“And that’s not what I do, either.” She looked out the side window and scraped at the moisture collecting on the inside with a fingernail. Though her face was turned away from him, he caught a glimpse of her profile and noticed the corners of her mouth had pulled into a thoughtful frown. “I’m not all that sexually liberated and so…so last night…well, I should have insisted upon protection.”

His hands tightened over the wheel. “Is that what you’re worried about? Pregnancy?”

“Yeah, to begin with. I mean, I can’t believe I lost my head like that. After all the lectures to Cassie and then I…I…oh, well, you know what happened. You were there.”

“I was as much at fault as you.”

“At fault. What a nice, romantic way of putting it.”

“I didn’t know there was romance involved,” he said and noticed the little knot of wrinkles between her eyebrows.

“There wasn’t. I just meant we should at least be kind to each other.”

“I’d like that.” He slowed for a corner and through the snow saw the lights of the town winking in the foothills. “Just for the record. I’m not hip and sexually free and I don’t sleep around, either. At least not for a long, long time. As a horny teenager, I looked at things differently. So let’s not worry too much about anything other than keeping you safe and catching the guy who’s terrorizing you. One step at a time. Deal?”

She let out a long breath. “Deal.”

“So the next problem is Rinda. She’s not too happy with me right now. Thinks I’m harassing her brother and suspicious of her son.”

“Are you?”

His lips pulled into a smile. “I wouldn’t call it harassing. And I’m suspicious of everyone. Scott qualifies. But his mother thinks I’m overzealous.”

They drove into town and he parked a couple of streets away from the coffee shop, but not before he noticed the television vans parked near the First Methodist Church and the crowd of townspeople collecting and milling near the church’s steps. So much for his sleepy little town.

He hustled Jenna into the coffee shop, where the smell of brewing coffee wafted through the patrons. Over the whistle of the espresso machine and the notes of Christmas carols drifting from hidden speakers, conversation buzzed.

As predicted, Rinda, seated at a tall table and sprinkling cinnamon onto the foam of her latte with one hand while pressing her cell phone to her ear with the other, took one look at Carter, scowled, and aimed with both barrels. “Geez, Shane,” she said, snapping her cell phone off while setting down the glass shaker so hard that cinnamon puffed up in a fragrant, rust-colored cloud. She didn’t seem to notice. “You’re the last person I expected to see tonight. Shouldn’t you be out busting crime or at least persecuting innocent taxpayers?”

He grinned and tried to deflect. “Thought I’d take a break.”

“Give
me
a break.”

“Give me one, Rinda, okay? I’m just doing my job, and tonight it’s not about you or me or Wes or Scott. It’s about the women who are missing.”

She wanted to say more—he could see it in the flare of her nostrils, the pinched corners of her lips, the angry glare she bestowed upon him—but decided to avoid a scene. At least for the few minutes before the service, she held her tongue and there was an uneasy peace, one he couldn’t think about for too long as he was watching the throng of people that had gathered in the coffee shop and spilled onto the street. He recognized many of the faces, though some were foreign to him—strangers. He stayed close to Jenna, his arm brushing hers, the scent of her perfume reaching his nostrils as he watched each and every person who filed toward the First Methodist Church.

Cassie checked her watch. Time to meet Josh. He’d called and said he’d be waiting on the other side of the fence. In the woods. Where they’d met before. There was an old logging road that abutted the property.

But she had to shake the bodyguard. Turnquist was more sticky than ever, though all her talk about “female problems” had been a brilliant stroke of genius and he’d left her alone in her room, staying downstairs with Allie.

Her attempts at making it look as if she was in the bed, lumpy pillows with a bit of doll’s hair visible, were lame, but might work if she wasn’t gone too long.

So…now…if she could just sneak out through her mother’s bedroom and shimmy down the smooth wooden pole that supported the hot tub and deck, she’d have it made. She’d put extra clothes in a backpack and slipped through the rooms upstairs, her ears cued into any sounds out of the ordinary.

Assured that the big lug of a bodyguard wasn’t climbing the stairs, she darted out the door to the deck, closed it softly, and eased her way down the pole.

She ignored the part of her mind that accused her of being nuts, the part that reminded her that women were being abducted left and right, the part that mentioned the weirdo notes and icky finger her mother had received.

All it proved was that the house wasn’t safe. Not even with Jake Turnquist, the ridiculous excuse for a bodyguard.

She slipped on her boots, hung close to the house, careful to duck beneath the windows, then sprinted across the breezeway and around the garage. She hazarded one last look over her shoulder and nearly tripped when she saw Allie standing in the window of Cassie’s room.

What? No way!

Cassie looked up at the house again, but this time Allie’s image was gone—almost as if what she’d seen had been a damned ghost.
Pull yourself together,
she thought, and zipping her coat to her neck, she dashed beneath the windmill and behind the barn, her boots slipping and leaving tracks that she hoped the snow would cover.

The air was so cold it burned her lungs, the wind wailing down the gorge and forcing the snow-laden branches of the fir trees to dance and sway.

This is stupid,
she realized. It was too damned cold to be out here, too scary with the nutcase of an abductor on the loose, a royal pain in the butt. She’d meet Josh and tell him she’d changed her mind. No party was worth all the hassle. And then there was her mom. As mad as Cassie was with her, she couldn’t risk scaring her out of her mind. If Jenna found Cassie gone, not only would Cassie be grounded for life, but Jenna would be frightened and the woman was already losing it. No…it wasn’t worth it. And besides, truth to tell, Josh was boring her these days, but then, what wasn’t?

Head ducked against the brutal wind, she made her way along the fence line, found the usual spot, and hoisted her backpack over the top rail. It hit the soft snow and was nearly buried. She climbed over, jumped to the ground, and grabbed the pack by its strap.

“Josh,” she whispered. “Are you here?”

She heard nothing, glanced at her watch again, and silently damned the big jerk if he was running late or had stood her up. She flipped open her cell phone, dialed his number, and waited as voice mail picked up. “Damn it, Josh, don’t do this.” When it came time to record, she said, “I’m here where I’m supposed to be. I’ll wait five minutes and if you don’t show up, then I’m going back home. This is insane anyway. It’s freezing out here.” She clicked the phone shut and eased into the surrounding woods where she wouldn’t be seen by Allie.