Snowblind Justice

She managed not to stumble this time, but she did turn to look at him. “You know who the killer is?”

He frowned. “Travis didn’t tell you?”

“I haven’t seen Travis in several days. He’s either working or spending time with Lacy. He told me on the phone that one of the men he thought was involved is dead, but that there was another one he was after.”

Brodie said nothing.

She stopped and faced him. “Tell me who it is,” she said. “You know I won’t go talking to the press.”

“The man who died was Tim Dawson,” Brodie said.

All the breath went out of her as this news registered. “Then the other man is Alex Woodruff.” She grabbed his arm. “That’s why you were asking me about him. But he and Tim left town when the road opened briefly a couple of weeks ago. Travis said so.”

“They moved out of the cabin where they were staying, but now Travis believes they stayed in the area. If you have any idea where Alex might be hiding, or what he’s likely to do next, you need to tell me.” She released her hold on him and stepped back, the mare’s warm bulk reassuring. If her suddenly weak legs gave out, she’d have the animal to grab on to. “I hardly know him,” she said. “But a serial killer? Why would a smart, good-looking guy from a well-off family want to murder a bunch of women he doesn’t even know?” And how could she have spent time with Alex and Tim and not seen that kind of evil in them?

“You’re more likely to have an answer for that than I do,” Brodie said. “You’re conducting a lot of research on human behavior and motivation. Didn’t you do one study on what motivates people to break rules or to cheat?”

“What did you do—run a background check on me? That’s creepy.”

“All I did was look at your public Facebook page,” he said. “And there’s nothing creepy about it. I knew I was coming here and I wanted to see how you were doing—as a friend. I guess you never did the same for me.”

She couldn’t keep color from flooding her cheeks. She had, in fact, perused Brodie’s Facebook page more than once, as well as Googling his name for tidbits of information. Not because she still felt anything for him, simply because she was curious. “All right,” she said. “As long as you’re not being a creep.”

“Such technical language from a psychologist.”

“Behavioral economics is different,” she said. “There’s psychology involved, of course, but nothing that would give me insight into the mind of a serial killer.”

“I think you’re wrong,” he said. “I think you probably can tell us things we don’t know about Alex Woodruff. You’ve always been smart about people.”

I wasn’t smart about you. She bit her lip to hold back the words. “I’m sure the CBI has profilers who specialize in this kind of thing,” she said.

“Yes, but they don’t know Alex, and they don’t know Eagle Mountain. You do.”

She searched his face, trying to read his expression. He was focused on her in that intense way he had—a way that made her feel like she was the only person in the world he wanted to be with right this second. “What do you want from me?” she asked.

“I want you to think about Alex, and about this area, and see if you can come up with any ideas that might help us.”

She shook her head. “I think you’re grasping at straws. You need to consult a professional.”

“We will. You’re just another avenue for us to explore. You never know in a case like this what might be the key to a solution.”

“Does Travis know you’re asking me to help?”

“No, but I can’t see why he’d object. I’m not asking you to do anything dangerous.”

She nodded. “All right. I don’t think it will do any good, but I’ll think about it and see what I can come up with.”

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”

How had he known he could count on her? But she couldn’t ask the question. He was already striding out of the arena, his boots making neat prints in the raked dirt.

Brodie had to know she would do anything to help her brother. If Travis had asked her for help with the case, she wouldn’t have hesitated. That she was less willing to cooperate with Brodie probably said more about her feelings for him than she cared to admit.

Never mind. She would try to come up with some ideas about Alex and—with her help or not—Travis and Brodie would catch him and put him in jail for a long time.

Then she could go back to her normal life, with no serial killers—and no former lovers—to unsettle her.

“YOUR SISTER HAS agreed to serve as a consultant on the case.”

Travis was so even-keeled and unemotional that Brodie considered it a personal challenge to attempt to get a reaction from him. He’d scored a hit with this announcement.

Travis looked up from the file he’d been studying, eyes sparking with annoyance. “What could Emily possibly contribute to the case?” he asked.

Brodie moved out of the doorway where he’d been standing and dropped into one of the two chairs in front of Travis’s desk. The small office was spartan in appearance, with only a laptop and an inch-high stack of papers on Travis’s desk, and a few family photographs and citations on the walls. Brodie’s own desk at CBI headquarters in Denver was crammed with so many books, files and photographs his coworkers had hinted that it might be a fire hazard. But hey, the clutter worked for him. “Emily knows Alex Woodruff and she’s studied psychology,” he said. “She can give us insights into his character and what he’s likely to do next.”

“She’s an economics major—not a profiler.”

“We’ll still consult the CBI profiler,” Brodie said. “But I think Emily will come to this with fresh eyes. Besides, she knows this county almost as well as you do. She might be able to give us some new ideas about places to look for him.”

Travis shook his head. “He’s probably left the county by now. The highway is open, and he has to know we’re on his trail. A smart man would be halfway to Mexico by now.”

“You and I both know criminals rarely behave the way most people would. Alex may be smart, but he’s arrogant, too. He’s been taunting you, leaving those business cards, killing a woman on your family ranch, going after one of your deputies. He still thinks he can beat you.”

“Maybe.” Travis fixed Brodie with a stare that had probably caused more than one felon to shake in his shoes. “This isn’t some scheme you’ve come up with in order for you to spend more time with Emily, is it?” he asked. “Because I’m not going to stand by and let that happen again.”

“Let what happen?” Brodie had a strong sense of déjà vu. He recalled another conversation with Travis that had begun like this, five years ago, when his friend—only a deputy then—had accused him of trying to seduce Emily.

“Emily really hurt when the two of you broke things off,” Travis said. “It took a long time for her to get over you. I don’t want her to have to go through that again.”

Brodie bristled. “She’s the one who ended it, not me.”

“You must have had something to do with it.”

Brodie ground his teeth together. He did not want to argue about this with Travis. “I didn’t come here to get back together with your sister,” he said. “I came to help with this case. I asked Emily to consult because I think she’s another resource we can draw on.”

Travis uncrossed his arms, and the tension around his mouth eased. “Fair enough. I won’t rule out anything that might help us catch Alex Woodruff. Speaking of that, have you had any luck tracking down Lynn Wallace’s car?”

“Not yet. She drove a white Volvo.” Brodie opened his phone and read the license plate number from his notes. “Nothing flashy. Fairly common. Easy to hide.”

“Right. I’ll put my deputies on the lookout.” He turned to a map pinned to the wall of his office. Pins showed the locations where each of the Ice Cold Killer’s seven victims had been found. “Alex and Tim working together concentrated the murders in three areas,” he said. “Christy O’Brien and Anita Allbritton were killed within Eagle Mountain town limits. Kelly Farrow and Michaela Underwood were both murdered in the area around Dixon Pass and the national forest service land near there. Fiona Winslow, Lauren Grenado and Lynn Wallace were all killed within a couple of miles of the Walking W ranch.” Travis indicated a third grouping of pins on the map.

“Does that tell us anything about where Alex might be hiding now?” Brodie asked.

Travis pointed to a red pin on County Road Five. “We know Tim and Alex were staying at Tim’s aunt’s cabin, here, when the first three murders took place. They spent some time in a vacation home here.” He indicated another pin. “And they may have been at this summer cabin in the national forest, here, for the other murders. Now—who knows?”

A tapping on the door frame interrupted them. Both men turned to see office manager Adelaide Kinkaid, a sixtysomething woman who wore what looked like red monkeys dangling from her earlobes, and a flowing red-and-purple tunic over black slacks. “We just got word that a fresh slide on Dixon Pass sent one vehicle over the edge and buried two others,” she said. “Fortunately, they were able to dig everyone out pretty quickly, but the road is closed until they can clear up the mess.”

Brodie groaned. “How many delivery trucks do you suppose got caught on the wrong side of this one?” he asked.