Authors: Reggi Allder
He
left the cabin, locked the front door and dropped the house key into his pocket.
With
his lengthy body stuffed into the Volvo’s short space, he reclined the seat. Lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll and his muscles ached to rest. He had a night of standing guard before him, better snatch some shut eye before Kelly arrived. He set the alarm to ring in two hours and closed his eyes.
Later, h
e jerked awake, turned off the alarm, and rubbed his stiff neck then looked toward Donner Pass. Black clouds had formed over the mountains where Kelly would drive. The wind whistled through the trees and the sky grew darker. Still, if things went smoothly, she’d beat the gathering storm and be at the cabin before it started.
T
he sky threatened snow and the temperature dropped. He pulled on his parka, revved the car’s engine and turned on the heater for a moment and then turned if off.
S
now began to fall. Just a flurry at first, then it came down harder. The cobblestone driveway turned from gray to white and still she didn't arrive.
A
numbing cold invaded the car. He rubbed his hands together to bring back the feeling in his finger tips.
He
cursed himself for letting her go without him. Restless, he got out of the car and paced beside it. He strained to see through the increasing veil of flakes. Snow hit his face. He blinked his eyes to clear it away and searched the horizon.
Kelly where the hell are you?
***
Kelly’s ears pulsed from the pressure of the higher altitude. Still wearing only her white cotton tank top and jeans, she shivered. The clothes had been perfect for the heat of the Sacramento Valley, but not for the Sierra Nevada Mountains. If she’d thought about it, she’d have taken her sweater out of the trunk when she stopped at a gas station in Auburn.
A snowflake landed on the
Honda’s windshield, surprising weather for June. In a Sierra Nevada minute the weather changed, much as her life had, from a sunny day, to a blizzard.
Highway Eighty
winding toward Donner Summit was nearly white. On high, the wipers struggled to slide across the windshield, barely able to move the heavy snow.
Against
the wall of wind and ice, Kelly drove the vintage car up the grade toward the seven thousand-foot summit. The engine strained and the gauge on the dash board edged dangerously close to the red zone indicating the engine was overheating. She wiped the condensation from the front window.
The snow might have lulled her into watching its beauty if
she weren’t worried she was driving too close to the edge of the road that bordered the cliff. Jerking on the wheel, she steered the car toward the middle of the road. She gasped as a SUV coming from the opposite direction almost sideswiped her car.
Ghostlike
headlights of a vehicle flashed in the rear view mirror. A classic black Cadillac closed in on her car. The driver must not be able to see her white car. She tapped the brake pedal to flash the Honda's scarlet brake lights.
Like a snow leopard,
the dark car lunged toward her, racing toward the Honda's bumper. She stomped on the gas pedal, but her car’s tires spun in the snow. She screamed expecting the car’s impact.
At the last second the
Cadillac’s driver slammed on the brakes. The vehicle went into a spin, hurling toward the Honda. A wall of snow and ice shot high into the air and landed on the Caddy turning it white.
In the rearview mirror, she watched in horror as the
luxury car hit the embankment on the other side of the road. It came to a stop facing the wrong direction on the highway. Steam rose from the dying engine, but the auto's headlights were still bright. She left the engine running, pulled on the hand brake and rushed out of the car. The Cadillac’s driver could be hurt. She ran toward the wrecked car.
The
wind assaulted her, sending ice into her eyes and nose. She coughed and brushed it away. A gust of wind nearly knocked her over. Her leather flats had no traction on the snow and she slipped on the icy road. Still, she got up and pushed into the wind moving toward the disabled car.
As she reached
it, the driver’s side door flew open. An enormous man jumped out and grabbed her arm. She shrieked and twisted out of his grasps. She fell and then scrambled to her feet, jogging out of his reach. He yelled at her. Most of his words were lost in the wind gusts. The only word she heard was “Kill”.
She
sprinted toward her Honda, gasping, the cold air burning in her lungs.
S
he glanced back. The man was running after her. He yelled his voice a roaring noise of undecipherable words. Only the word “Kill” rang in her ears.
H
e ran faster.
A
s she increased her speed, she almost lost her footing.
Damn, where
’s my car?
She squinted to see in the snow and searched for her white Honda. Barely visible in the storm, the car's engine was still turning over.
S
he leaped into the driver’s seat and put the transmission in first. Her wet shoe slipped off the clutch and the car stalled. She turned the key but the engine didn’t start.
In the rear view mirror she could see the man coming
closer. Dressed in all black his suit was now spotted with snow. His red face deepened with anger as he trudged in her direction. His right hand flexed around a tire iron.
In a second he
’d be at her car. She stomped on the clutch and turned the key again. “Start. Damn it. Start.”
Just as the
man grabbed the Honda’s door handle the car’s engine turned over and the car pitched forward. The handle was yanked from the guy’s grip and he fell to his knees in the snow.
Kelly
snatched a glance in the rear view mirror as she drove away. The man struggled to his feet. His black clothes now fully covered in snow. He shook his fist at her and his face went crimson.
When she could
n’t see him anymore, she slowed the car, but couldn't slow her rapid heartbeat.
“
Kill,” his threat echoed in her ears again. Was this road rage from a crazy man or did he have something to do with Johnny? She glanced in the rearview mirror again, no Cadillac, only darkness. She let her shoulders relax, but her heart rate refused to return to normal.
As t
he storm worsened, the highway disappeared under a blanket of white powder. Without landmarks, it was impossible to know where to steer the car.
Her hands ached from squeezing the steering wheel. If she stopped
driving the man chasing her would have time to start his Cadillac and catch up to her.
T
ears froze on her cheeks. As reckless as it might feel her only option was to keep driving and risk plunging off the seven thousand foot drop from Donner Summit.
***
The Shaw bungalow was dark and so were the neighboring houses. Hours had passed since a car had driven down the small street that led to Kelly’s cabin.
Wind slammed against the Volvo and
the snow blocked Brick’s view of the mountains. If it was this bad here, he could only imagine how bad the storm was on Donner Summit.
H
e thought about clearing the flakes off the windshield, but the snow was coming down so fast it wasn’t worth the effort. Standing outside his vehicle, he strained to see Highway Eighty.
In this weather, a
n accident could leave Kelly on the summit hurt and alone. Futile tension tightened his chest.
H
ell.
It was his fault for letting her go off alone.
***
With the road covered in snow, Kelly couldn’t guess if it turned or continued straight ahead. She took her foot off the gas pedal and the car slowed. Maybe she’d die of hypothermia, but that was better than plunging off Donner Summit. Wasn’t it?
The hood
of her car was totally covered in snow now. Soon it would completely disappear under the white stuff. She strained to see out of the small space still clear on the windshield.
The wind shifted and s
uddenly in the sea of white, her eye caught a flash of red. There it was again. A semi tractor/ trailer rig seemed to rise before her eyes. A red letter marked the eighteen- wheeler's back door, the logo of a familiar supermarket chain.
The truck's many tires melted the snow as it drove over the powder, leaving a narrow trail.
She steered the Honda’s tires into the tracks.
The big rig
picked up speed.
Damn
it
. Her breathing quickened as she increased the car’s speed. She hoped the driver of the rig could see better that she could because in the whiteout she had no idea where he was going. But without the rig to follow, the road was lost.
The
truck reached the top of the summit and then quickly sped down the grade. To keep up with it, she pressed down the gas pedal. Her grip on the wheel so hard her fingers ached, but she held her car in the eighteen-wheeler's path.
A g
ust of wind hit her car. The car shuddered, the windows shook as it picked up speed on the downhill. The rig’s brake light flashed and she slammed both feet on the brakes as the Honda slid on the icy road toward the rig. She braced for impact. Just before she rear-ended the truck the Honda came to a halt.
The
double-wheeler moved again. She managed to keep her car close enough to see the rig but not too near. Gradually the downgrade became less steep. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel and took a slow deep breath.
T
hey drove into the outskirts of the small resort town of Truckee, California. She turned off at the first gas station she saw. The truck continued on. She wanted tell the driver he’d saved her life, but soon the vehicle was out of sight. Shivering uncontrollably, she rested her head on the steering wheel and said a prayer of thanks.
S
he found her beige cardigan and her oversized blue cable knit sweater in the trunk of the Honda and pulled on both of them.
A
balding, middle-aged California Highway Patrol officer walked out of the gas station mini mart, heading toward his patrol car. She rushed to talk to him. The Cadillac’s driver was still on the summit. Her conscience wouldn’t let her leave the man to freeze to death on the mountain.
She told the officer about the
Cadillac still on Donner Summit. But not wanting to be held to make a statement, she neglected to mention that she thought the driver had tried to run her off the road and had threatened her.
T
he patrol car, bar lights flashing, drove out of the gas station heading toward the summit.
From Truckee
it was only about fifteen miles to Tahoe City. Even so, if it were not for the hope that she would find her sister at the cabin, she’d stop and stay the night in Truckee.
A sudden
chill shook her. She’d left a message on Carrie’s cell telling her to go to the cabin. The men who ransacked her house could already be at the cabin.
Dear God, don’t let me find Carrie in the cabin dead.
Chapter Six
Snow concealed the cobblestone driveway to the cabin. No tire tracks, no one had come to the bungalow since the storm started. Kelly parked in the driveway.
W
ith a sigh of relief, she entered the foyer. Instinctively, she knew the place was empty. Was it that or was it the void death created? Would she find Carrie dead? She shivered.
“Carrie
, are you here? Carrie.”
She
searched the house, turning on a light in every room. Memories of the many summers and holidays spent vacationing here filled her. She smiled as she recalled Carrie jumping on the big bed in her grandparent's room. And she thought of two of them stealing down stairs early on Christmas morning to look for Santa. How happy she’d been then and how naive. She pushed down a sob.
How had her life gone so wrong?
When she left for college she’d been so excited and ready to experience everything life had to offer. Thanks to Johnny Vega, she now knew how cruel and dangerous life could be. She wiped away a tear.
In her grandparent's first floor bedroom, she turned on the bedside lamp. Too tired to make the bed or change her clothes, she wrapped herself in the queen-size white goose down comforter and lay down between the Ponderosa posts of the old four poster bed. She reached over and turned off the lamp.
In the dark, the events on the Donner Pass haunted her. She saw the angry eyes of the man in the Cadillac. Quickly, she replaced it with an image of Brick, his virile male strength and quiet confidence. He’d kept watch over her, protecting her. If only she’d let him come with her she wouldn’t be alone wondering when the attackers would come to the cabin to get her.
If she closed her eyes s
he could almost hear Brick’s breathing, almost sense his vibration and almost feel his touch.
Stop
. He was gone. She’d never see him again.
***
Brick had watched Kelly’s old Honda pull into the driveway.
She was all right.
He let his shoulders relax.
The lights of the old cottage came on one by one
, a picture perfect home in the woods. Too bad the reality of her situation belied the image. He got out of the Volvo and walked toward the cabin. His boots left a trail in the fresh powder. He checked the perimeter of the cabin and made sure the first floor doors and windows were locked.
Back on the knoll
in the Volvo, he settled in for the night. A thirty-five millimeter single lens reflex camera, with zoom lens, sat in his lap. He patted the nine-millimeter handgun holstered near to his heart then leaned back in the seat.
The weather report said snow flurries throughout the night and set the low temperature at minus five degrees Fahrenheit.
He watched the green pines boughs bend under the weight of the falling snow and glisten in the light of the moon.
Waiting sent
unnecessary adrenaline flooding though his veins. Stakeouts were a part of his job he could live without. He preferred almost anything except sitting on his butt all night waiting for something to happen, all the while hoping it didn't.
Taking off his
leather gloves, he blew warm air onto his cold fingers. Kelly would be tucked in bed now and warm and cozy, her shapely lips parted and purring while she slept. He could be in the cabin in a minute and curl up next to her.
Enough.
His dry throat ached for a
something hot to drink. He’d stopped at a Seven Eleven and bought coffee. But it’d be cold by now. He took a couple of gulps anyway.
His right
leg ached. Taut muscles pulsed around his swollen knee joint. As he rubbed it he recalled the ambush that nearly killed him and did kill the woman he was guarding.
The
FBI had offered him disability retirement. Hell, they’d all but demanded it. He’d refused. And with a doctor’s okay, he’d fought to be reinstated. Maybe he should’ve taken early retirement. He could be living in the heat of the Palm Springs desert instead of sitting in a metal box in the middle of a Sierra Nevada snowstorm. He shifted his body to find a more comfortable position in the tight confines of the driver’s seat.
He
endured months of rigorous physical therapy, pushing himself by sheer doggedness. Pain had been a daily annoyance he’d learned to ignore. It was at that time Carrie chose to break their engagement. After that his dream of returning to work was the only thing that kept him going.
He moved and pain shot through his right knee. That
was good. It assured him he wouldn’t be comfortable enough to sleep. To protect Kelly, he had to stay awake.
In a nearby
pine tree, an owl hooted. He picked up the digital SLR camera, and held it to view the area though the zoom lens. Nothing was out of place, just an owl returning from its nightly hunt.
Silence returned.
The hours passed slowly, a cold, silent blur of time.
T
he flurries stopped as the dawn broke. Slowly at first, then with the great force seen in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the sun pierced the gray mantle of the night.
Brick stretched and twisted the stiffness out of his body. While taking a deep breath of the mountain air, h
e inspected a one hundred-eighty degree vista. The grandeur awed him.
The need for
hot coffee grabbed him. He took the camera and stuffed it into his backpack, adjusted the holstered pistol strapped near his left arm and exited the car.
The key he
’d found earlier slid into the cabin’s front door lock. The weathered door squeaked as it opened. In the entryway, he locked the door and stowed the key in his pocket. Warm air greeted him. He slipped off his snow-covered boots and left them to dry on the green Catalina tiled entry.
The
thick carpet allowed him to maneuver silently to the great room. He removed the dust cover from a blue velvet sofa that sat at a right angle to a huge river rock fireplace. He winced and gingerly lowered himself to a sitting position and straightened his sore knee in front of him.
With
his parka and pack on the floor, he adjusted his gun holster to a more comfortable position, leaned back and closed his eyes. In the familiarity of the old cottage sleep came easily.
***
A sound signaled an alert in the back of Kelly's mind. Suddenly awake, she strained to see in the low light of dawn and listened for another noise. Her heart pounded so loudly she didn’t know if she could hear any other sound. The minutes passed and the silence continued. Exhaustion overtook fear. She rolled over in bed and closed her eyes.
Later a
ray of light pierced the beveled glass of the bedroom window. She stretched and sat up. What time was it, noon? One? There was no clock in the room.
S
till dressed in her jeans and tank top, she got up. A growling stomach and light head warned her she needed to eat. It had been almost two days since she’d had a full meal. What her body needed first was a strong cup of coffee. The last time she was at the cabin she’d left coffee beans in the refrigerator.
O
n her way to the kitchen, she glanced in the great room and stopped. A man slept on the couch.
Don’t panic.
She breathed again.
Brick.
How did he get in?
S
he’d locked the door. Why was he there? She should demand he tell her why he’d shown up on her doorstep a second time. The truth was she was glad to see him. She’d thought she might never hear from him again and after her scare on the road last night, she wanted him nearby.
A
s he slept she watched his chest expand his breathing slow and steady. Her eyes roamed freely over his long frame, stopping at his narrow waist and broad shoulders, and then looking to the fine structure of his face, chiseled forehead, wide set eyes, perfectly shaped nose, and high cheekbones. The firm set jaw had just a touch of stubble, his lips were full. What it would be like to kiss him?
As if he heard what she was thinking,
Brick's eyes flew open. She jumped.
“What are you doing here?
” she said to cover her embarrassment.
“
I found your extra key. You should know better than to leave a key outside where anyone could find it.”
“
I didn't ask you how you opened the door. I want to know why you’re following me.”
H
e sat up, reached into his pocket and pulled out the extra key. “Put it somewhere safe.”
“Stop ignoring my question
s. Why are you here? I haven’t seen you for five years and suddenly you show up on my door step twice. What’s going on?”
H
is lips formed a firm thin line and anger flickered in his eyes. For the first time since he came back, she was afraid of him. He wasn't the same amiable guy she’d known years earlier. Turbulent undercurrents beat beneath his calm exterior. But right now that made him just the man she needed, the one strong enough to help her. Even so, she stepped back.
Better change the subject.
She cleared her throat. “I was on my way to make coffee. Would you like a cup?”
“
Sure.”
Their eyes caught and
something passed between them, a spark. It sent a potent and enticing sensation through her. She remembered the crush she’d had on him when she was sixteen. What a fool she had made of herself then, kissing him and telling him she loved him. She hoped he didn’t remember.
“
I’ll see what I can find for breakfast. Give me a few minutes.”
“
I'll help.” He started to get up.
“
No you don't. You took care of me yesterday. It's my turn. I'll call you when breakfast is ready.”
He
smiled and leaned back against the sofa's pillows.
G
lad for the opportunity to get away from the heated tension spiraling between them, she ran out of the room.
In t
he kitchen, she scanned the room. The knotty pine walls had the aroma of the many spices used over the years. They blended into a fragrance that couldn't be manufactured. She was a little girl again in her grandparent's house. It was easy to ignore the rest of the world. She was safe. All was well.
At the kitchen table
she watched Brick push his empty breakfast plate away. “Thanks for the pancakes. It was just what I needed.” He looked up from his empty plate. “Always liked this old place. Your granddad built it, right?”
“Yeah.”
She knew he was making small talk to put her at ease. The least she could do was hold-up her end of the conversation. If she pressed for reasons for him being there, if she angered him, he might leave and she’d be alone again. She shivered at the thought.
“
My mom's dad built it. He loved this place and was always working on it. The cabin needs repairs now, but I'm not handy.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to learn.”
“
It’d be a joy to work on a house like this. I could put it back in shape in no time.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t like that Carrie doesn’t know what’s happened to you. She could be in danger too. Why don't you phone her again?”
***
Brick watched the sway of Kelly’s hips as she left the room. He couldn't believe how sexy she was in the morning, barefoot, hair disheveled and smelling of soap and pancakes. At breakfast seeing her lick strawberry preserves from her lips, had almost driven him crazy.
It had taken
all his strength of will not to take her in his arms and kiss her lips clean. A hunger and a thirst for Kelly spread through him. He shook his head. It was a hunger that couldn’t be filled and a thirst that would never be quenched. If he touched her the only thing she could do for him was make him lose his FBI career.
Back in the great room, he retrieved his backpack
and checked the cell. The battery still held a charge. Time to call his boss, he sat in a leather wingback chair, rubbed his painful right knee and listened to the phone ring.
“
Yeah.”
“
Hey Don, got anything for me?”
“
Hey Brick, the intruders were a two man wrecking crew at the girls’ place.”
Brick's muscles
tightened and his anger flared when he thought of what the men had done to Kelly.
“
They were pros,” Don added. “They didn't leave anything, no prints, nada. Oh maybe a couple of hairs. The clean-up crew vacuumed and I'll see what they can find. But unless you have DNA you want tested, finding the men who did this isn’t looking good.”
“
Did you get anything on the car's license number?” He sat up. “Kelly said it was a brown van.”
“
According to DMV records, that license plate belongs to a red Toyota sedan from Merced.”
“
Damn. The plates were obviously stolen.”
“
Looks like it. Anything on your end?” Don asked.