He felt a slight chill on his skin as he gained elevation. The bruised-ochre sky added to his sense of unease as he closed in on the ski town. Thunder rumbled faintly in the hills.
Well, he would just have to do his job and try to stay out of Hannah McGuires way for the next week or so.
With a stroke of luck, he might not see her at all.
Take a seat, Hannah. Fred LeFevre, Royal Canadian Mounted Police Staff Sergeant, motioned
to a gray plastic chair. Mind if I eat my lunch?
No. Go ahead. Thanks for seeing me. She despised the way the RCMP staff sergeant allowed his eyes to range over her unabashedly. He was doing it now.
She sat. Did you manage to get one of the guys to look into Amys case again?
He unwrapped his cheeseburger as he spoke. I did, as a favor to you. But theres nothing there. You should let it rest.
Hannah leaned forward. But, Fred, you have to agree, the timing of the break-in was curious. Al and I went through all her things. The place was ransacked, but nothing is missing. Her CDs are there, her mountain bike, her video equipment, her climbing gear
Hannah, Hannah. Fred held up his stubby-fingered hands. The robbery was one in a series last year. Theres no point in rehashing this now that weve found her.
Anger prickled. Im not rehashing. Its just that this whole business feels wrong. Especially now that we have found her. Amy wasnt dressed for the weather. She had no gear. She left no note. It just raises more questions.
She didnt think Fred had even heard her. We think the reason nothing was taken from her apartment was because the perpetrators were interrupted. He lifted his cheeseburger with both hands and bit into it. Sauce slopped out the sides and splotched onto the waxed wrapper on his desk. The thick smell of fried onions permeated the air in the small office.
Hannah shook her head. I just cant believe it was unrelated to her disappearance. Neither can Al. It was like someone was looking for something.
Look, its out of my hands now. The coroner has ruled her death accidental. He spurted ketchup onto his fries. Its hard. I know. But you have to let it go. We may never find out exactly what happened. Unless there is evidence of a crime, Im obliged to close the book at my end. He chewed as he spoke, squeezing his words around the fast-food mash in his mouth.
Al still has the lease to her apartment. Maybe you could take one more look?
Fred took another chomp out of his cheeseburger and followed it with a fistful of fries. He chewed a little before opening his mouth to talk again. Like I said, theres no evidence that the B and E is connected to her accident. I just dont have the resources to
So youre not going to try and find the people who did this?
There were no prints. Nothing to go on.
She rubbed her hands over her face, scrubbing at the frustration. This was a dead end. He was no help.
Fred stopped chewing. HannahIm sorry.
She stood. Its okay. Thanks for your time.
Look, if you come up with something concrete, anything that will justify opening up the case again, I will.
Thanks, Fred. Enjoy your lunch. She turned and walked out, feeling his eyes on her behind.
There had to be something. She just needed to find it. Shed promised Al she would help get to the bottom of this. Perhaps she might still find some clue in Amys apartment. Maybe she and Al had missed something a year ago.
Outside the RCMP detachment, the sky was darkening with the threat of a storm. The light in the village was a dim and unearthly amber under the bruised clouds, and there was a distant grumble of thunder up in the peaks. Branches nodded in grim deference to the mounting wind.
Hannah stood on the stairs and zipped up her jacket, irked at how the weather always affected her moods. The brooding clouds seemed to hold ominous portent. The sudden chill seeped up and into her spine. She felt as if things were closing in on her as she stepped out into the wind.
Chapter 2
The patio was buzzing with the Friday-afternoon lunch crowd. People were lapping up the sunshine after last nights fierce storm.
Rex was shown to a small table under a red umbrella at the rear of the patio. He counted himself lucky to find a spot. Luckier than he had been in his hunt for CIA Agent Mitchell this morning.
There was no Ken Mitchell registered at any of the hotels in White River. But that was not surprising. Mitchell would hardly use his real name. Still, Rex wanted to rule out the obvious.
A waitress with auburn braids approached his table.
Ill have the special. And Ill try the White River ale.
She took his menu, and Rex settled back to survey the ski town scene. The village was packed with tourists. He could hear British and Australian and American accents. The couple at
the table next to him were conversing in Spanish, and next to them was a boisterous party of Japanese teens. Their animation was infectious.
His beer arrived. He spilled the cool amber liquid into his mouth, letting it pool around his tongue before swallowing. The local brew was good.