Snowbound Security. Beverly Long
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her computer. The couches sat in a V in front of the stone fireplace, with a big wooden end table between them. Both the couches were a rich brown leather with lots of comfy pillows. The rug on the glossy hardwood floor was a mix of browns and burgundies and gold that tied the space together.
In the middle of the dining area there was a big table. Lots of dark wood and six comfortable-looking fabric chairs in the same sort of colors that were in the living room. There was a runner down the middle with a gorgeous brown and gold blown glass bowl in the center.
The kitchen was what you’d expect to find in an upscale home, not in a cabin. Stainless steel appliances, big sink with a tall, arching faucet, and more rugs on the polished wood floor. Granite countertops and expensive-looking glass-fronted cabinets. Inside of them she could see plenty of dishes and glassware.
The only thing that seemed out of place was the rather plain telephone hanging on the wall—such a throwback to another time. She lifted the receiver, listened for the dial tone and smiled. It worked. How nice.
Not that she had anyone to call. She’d left her cell phone behind and had picked up a prepaid phone at the same time she’d purchased Hannah’s clothes. She’d activated it and then later made just one call—to let Melissa know they’d arrived safely.
Now if there was only a coffeepot hiding in one of the cupboards that hung above the countertop, she would consider it a sign that she was in the right place. Once she’d made the quick decision that she and Hannah had to leave Nashville, she’d thrown just a few clothes into a backpack, wanting to be able to travel light. Coffee and filters fell into the essential category and she’d brought them along.
She had very little in her apartment in Nashville. She’d rented it furnished and moved her own possessions in a couple boxes, leaving most everything behind in Memphis, where she’d lived for the last four years after leaving Indiana. She’d always intended to return to Memphis.
That would never happen now. The life she had known before had been pushed out of reach.
She opened one cupboard and found a toaster. That was good; she would need that, too. There were also a few canned goods on the shelf. Soup, vegetables, beans. She looked at the expiration dates. They were all good for at least the next six months.
She’d be long gone before then.
She opened the other cabinet and thank you, God, there was a coffeepot. It was clean and she quickly plugged it in, then filled the pot halfway full with water. Got a filter, put the grounds in and sighed when the first sizzle hit the bottom of the now-hot glass pot.
She toasted two slices of bread and peeled an orange. Once the toast popped, she slathered on the peanut butter, put a piece of toast on each of the small plates she found and divided the orange. “Here you go, Hannah.”
Hannah, already engrossed in the movie, blindly reached out for an orange slice. Laura sat at the table, eating her breakfast and drinking the black coffee that she’d have preferred with cream. This was the first day of their new lives. It should feel momentous.
But it just felt overwhelming. How the hell was she going to manage? How was she going to keep a roof over their heads and food on their table?
Hannah should be at her preschool at this very moment. She should be at work. Instead, they were both halfway across the country. Thrown together by circumstances too complex for many to understand.
By now the police would have been called.
Would the case wind its way to Detective August Phillips’s desk? Would he put two and two together and realize the connection to another of his cases, the deaths of Joe and Ariel Collins? The deaths she was sure were suspicious, although the seasoned veteran with thirty years on the force was not yet convinced.
He’d said he respected her opinion and that he’d keep an open mind.
But he likely wouldn’t think much of her now.
None of that mattered. Hannah was safe. And Laura intended to keep it that way. The alternative was simply too horrible to bear.
* * *
Rico Metez wasn’t supposed to be driving. His doctor had said to wait another two weeks before getting behind the wheel or returning to work, but the hell with that. He was tired of babying his injured ankle, tired of being at less than 100 percent.
He was headed home. To the Colorado mountains. To his cabin. He’d been saddened to hear from Georgina Fodder that she wasn’t feeling well enough to make her scheduled trip. He’d known her cancer was rapidly advancing but had hoped she’d have one more visit to the mountains. After the conversation had ended, he’d made a few follow-up calls to ensure that she had everything she needed to make her final days as comfortable as possible. Her son had sung the praises of Melissa Trane, a home care worker who’d become indispensable to Georgina.
And when he’d decided that he wasn’t going to let the cabin simply sit empty, his partners had almost cheered his decision. “We owe you,” they’d said. And they did. Because he’d had the bad luck to be available when Mora Rambeilla had needed executive protection a few months ago. It was really good money but, unfortunately, had been more drama than it was worth.
She’d been demanding and prone to hysterics. Her ex-husband postulated conspiracy theories that had no basis in fact, and she had manipulative adult children who should have had their own lives but apparently didn’t. It had been a daytime soap opera that had consumed him for two months prior to his accident. Royce Morgan, Trey Riker and Seth Pike had all felt as if they’d escaped a bullet.
He’d packed a bag, put gas in his SUV and had been grateful when Las Vegas was not even a speck in his rearview mirror. Now, nine hours later, he was close. And as luck would have it, Jennie Jones’s little store was still open. Jennie had to be at least seventy but she still worked twelve-hour days, selling groceries and gas to the locals and anybody passing through that didn’t mind paying a premium of 20 percent for the convenience of not having to drive all the way down the damn mountain to get to a big store.
He pulled in and killed the engine. Lucky, who’d been sleeping in the passenger seat, immediately perked up and started to whine.
“No, you’re staying here,” Rico said. “This is a quick stop.”
The dog cocked his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was being left behind.
“I’ll get you a treat,” Rico said before opening his door. Then he pulled the crutches that he’d come to despise after him. He negotiated the two steps easily—after all, he’d been using the crutches for weeks now. When he opened the door, Jennie looked up from the cash register.
“Saints preserve us, is that you, Rico?” she asked, coming around the counter. She took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “What happened?”
“Chasing chickens,” he said. It was an old joke. When he’d been a little kid and wandered into Jennie’s store and stayed too long, she’d send him on his way and say, “Just tell your parents that you got busy chasing chickens.”
His parents, who had picked fruit for a living, had smiled, grateful that Jennie had watched over their boy while they were busy in the fields, and heated up dinner for him.
“How long are you staying?” she asked.
“Couple weeks,” he said. He reached for a plastic basket.
“You point and I’ll fill your basket. But make it fast, Rico. I was just about to shut down the store. My youngest granddaughter, Ari, is visiting.”
“How old is she now?” he asked, pointing at boxes of whole grain cereal.
She dropped them in his basket. “Six. Paddie is watching her while I’m here.”
Paddie and Jennie had been together for as long as Rico could remember. They had never married. “I’ll bet she’s a beauty,” he said.
“She is. What else do you need?”