Northwest: Deep Freeze Part 30

His gaze followed her as she slid behind the wheel of her Jeep and eased out of the lot. The pathetic dog was sitting in the pa.s.senger seat.

"Don't tell me." BJ's voice brought him up cold.

He turned to find her in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the jamb. "What?"

"You know what," she chided. "You and every red-blooded male in this county-no, make that this country-have a hard-on for Jenna Hughes."

He snorted.

"How about that? You don't even deny it." Her smile stretched wide. "I never thought I'd see the day."

He sighed. "I think we have work to do."

"You're in love, Carter. Admit it. Or at least you're in l.u.s.t."

"You've got an overactive imagination."

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h," she said, but she was smiling. "I thought you were above this sort of thing."

None of us is immune, he thought, and walked back to his desk. "The lady's got a problem," he said, showing BJ the second note. "Someone's definitely stalking her, and I thought you could work some of your computer/Internet magic and help me find the son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"Gladly," BJ agreed. "I'm still working on a list of people who rent her movies, but I can check the Web as well."

"Good," he said, before realizing she'd dropped by his office unsummoned. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Not me. It's the press. They're clamoring for a statement."

"They can take it up with the OSP."

"Yeah, that's what they've been told, but a few aren't taking 'no' for an answer. The most stubborn one is Roxie Olmstead, the local reporter for the Banner. She wants an interview with you. Caught up with me on the street, knows I work with you, and blah, blah, blah, could she have an exclusive interview."

He remembered her from an earlier case. Pretty. Pet.i.te. Persistent. Pain in the b.u.t.t. "You told her to get in line, right?"

"I told her I had absolutely no influence over you. She'd have to try and reach you herself."

"Thanks a lot."

"Just wanted to give you a heads-up."

"Thanks." He reached for his phone.

"It's h.e.l.l to be popular," BJ said, and started to leave.

You got that right, he thought, but held his tongue as he called Montinello and sent him over to Jenna Hughes's ranch. He doubted they'd find any fingerprints, but then again, who knew? Maybe they'd get lucky. Nonetheless, BJ's observations. .h.i.t too close to home. What the devil was he doing fantasizing about Jenna Hughes? Christ Jesus, he was more of a fool than he'd ever admit.

"A bodyguard? Are you serious?" Ca.s.sie stopped opening the boxes labeled Christmas Decorations and stared at her mother in horror. "You're going to have some stranger come live with us? No way. No friggin' way."

"He'll stay in the studio behind the garage." Jenna was adamant. Ever since finding the second note, she'd been on edge. Jumpy. Out of her mind with fear. The usual noises of the house bothered her, and she was forever double-checking the locks. She'd picked up shotgun sh.e.l.ls from the sporting goods store, but hadn't yet loaded the old gun.

Allie unwrapped a crystal ornament in the shape of a snowman. "You could hire Mr. Settler."

"Save me," Ca.s.sie whispered.

"No, really. He sometimes does detective work."

"Is that right?" Jenna asked.

"Mm-hmm." Allie set the ornament on the table, where it reflected the reddish glow from the fire burning on the other side of the room.

"Did he tell you that?" Ca.s.sie demanded.

"Dani did."

"Dani tells stories to anyone gullible enough to listen."

"It's true. I saw his gun."

"What?" Jenna was slitting open the plastic tape on another box, but she looked up sharply. "What were you doing snooping through Mr. Settler's things?"

"I wasn't. He was wearing it. In a shoulder holster. I saw it under his jacket."

"Weird." Ca.s.sie wadded up a layer of newspaper before pulling out a string of lights. "Did you know he was a P.I.?" she asked her mother.

"No. He never mentioned it."

"Even weirder."

"I don't think we'll hire Mr. Settler."

"Thank G.o.d," Ca.s.sie muttered under her breath.

"But it would be cool."

"You just want Dani to come live with us," Ca.s.sie accused, and Allie's face darkened.

"He could do it. He was in the Army. In the Special Forces, or something like that."

"Another tall tale. G.o.d, Allie, grow up, would you?"

"It's true!"

"Yeah, right." Ca.s.sie plugged in the string of lights and they winked on, s.h.i.+ning bright and reflecting in little spots of color on the floor.

"Enough. We don't know anything about Mr. Settler."

"Except that he has the hots for you."

"Ca.s.sie!" The box cutter slipped and she nicked the thumb of her other hand. "d.a.m.n!"

"It's true."

Allie turned on her sister. "He was in the Army. Dani showed me some stuff, okay? Medals and pictures and awards. Mr. Settler was-like a sergeant-in some kind of elite unit."

Jenna's shoulders tightened as she pressed her bleeding thumb to her mouth. She reached into a cupboard by the sink for a box of Band-Aids and tore one of the smaller plastic strips open. Why hadn't Travis mentioned his past? She wrapped her thumb with the Band-Aid, covering the cut. It showed red through the plastic, but the blood didn't seep out. She was back in business again. "So," she said, leveling her gaze on her youngest daughter. "Did Mr. Settler know you looked at his things?"

Allie shrugged.

"Allie?" Jenna reprimanded gently as she sliced open a box of clear lights.

"Dunno. Dani said it didn't matter."

"Geez. What's with that girl?" Ca.s.sie asked, uncoiling a final strand of lights. "Doesn't she take tai-kwon-do and shoot guns at the rifle range and ride horses bareback?"

"So what?" Allie said, bristling even more.

"Does she think she's a guy, or what?"

"Hey! Maybe we should all do some of the things Dani does," Jenna said as she untangled the string of lights. She thought of the holiday ahead and wondered how she'd ever find a shard of Christmas spirit. Not only was she still dealing with Jill's death, but now she had this...this stalker...watching her-entering her house.

Happy Holidays, she thought morbidly.

CHAPTER 26.

The neighbors were a bust. One of the ranches bordering the Hughes estate was boarded up, no sign of life; another was owned by an elderly couple who'd noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from Harrison Brennan being overly concerned and bristling at the prospect of someone "bothering" Jenna Hughes, no one had seen or heard anything they thought was worth mentioning.

By the time Carter parked his Blazer in Jenna Hughes's driveway, it was early afternoon and Montinello was just leaving. He'd finished taking prints, remarking, as he met Carter, about the chances of finding a needle in a haystack. "There were so many prints in the house. She's got two kids, friends, a housekeeper, a ranch foreman, a personal trainer, and then the kids have friends and she's had repair guys in." Montinello was standing next to one of the department's SUVs, the rig he'd parked in front of Jenna Hughes's garage. "Unless whoever left the note is a cla.s.s-A moron, I doubt if we'll get lucky," he said, shaking his head. A few snowflakes swirled from the sky, and though it wasn't yet twilight, the day was dark, the gloom of winter settling into the surrounding trees and buildings.

"You never know. How many prints in her bedroom?" Carter asked, looking up at the behemoth that was her house. Smoke curled from a tall rock chimney, and steam rose from a side deck, where, he supposed, a hot tub was uncovered. Nestled in the trees, complete with icicles dripping from the roof, the rustic house looked like something out of a Christmas card. But beneath the quaint facade lurked something treacherous, something evil.

"There were a few prints around the room...some larger than hers."

Carter nodded, his jaw suddenly tight at the thought of a man in Jenna Hughes's bedroom.

Montinello lifted the small case he was carrying. "I took everyone in the household's prints to compare them to. If I need to, I'll check with the other people who've been there-her personal trainer, the guy who keeps the ranch up. His wife. But for now, I'll start with these. Meanwhile, I told her to beef up security, and while I was here two guys, Wes Allen and his nephew, were fixing the alarm system and the electronic gates. Both work now. I double-checked, but she says the security system needs to be either completely updated or torn out and a new one installed. She's called someone, so she's on it, I think."

"Good." Carter should have felt better about Jenna's safety, but didn't. There was something about this place-picture-postcard perfect and yet so isolated-that worried him. He glanced at the surrounding forest and isolated, snow-covered acres and too many outbuildings. Stable, barn, garage, windmill, pump house, sheds...a lot of places for a criminal to hide. Too many.

Montinello opened the door of his Blazer and tossed the kit inside.

"Let me know what you find out."

"You got it."

As Montinello drove away, Carter walked along the breezeway and knocked sharply on the back door. The dog began to bark and as Jenna inched open the door, threatened to rush out.

"Shh! Critter," she ordered as she pushed the door open. The dog was going out of his head, turning in circles wildly. "And you didn't think he was a guard dog," she said with a laugh. Her hair was pinned to the back of her head and she smelled faintly of the same perfume he'd noticed before.

"He seems to have risen to the occasion."

"It was the threat of being replaced by a pit bull, I think." She grinned as she caught hold of the dog's collar. "Come in if you dare." Her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit at the sight of him, and he told himself that he was being an idiot. She was glad to see him because she was scared and he was the law, or she was faking it-she'd had a lot of practice. All those years of acting. "Welcome to my nightmare," she invited.

He took off his boots as she let go of the dog, who immediately nuzzled his legs and whacked him hard with his tail.

"Oh, Critter, you're blowing your cover," Jenna admonished as she led Carter into the kitchen.

Along with Christmas decorations, boxes, tissue paper, and lights strewn all over the floor, there was also black or silver dust in a few places, residue from the prints Montinello had taken. The younger girl was fiddling with a string of lights, changing bulbs and barely looking up.

"Allie, this is Sheriff Carter, remember?"

"Yeah." She barely glanced up.

"You can call me Shane," he said. To Jenna, he added, "It's less intimidating. Right, Allie?"

The girl shrugged and kept at her task.

"Kids love me," he joked, and Jenna laughed, her gaze touching his for the briefest of instants, just long enough to captivate him.

"I can tell."

"Whatever you say." Her eyes took in the mess on the floor. "Kinda makes you feel like you're in a winter wonderland, huh?" she quipped, calmer than she had been earlier in the day.

"Right." He eased around an open box of tree ornaments and pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. On the page were the names and phone numbers of three men he trusted. "I haven't called these guys, but they might be available to help with security."

"Bodyguards?"

"Potentially. Yeah." He nodded. "I can personally vouch for them."

Something seemed to soften in her and she bit her lip, then looked up at him, her eyes s.h.i.+nier than they had been. "Thanks, Sheriff. This was above and beyond."

"Part of the job."

She arched a dark brow. "If you say so."

"I do," he said, but the silence stretched between them and he noticed how her eyelashes swept her cheek when she blinked. He heard the clock ticking and a television in another part of the house. "Want to show me where the note was discovered?"

"Oh...sure...this way..." She cleared her throat and stepped over a long string of bubble lights, then led him up the stairs. Carter tried not to notice her hips moving beneath her jeans or the way a few strands of black hair escaped from the knot clipped to her head as he followed her, but it seemed impossible. He barely noticed the dog streaking ahead as she opened double doors on a floor midway up the staircase. Her bedroom was on a floor all its own, and as he stepped into the room, he knew he was in trouble. The smells of cedar, soap, and lilacs a.s.sailed him. A queen-size bed was pushed against one wall and a white silk robe was tossed casually over one of the iron bedposts. Candles and potpourri were scattered around the room, and thick rugs covered the smooth, hardwood floors. A television peeked from behind doors slightly ajar in a large armoire, and a bank of paned windows looked out to the forested hills.

Black or silver fingerprint dust was pretty much everywhere, especially around one of the nightstands, the bureau, armoire, window latches, and doors.

"Mind if I look around?"