So, put a tail on me. Notify the State Police. Do whatever you need to do. He grabbed a few more items of clothing and threw them on top of the others. He zipped the suitcase shut and swung it off the bed, facing Denner head on. But unless youre prepared to arrest me tonight, Im leaving for Keene after our little chat downtown.
The look on the detectives face confirmed his frustration, but Michael knew there wasnt much Denner could do. Ready? The sooner I answer your questions, the sooner I can leave town.
You might want to put on a hat as I have no plans on sneaking you out the back door. No doubt the press is waiting to get more pictures of that famous face of yours.
Ill be fine.
Yeah, youre doing just fine, arent you? Cool as a cucumber and too damn sure of yourself.
Resentment shot through Michael. The man didnt get it. He never would. In case youve forgotten, all the victims of these murders meant something to me. I cared about each and every one of them.
Denner smirked, his disbelief obvious. Yeah, right.
No matter what you want to believe, their deaths, the way they died and the agony of their families has been first and foremost in my mind.
Spare me, Emerson. I have more feeling for these women in my little finger than you do in your entire body. Denner rocked slightly on the balls of his feet, his hands clenching into fists. Dont bother trying to make yourself out to be the victim. No one buys it, least of all me.
That wasnt my objective. Theres enough blame to go around, and that includes you and your elite task force.
Denner raised a questioning brow. Whats that supposed to mean?
I gave you a list of all the women Ive ever dated. Ive personally spoken with each and every one of them, warning all of them of the dangers. And yet, theyre still getting picked off one by one. Why havent you done more to protect them? Tell me that, Detective Denner.
Denner stepped in close, his expression tight with rage. He hadnt expected the attack. Didnt like being challenged.
But Michael didnt care. He knew he was right. The women deserved protection, and so far the police had failed miserably.
Dont threaten me, Emerson. Denner leaned in, his breath hot and smelling of onions and sliced deli meat. We all know who is responsible for their murders. And once I get the goods on you, the killings will stop, and you will be sitting in my jail cell.
Michael didnt bother responding. There wasnt any reason to. Denner had proven more than once that he had a one-track mind, and that track ran in the direction of Michael being the killer.
He brushed past the man and headed for the door.
Tell me, Emerson, why is it that I have the distinct feeling that more women you know are going to turn up dead with your signature all over them?
Michael paused at the door and then turned slowly to face the cop. I dont know, Detective, why do you feel that way?
The sneer had twisted and transformed Denners face into something ugly and unrelenting. Because I can smell a liar a mile away. Its only a matter of time before I find the evidence to convict you. Time and patience. Lucky for me, youre running low on both.
Michael fought to keep the panic that surged up inside him off his face.
As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that Denner was right. He was running low on time and patience. And the killer, a man who didnt tire of advertising his message of death, seemed to have plenty of both.
With the headaches and blank periods getting worse, Michael had the distinct feeling he was closer to the killer than he wanted to admit to anyoneincluding himself.
Chapter Two
Two Days Later
Within a few minutes of turning onto the fifteen-mile access road leading to Cloudspin Lodge, Kylie McKee wondered if she had made a mistake. The road was worse than she remembered and the fact that she hadnt driven it in over eleven years didnt help.
Beneath a blanket of new snow, the pavement was pitted and fractured, and although Kylie was fairly certain the county plow had gone through earlier, pushing mounds of snow up onto the overflowing banks on either side, a new covering of snow had already started to pile up.
In the rearview mirror, she could see only the tire tracks from her car. Virgin snow in both directions. No one had passed in quite some time.
A quick glance at the dashboard told her it was already 4:15 p.m. Dusk was approaching with frightening speed, decreasing her visibility. In this part of the world, rural upstate New York, there were no street lamps to illuminate the way.
Dying light stretched out the shadows of the huge pines lining both sides of the road, and huge oaks, their branches whipped bare of leaves, reached to enclose the road in a spiny tunnel of darkness.
Kylie inched forward, trying to get a better grip on the steering wheel. She could barely see the road through the thick cloud of falling snow.
Reaching down, she fumbled for the button on the side of her seat, desperate to get closer to the windshield. No sooner did her hand leave the steering wheel than the back tires of her rented Honda Civic skidded on an icy patch.
She clamped her hand back on the wheel and eased her foot off the gas. Dont brake. Dont brake, she chanted, her voice echoing hollowly inside the tiny car.
The car went into a stomach churning slide across the middle line and headed for a ditch on the opposite side of the road. She tried steering into the skid. Pine trees whipped by the window in a blur.
Damn!
She fought the wheel and touched the brake in an attempt to ease out of the skid. The car straightened out, but not before the left front tire clipped the edge of the road, sending her bouncing along a deep rut for several hair raising seconds. Finally she was able to steer back onto the snow covered pavement.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Kylie guided the car back onto her side of the road. Lucky for her people rarely used the road during the winter, preferring to visit the lodge during the glorious summer months that were legendary in the Adirondack Mountains. If another car had rounded the curve during her skid, Kylie knew she and the Honda would have been toast.
A tiny trickle of sweat popped up beneath the collar of her ski jacket and slid down the side of her neck. She didnt make any attempt to wipe it away. It was time to focus and keep both hands on the wheel.
Her shoulders cramped with tension as she realized she had made a big mistake. She should have listened to the clerk in the tiny convenience store in Keene who had warned her of the worsening of the storm. She should have waited until morning to make the trip to the lodge.
But shed been too eager reach her destination, believing that the sooner she got there, the sooner she could leave. But now Kylie realized that shed made a serious miscalculation.
Dark, heavy clouds rolled and tumbled overhead, pressing down on the tiny car and unloading a hail of snow and ice pellets with a vengeance. The sleet tinkled ominously against the windshield and froze into stubborn chunks beneath her wipers.
She reached out and pushed the defrost to high, savoring the blast of heat that poured out from the vents and flamed her cheeks. Hopefully the added warmth would melt the ice build-up and prevent her from having to stop, get out and chop at it with the pathetically small scraper sitting on the floor of the passengers seat.
The precipitation covered over the icy patches in the road, leaving behind a deceiving blanket of slickness. The wheel shimmied harder beneath her tightly clenched fingers, making them ache.
Something told her that the standard all-weather tires on the little Honda werent going to cut it. She should have rented a SUV. But as soon as the thought entered her head, she dismissed it.
Who was she kidding? She didnt have the cash to rent something as extravagant as an SUV. Shed barely had enough money to keep the economy car filled with gas for the eight-hour trip north. She was down to her last ten dollars and her bank account wasnt in any better shape.
She pressed the gas pedal, giving the car more speed, hoping the momentum would keep her on track. She needed to reach Cloudspin soon. The thought of ending up in a ditch in the bitter subzero January temperature outside sent a shiver of fear through her.
The sooner she reached the lodge, the sooner shed find warmth. And the sooner she reached warmth, the sooner shed be able to complete her business, hop back in the car and return home to her comfortable little apartment in the Bronx.
She smiled to herself without real amusement. Residing in the city had resulted in an increased hatred for the bitter, forbidding winters of the Adirondacks. She hadnt been back to Cloudspin in over eleven years.
Instead her father had taken on the responsibility of making the trips down to see her. But with him taking care of the lodge and her working on completing her fourth year of medical school, the visits had been few and far between.
Now he was gone and she was coming home to take care of business. Business that meant cleaning out the caretakers cottage. A cottage shed lived in throughout her childhood, witnessing at age eight the slow painful death of her mother from ovarian cancer and watching in wide-eyed wonder the wealthy patrons of Cloudspin vacation in their private, sprawling Adirondack paradise. The contrasts had been stark and painful, making her homecoming bittersweet.
She leaned forward and peered through the ice accumulating on the windshield. The comforting thump thump thump of the wiper blades soothed the tension in her shoulders. Getting closer.
Up ahead, she could make out the final S curve. A few miles beyond that and shed reach the main gates of the lodge.
Relief washed over her as she eased the car into the final curve. But then, out of the dim light, something fast and dark flashed out into the center of the road.
A skier! Where in Gods name had he come from?
Kylie hit the brake.
She gripped the wheel and watched in frozen horror as the car skidded toward the man poling to reach the cutaway trail on the opposite side of the road.
What kind of fool skied in a snowstorm at dusk? Not to mention doing so dressed in black!
Time shifted into slow motion and the car slid sideways, the tires silent on the smooth ice. The skier glanced up, his expression hard. Determined. He knew the danger.
He dug in, moving for the opening with quick, powerful strides. His shoulders bunched beneath the sleek black jacket and his muscular thighs strained to propel him out of her way.
Oh, God, hes not going to make it, Kylie wailed.
But she was wrong. He reached the cutaway as she skidded past him sideways. She overcorrected and the car fish-tailed.
A sharp crack filled the silence and she cringed. She knew without actually seeing it that one of her tires had hit the back end of his skis.
In the rearview mirror, she saw him stumble and then pitch forward into the snowbank.
She hung on and eased her foot onto the brake. The car slid to a stop on the opposite side of the road and the hood gently hit the snowbank.
Stunned, she sat perfectly still, unable to loosen her death grip on the wheel. But then squirts of adrenaline shot into her bloodstream, hitting her hard. She reached up and unsnapped her belt. As she reached for the door handle, she prayed shed find him alive.
A blast of frigid air hit her, taking her breath away. She scrabbled for the back end of the car, and in her haste, almost tripped. Frantic, she grabbed for the side of the car and cringed as the cold metal stung her bare hands. She ignored the pain and the voice that warned her to go back for her mittens. She needed to check on the skier.
Across the road, the skier climbed to his feet and leaned over to brush the snow off his pants with brisk, efficient sweeps of his gloved hands. A sense of relief flooded her. He didnt look injured. He moved with the fluid motion of a natural athlete.
Kylie gingerly trekked across the slippery road, watching as the man bent down to examine the broken section of his ski. It had snapped directly behind the binding. He wouldnt be using that particular pair of skis anytime soon. She hoped she had enough money in her bank account to replace them.
He straightened up and a pair startling blue eyes, direct and unflinching, focused on her.
Kylies heart sank. There was no missing the smear of blood seeping from a jagged cut on his left cheek. The fall had injured him. Not only was she going to have to pay for his skis, but she was also going to be paying medical bills.
He reached up and pulled off his ski hat. Are you nuts? he shouted over the howling wind. Where the hell was the fire?
The force of his anger made Kylies stomach tighten. The man was royally ticked. Not that she blamed him. Shed almost killed the guy.
Im sorry, she said, skidding to a stop next to him. It was totally my fault. I didnt see you until it was too late.
Nothing like stating the obvious. Sarcasm dripped from every word.
I didnt think anyone would be out on a night like this.
He lifted a ski pole to point to a sign. Are you blind? Didnt you see the signs warning you that there was a ski crossing up ahead? Youre supposed to slow down when going through this section of the road.
Confused, Kylie glanced at the sign. It did indeed warn drivers of a Ski Xing. Shed forgotten about the trail, failed to see the signs as she focused on trying to keep the car on the road. How could she have missed them?
Look, Im really sorry. II take complete responsibility.
Sorry doesnt cut it, lady.
Itit was an accident. I was concentrating on getting around the curve.
You were going entirely too fast for the road conditions.
She shifted uncomfortably. Okay, she was willing to admit shed been going too fast. But what the hell was he thinking skiing at night, dressed all in black and during a freakin blizzard?
She bit back the rush of words that threatened to spill out. Deep breath. No need to make matters worse. If there was one thing Kylie knew she was good at, it was taking the blame and smoothing things over in tense situations. She was a master at it.
Are you sure youre all right? She pointed to his cheek. It looks as though you cut yourself pretty badly. You might need stitches.
He reached up and casually brushed aside the trickle of blood seeping down his lean cheek. Its a scratch. Im fine.
He bent down and unclasped the toe binding of his other ski, the close-fitting cling of his nylon ski pants stretching nicely over his muscular form. Kylie worked to keep her gaze off his physique and on his face. Now was definitely not the time to be lurking on some hot guys body. Not after shed almost turned him into roadkill.
My skis are shot. Youll have to give me a lift back to the lodge.