Snowbound Suspicion. Cindi Myers

with a hug and walked with her to the breakfast table, where Mr. and Mrs. Walker and Emily were eating.

      “Good morning,” Mrs. Walker said. “I hope you slept well.”

      “I was fine,” Bette said. No sense revealing she had lain awake for hours, fretting and furious about Cody Rankin. In the cold light of day, it seemed foolish to waste any time thinking about a man like that.

      “Glad to hear it.” Mrs. Walker smiled. “I know you and Lacy are working on plans for the tea this morning. You’re welcome to anything in the house you need in the way of furniture or decorations or ingredients. Just help yourself.”

      “Thanks,” Bette said. “That’s very generous.”

      Mr. Walker checked his watch, then pushed back his chair. “We’d better be going,” he said to his wife.

      She laid her napkin beside her chair and stood. “We’ll see you girls later.”

      “I have to go, too,” Emily said. “I have a conference call.”

      “I thought you were off school for winter break,” Lacy said.

      “I am. But research projects don’t stop just because school isn’t in session. I need to meet by phone with my colleagues about a research grant.”

      “Emily is an economics graduate student at Colorado State University,” Lacy said when she and Bette were alone.

      “How is school going for you?” Bette asked as she added cream to her coffee. She recalled her friend had used part of the wrongful conviction settlement money she had received from the state to finance her education.

      “I’m only just starting out, but I’m loving it so far,” Lacy said. “I’m really looking forward to being a teacher.”

      Travis joined Bette and Lacy as the women were finishing up their breakfast. Bette had seen pictures of the sheriff before—his efforts to clear Lacy’s name, and their subsequent engagement, had made the pages of the Denver paper. But in person he was both more handsome, and more forbidding, than she had imagined. Certainly he welcomed her warmly enough, but it was clear he was tired, and probably distracted by his case.

      “You’re up early,” Lacy said, after the introductions had been exchanged and Travis informed them that he had already had breakfast. “You’ve been working some long hours lately.”

      “I’m going to stay around here this morning and catch up on some paperwork,” he said. “There are too many interruptions at the office.”

      “Good idea,” Lacy said. “Have you seen Cody this morning? He wasn’t at breakfast with everyone else.”

      “He said something about going ice fishing,” Travis said.

      Or maybe he’s avoiding me, Bette thought. But the marshal didn’t strike her as a man who avoided much of anything.

      * * *

      CODY FINISHED HIS breakfast, then collected his coat and his car keys and headed to the tack room. No sign of Doug Whittington stealing a cigarette this morning. He found the fishing gear and selected what he’d need and loaded it into the RAV4 he used as his personal vehicle.

      The day was sunny, though bitingly cold, the sky free of clouds and a blindingly bright blue. The road to the lake had been plowed, only a thin layer of snow left in place. Dark evergreens crowded close to the side of the narrow track in a wall that looked almost impenetrable. He passed a pair of cross-country skiers and waved, then turned onto the narrower Forest Service track that led to the lake. This road hadn’t seen a plow, but enough traffic to the lake and backcountry ski trails had packed it down so that Cody’s RAV4 had little trouble navigating.

      Just before he reached the lake, he spotted a silver Hyundai pulled to the side of the road ahead. He passed it slowly. It appeared to be empty, but this was a funny place to park. The snow around the vehicle was churned up, as if several people had been walking around it. He drove on, but something about the vehicle nagged at him, so he decided to go back.

      He parked across the road and about fifty yards away from the Hyundai and walked slowly toward it, keeping to the center of the road until he was even with the driver’s side door. Then he approached cautiously and peered inside.

      A woman stared up at him from the passenger seat, as dead and lifeless as a store mannequin.