LITMIR.BIZ

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had a wolfish edge. “You sure are pretty, Ms. Myer.”

      “Sasha, and thank you.” She glanced past his shoulder. “Where’s Nick?”

      “Questioning out-of-towners. He wants one of my deputies to keep an eye on you.”

      “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

      “I decided to do it myself.”

      She’d half expected this would happen, but it was still worth a protest. “I have a rifle, Sheriff. It’s licensed and in good working order. Nick doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that I don’t need anyone riding shotgun for me. I can take care of myself perfectly well.”

      Pyle made a sign of negation. “Nick and I agreed. It was either me or Dana, and I won the toss.” He moved closer. “This is one mean dude we got here. It’s possible he’s killed eight women so far, and if he has, there’s no reason to think he’ll stop. You look a lot like the last victim. This is a small town. I’m willing to bet he’s taken notice.”

      “I feel so reassured.” Sasha felt eyes boring into her head and, without turning, said, “Stop gaping, Max. It’s a long story that involves blond hair and Scandinavian ancestry. He won’t come after you.”

      Max cleared his throat. “Should we maybe try to contact Skye and explain the situation?”

      The wind kicked up, lifting Sasha’s hair beneath the ice-blue hat her grandmother had knitted for her last Christmas. “I’ve tried to call Skye four times this morning. Her service says she’s out of range. Let’s do our jobs and let Sheriff Pyle and Nick do theirs.”

      Max opened his mouth, then closed it and slumped. “I’ll get my keys.”

      He looked so miserable that Sasha gave his back an encouraging pat as he trudged past. “It’ll be fine.”

      The sheriff emitted a grunt that might have been a chuckle. “You want reassurance, talk to our cold case investigator. The Snow Globe Killer only goes for women. Like the lady said, you’re safe enough.”

      “Unless his aim’s off,” Nick remarked, coming up behind them.

      “I’ll be back,” Max promised Sasha, edging away. “Phone Skye again while I’m gone, okay? She won’t expect you to risk your life for the sake of a resort.”

      Sasha ignored him and turned her attention to Nick. His expression was impassive as usual, and showed no sign of the kiss she’d given him this morning. “I don’t need a babysitter, Detective.”

      “You’re going to tell me you can shoot a gun, handle treacherous driving conditions and defend yourself against all comers, but so could Belinda Nordby. She was the fifth victim. And a cop,” he said before Sasha could ask. “She’d been one for seven years. This isn’t a game, Sasha.”

      She didn’t flinch, but countered with an even, “I talked to my partner Regan Streete after you left this morning. She wants me to come back to Denver. She says Tommy can work with Skye.”

      “But you said no.”

      “Tommy designs inspired office buildings, but he’s a techno geek who doesn’t quite grasp the concept of fusion between structure and land, and I don’t think Skye wants the MGM Grand up here.”

      “What about Regan?”

      “She has a condo development and two restaurants on her plate. This is my project, Nick. I do hotels and houses.”

      From the sidewalk, Sheriff Pyle grunted, “You’re not going to talk her out of it, Nicky. Best to let me go up there with her while you ask your questions down here.”

      She sent him a quick smile. “You see? Even the sheriff understands me.”

      Before she could move, Nick boxed her between himself and the Land Rover. It both amused and frustrated her to discover that she actually felt breathless.

      With his eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head. “Don’t try losing him in Smoking Gun Pass, Sasha.”

      “You can’t lose someone in a mountain pass, Nick….” She regarded him through her lashes. “Can you?”

      “Stick to your route. And your promise. Back before dark, agreed?”

      She considered teasing him, but then she pictured Kristiana Felgard in a cold room and nodded. “Don’t worry, Max won’t want to stay even that long.”

      “And you know Max how well?”

      “We had our company Christmas parties together.”

      “That’s it?”

      “He borrowed some liquor from our bar.”

      “So he’s a close friend then.”

      She offered Nick a sweet smile. “Let’s just say I know him better than I know you.”

      Sliding his hand under her chin, he held her firmly in place. “Max Macallum was here in Painter’s Bluff when Kristiana Felgard died.”

      Sasha didn’t move or pull away. “So was your sheriff. And Dana. And Gary Cooper down the hall from me.”

      Nick’s gaze dropped to her mouth before returning to her eyes. “You can work with Max, Sasha. That doesn’t mean you should trust him.”

      “What about you, Detective? You said a cop was killed. Maybe it took another cop to do it.”

      “Maybe it did.”

      He ran his thumb lightly over her lips. She’d rather he’d used his mouth, but even a misplaced wish wasn’t going to deter her.

      “I don’t trust easily, Nick, and I always watch my back. It’s one of the few good lessons my mother taught me.” Partly because he continued to stare, but mostly because she wanted to, she bridged the small gap between them and gave him a kiss. “I promise, I won’t trust anyone.” She kissed him again, then stepped away. “Not even you.”

      Chapter Four

      “You kissed her?” Dana shook his head in amazement. “You’ve known her less than eighteen hours, and you kissed her? You don’t kiss women you’ve known for eighteen days, sometimes eighteen weeks, once even eighteen—”

      “I get it, Dana.” In the sheriff’s private office, Nick searched for and located Will Pyle’s clipboard. “It’s out of character for me.”

      “It’s off the map for you. Lacey—”

      “Is remarried and living in Michigan with a man who’s not a cop. Subject dead. Move on.”

      His warning tone had no effect on Dana. “You’re a puzzler, Nick. Getting involved with a potential victim. What’s the deal with that?”

      “She’s not going to be a victim.”

      “Calmly stated, but so far your questions have struck out. And Will’s like a bull in a china shop with his interrogative techniques.” Dana frowned as Nick started out. “Where are you going?”

      “Mountain House.” A scan of the second sheet on the clipboard revealed that only a handful of the people staying there had spoken to the sheriff. “I’ve done Annie’s Barn and most of the Hollowback Inn.”

      Hauling out his gloves, Dana jogged along behind him. “April said there are climbers heading up the north side of Hollowback. Party of five.”

      “When did they leave?”

      “The morning after the murder.”

      “Does she have names?”

      “Names and Visa card numbers. They rented climbing gear.” Dana sucked in a sharp breath as Nick pushed through the door. “Man, it’s cold.”

      Clouds scudded across an already gray sky. Nick watched them bunch together.

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