Snowblind Justice. Cindi Myers

hope she stays that way.” He nodded to Dwight. “You must have come along right after it happened. Did you see anything or anyone who might have been Alex?”

      “No.” Dwight hooked his thumbs over his utility belt and stared toward the EMTs bent over the woman. “A trucker who was pulled over taking off his tire chains flagged me down and said he spotted a car on the side of the road near the top of the pass. He didn’t see anyone in it, but thought maybe I’d want to check.” Dwight pulled a notebook from inside his leather coat. “Gary Ellicott. He was delivering groceries to Eagle Mountain and somehow missed that the road had been closed again. When he got to the barricades, he had to back down a ways before he could turn around. He thinks about fifteen minutes had passed between the time he spotted the car and when he talked to me.”

      “I don’t think she was lying there very long,” Brodie said. “A wound like that bleeds fast.” If much more time had passed, she would have bled to death.

      “The road closed seventy-five minutes ago,” Ryder said. “There was a lot of traffic up here and it took maybe half an hour to clear out. If the killer was cutting her throat then, someone would have seen.”

      “So this most likely happened between thirty and forty-five minutes ago,” Brodie said.

      “But he would have had to have stopped the car before the road closed,” Travis said. “The car is on the southbound side of the road, headed toward town. That seems to indicate she was arriving, not leaving.”

      “We’ll need to find out if she was staying in town,” Brodie said. “Maybe she has family in Eagle Mountain, was leaving and, like the truck driver, had to turn around because of the barricade.”

      “If this is Alex’s work and not a copycat, that means he didn’t leave town,” Travis said.

      The paramedics shut the door of the ambulance and hurried to the cab. Siren wailing, they pulled away, headed back toward town. “Let’s take a look,” Travis said, and led the way to the car, a gray Nissan sedan with Colorado plates. It was parked up against a six-foot berm of plowed snow, so close it was impossible to open the passenger side door. The snow around the vehicle had been churned by the footsteps of the paramedics and cops, to the point that no one shoe impression was discernable. “I took photographs of the scene before I approached,” Dwight said. “But I can tell you there weren’t any footprints. If I had to guess, I’d say the killer used a rake or shovel to literally cover his tracks.”

      Brodie continued to study the roadside. “I don’t see any other tire impressions,” he said.

      “He could have parked on the pavement,” Ryder said.

      “Or he could have been on foot,” Travis said.

      “It’s four miles from town up a half-dozen switchbacks,” Ryder said. “That’s a long way to walk. Someone would have noticed.”

      “Not if he stayed behind the snow.” Travis kicked steps into the snowbank and scrambled to the top and looked down. “There’s a kind of path stomped out over here.”

      Brodie climbed up beside him and stared down at the narrow trail. “It might be an animal trail.”

      “It might be. Or it could be how Alex made his way up to this point without being seen. Then he stepped out in the road and flagged down Denise and pretended to be a stranded motorist.”

      “How did he know the driver was a woman by herself?” Brodie asked.

      “He could have studied approaching traffic with binoculars.”

      The two men descended once more to the others beside the car. “Why would any woman stop for him, knowing there’s a killer on the loose?” Dwight asked.

      “She was from Fort Collins,” Travis said. “I don’t know how much press these murders have been getting over there. It wouldn’t be front-page news or the top story on a newscast.”

      “He’s right,” Brodie said. “I’ve seen a few articles in the Denver papers, but not much. It would be easy to miss.”

      “Alex is a good-looking young man,” Travis said. “Clean-cut, well dressed. If he presented himself as a stranded motorist, stuck in the cold far from town, most people would be sympathetic.”

      “Maybe he dressed as a woman, the way Tim did when they were working together,” Dwight said. “People would be even more likely to stop for a woman.”

      “Alex and Tim were both amateur actors, right?” Brodie asked, trying to recall information from the reports he had read.

      “Yeah,” Ryder said. “And we know that, at least a few times, Tim dressed as a woman who was trying to escape an abusive boyfriend or husband. He flagged down another woman and asked for help, then Alex moved in to attack. One woman was able to escape and described the scenario for us.”

      Travis pulled on a pair of gloves, then opened the driver’s-side door. He leaned in and came out with a woman’s purse—black leather with a gold clasp. He pulled out the wallet and scanned the ID, then flipped through the credit cards until he came to a slim white card with an embossed photograph of a smiling brunette—Denise Switcher. “Looks like she worked at Colorado State University,” he said.

      The hair rose on the back of Brodie’s neck. “Emily’s school,” he said. He didn’t like another connection to Emily in this case.

      “Alex’s school.” Travis slid the card back into the wallet. “I wonder if he chose her because he recognized her.”

      “That might have made her more likely to stop to help him out,” Dwight said.

      Travis returned the wallet to the purse and rifled through the rest of the contents. Expression grim, he pulled out a white business card, the words ICE COLD in black ink printed on one side.

      The card taunted them—a reminder that, yes, they knew who attacked Denise Switcher, but they weren’t any closer to catching him than they had ever been.

      They were still silently contemplating the card when Travis’s phone rang. He listened for a moment, then ended the call. “That was one of the paramedics,” he said. “Denise Switcher coded before Flight for Life arrived. She’s dead.”

      Brodie silently cursed the waste of a young woman’s life, as well as their best chance to learn more about Alex’s methods and motives. He turned to walk back toward the sheriff’s department vehicle, but drew up short as a red Jeep skidded to a stop inches in front of him. The driver’s door flew open and Emily stumbled out. “Is it true? Did the killer really get Denise?” she demanded, looking wildly around.

      Brodie hurried to her. She wore only leggings and a thin sweater and tennis shoes, and was already shivering in the biting cold. He shrugged out of his jacket. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

      She waved off his attempts to put his jacket around her. “You have to tell me. That ambulance I passed—was it Denise? Does that mean she’s still alive?”

      Travis joined them. “Emily, you shouldn’t be here,” he said.

      “I was in the Cake Walk Café, waiting. Then Tammy Patterson came in and said she heard from a source at the sheriff’s department that the Ice Cold Killer had attacked another woman. I had the most awful feeling it was Denise.” She bit her bottom lip, her eyes fixed on Travis, her expression pleading.

      He put a hand on her shoulder. “It was Denise Switcher,” he said. “But how did you know?”

      “Tammy said the woman was from Fort Collins. I was hoping that was just a coincidence, but…” She buried her face against Travis’s shoulder.

      “Emily?” Brodie approached, his voice gentle. “What was Denise doing in Eagle Mountain?”

      She raised her head and wiped away tears. “I’m sorry. I thought I said. She was coming to see me.”