Ice Cold Killer. Cindi Myers

sickness and guilt that clawed at the back of his throat. Such emotions wouldn’t do anyone any good now. “I just saw her,” he said. “Less than an hour ago.”

      “Where?” Sheriff Travis Walker, snow collecting on the brim of his Stetson and the shoulders of his black parka, scanned the empty roadside. Travis was one of the reasons Ryder had ended up in Eagle Mountain. He had visited his friend at the Walker ranch one summer and fallen in love with the place. When an opening in this division had opened up, he had put in for it.

      “I was in the grocery store parking lot,” Ryder said. “She passed me. I figured she was on a call, headed to pull someone out of a ditch.”

      “This probably happened not too long after that.” Travis played the beam of his flashlight over the wrecker. “Maybe the killer called her, pretended his car wouldn’t start—maybe a dead battery. When she gets out of the wrecker to take a look, he overpowers her, tapes her up, slits her throat.”

      “Then shoves her into the wrecker and drives it into the ditch?”

      “He may not have even had to drive it,” Travis said. “Just put it into gear and give it a good push in the right direction. Then he gets in his own car and drives away.”

      “Who called it in?” Ryder asked.

      “Nobody,” Travis said. “I was coming back from a call—an attempted break-in not far from here. I turned down this road, thinking the burglar might have ducked down here. When I saw the wrecker in the ditch, I knew something wasn’t right.”

      “An attempted break-in?” Ryder asked. “Where? When?”

      “Up on Pine.” Travis indicated a street to the north that crossed this one. “Maybe twenty minutes ago? A guy came home from work and surprised someone trying to jimmy his lock. He thought it was a teenager. He thought he saw an Eagle Mountain High School letter jacket.”

      “I saw three boys in letter jackets at the grocery store just after Christy’s wrecker passed me,” Ryder said. “And someone tried to break into Darcy Marsh’s place this evening—I was leaving there when you called me.”

      Travis frowned. “I don’t like to think teenagers would do something like this, but we’ll check it out.” He turned back toward the wrecker. “I’ll talk to the people in the houses at the other end of the road, and those in this area. Maybe someone heard or saw something.”

      “There would be a lot of blood,” Ryder said.

      “More than is in the cab of the wrecker, I’m thinking. It was the same with Kelly, did you notice? She wasn’t killed in that car—and it was her car.”

      “I did notice,” Ryder said. “There was hardly any blood in the car or even on her.”

      “I think she was killed somewhere else and driven up there,” Travis said.

      “So the killer had an accomplice?” Ryder asked. “Someone who could have followed him up to the pass in another car, then taken him away?”

      “Maybe,” Travis said. “Or he could have walked back into town. It’s only about three miles. We’ll try to find out if anyone saw anything.” He walked to the back of his cruiser and took out a shovel. “I don’t think Christy was killed very far from here. There wasn’t time. I want to see if I can find any evidence of that.” He followed the fast-filling tracks of the wrecker back to the road and began to scrape lightly at the snow.

      Ryder fetched his own shovel from his vehicle and tried the shoulder on the other side of the road. The work was slow and tedious as he scraped, then shone his light on the space he had uncovered. After ten minutes or so, the work paid off. “Over here,” he called to Travis.

      The blood glowed bright as paint against the frozen ground—great splashes of it that scarcely looked real. Travis crouched to look. “We’ll get a sample, but I’m betting it’s Christy’s blood,” he said.

      “Whoever did this would have blood on his clothes, maybe in his vehicle,” Ryder said.

      Travis nodded. “He could have gone straight home, or to wherever he’s staying, and discarded the clothes—maybe burned them in a woodstove or fireplace, if he has one. There’s no one out tonight to see him, though we’ll ask around.” He stood. “You said you were at Darcy’s place?”

      “Right. When she got home tonight, there was a strange vehicle leaving. I found signs that someone tried to break in.”

      “What time was this?” Travis asked.

      Ryder checked his notes. “Seven forty.”

      “The person or persons who tried to break in to Fred Starling’s place might have come from Darcy’s, but I don’t see how they would have had time to drive from Darcy’s, kill Christy, then break in to Fred’s,” Travis said. “We’ll see what the ME gives us for time of death.” He glanced down the road. “He should be here soon.”

      “I didn’t like leaving Darcy alone out there,” Ryder said. “It’s kind of remote.”

      “I’ve already called in one of our reserve officers,” Travis said. “I’ll have him drive by Darcy’s place and check on her. Why did she call you?”

      “I gave her my card when we spoke earlier and told her to call if she needed anything.” Ryder shifted his weight, thinking maybe it was time to change the subject. Not that he thought Travis was a stickler over jurisdiction, but he didn’t think Darcy would welcome any further attention from the sheriff. “What are you doing, pulling the night shift?” he asked. “Doesn’t the sheriff get any perks?”

      “The new officer who’s supposed to be working tonight has the flu,” Travis said. He shrugged. “I figured I’d make a quick patrol, then spend the rest of the night at my desk. I have a lot of loose ends to tie up before the wedding and honeymoon.”

      “I hope the weather cooperates with your plans,” Ryder said. “The highway department says the pass could be closed for the next two or three days—longer if this snow keeps up.”

      “Most of the wedding party is already here, and the ones who aren’t will be coming in soon,” Travis said. “My sister, Emily, pulled in this afternoon, about half an hour ahead of the closure.”

      He turned to gaze down the street, distracted by the headlights approaching—the medical examiner, Butch Collins, followed by the ambulance. Butch, a portly man made even larger by the ankle-length duster and long knitted scarf he wore, climbed out of his truck, old-fashioned medical bag in hand. “Two dead women in one day is a little much, don’t you think, Sheriff?” He nodded to Ryder. “Is there a connection between the two?”

      Ryder checked for any lurking reporters, but saw none. He nodded to the ambulance driver, who had pulled to the side of the road, steam pouring in clouds from the tailpipe of the idling vehicle. “Both women had their hands and feet bound with duct tape, and their throats slit,” he said. “It looks like they weren’t killed in the vehicle, but their bodies were put into the vehicles after death.”

      Collins nodded. “All right. I’ll take a look.”

      Ryder and Travis moved to Travis’s cruiser. “Darcy said Kelly was going shopping today,” Ryder said. “She couldn’t think of anyone who would want to hurt Kelly. No one had been threatening her or making her feel uneasy. You’re a little more tied in with the town than I am. Do you know of anyone who might have had a disagreement with her—boyfriend, client or a competitor?”

      “I didn’t know her well. My parents had Kelly or Darcy out to the ranch a few times to take care of horses. I remember my mom said she liked them. I knew them well enough to wave to. I don’t think she was dating anyone, though I’ll ask Lacy. She keeps up with that kind of gossip more than I do.” Travis’s fiancée was a local woman, near Kelly’s age. “I never heard anything about unhappy clients. As for competitors, there’s really only Ed Nichols.”

      “What