Storm Warning. Michele Hauf

the footprints, which were obviously from Elaine’s and Alex’s boots, as they’d remained only on this side of the body. They hadn’t contaminated the crime scene. That was Elaine’s forte: meticulous forensics.

      Jason walked a wide circle around the victim’s head and up the ditch to the road. As he did so, Elaine snapped away, documenting every detail of the scene with photographs. Though they were still within city limits, this was not a main road. Rather, it was one of four that left the town and either dead-ended or led deeper north into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, a million-plus-acre natural reserve within the Superior National Forest that hugged the Canadian border. The only people who used this road were two families who both lived about ten miles out of Frost Falls. The gravel road showed no deep tracks in the mix of snow, ice and pebble, like if a vehicle were to take off quickly after disposing of evidence. But there were boot prints where the gravel segued into dead grass long packed down by snow.

      Jason bent and decided they were a woman’s boot prints for the narrowness.

      “Marjorie said a woman called in the sighting?” Jason asked Alex.

      “Yes, sir,” Alex offered. “Call came from Susan Olson, who works at The Moose in the, er—ahem—back.” If Alex hadn’t been wearing a face mask, Jason felt sure he’d see him blush. The back of The Moose offered a low-class strip show on Saturday nights—basically, Susan and a few corny Halloween costumes that had fit her better back in high school. “Miss Olson was driving out to her aunt’s place to check in on her when she saw something glint in the ditch.”

      Jason shuffled down into the ditch, avoiding Elaine as she stepped around the woman’s head. “Evidence?” he asked Alex.

      “Just the body and the clothing on it. No phone or glasses or personal items that may have fallen out from a pocket. I’ll bag the hands and head soon as Elaine gives me the go-ahead. Any tracks up there?”

      “They’re from the caller, I’m sure. But take pictures of the tracks, will you, Elaine? We’ll have to see if Susan’s fashion lends to size-eight Sorels, if my guess is correct.”

      “Of course. Nice thing about snow—it holds a good impression of boot tracks. I hope it’s Ryan Bay with the BCA.”

      Jason cast her a look that didn’t disguise his dislike for the guy for reasons he couldn’t quite place. He’d only met him twice, but there was something about him.

      Elaine noticed his crimped smirk and shrugged. “Guy’s a looker. And he’s easygoing. I can do what I need to do without him wanting to take charge.”

      “A looker, eh?”

      There it was. She’d nailed his dislike in a word. A looker. What the hell did that mean? Wasn’t as if handsome held any weight in this small town. Least not when a man was in the market to hook up. Again, no eligible women as far as a man’s eye could see.

      “You’re still the sexiest police chief in St. Louis County, Cash.” Elaine adjusted the lens on her camera. “But if you won’t let me fix you up with my niece...”

      The niece. She mentioned her every time they had occasion to work together. Blind dates gave Jason the creeps. His brother Joe had once gone on one. That woman had literally stalked him for weeks following. Yikes.

      “Didn’t you mention she was shortish?” Jason asked with a wink to Alex.

      “Short girls need love, too, Jason.” The five-foot-two-inch woman laughed. “Don’t worry. I know she’s not your type.”

      Jason squatted before the body, thinking that if Elaine actually did know his type—What was he thinking? Of course, she did. Along with everyone else in the county. The gossip in these parts spread as if it had its own high-speed internet service.

      Focusing on the body, with a gloved hand he lifted the long black hair that had been covering the woman’s face. Her skin was pale and blue. Her lips purple. Closed eyelids harbored frost on the lashes. No visible signs of struggle or blood. She was young. Pretty. He’d not seen her in Frost Falls before. And he had a good mental collection of all the faces in town. A visitor? She could have been murdered anywhere. The assailant may have driven from another town to place her here.

      In the distance, the flash of headlights alerted all three at the same time.

      “BCA,” Elaine said. “We’ll review the evidence with them and then bag the body.”

      “You’ll transport the body to Duluth?” Jason asked.

      “Yes,” she said. “You going to follow me in for the autopsy?”

      “You going to process it this morning?” Duluth was about an hour’s drive to the east.

      Elaine shook her head. “Probably not. But I will get to it after lunch. If you can meet me around oneish, that would work.”

      “Will do.”

      The white SUV bearing the BCA logo on the side door pulled up twenty feet from Alex’s patrol car and idled. Looked like the driver was talking on the phone. Jason squinted. Couldn’t make out who the driver was. A looker, eh? Why did that weird comment bother him?

      It didn’t. Really. He had a lot on his plate now. And he wasn’t the type for jealously or even envy.

      He glanced over the body of the unfamiliar woman. Pretty. And so young. It was a shame. “Any ID on her?”

      “No, but she’s probably Canadian,” Elaine said.

      Jason raised a brow at that surprising assessment.

      Elaine bent and pushed aside the woman’s hair with the tip of her penlight to reveal a tiny red tattoo of a maple leaf at the base of the victim’s ear.

      “Right.” Jason frowned. “Are those ligature marks on her neck?”

      “Yes.” Elaine snapped a few close-up shots of the bruising now revealed on the woman’s neck. “There’s your signs of struggle right there. Poor thing.” She replaced the victim’s hair in the exact manner it had been lying and stood. “Looks like you just might have a murder case on your hands.”

      He’d suspected as much. Even though the weather could be treacherous and oftentimes deadly in the winter, the evidence screamed foul play.

      “We’ll get the BCA up to speed here, then I’m heading in to talk to Susan Olson,” Jason said.

      Jason had seen a lot, and he wasn’t going to allow some psychopath to think he could get away with murder. As well, this was his first big case since his humiliating demotion from the CIA. The timing was either laughable or fortuitous, depending on how he looked at it. Because he’d just received notice that the police station had been marked for budget cuts. In all likelihood, it would close in March and Frost Falls would send all their dispatch calls through the county. The tiny town couldn’t afford to pay Jason’s meager salary anymore. But the notice had also mentioned it wasn’t necessary to employ someone who was merely a town babysitter and not involved in real criminal procedures.

      That one had cut deep. He was not a babysitter. Sure, he’d taken this job out of desperation. Getting ousted from the CIA was not a man’s finest moment. Yet he had made this job his own. And he did have a lot on his plate, what with the domestic abuse calls, the poaching and—the public nudity.

      Time to prove he wasn’t incompetent to all those who were watching and taking notes. And with any luck? He might earn back his pride and a second chance.

       Chapter Two

      Nine a.m. on a lazy Sunday. Most of the Frost Falls inhabitants were at church in the neighboring town or sat at The Moose noshing on waffles and bacon. Most, but not all.

      Susan Olson yawned and scrubbed a hand over her long, tangled red hair. Her eyes were smeared with dark eye makeup,