Читать книгу Snow Blind - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Responding to a 911 call, Deputy Brady Ellis drove fast through the Apollo condo complex. His blue-and-red lights flashed against the snow-covered three-story buildings, and his siren blared. From what the dispatcher had told him, the caller had allegedly witnessed an assault at the Gateway Hotel, which seemed unlikely because the hotel was a distance away from the condos. The dispatcher had also mentioned that the caller sounded intoxicated. This 911 call might be somebody’s idea of a joke. It didn’t matter. Until he knew otherwise, Brady would treat the situation as a bona fide emergency.

He parked his SUV with the Summit County Sheriff logo emblazoned on the door in the parking lot and jogged up the shoveled sidewalk to the entryway. Five years ago, when he first started working for the sheriff’s department, this land had been nothing but trees and rocks that belonged to his uncle Dooley. These acres hadn’t been much use to Dooley; they were across the road from his primary cattle ranch and too close to the small town of Arcadia for grazing. When Dooley had gotten a chance to sell for a big profit, he’d jumped on it.

Some folks in the area hated the fancy ski resort that had mushroomed across the valley, but Brady wasn’t one of them. Without the new development, Arcadia would have turned into a ghost town populated by coyotes and chipmunks. The influx of tourists brought much-needed business and cash flow.

The downside was the 250 percent increase in the crime rate, which was no big surprise. Crime was what happened when people moved in. Coyotes and chipmunks were less inclined to break the law.

Outside the condo entryway was a buzzer. He pressed the button for Samuels, Sorenson and Smith, which was on the third floor. When a woman answered, he identified himself. “Deputy Brady Ellis, sheriff’s department.”

“You got here fast,” she said. “I’ll buzz you in.”

When the door hummed, he pushed it open. Instead of taking the elevator, Brady climbed the wide staircase. On the third floor, a short blonde woman stood waiting in the open doorway. She wore black furry boots, a white terry-cloth bathrobe cinched tight around her waist and not much else. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the condo. “We’ve got to hurry.”

He closed the door and scanned the interior, noticing the half-empty bottle of champagne. “Is anyone here with you?”

“I’m alone.” Her blue eyes were too bright, and her cheeks were flushed. Brady concurred with the dispatcher’s opinion that this woman had been drinking. “What’s your name?”

“Sasha Campbell.” She hadn’t released her hold on his arm and was dragging him toward the windows—attempting to drag him was more accurate. He was six feet four inches tall and solidly built. This little lady wasn’t physically capable of shoving him from place to place.

“Ms. Campbell,” he said in a deep voice to compel her attention. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay, sure.” She dropped his arm and stared up at him. “We need to move fast. This is literally a matter of life and death.”

Though he wasn’t sure if she was drunk or crazy, he recognized her determination and her fear. Those feelings were real. “Is this your condo?”

“I wish.” Her robe gaped and he caught a glimpse of an orange bikini top inside. “I work for a law firm, and the condo belongs to them. I’m staying here while I attend meetings.”

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Wrong again. I’m a legal assistant right now, but I’m going to school to learn how to become a mediator and...” She stamped her furry boot. “Sorry, when I get nervous I talk too much. And there isn’t time. Oh, God, there isn’t time.”

He responded to her sense of urgency. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s easier if I show you. Come out here.” She led him onto the balcony and slapped a pair of binoculars into his hand. “I was looking through those at the hotel, and I witnessed an attack. There was a lot of blood. Now do you understand? This woman might be bleeding to death while we stand here.”

He held the binoculars to his eyes and adjusted the focus. The view into the hotel rooms was crystal clear. As unlikely as her story sounded, it was possible.

“Exactly what did you see?”

“Let’s go back inside. It’s freezing out here.” She bustled into the condo, rubbing her hands together for warmth. “Okay, there was a black-haired woman in a white jumpsuit sitting at a table opposite a guy I couldn’t see as well, because there was a plant in the way. I think he was wearing a turtleneck. And I think he had brown hair. That’s right, brown hair. She had a gold necklace. They were eating. Then I looked away. Then I looked back.”

As she spoke, her head whipped to the right and then to the left, mimicking her words. Her long blond hair flipped back and forth. “Go on,” he said.

“The woman was standing, gesturing. She seemed angry. The guy came at her. I could only see his back. When the woman stepped away, there was blood on the front of her white jumpsuit. A lot of blood.” Sasha paused. Her lower lip quivered. “The man caught her before she fell, and that was when I got a clear look at his face.”

“Would you recognize him again?”

“I think so.”

The details in her account made him think that she actually had seen something. The explanation might turn out to be more innocent than she suspected, but further investigation was necessary. “Do you know which room it was?”

She shook her head. “They turned out the lights. I’m not even sure it was the fifth floor or the sixth. Not the corner room but one or two down from it.”

“I want you to remember everything you told me. Later I’ll need for you to write out your statement. But right now I want you to come with me to the hotel.”

For the first time since he’d come into the condo, she grinned. Her whole face lit up, and he felt a wave of pure sunshine washing toward him. He stared at her soft pink mouth as she spoke. “You believe me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Immediately, he reined in his attraction toward her. She was a witness, nothing more.

“I don’t know. It just seems... I don’t know.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Get dressed.”

She turned on her heel and dashed across the condo to the hallway. He heard the sound of a door closing. As he moved toward the exit, he checked out the high-end furnishings and electronics. Bubbly little Sasha seemed too lively, energetic and youthful to be comfortable with these polished surroundings. She lacked the sophistication that he associated with high-priced attorneys.

It bothered him that she’d expected he wouldn’t believe her statement. Even though she’d related her account of the assault with clear details, she seemed unsure of herself. That hesitant attitude didn’t work for him. He was about to go to the hotel and ask questions that would inconvenience the staff and guests. Brady needed for Sasha to be a credible witness.

When she bounded down the hallway in red jeans and a black parka with fake fur around the collar, she looked presentable, especially since she’d ditched the fuzzy boots for a sensible pair of hiking shoes. Then she put on a white knit cap with a goofy pom-pom on top and gave him one of those huge smiles. Damn, she was cute with her rosy cheeks and button nose. As he looked at her, something inside him melted.

If they’d been going on a sleigh ride or a hike, he would have been happy to have her as his companion. But Sasha wasn’t his first choice as a witness. At the hotel, he’d try to avoid mentioning that she’d been peeping at the hotel through binoculars.

* * *

SASHA CLIMBED INTO the passenger side of the SUV and fastened her seat belt. A combination of excitement and dread churned through her veins. She was scared about what she’d seen and fearful about what might have happened to the woman in white. At the same time, she was glad to be able to help. Because of the circumstance—a strange, unlikely moment when she’d peeked through those binoculars at precisely the right time—she might save that woman’s life.

She glanced toward Deputy Brady. “Is this what it feels like to be a cop?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“My pulse is racing. That’s the adrenaline, right? And I’m tingling all over.”

“Could be the champagne,” he said drily.

She’d all but forgotten the three glasses of champagne she’d had in the hot tub. “I’ve been drunk before, and it doesn’t feel anything like this.”

When Brady turned on the flashing lights and the wailing siren, her excitement ratcheted up higher. This was serious business, police business. They were about to make a difference in someone’s life, pursuing a would-be killer, rescuing a victim.

Her emotions popped like fireworks in contrast to Brady’s absolute calm. He was a big man—solid and capable. His jawline and cleft chin seemed to be set in granite in spite of a dimple at the left corner of his mouth. His hazel eyes were steady and cool. In spite of the sheriff’s department logo on the sleeve of his dark blue jacket and the gun holster on his belt next to his badge, he didn’t look much like a cop. He wore dark brown boots and jeans and a black cowboy hat. The hat made her think he might be a local.

She raised her voice so he could hear her over the siren. “Have you lived in Arcadia long?”

“Born and raised,” he said. “My uncle Dooley owned the land where your condo, the hotel and the ski lodge are built.”

“You’re related to Matthew Dooley?”

“I am.”

That wily old rancher was one of the four investors in the Arcadia development. Dooley was big and rangy, much like Brady, and he always wore a cowboy hat and bolo tie. During most of the meetings in the conference room at the Three Ss, he appeared to be sleeping but managed to come alive when there was an issue that concerned him.

“I like your uncle,” she said. “He’s a character.”

“He plays by his own rules.”

And he could afford to. Even before the investment in his land Dooley was a multimillionaire from all the mountain property he had owned and sold over the years. Brady’s relationship to him explained the cowboy hat and the boots. But why was he working as a deputy? “Your family is rich.”

“I’m not keeping score.”

“Easy to say when you’re on the winning team.” Her family hadn’t been poor, but with five kids they’d struggled to get by. If it hadn’t been for scholarships and student loans, she never would have finished college. Paying for her continuing education was going to be a strain. “What made you decide to be a deputy?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

She sensed his resistance and wondered if he had a deep reason for choosing a career in law enforcement. “You can tell me.”

He gave her a sidelong look, assessing her. Then he turned his gaze back toward the road. They were approaching the hotel. “When we go inside, let me do the talking.”

“I might be able to help,” she said. “I’m a pretty good negotiator.”

“This is a police matter. I’m in charge. Do you understand?”

“Okay.”

Though she was capable of standing up for herself, she didn’t mind letting him do the talking. Not only was he a local who probably knew half the people who worked here, but Brady had the authority of the badge.

After they left the SUV in the valet parking area outside the entrance, she dutifully followed him into the front lobby. In the course of resort negotiations, she’d seen dozens of photographs of the interior of the Gateway Hotel. The reality was spectacular. The front windows climbed three stories high in the lobby-slash-atrium, showcasing several chandeliers decorated with small crystal snowflakes. A water feature near the check-in desk rippled over a tiered black marble waterfall. The decor and artwork were sleek and modern, except for a life-size marble statue of a toga-clad woman aiming a bow and arrow. Sasha guessed she was supposed to be Artemis, goddess of the hunt.

Occasional Grecian touches paid homage to the name Arcadia, which was an area in Greece ruled in ancient times by Pan the forest god. Sasha was glad the investors hadn’t gone overboard with the gods-and-goddesses theme in the decorating. She stood behind Brady as he talked to a uniformed man behind the check-in counter. They were quickly shown into a back room to meet with the hotel manager, Mark Chandler.

He came out from behind his desk to shake hands with both of them. His gaze fixed on her face. “Why does your name sound familiar?”

“I’m a legal assistant working with Damien Loughlin. I’ll be attending the investors’ meetings this week.”

“Of course.” His professional smile gave the impression of warmth and concern. “I’ve worked with Damien. His help was invaluable when we were setting up our wine lists.”

“Mr. Chandler,” Brady said, “I’d like to talk with your hotel security.”

“Sorry, the man in charge has gone home for the day. We’re still in the process of hiring our full security team.”

“His name?”

“Grant Jacobson. He’s from one of our sister hotels, and he comes highly recommended.”

“Call him,” Brady said. “In the meantime, I need access to all video surveillance as well as to several of the guest rooms on the fifth and sixth floors. There’s reason to believe a violent assault was committed in one of these rooms.”

“First problem,” Chandler said, “most of our video surveillance isn’t operational.”

“We’ll make do with what have.”

“And I’d be happy to show you the vacant rooms,” he said. “But I can’t allow our guests to be disturbed.”

“This is a police investigation.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

“Suit yourself.” When Brady drew himself up to his full height, he made an impressive figure of authority. “If you refuse to help, I’ll knock on the doors myself and announce that I’m from the sheriff’s department.”

Chandler’s smile crumpled. “That would be disruptive.”

Brady pivoted and went toward the office door. “We’re wasting time.”

She followed him to the elevator. His long-legged stride forced her to jog to keep up. Chandler came behind her.

On the fifth floor, Brady turned to her. “It wasn’t the corner room, right?”

She nodded. “Not the corner.”

He went to the next door. His hand rested on the butt of his gun.

Hurriedly, Chandler stepped in front of him and used the master card to unlock the door. “This room is vacant. Can you at least tell me what we’re looking for?”

Without responding, Brady entered the room and switched on the light. The decor was an attractive mix of rust and sky-blue, but the layout of the furniture wasn’t what Sasha had seen through the binoculars. “It wasn’t this room,” she said. “There was a small table near the window. And a ficus tree.”

“You’re describing one of our suites,” Chandler said. “Those units have more living space and two separate bedrooms.”

“I don’t see signs of a disturbance,” Brady said. “Let’s move on.”

“The room next door is a suite,” Chandler said. “It’s occupied, and I would appreciate your discretion.”

“Sure thing.”

Brady’s eyes were cold and hard. It was obvious that he’d do whatever necessary to find what he was looking for, and she liked his determination.

The door to the next room was opened by a teenage girl with pink-and-purple-striped leggings. The rest of the family lounged in front of the TV. Though this didn’t appear to be the place, Brady verified with the family that they’d been here for the past two hours.

“No one is booked in the next suite,” Chandler said.

“Could someone unauthorized have used it?” Brady asked.

“I suppose so.”

“Open up.”

Though the layout was similar to the one she’d seen, Sasha noticed that instead of a ficus there was a small Norfolk pine. Brady made a full search anyway, going from room to room. In the kitchenette, he looked for dishes that had been used. And he paid special attention to the bedrooms, checking to see if the beds were mussed and looking under the duvet at the sheets.

“Why are the beds important?” she asked.

“If he carried a body from the room, he might need to wrap it in something, like a sheet.”

A shudder went through her. She didn’t want to think of that attractive, vivacious woman as a dead body, much less as a dead body that needed to be disposed of. The excitement of acting like a cop took on a sinister edge.

On the sixth floor, they continued their search. As soon as she entered room 621, Sasha knew she was in the right place. There was a table by the window, and she recognized the leafy green ficus that had obscured her view of the man in the turtleneck. The room was empty.

“As you can plainly see,” Chandler said, “there are no plates on the table. According to my records, this room is vacant until Friday night.”

Brady’s in-depth search came up empty. No dishes were missing, the beds appeared untouched, and there wasn’t a smear of blood on the sand-colored carpet. But she was certain this had been the view she’d seen. “This is the right room. I know what I saw.”

“What were they eating?” Brady asked.

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Think, Sasha.”

She closed her eyes and concentrated. In her mind’s eye, she saw the dark-haired woman gazing across the table as she set down her glass on the table. She poked at her food and lifted her chopsticks. “Chinese,” she said. “They were eating Chinese food.”

“I believe you,” Brady said. “I can smell it.”

She inhaled a deep breath. He was right. The aroma of stir-fried veggies and ginger lingered in the air.

“That’s ridiculous,” Chandler said. “None of our hotel restaurants serve Chinese food. And I don’t smell anything.”

“It’s faint,” Brady agreed.

“Even if someone was in this room,” the hotel manager said, “they’re gone now. And I see no evidence of wrongdoing. I appreciate your thoroughness, Deputy. But enough is enough.”

“I’m just getting started,” Brady said. “I need to talk to your staff, starting with the front desk.”

Though Chandler sputtered and made excuses, he followed Brady’s instructions. In the lobby, he gathered the three front-desk employees, four bellmen and three valets. Several of them gave Brady a friendly nod as though they knew him. He introduced her.

“Ms. Campbell is going to give you a description. I need to know if this woman is staying here.”

Sasha cleared her throat and concentrated, choosing her words carefully. “She’s attractive, probably in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair is black and long, past her shoulders. When I saw her, she was wearing a white jumpsuit and a gold bib necklace, very fancy. It looked like flower petals.”

One of the bellmen raised his hand. “I carried her suitcases. She’s on the concierge level, room 917.”

“Wait a minute,” said a valet. “I’ve seen a couple of women with long black hair.”

“But you don’t know their room numbers,” the bellman said.

“Maybe not, but one of them drives a silver Porsche.”

“Get me the license plate number for the Porsche.” Brady nodded to the rest of the group. “If any of you remember anything about this woman, let me know.”

The employees returned to their positions, leaving them with Chandler. His eyebrows furrowed. “I suppose you’ll want to visit room 917.”

“You guessed it,” Brady said.

“I strongly advise against it. That suite is occupied by Lloyd Reinhardt.”

The name hit Sasha with an ominous thud. Reinhardt was the most influential of the investors in the Arcadia development. He was the contractor who supervised the building of the hotel and several of the surrounding condos. Knocking on his door and accusing him of murder wasn’t going to win her any Brownie points.