“You’ve just described about a dozen of my regulars. And I can’t tell you which one. I never pay attention to what they’re wearing.”
“I need to take a look at your security tapes.”
“Sure. Right this way.”
Jonathan made himself wait until the cop was in the back before he got out of there. As he loped toward his snowmobile he glanced around the parking lot, trying to recreate yesterday morning’s scene.
The Northwest America/Canada Transport had been parked close to the toilets with the passenger side away from security cameras. Stupid trucker had raced into the toilets and left his doors unlocked. Jonathan had parked his snowmobile on the far edge of the parking lot where tarmac met forest. It was practically unnoticeable in the shadows of overhanging branches and the deep shade of thick trees.
And Kate was passed out from the date-rape drug. No chance of her rousing from under the tarp to attract anybody’s attention. Also chances of anybody looking under the tarp were slim to none. Folks in Minnesota minded their own business.
He’d counted on that when he sauntered toward the truck, not too fast, not too slow. He made no moves to attract attention, not even glancing around for watchers. That was a sure way to look guilty.
He’d been quick, too. Open the truck door like he owned it, toss Kate’s cell phone under the seat and be on his way. He’d walked on like he was heading in for coffee then circled behind the building, keeping out of camera range, and climbed back onto his snowmobile.
Deed done. Jonathan had chuckled all the way home.
Judging from the way that cop was nosing around, Kate’s GPS tracker had led them on a wild goose chase. Probably all the way to Canada.
Only problem was, somebody had seen him. Another trucker. Could have been somebody just pulling into the truck stop. Yesterday there had been only one truck on the lot when he’d parked the snowmobile.
And now the cop was too close for comfort. If the law got lucky, they might find Kate before he did. And what about Kate’s stupid mother with her search dog? Where was she?
That old bag had been right all along. He should have gone straight into the woods after his bride.
He headed south on the main roads, taking the shorter route home. Five miles from the truck stop he came upon Glen’s Crossing Road where he’d taken Kate. Her car had been pulled out of the small ravine, the wrecker was still there and cops were everywhere.
Jonathan shot past Glen’s Crossing then turned left onto a gravel road that eventually intersected the trail to Wayne’s Trading Post. Adrenaline shot through him as he raced through the woods. The thought of losing her made him furious. And reckless. He almost overturned his snowmobile taking a curve too fast.
And of all the stupid things, he had to take a leak. He’d had too much coffee. And no time to go to the bathroom. Stupid cop.
He slammed on the brakes and leaped off, roaring her name out of sheer frustration.
“KATE! KATE!”
The icy wind bit his bare skin and took his breath away. He couldn’t wait to zip up and be on his way.
Finally he was back on his snowmobile, racing off in the direction of that old falling-down store. She wouldn’t leave the trail. Scared little girl like her. He’d find her first. He had to.
But with the cops after him, he had to come up with an entirely different plan. It wasn’t enough to grab Kate and find some nice safe motel where he could tame her and house break her any way he pleased away from Betty’s prying eyes. He had to hide her where nobody could find her.
Or else, kill her like he had the others and then go home, play innocent and let Betty be his alibi.
“KATE!” he screamed. “I’M COMING!”
Grand Marsais 9 News
Stan polished off another doughnut and topped off his coffee cup. He was on a caffeine and sugar high. They kept a fresh pot brewing at Channel 9 at all times and an endless supply of doughnuts of every variety. His favorites were the cream filled. He could eat his weight in them. And had today.
Doughnuts were such a welcome relief. Jean was on a health kick and lately all she’d served were salads, an endless parade of greens with weird ingredients like tofu.
The only reason he wasn’t fifty pounds overweight is that he was only at the station for extended periods when storms like Holly made it necessary for him to stay at the station to give live updates.
His cell phone rang. It was his wife.
“Stanley?” He could already tell that she was beside herself. He chose to blame it on her pregnancy, her first. But he had a sneaking suspicion he was married to a woman who had inherited her Southern momma’s flair for drama. “Can you come home?”
“No. I already told you that.”
“Mother is crying that Christmas is ruined because the flight was cancelled and she didn’t even put up a tree, and Daddy can’t do a thing with her. I’m pulling my hair out dealing with them and wondering what to do with all this food.”
“Jean, they’re grown. They can handle this little setback. I’m down here saving lives.”
“Stanley should I go ahead and cook this food or freeze it?”
How should he know? He was a weatherman, for Pete’s sake, not some stupid Master Chef like the guy Jean had been dating before Stanley stole her away. “Do what you think best, hon. I’m on in five. Gotta go.”
He was more than happy to escape her and face the cameras, even with such dastardly weather news.
He dusted the sugar off his face then took his place in front of the cameras and put on his game face.
“A monster blizzard is heading our way, and her name is Holly. She’s picking up speed and gathering force. Grand Marsais is expected to feel her full force as early a 1:30 this afternoon. I repeat, expect the snowstorm to hit at 1:30. “
He moved his pointer over the map as he talked. “We’re already feeling Holly’s effects with wind gusts up to twenty miles an hour. Temperatures are hovering at minus ten degrees and plunging rapidly.”
The map behind him showed the temperatures in Grand Marsais, Glen’s Crossing, Duluth and other key cities throughout the state, most of them sub-zero.
“Sustained winds of forty-five miles an hour with gusts up to seventy-five miles an hour will pose a huge danger, especially along our waterfronts. We’re looking for a repeat of the winter storm that pushed ice and spray from Lake Superior into Duluth Harbor, freezing the spray within minutes and turning the harbor into a frozen tundra. The Land of Ten Thousand Lakes will be especially susceptible to these high winds and icy temperatures. Residents near lakes are advised to evacuate.”
Stan had swallowed his last doughnut in haste and could feel the awful urge to burp.
“Stay tuned for weather updates here at TV 9 new in Grand Marsais.”
He was relieved he’d held his gas long enough to get off camera. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow, then went in search of something more substantial than doughnuts. A hotdog would do nicely.
Chapter Ten
9:00 a.m.
Something roared through Kate’s dreams, startling her into a state of half wakefulness. What was it? The storm?
“Mom? Dad?”