Chapter Eighteen

Mel gulped several deep breaths like a diver getting ready to go under water and stepped onto the bridge. She gripped the cable sides until her knuckles turned white and inched forward another ten feet farther before she froze. If she could turn around, she would, but she couldn’t. Carefully, as if she was a Wallenda on a tightrope over Niagara Falls, she crept forward, heel-toeing her way an inch at a time. Halfway across, after what felt like excruciating hours, she made the mistake of peering down at the frozen water twenty feet below and collapsed to her knees, sending the bridge swinging wildly.

As tempting as it was to stay there until someone found her, Jackson’s life was in her hands, and she refused to let him down. She wobbled to her feet, planning on inching the rest of the way over when she saw Stacy come around the café’s corner where the big chest freezer sat. That’s when Mel noticed the drag marks coming from the back door of the diner. She killed Jackson and put him in the freezer?

Later, Mel couldn’t say what instinct kicked in, but she sprinted across the bridge, mindless of the height. Out of habit she yelled, “Freeze” and reached for her police issued gun before remembering she didn’t have one anymore. But Stacy did.

“Not to sound like a maniacal bad guy, but why can’t you just die already?” Stacy’s voice was hard, not at all the sunshine and lollipops persona she put on.

“What?” Mel was stunned to hear she’d been an intended victim. Stacy must have blocked the chimney to the wood stove.

“Never mind.” She waggled the gun at Mel. “Guess you’ll be joining your boyfriend in the freezer.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“That’s your takeaway, not that I locked him in the freezer?”

“So he’s still alive?”

Stacy glanced at watch. “I mean, it’s only been like fifteen minutes. I cranked the temperature down, but it will still take another ten before he kicks it.”

Mel’s police training kicked in, keeping her calm and focused. Of course. Stacy’s fake fur coat was the dog-like fiber the doctor couldn’t identify. Then Mel heard the rattle of the chest freezer’s top raising and dropping in a frantic rhythm. Jackson was trying to get out, but that bitch had blocked it with something.

Knowing Jackson was alive changed everything. Mel aggressively stepped toward Stacy, who raised her gun. “Stop!”

“Or what, you’ll shoot me? Don’t know if you’ve ever used one of those, but they are loud, especially in a place as quiet as this. These mountain folks know a gunshot from fireworks, they’ll be out here so fast that you’ll never make it to your car. It’s still up at the inn.”

Stacy frantically searched for an escape route, giving Mel the time she needed. Her bum ankle made her timing off a little but given her small stature Mel had trained to be ferocious in a fight and end it quickly before the bigger—or armed—opponent had a chance to think. A flying roundhouse kick snapped Stacy’s head back with a crack. The blonde hit the snowy ground like a ton of bricks.

She picked up the gun, her injured ankle on fire as she hobbled around the corner toward the freezer. Her heart froze when she realized the chest’s lid no longer rattled. Numb, Mel yanked out the heavy wooden spoon Stacy put through the hasp and heaved the lid open.

Inside, sporting an enormous lump on his head from where Stacy must have knocked him out, Jackson shivered and moaned. He was barely conscious, but alive. Relying heavily on adrenaline and leverage, she had him half out of the freezer by the time she heard the wail of a police siren and screech of tires coming to a halt. In seconds Gregg Marks was beside her, helping her free Jackson from his icy coffin.

Jackson wobbled but mostly stood on his own. “That bitch,” he ground out, putting a hand to his head. “She came out of nowhere when I locked up and hit me with my own frying pan.”

“Gregg, it was Stacy, she killed Mindy and Mr. Hubbard,” Mel explained in rapid fire. “Jackson figured it out somehow, and she tried to kill him too.”

“The mascara she wore that night,” he gasped out despite the pain. “It shouldn’t have run like that if she just found him. I worked on a study of it at my old job, so I guess that degree finally paid off.” His attempt at a grin ended as a moan.

Mel put his arm over her shoulder. “Why don’t we go see the doc to get you checked out? Deputy, your prisoner might need a little medical help as well.” She pointed to the still crumpled Stacy.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Marks pulled out his handcuffs and strode toward her. “What are those over there on the ground—teeth?”