Snow Angels. Fern Michaels
be there as soon as the weather permits. She just wanted me to call. My phone lines are down. She said her cell-phone battery died.”
Max heard an intake of breath.
“Miss Grace would never allow her battery to die! That’s one of the first things she tells us when she issues our phones. Are you sure she’s all right? What did you say your name was?”
Issues our phones? Hope House? Why did that name sound familiar to him?
“My name is Max, and I assure you, Miss Grace was fine when I left her. As soon as she’s able to travel, she’ll be home. Tell Bryce not to be in such a hurry next time.” Max hung up the phone.
“Catch.” He tossed the cell phone back to Eddie.
“Easy, buddy, those things aren’t cheap. What got you so riled up? You look like you’ve just swallowed a spoon of vinegar. No, make that a glass. What gives?”
Bryce. What kind of name is that?
“Nothing, just point me in the right direction so I can get the woman’s van to her before Bryce has a…hissy fit.”
“Well, well. I’ll be a monkey’s uncle! It’s about time, don’t you think? I do believe Mr. Jorgenson is jealous!” Eddie roared with laughter.
“Look, Eddie, cut the crap. This woman is stranded at my place with two kids. I want her out of there as soon as possible. Just tell me where her van is, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Don’t get all whiney on me, man. Look, I’ll drive you to her van. I was about to leave anyway. We’ve got a group of ten-year-olds on the black diamonds today. I want to stay close by, just in case.”
“Thanks, Eddie.” And when had ten-year-olds started skiing on black-diamond slopes? He’d been at least thirteen before he even dared to ski on such challenging terrain, but when he did, as they say, the rest is history. Three years later he was on the U.S. Ski Team preparing for Olympic tryouts. He didn’t make it that year, but four years later he made Olympic history in Albertville, France, in 1992, when he won all the events in the Alpine competitions. He had five Olympic Gold Medals for his performance on the slopes. After the Olympics, he’d made millions off endorsements. He’d invested most of his earnings, so when he was ready to settle down, money hadn’t been an issue.
He’d met Kayla while sitting next to her on the ski lift at Maximum Glide. She was there with a group of female police officers from all across the state. She wasn’t like all the other women he’d dated, who wanted nothing more than to be seen with him in hopes their names would wind up on the front page of whatever rag made it their mission to catch “Colorado’s most eligible bachelor” doing something he shouldn’t. That lifestyle got old after a while. When he met Kayla, he was older, wiser, and ready to settle down. Their marriage was nice, easygoing. Max had begged her to quit her job, but she’d refused, telling him that her father and his father were police officers. She said it was in her blood. Feeling the same way about his skiing career, even though his father hadn’t expressed an interest in skiing, Max never asked her to give up her job again. If only he’d been more persistent, Kayla might still be alive. And they would’ve had a son or a daughter, as Kayla had just learned she was three months’ pregnant the week before she was killed.
If only. There were so many ifs.
“That’s it,” Eddie said, pointing to a gray Dodge van. “I assume she gave you the keys?”
“No, she didn’t. I took them this morning. Smart thinking, huh?” Max asked.
“Smart-ass if you ask me,” Eddie said dryly.
“I didn’t,” Max commented.
“Want me to hang around to make sure she starts?”
“That might be a good idea,” Max said, then went over to the nondescript van, inserted the key in the lock, and opened the driver’s side door. He put the key in the ignition, and the van started up on the first try. “It’s running,” he shouted to Eddie. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”
Eddie stuck his hand in the air and waved before pulling back onto the road. Max saluted him as he passed.
Thankful for the front-wheel drive, Max drove the van up the mountain in record time as the roads were all clear. More snow was expected later, but if he were lucky, Grace would be long gone before it hit.
Something about his conversation with the girls’ mother struck him just then. Just exactly who was Glenn and where had he escaped from? Max was positive the woman had used that word.
“Escape.”
Could it be possible this Glenn had escaped from jail or prison? And was it possible his escape was the reason for the roadblocks? The more Max thought about it, the more he knew he was right. He’d lived in the area most of his life. The only time he’d witnessed a roadblock was on I-70 when there was a possible avalanche threat, or bad weather closed the pass.
Stepping on the accelerator, Max wasted no time plowing up the long drive to his cabin. If he were right, and this man Glenn had escaped, Grace and those two kids could be in grave danger. How or why he knew this, he didn’t know. He did know that if it was in his power to prevent another woman from dying at the hands of another human being, he would do so, no questions asked.
Racing up the steps to the cabin, Max yanked the door aside, unprepared for what greeted him.
Grace and the two girls were in the den, with Ice-D and Cliff flanking a small bearded man wearing the typical orange jail uniform. Both dogs were in attack mode, waiting for his command.
“Are you all right?” he asked Grace as he scanned the room.
She nodded, and that was when Max realized her hands were tied behind her back. Both girls were sitting next to her. Their hands weren’t tied, but Max saw thick tears streaming down both of their faces. His heartbeat quadrupled at the pitiful sight.
Not allowing another second to pass, Max walked over to the man, who he assumed was Glenn and who had his back to him, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, both dogs backed off but remained alert, low, threatening growls deep in their throats.
“Don’t move!” Max wrapped his hand around the intruder’s neck and shoved him against the wall toward the door. Knowing the girls were watching prevented him from smashing his fist square in the guy’s face, so he opted for the next best thing.
Dragging him out the door to Grace’s van, he shoved him into the passenger side. “Move a muscle, and I promise you I won’t be as nice as I was in there.” He nodded toward the cabin.
Glenn, a stick of a man with a receding hairline, tattoo-covered arms, and several missing teeth, held a bony arm in front of him as Max crammed his fist in his face. Blood spewed from his mouth seconds later. “Bastard,” he spat out. “Those are my girls you got in that cabin! I came to get ’em! No woman’s gonna take what’s rightfully mine! You hear that?”
Max didn’t know the story behind Glenn’s claim and didn’t really care. “I hear you loud and clear, you worthless piece of shit.” Max ripped his belt off and used it to tie Glenn’s hands behind his back. The skinny man yanked and pulled, but Max was too strong for him. He shoved him against the seat, then used the seat belt to hold him in position. “Move a muscle, and I promise it will be your last twitch.” He jammed his fist into the man’s nose and heard the cartilage snap.
Glenn dropped his head to his chest, wincing in pain. Before the bound man could recover from the effects of the punch, Max raced back inside the cabin, knowing he had only a few minutes before Glenn wiggled out of the seat belt.
Without saying a word, he removed the piece of extension cord with which Glenn had tied up Grace. “Stay here and don’t do anything until I return.”
Grace nodded, rubbing her hands. “Hurry!” She wrapped her arms around both girls, who continued to whimper and cry.
The last thing Max