The Eligible Suspect. Jennifer Morey
put his back to the wall near the doorway. “We can’t stay here.”
“Why not? That man is out there.”
“There’s a lodge across from Chavis’s cabin. Let’s ski there,” Korbin said, gesturing to her closet full of gear. “Get dressed.”
Savanna kept everything in here anyone might need for cold weather. “You, too.” She handed him long underwear that was still in the package. Korbin stayed by the door with the gun. The house was quiet.
“Maybe we should stay here,” she said. “I think he left.”
“Your back door is broken. He’ll come back. We should go somewhere safe.”
Korbin had a good point. If the man returned, he’d be able to get inside. But would they be any safer out in the wilderness? It was a long way to Hurley’s lodge.
“He’s on a snowmobile,” she said.
“We’ll hear him. We have to get away from here,” he said.
“Why? And why did a man show up in my house shooting at you? What’s going on?” Was he on the run from something?
Korbin looked at her as she handed him a jacket.
“Was that a cop?” she asked.
“No.”
“Who was it, then?”
He shrugged into the red-and-black Descente breathable jacket. “I don’t know.”
Wondering if he was lying, Savanna found long underwear and a lightweight fleece. “But you know why he’s after you.” The man had to be after him. No one would come after her.
Next she found a breathable jacket and snow pants but didn’t dress. That feeling of foreboding intensified. Instinct urged her to stay in her house. She could board up the window with extra fencing that was piled outside the stable.
“Get dressed, Savanna.”
She threw the garments she held onto the floor. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
After peering out from the entry to check if the man had returned, he said to her, “You have to.”
“No, I don’t. You brought that shooter into my home. It was peaceful until you got here.”
He stared at her. “This involves you, too, now.”
The sting of shock froze her. “How?”
He hesitated, much the same as he had when he’d first gotten stuck on her road. “He saw you. You’re with me. That means you’re in danger.”
Just because he’d seen her? “Why was he shooting at you?”
“Get dressed, Savanna. I don’t have time to explain right now. We have to get as far away from here as we can.” When she only stared at him, he urged, “Please. Just listen to me. And trust me. I’ll keep you alive. I promise.”
“I’ll keep myself alive by staying here.”
“What if he comes back here?”
Her face grew cold with dread. “Why would he do that?”
“Savanna...”
She stared at him as she began to see his point. She might not be safe here and she would be at Hurley’s. Get to Hurley’s. That’s what she had to do. She quickly dressed and then slipped her feet into ski boots. Putting a pair of boots in front of him, she went back to the closet and threw him a hat, gloves and goggles. A backpack came next. Korbin caught it and slung it over one shoulder and then caught a transceiver she tossed at him last.
The sound of crunching glass, as though someone had stepped over some in the kitchen, galvanized her into faster action. After slinging her own pack onto her back and securing her transceiver, she picked up two pairs of mountain skis just as a loud crack of a firing rifle deafened her and took a chunk out of the doorjamb inches from Korbin’s head. He fired back and ran after her out the front door.
The intruder had a rifle now!
Shaking, frantic for air, Savanna shoved her booted feet into the skis, Korbin doing the same beside her. She skied toward the trees, looking back to see the man with the rifle appear in the front doorway. He saw them skiing away but didn’t fire. Instead, he disappeared back into the house. With sickening dread, Savanna knew he’d go for his snowmobile. He’d track them down and kill them. The faster they reached Hurley’s the better. The only problem was that a straight line to Lost Trail Lodge was over a fourteen-thousand-foot mountain. Assuming they could stay hidden from the gunman, they would have to ski miles of rugged terrain. Even if they took the shortest route, she didn’t think they’d make it before the next storm hit.
Tucking the gun into a pocket of his jacket, Korbin started skiing in the direction of the lodge. Savanna skied ahead of him. He didn’t know the way. She did. And the safest. This was dangerous avalanche country.
Snowcapped peaks were hidden under building clouds. Pine and blue spruce trees sagged beneath the weight of snow. A blanket of smooth white powder stretched before her to the edge of the trees. She headed for a path that led to Hurley’s yurt-touring trails.
Finding the trail, she skied to a stop and looked back at her house. From here it looked peaceful. Leaving tore at her.
Korbin skied to a stop beside her. “Let’s get moving.”
She looked at him with doubt before skiing ahead of him through the trees. The sound of a snowmobile made her push harder. The man would easily find their tracks and follow.
A few minutes later, the sound faded and all she heard were their skis swishing through the snow.
At the base of the hill, she stopped. Climbing would slow them down. So would the weather. The wind had begun to blow, lifting fresh powder off the surface.
Savanna searched through the trees and listened for the snowmobile, briefly meeting Korbin’s eyes before moving on. The trail reached an avalanche chute. Korbin stopped, looking up the steep slope and not skiing across. After the heavy snow, the danger was high right now.
She skied out onto the slope, traversing it carefully until she made it to the trees on the other side. Korbin followed and they picked up the trail again.
At the top of the slope, Savanna heard something moving in the trees. She stopped to scan their surroundings.
Korbin did the same. It was probably a deer or branches falling under the weight of snow.
“How much farther to the lodge?” Korbin asked.
“We won’t make it there by tonight.”
His gaze shot to her. It was already midafternoon and snow had begun to fall.
She explained about the mountain. “Crimson Morning is the closest yurt to my house and the farthest from the lodge. We have another hard climb and then it’s mostly downhill from there to reach it. We should stay at Crimson Morning tonight and try to make it to the lodge in the morning.”
“What do you mean, try?”
“It’s going to take us another two hours to get to Crimson Morning. Maybe longer in this weather.”
He looked ahead at the trail in consternation. As an experienced skier, he had to know it took roughly an hour per mile to ski in this terrain, and another hour for every thousand vertical feet. Longer in bad weather.
“How far is the next yurt after Crimson Morning?”
“Silver Plume will take us another two or three hours.”
“Then we ski to Silver Plume today.”
Savanna tipped her head back to observe the sky. “That could be dangerous.” Wind carried heavier falling snow down upon them. She’d rather play it safe and stay at Crimson Morning.
“It’s