1
“Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch!”
Laura trudged through the snow at the edge of what she thought was the driveway—hoped was the driveway. Each step she took proved harder and harder as the snow coming down piled higher and higher.
She was pissed as hell. Not only because it was colder than a witches tit out here, but because she’d gone and made a rookie move resulting in the back passenger quarter of her police issue SUV being roof deep in a fucking snow-filled ditch.
“Fucking idiot!”
Wedged in the snow with the front end sticking up in the air like the damn thing was ready to launch into space, she had no hope of digging it out without a tow truck.
“Stupid dumb motherfucker,” she grumbled, clapping her gloved hands together in an attempt to get some blood, and therefore warmth, into her aching fingertips.
Not that movement had helped her toes. They’d gone numb in spite of her insulated boots and thermal socks. And that numbness was creeping up her legs and sinking into her bones with every step she took.
A cup of her sister’s peppermint spice hot chocolate with a generous splash of whiskey would go down real nice right now.
Or just the generous slug of whiskey.
Not that either were in her foreseeable future.
Nope. At this rate she’d be lucky if she managed to make it to her destination.
Lakeside Inn.
It hadn’t been occupied for at least a year or more. But no one had driven by in the hour she’d waited with her vehicle, and the police radio had crapped out due to the weather—or maybe when she’d tipped the SUV into the ditch—and don’t even get her started on the snow coming down thicker every damn second.
“God, I fucking hate winter!” Her scream got lost in the snow and wind swirling around her. If someone was close they’d be lucky to hear her.
She’d been nearing the end of her shift, just finished with her blizzard preparedness check over in Broken Bay, which sat across the lake from the police station—and the rest of civilization—in Winter Lake, when her driver’s side front tire had popped. Instead of doing the sensible thing and checking the road edge she’d pulled onto she’d just opened the back hatch, grabbed the jack and set to changing the flat.
It wasn’t her first flat. She knew what to do. Her father had seen to that. According to him you couldn’t live in the mountains without knowing how to take care of yourself no matter what did or didn’t hang between your legs.
He’d made sure her and her twin sister Carly were as capable and prepared for mountain life as their brothers Grady and Joshua.
Unfortunately the rear passenger quarter was on the diagonal from the flat and she’d tipped the whole fucking vehicle into the ditch she’d failed to notice was hidden beneath the snow before she’d realized it wasn’t her strength or skill that was jacking up the SUV with surprising speed.
She’d been so pissed at herself for the dumbass move her anger had kept her warm for a good half hour or so. Then her situation began to sink in and she’d had to make a decision on what to do.
Thankfully she’d been on her way back to the station from a full day of checking on the residents of Broken Bay and knew everyone was well equipped to ride out the storm.
Un-thankfully, the storm had blown in earlier than predicted and the way it was ramping up she’d be lucky if she wasn’t buried alive before she found the old Lakeside Inn.
Which meant she was currently making her way through the worsening snowfall toward an abandoned building in the belief she’d be able to find shelter, and possibly warmth.
If it wasn’t for the fact the storm was supposed to last more than forty-eight hours she’d wait it out in her cruiser but as the snowfall grew heavier it became apparent that wouldn’t be in her best interests and if she was going to make a move for somewhere safer it was now or never.
She slapped her hands together again, flexed her fingers, and raised her feet higher as the path she walked got deeper and deeper with snow. What she wouldn’t give for a set of snowshoes right now. They were on her mental list of essentials—along with a flask of whiskey—to add to the survival kit she kept in the backpack currently slung over her shoulders once she got back to Winter Lake.
There were other pressing things to think about now though.
First order of business was getting inside the Inn and starting a fire. Assuming she could find Lakeside Inn. Also assuming at least one of the many fireplaces the old building had was functional. It had been a while since anyone lived there, before last winter if memory served, but surely the place hadn’t deteriorated that much.
As long as there was a roof over her head and walls to keep out the wind and snow she’d be fine.
She had a space blanket as well as matches and fire starters in her kit, she just needed a supply of dry wood and somewhere safe to set it alight. Barring that, she’d find an old tub or sink she could use as a fire pit, and bust up a couple of doors or furniture to burn if she had to once she got inside the big old house.
Survival first. She’d worry about defacing someone else’s property later.
