Then I caught sight of something on a side table. A cat. No. It was a wig. That bright magenta-red hair. I snapped a photo. Stepping back, I tripped over something on the porch that was completely covered by snow and caught myself by slamming into the outer wall of the cabin.
Shoot!
A lamp inside turned on, and I crouched under the window. I tried to settle my breathing, but large bursts of misty air still escaped my lungs. My heartbeat alone was probably loud enough to hear through the walls. That was it... how I was going to die. I looked around, trying to figure out what to do. Footsteps sounded inside the cabin.
Fortunately, the porch had no railing, allowing me to jump off anywhere.
The porch light turned on, and without further thought, I jumped down and booked it toward the lodgebecause I couldn’t have a murderer track my footprints back to my cabin even though I looked like Ginny. It wouldn’t be fair to put her in danger either.
Inside the lodge, I hid in the bathroom as the spell wore off and I faded back to my usual appearance.
Still pitch dark and blizzarding at five a.m., I finally made it back to my own cabin. I unlocked the door and flipped on the light before stepping inside. Fortunately, no dead bodies waited for me. I bolted the door behind me and checked every corner of the cabin, then made sure all the windows were solidly locked and there were no cracks between the curtains.
Wickham still hadn’t messaged me, and I prayed that he’d be released soon. My eyes felt heavy. Alone in the cabin, I slept with all the lights on and a chair lodged under the doorknob for extra measure.
Suspicions filled my chaotic dreams with dark characters lurking around corners, readyto pounce.
My phone buzzed, and my eyes snapped open.
Lydia, are you doing alright? I can’t believe they kept me so long.
I checked the time—nearly ten a.m. It seemed like I’d only been asleep for a few minutes.
I’ve been sleeping . . .
Good... Well, at least we’ll have a crazy story to share.
I smiled. That we would, a very good story. And it sounded like he was going to be able to leave soon.
So you’re being released?
For now, but, I swear these officers want to arrest me.
He really did have the worst luck. If someone was really trying to frame Wickham, they were pretty effective, with the wake of dead bodies left in his path. Part of me suspected that whoever was trying to frame Wickham found him to be an easy fall guy.
The snow’s really bad here. There was another blizzard last night. Will they drive you back?
Unfortunately not. The Jeep has four-wheel drive if you’re comfortable driving it. But you might want to check with Brig to see if they’ve plowed the roads. There’s a spare key in my overnight bag.
Okay, let me see what I can figure out.
I rolled out of bed and checked myself in the mirror. Not my best day. I hadn’t done my facial routine, and my skin looked tired. So did the rest of me. It wasn’t the most graceful way to start off a marriage, so I took a few minutes to shower, blow-dry my hair, put on some fresh makeup, spritz some perfume, and make sure my top and jeans went together nicely. The last thing I needed to do was scare off my new husband by showing up looking like a troll.
He was right, we’d certainly have some good stories to tell. Even a week ago, this was not how I imagined my life going. Eloping with a vampire rock star, trying not to get murdered or framed, being trapped in some tiny ski town. At least itwas an adventure.
Finally, I dug through Wickham’s travel bag to find his spare key. Shoved down at the bottom of his bag was the paper he’d been scribbling on when Darcy called.
$100,000 plus another $50,000? Maybe?
It made sense, and he was no fool. I knew it would be a lot. And it would be helpful in getting our lives together started as long as Wickham was really willing to give us a shot. At least he was completely honest and upfront about everything with me. Part of me wondered if he would have eventually wanted to marry me even without the money. I hoped so.
But I couldn’t worry about that now. Plus, the sooner I left, the sooner I’d get away from whoever the killer was.
Wickham’s Jeep was buried in a foot of snow. So, I started the digging-out routine by turning on the engine to warm it up while I took a good ten minutes to get it cleaned off enough to be drivable.
Before climbing into the car, I noticed a piece of paper jammed under a windshield wiper. I lifted it, to avoid ripping the paper, then I smoothed out the crumpled scrap. It was a gas station receipt, with a message scribbled on the back. Fortunately, the snow was cold enough tokeep all the writing from smearing completely. I did my best to make out the message.
Someone . . . following you two. My . . . no service here. The ring . . . I'm trailing . . . it . . . up here to the resort and . . . you were safe. . . . who killed Alex. I’ll text as soon...
