Love at First Sight Part 7

Not even the large manila envelope Jack picked up at his apartment could bring her down, although she'd seen the red stamped words on the outside just before he'd tossed it in the backseat with his gear. Confidential. Missoula Police Department Property. Confidential. Missoula Police Department Property.

She didn't want to know. Tomorrow. She felt like Scarlett O'Hara. Tomorrow she'd think about it.

And tonight? Oh, yes, tonight.

Jack slowed the Jeep as the winding high mountain road ended in front of a small picturesque stone-and-log ski lodge straight out of the 1950s.

In the moonlight, she could see what looked like a ski chalet off to the right and halfway up the mountainside. An old-fashioned chairlift ran from the other side of the lodge up past the chalet to the peak of the mountain.

"Jack, it's...enchanting," she said, realizing it was a word she doubted she'd ever used before, but that fit perfectly.

"Yeah?" he said, sounding pleased. "But what do you think of the view?" He switched off the headlights and turned in his seat to look back.

She turned then, too, and caught her breath. "Oh." That was all she could say. The mountain dropped in a patchwork quilt of moonlight-bathed rock and pine, to smooth rolling foothills, finally falling away to the distant sparkle of Missoula's city lights. "Oh."

He laughed. "I take it, you like the view?"

"I love love the view." the view."

He climbed out of the Jeep and she followed him to the edge of the mountainside. She stood next to him, breathing in the cold pine-scented mountain air. That sense of freedom she'd felt earlier was magnified by this place. And this man.

She shifted her gaze to Jack. He stood looking out at the view, his face a portrait of contentment. She felt drawn to him as if this was where she'd been headed all her life. Crazy.

He turned to look at her, his eyes bright with an intensity that raced her heart and made her think maybe it wasn't so crazy, after all. She shivered at the thought.

"Cold?" he asked.

She hugged herself. "Maybe a little."

"Let's get you inside, then, and I'll start a fire." On the way past the Jeep, he grabbed the bag of groceries and led her toward the ski lodge.

"Is this yours?" she asked as they climbed the steps.

"It needs a lot of work, but it's all mine."

She shook her head. "I didn't know there were still places like this around." She caught his expression and realized he'd taken it wrong. "It's wonderful, Jack. What a find. It's like it hasn't been touched in over forty years."

"It's exactly like that," he said as he opened the front door. Off in the distance, a gas generator cranked over and rumbled to life. The lights came on inside the lodge and Jack stepped aside to let her enter.

Karen took one step and stopped. "Oh, Jack." It was like a cabin her grandparents owned in the Gallatin Canyon, rustic and very Western, yet homey with old-fashioned furniture, handmade woven rugs, thick slatted pine flooring and a stone fireplace.

"I think 'Oh, Jack' means you like it?" he asked, lifting a brow as he smiled over at her.

"Oh, yes." She moved to a log hutch and ran her hand over the varnished wood. "How did you find this place?"

"It found me," he said, taking the groceries to the kitchen. "It belonged to my great-uncle. I hardly knew him but when he pa.s.sed on last month, he left it to me."

"How wonderful! I mean-"

He laughed. "I know what you mean. The rest of my family thinks it's a white elephant. They all think I should tear down the buildings, sell the land and use the money to buy myself a nice condo in town."

"You wouldn't!" she cried.

He turned to look over his shoulder at her. "I haven't really made up my mind yet. That was something I planned to decide after I'd spent some time up here and really looked the place over. It would take a lot of work-"

"But it will be worth it," she chimed in.

He laughed. "Well, at least now I know a good woodworker."

His gaze warmed her like summer sun. "Can I help you with dinner?"

JACK BUILT A FIRE in the stone fireplace then cooked two thick, juicy steaks over the coals, while Karen made a salad to go with everything else he'd bought for their dinner. in the stone fireplace then cooked two thick, juicy steaks over the coals, while Karen made a salad to go with everything else he'd bought for their dinner.

"So what were you doing before you came home to run the family business?" he asked after they'd eaten and had fallen into a companionable silence in front of the fire.

"Finishing up a degree in child development," she said. "A friend wanted me to teach at her preschool."

"No kidding."

Something about the way he said it made her look over at him. He was smiling, his brown eyes warm and full of humor. Oh, what just one look from this man did to her.

"I take it you like kids," he said, holding her gaze.

"I love kids. How about you?"

He smiled. "Until just recently, I hadn't thought much about kids of my own. But now that I have, I can't seem to get the idea out of my head."

They laughed and talked in front of the fire until the logs died down to glowing embers. The lights dimmed and Jack excused himself to gas up the generator. Karen wandered out to look at the view again.

Jack found her sitting on the stone wall below the lodge, staring out at the lights in the distance and the darkness, deep in thought.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he said, joining her on the wall.

The rock felt cold and rough but it felt good to have something solid under her. "Thinking about Liz," she answered. "You know, I didn't really know her but I got the feeling that she was lonely. Maybe that's why she let this man into her life so easily, too easily. She needed someone to love and to love her. It's just so tragic."

Jack nodded. "But isn't that what everyone wants, someone to love?"

She turned to look at him. His hair shone like autumn wheat in the moonlight, softening his face and making his eyes golden. "I've always thought people who constantly looked for love were like lemmings rushing to the sea."

"Some people are like that. But I think a lot of us are afraid to even hope there's someone who's right for us out there, let alone that there's a perfect mate for each of us."

She laughed. "You sound like this elderly woman I know. She's convinced there is a perfect match for each of us, like a shoe that's missing its mate. Unfortunately, she feels it's her mission to bring those people together."

He chuckled. "The blind date?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid to think how many more unattached men she has in her family. She plays dirty, too, using my weaknesses to entrap me."

"The sign of a true matchmaker."

"Sounds like you've known a few."

He laughed. "I'm afraid so."

A silence fell between them. Moonlight sparkled in the pines, the breeze whispered softly in the boughs and the scent of pine wafted along in the night.

Karen had never been more aware of a man. She could sense him next to her as if she were monitoring his vital signs. Something crackled between them as explosive as lightning on a hot summer night. Only this was March and she could see her breath, frosty white, on the night air. But she felt anything but cold. Did he feel it, too? If he did, then he'd want to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him.

She sat for a moment just looking out at the valley, then hesitantly glanced over at him. She caught her breath. His gaze burned her with the heat of it. She felt herself start to lean toward him as her gaze dropped to his lips in antic.i.p.ation of their first kiss.

"We should get you inside," Jack said abruptly and slid off the wall. "You need your rest for tomorrow."

Tomorrow. The word broke the spell. She jerked back, pretending to stretch. "I suppose so," she said, glancing at her watch, unable to see the dial even in the moonlight. The word broke the spell. She jerked back, pretending to stretch. "I suppose so," she said, glancing at her watch, unable to see the dial even in the moonlight.

She yawned for good measure, then slid off and stood, dusting her backside, trying hard to hide her disappointment. That had had been desire in his eyes, hadn't it? Or just a reflection? If swamp gas could be mistaken for a flying saucer, who knew what tricks moonlight could play? been desire in his eyes, hadn't it? Or just a reflection? If swamp gas could be mistaken for a flying saucer, who knew what tricks moonlight could play?

Jack showed her to the bedroom, then bid her goodnight and climbed the stairs to the loft.

She stripped down and climbed into the big iron bed, listening to his movements overhead. A strong man. A good man. Solid as gold, her father would have said. Just the kind of man- She shoved the thought away and shuddered to think what her mother would say. "Nice women are attracted to their doctors, not their arresting officers," her mother would say. But as Karen closed her eyes, she radiated in the quiet peace of the isolated ski lodge and the fact that Jack Adams was just upstairs. She felt safe. And tomorrow- No, she wouldn't think about that. Not now.

Instead she'd think about something pleasant. Maybe he hadn't kissed her, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, but he'd wanted wanted to. to.

JACK SAT IN THE CHAIR beside the bed, listening to the lodge settle, wondering if Karen was asleep yet. Why hadn't he kissed her when he'd had the chance? Because he'd brought her up here to keep her safe. Kissing her in the moonlight would have been anything beside the bed, listening to the lodge settle, wondering if Karen was asleep yet. Why hadn't he kissed her when he'd had the chance? Because he'd brought her up here to keep her safe. Kissing her in the moonlight would have been anything but but safe. safe.

He smiled as he remembered their evening together and especially her reaction to the ski lodge. He'd liked this old place right from the first, but his family had all argued that the place was jinxed, a true white elephant, and something he shouldn't sink any money into but should get rid of as quickly as possible.

The place had been Crazy Uncle Chuck's dream. Chuck had built the ski hill in the early 1950s, just about the time snow skiing was taking off in Montana. Unfortunately, his dream of a money-making resort never materialized.

The woman Chuck had planned to marry stood him up at the altar. Brokenhearted, Chuck had closed the place before it ever opened. He'd left it just as it was the day he walked out. But while he'd never returned, he'd never been able to part with it, making him appear all that much more crazy.

Fortunately, he'd hired a caretaker to make sure the place was taken care of. But still, it needed a lot of work and so did the road up to it, and as Jack's family had said, what did he plan to do with it?

He didn't know. Except keeping it seemed more of an option now. At least Karen thought so. And after seeing her woodwork, he had a great deal of respect for her opinion when it came to fixing the place up. She seemed to like it as much as he did. He smiled. A woman with exceptional taste.

His smile faded as he reminded himself what Karen was doing here. He'd pushed it from his mind during dinner. But he couldn't afford to do that any longer. He'd promised to take her back to Missoula tomorrow. Back to where the killer would be looking for her.

He picked up the copy of Liz Jones's murder file and reluctantly opened it. A photograph of Liz fluttered to the floor. He leaned down to pick it up, surprised to see that she didn't look anything like the usual women his partner dated. A pretty brunette with brown eyes looked up at him.

He turned up one of the crime-scene photos, never comfortable with the death and damage he had to witness in his job. He'd heard that Liz Jones had been strangled with her own panty hose. He hadn't thought to ask Denny about it. But he could see the thin fabric around her neck, drawn tight.

He pulled out the autopsy report. Cause of death: "Blow to the head." He frowned. Why strangle her, then? The killer must not have wanted to take any chances that she might still be alive.

The victim had also been beaten with the base of a hotel lamp found at the scene. No latents had been found. The killer had either worn gloves or wiped down everything he touched before he left.

But while apparently trying to fend off the killer, her watch had been broken, establishing the time of death. Thirty-five minutes after Karen had seen a man enter Liz's hotel room.

The brutality seemed to indicate that this had been a crime of pa.s.sion. The question was: What pa.s.sion? If Jack knew that, then he'd know who killed her.

Dr. Carl Vandermullen, the jealous ex-husband?

The secret lover she'd threatened to expose?

Or someone else? Perhaps a former lover she'd dumped back in high school?

Jack shook his head, refusing to believe his friend could do something like this. Sure, Denny had a temper and a pretty short fuse, but Liz dumping him in high school didn't seem motive enough for murder.

If the killer was Dr. Carl Vandermullen, then it could have been over the divorce or maybe Vandermullen had just found out about the secret lover.

And if it was the secret lover? Liz had gotten a room in her own name in a far wing of the Carlton on a floor with no other guests, requesting privacy. She'd been expecting her secret lover when she'd called Karen. A man, the one Karen had seen, arrived while Liz was leaving a message on Karen's answering machine.

Jack thought it pretty safe to a.s.sume the man Karen had seen was the secret lover. Because of the time element with only thirty-five minutes between the moment when Karen had seen the man in the hotel hallway and Liz had been killed, the man could be the killer.

Also from the message Liz had left on the answering-machine tape, it sounded as if she planned to threaten the man with what she'd learned about him. Add to that the exchange between Liz and the man in the hotel hallway. Whoever the man was, he was definitely a suspect.

Jack played the tape again, careful to keep the volume down so Karen wouldn't hear it. Liz's voice disturbed him. She seemed to go from upset to angry and vengeful. Karen was right. Liz's last statement did sound like a threat. Is that what had gotten her killed?

He turned off the tape and closed the file. Liz was dead. And now Karen Sutton had threatened the killer in the newspaper. Jack feared more than ever that the killer would come after her.

He pulled out his cell phone and punched in Denny's home number. "I thought I'd better let you know, I have Karen Sutton with me," he said when Denny answered.

"I figured something like that when I didn't hear from her," Denny said. "I'm sure you think you're protecting her-"

"I am am protecting her," he interrupted. protecting her," he interrupted.

Denny swore. "You're a d.a.m.ned fool sticking your neck out like this, especially for a woman you don't even know."

"Yeah." Except that he felt as though he knew her, had always known her. But since he couldn't even explain it to himself, he sure wasn't going to try to explain it to Denny. "I also have the answering-machine tape. I guess I stuck it in my pocket and forgot about it."

"Right. Have her and the tape at my apartment by eight in the morning. I hope you know what you're doing." Denny hung up.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Monday morning