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She pointed past his shoulder at the yellow tape tied to a post near the restrooms and waving in the breeze. “The bathroom isn’t cordoned off, so it’s obviously not a crime scene.”
“Obviously. I heard a man dropped dead of a heart attack in there.”
“This time it will be different.” She laced her fingers through his and kissed the back of his hand.
He put his lips close to her ear. “Remember, we part company when we get off the shuttle. Head to the skating rink via the main drag, and I’ll slip through the backstreets.”
She nodded.
“If you don’t see Bessler at all or you see him and he’s not wearing green, just send me the text we agreed upon.”
“No green.”
“I’m gonna make a spy out of you yet.” He pinched her soft earlobe. “We give him fifteen minutes to show. Then you return to the restaurant where we had lunch with Cody.”
“Holly’s. If he’s there and wearing green, I’ll text you green.”
“And the most important part of the plan?”
“I stay out of Bessler’s sight, keep out of the open and stick with other people.”
“You got it.” The bus rumbled to a stop and the doors, front and back, creaked open.
“Have a great day, folks. The shuttles are still running on a reduced schedule, so we’ll just have five more runs with the last one at two o’clock, and then we start up again for dinner at five.”
Ava stood up first. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “Good luck.”
She was the only luck he needed.
He brushed a knuckle across her cheek. “Be careful.”
He watched her hop off the bus and tag along behind a couple on their way to the main street.
“Sir, are you getting off or going back to the hotel?”
“Just looking for my hat.” He plucked it from his lap and pulled it over his head. “Found it.”
He jumped onto the sidewalk, still wet from the rain the night before, but not icy. He slipped around the corner of the bathroom, wondering if the Tempest cleanup crew had ever found Snyder’s weapon.
With his muscles tense and all his senses on high alert, he navigated the backstreets of Snow Haven, which was neither snowy nor a haven for anything but traps. Total fail on that name.
He reached an alley between two buildings that led to the town square at the end of the main street. On one end of that square was the ice-skating rink, which abutted the end of a ski run. That town run hadn’t yet opened for the season, and brown patches and clumps of trees dotted the side of the hill.
Reaching the end of the alley, he poked his head out and looked down the sidewalk both ways. The crowds of people that would usually clog the streets during the full ski season were thinned out, but enough people milled around the shops and restaurants to give him some cover.
He let out a breath and leaned against the wall, pulling his phone from his jacket pocket where he cupped it in his palm. A chill seeped through his veins as his adrenaline merged with the T-101 still pumping through his system.
He recognized the feeling. He welcomed it.
The phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced at the display. He read the one word aloud as if to connect him with Ava. “‘Green.’”
Game time.
Squaring his shoulders, he pushed off the wall and stepped onto the sidewalk, his gaze sweeping the town square. He joined a clutch of people heading for the skating rink as he hunched his shoulders and pulled his scarf around his face.
He spotted Bessler immediately hanging over the side of the rink, watching the skaters, his green scarf tucked into a black jacket. What else did he have tucked in there?
Max waited in line at the booth and then paid to rent a pair of ice skates and for an afternoon of ice-skating. He picked out a pair of skates and slung them over his shoulder.
Bessler had raised his head and was staring across the rink. He’d been made, but did Bessler have to be so obvious? Ava was right. The other agent was young and green—another good reason for the chosen color.
Max stalked toward the skating rink, waiting for Bessler to make his move. The agent clumped toward the opening of the circular rink and glided onto the ice. At least the guy could ice-skate.
