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A flash of gray, more like a shadow, streaked through a gap in the thicket and plunged into the dense forest about thirty yards away. She ran full bore in the direction she’d seen the figure, or whatever it was, disappear. Fresh flakes poured into her boots as she half ran, half trudged through the thick snow.
Something caught her toe, and she stumbled. Righting herself, she shoved through pine boughs and skirted trees until she reached the spot where she’d glimpsed movement. She stopped and searched for signs that she was on the right track.
She heard Cannon and Grady behind her but didn’t take her eyes off the terrain. “I saw something. A flash of gray.”
“Most likely a mule deer,” Grady said. “Their coats sometimes look gray against the snow on a cloudy day.”
“Makes sense.”
Maybe.
The prickling sensation on her neck spread to a painful itch between her shoulder blades. She bent at the waist, walking slowly along a narrow path that cut through the pines. Hope surged in her chest when she spotted a boot print half hidden by a low-hanging bough.
“Where does this path lead?” she yelled over her shoulder.
“To a fire road about fifty yards ahead in the state park,” Cannon said.
He and Grady caught up to her as she ripped through the trees. She let Grady take the lead since these woods were his jurisdiction. Cannon stayed behind her, but only inches separated the three of them as they followed the prints. Malgor’s prints. She was sure of it. He wouldn’t have missed seeing her reaction to the grotesque roadside present he’d left.
The crunch of tires on gravel filtered from the road. She sped up and almost lost her boot in the snow. Grady forged ahead and parted the trees in time to see a gray leg encased in ski pants whip into a black van. The door slammed shut as the tires skidded on the rocks. She raised her gun and took aim.
“Stand down,” Grady yelled.
Every instinct told her Malgor was in that van, but she’d been trained not to question her teammates. Lowering her gun, she cursed as a group of hikers came into view. She noted the make and model of the vehicle and shouted it to Grady.
“On it,” he shouted back.
Cannon appeared at her side as she ran down the road in the direction the van had fled. She knew she had no chance of catching it but didn’t stop. Not until Cannon gripped her arm and spun her to face him.
“He’s gone. I’m sorry, Snow Angel.”
Pushing him away, she bent at the waist and rested her hands on her knees. Her labored breathing thrummed in her ears as she puked on the snow-covered grass.
TWENTY-NINE
Cannon eyed Rosalie’s coffee sitting on the console in Wulf’s office. For the first time in his life, he considered having a cup. The caffeine seemed to have calmed Rosalie after she’d puked a couple of hours ago at the crime scene. He’d do anything, even drinking the beverage he hated to smell, let alone taste, to get his heart to stop pulverizing his rib cage.
Waiting for Wulf so they could question him about a murder wasn’t helping any.
“This feels wrong,” he mumbled low enough so Tommy, the guard monitoring video feeds at the security console, didn’t hear him. He added a muffled curse as he threw his hot chocolate cup in the stout trash can under the desk and missed.
Rosalie leaned over in the chair she’d taken by Wulf’s desk and whispered in his ear, “It’s not like we plan to torture your head of security for information. When he gets back from doing a perimeter sweep, we’re just going to casually ask him a few questions about where he was last night.”
Squatting, Cannon grabbed his hot chocolate cup from where it had landed in front of the garbage bin. He peered again at Tommy. The young guard slipped earbuds in his ears. A momentlater, he bobbed his head to a beat and refocused on his screen. Satisfied Tommy couldn’t hear them, he turned to Rosalie. “The fact that Wulf goes outside several times a day to check the grounds himself instead of merely watching video monitors should tell us that he’s a good guy.”
She leaned forward, her head inches from his. “I agree, but we said that today we’d start investigating employees who work closely with you.”
Rosalie’s warm breath tickled his neck as he turned and tossed the cup again toward the trash. Tremors, like the kind she’d triggered last night when she’d scraped her teeth along his throat, messed with his aim. As the cup bounced off the rim of the can and landed behind it, he fought the impulse to turn his head and kiss her. He’d dated Ashley for months while she’d walked these halls, meeting doctors and selling pharmaceuticals. Not once had he had the urge to touch her at work. But here he was—while defending his employee against murder, someone he trusted no less—thinking about scooping Rosalie up and taking her back to his cabin.
Just another thing on his list that didn’t make sense.
Rosalie snickered. “Two for two misses, Ford. Gonna give that shot one more try?”
“You should know that the third time is the charm, Snow Angel.”
Her feline-like smile said she recalled how loud she’d screamed as he’d made her come for the third time last night. Not bothering to hide his own grin, he dropped to his knees and pulled out the trash bin. A glass bottle at the bottom caught his eye and he whistled low.
“What?” Rosalie whispered as she leaned closer.
