Elizabeth Goddard - Freezing Point

“We’ll set it up. Oh, and little Rosita has a crush on you, so be nice when you see her.”

A truck backed up to the enclosure, drawing Miguel and Carlos’s attention away.

Despite the cold filtering from the refrigeration storing the ice, a drop of sweat trickled down Jesse’s temple. Not good. Jesse was grateful the men had been pulled away before they’d noticed that he was nervous.

He exited the loading dock and made his way back to the office, wanting to give Casey Wilkes a few choice words but knowing he couldn’t. Little did she know what she could have walked in on—a person didn’t just walk in on Carlos and Miguel these days.

Jesse marched toward the door, steadying his hands. He gripped the knob, hoping she’d waited like he asked, but if she wanted her bag she’d be there. Stepping inside, he smiled when he saw her sitting in the chair, her feet propped on the empty desk. He wondered what she’d say if he told her the man who used to occupy this office was dead, had been knocked off at this very company.

Upon seeing him, she grinned and shoved her gorgeous blond hair behind her shoulders.

“Well, you going to give me that?” Amusement filled her sea-green eyes.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

Here it comes. Now that she’d had a few minutes to catch her breath, she was going to ask him questions about the dangers of the loading dock. Fortunately, he had at least five things he could list that didn’t include Carlos and Miguel.

She moved around the desk and stood next to him, offering her hand, bright pink polish on her nails. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Dufour. I realize I must have caught you at a bad time today. We got off to a bad start. Sorry for that—” she cleared her throat, a mischievous smile playing on her lips “—inconvenience. In addition to an interview, I’d love to stop by and watch you create your sculptures as you prepare for the big ice-sculpture competition.”

Jesse rubbed his jaw. Why wasn’t she grilling him? She had to be up to something more. Her light floral perfume wrapped around him while he studied her. He took a step away to distance himself and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall and gaining some control over whatever magic she was working.

If she wasn’t going to ask, he was going to offer. He couldn’t have a reporter leave the premises without an explanation, even if it wasn’t the complete truth. He didn’t want to think about what she could do with that.

“Listen, about the loading dock.”

She held up her hand, stopping him. “No need to explain again. Really. The loading dock is dangerous. You might want to post a warning sign to that effect. Then again, I got lost. Maybe a map of the entire facility would work better.”

Incredulous, he almost choked on a laugh. Was she for real? He held up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m sorry you got lost and that I had to escort you out.”

He hoped she would leave it at that, satisfied that the loading dock was dangerous.

He liked her spirit, and he wanted to believe her story. That she’d gotten lost. That would keep things simple because what he didn’t need right now was a reporter snooping around.

The last person to cross Carlos and Miguel had been silenced—he had either stumbled upon them in the middle of a delivery and was at the wrong place at the wrong time, or he’d been part of the crime ring and had given them reason enough to get rid of him. The empty office where he stood with Casey attested to the fact.

Her eyes narrowed if only a little before she flashed a smile, but he didn’t miss it. “You’re giving me an interview, Mr. Dufour, so we’ll call it even.”

Now it was Jesse’s turn to narrow his eyes. Did she suspect something?

Casey held her smile in place while Jesse opened the door for her. “When can I come back for the interview, then?”

“I’ll be starting on a sculpture for the competition in a couple of days. Come back then and we’ll talk. Just stay outside of the loading dock.” He smiled down at her as she strolled through the doorway, passing him, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. Nice.

“I’ll escort you out this time so you won’t get lost,” he said, closing the door behind him. “Next time, I’ll show you the side entrance to my studio.”

He kept pace with her as they made their way down the long corridor. Several doors along this hallway had windows, and Casey glanced through each one as they passed.

“What exactly does Helms Ice and Trucking do? Well, besides create ice sculptures,” she asked.

Jesse chuckled. “The ice division of the company makes and delivers ice, including dry ice, all over Southern California. The trucking side delivers frozen goods via refrigerated semis.”

“And which division do ice sculptures fall under?”

“I’m on the ice side, or rather, a small catering side. The competition I’ve been asked to enter is part of the company’s efforts to grow that part of the business. It’s good publicity.”

“Is there more than one ice sculptor, then? Surely, you can’t do all this alone.”

“I have an assistant. Someone who works with me. I suppose if the demand for ice sculptures grows, we’d have to hire more, yes.”

Casey found herself relaxing a little. He was easy to talk to. This was starting to feel more like the interview she’d wanted. He opened another door for her, and Casey walked into the reception area.

He followed her then leaned against the tall reception counter. The brunette receptionist who’d been there earlier was now gone.

“Well, I guess this is it, then,” Casey said, feeling a little awkward, though she wasn’t sure why. Too bad she couldn’t interview him right now. Would the promise of an interview be good enough for her editor, Danny?

“For now.” Jesse smiled, but the walls he’d momentarily dropped were up again. “Here’s my card. Call me in a couple of days and I’ll meet you here.”

She wanted to watch him walk away, but it appeared he was intent on seeing her leave the premises. Again, she got the sense he wanted her gone—and fast.

Casey gave a little wave then exited the door.

Once in the parking lot, she hurried to her car and clambered in. She tossed her bag on the passenger seat and all the stuff inside—paper, gum wrappers and even her wallet—spilled onto the floorboard.

Casey couldn’t reach her new TracFone, which had slid to the floor on the other side of the seat, just out of reach.

Of course.

She got out of the car and walked around to the other side, opened the door and shuffled through the junk to get her cell.

After she scraped everything except her phone back into her bag, she shoved the length of her hair behind her shoulder and climbed back into the driver’s side.

She skimmed the contacts listed.

But why? Force of habit, she supposed. Since fleeing Oregon, everything about her life had changed. She’d better get used to it.

Who was she going to call? Not Eddie Morris, her editor in Oregon who’d sent her away on a leave of absence until Will Tannin gave up on destroying her, taking the newspaper with him. What would she tell him? She had stumbled upon a possible exposé but she wasn’t about to tackle it?

Maybe she should call Danny Garcia, the editor who’d promised to hire her if she could get this story about the ice sculptor. No. She’d savor her almost-job contingent on her almost-interview for a while.

Meg. Her best friend expected a weekly update. But Meg could wait.

Casey needed to catch her breath. Gather her thoughts. She rested her head against the seat to take a calming breath. Could it actually have been a week ago that she’d driven all the way from Oregon to a little town on the outskirts of San Diego in order to hide?