Cassie Miles - Murder on the Mountain

It wasn’t safe to feel this way. If only he hadn’t asked her out, she could dream about Paul without regret. But he wanted to see her again, and that might be her undoing.

THE NEXT MORNING, everyone was up early except for the general, which seemed odd for a military man who ought to be accustomed to morning exercises. Julia was a bit worried when she stood outside the locked door of the general’s bedroom and knocked. “Sir? Are you awake?”

She pressed her ear against the door and listened. There was no sound from inside.

Though she hated to disturb his privacy, Julia unlocked the door to the general’s bedroom.

He was flat on his bed, dressed in his uniform with medals and ribbons arrayed across his chest. In his right hand was his Colt Double Eagle handgun. General Harrison Naylor had shot himself in the head.

Early Sunday morning, Paul had the girls loaded in the Explorer and on their way to another practice session at the ice-skating rink near Vail. The kids had a performance tonight, and their coach wanted to use every possible minute on the ice for practice.

When they passed the spot on the highway where they had been flagged down yesterday, both girls stared in silence through the car windows. Though Paul had gotten them away from the scene of the accident before the emergency rescue team went into action, they knew what had happened. Word spread fast in their community. Though they were close to Vail, they were separate. Redding was the kind of town where everybody knew everything.

“Daddy?” Jennifer, his nine-year-old, sounded subdued. “That man in the crashed-up car died, didn’t he?”

Like every parent, he wished to shield his kids from death and tragedy. There was no easy way to talk about these things. “Yes, Jennifer. The man died.”

“But you tried to rescue him.”

“I tried, but I was too late. It was a very bad accident.”

From the back seat, seven-year-old Lily piped up, “It’s okay, Daddy. I love you.”

“Me, too.” Jennifer reached over and patted his arm.

“I love you back.” Apparently, they’d decided that he needed comforting, and he appreciated their effort. His daughters weren’t always so sweet and sensitive. These two adorable, black-haired girls with porcelain complexions could be hell on wheels. “Have I ever mentioned that you kids are pretty amazing?”

“Yes,” Lily said firmly. “I’m very pretty.”

Jennifer groaned. “That’s not what he meant, dorkface.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

So much for sweet and sensitive.

“Daddy,” Jennifer whined, “you’ve got to make Lily change clothes before we get to the rink. Nobody wears their performance outfits to practice.”

“I do,” said Lily. “I look like a figure-skater princess.”

“You’re a cow!” Jennifer leaned around the seat to snarl. “I don’t even want to be your sister.”

“Daddy, make her stop.”

Jennifer went louder. “She’s sooo embarrassing.”

Paul pulled onto the shoulder of the road and slammed the car into Park. He took a sip of black coffee from a thermal mug that never managed to keep the liquid hotter than tepid. From the CD player came the music that Jennifer was using for her latest figure-skating routine. “I Enjoy Being a Girl.”

“We can’t stop here,” Jennifer said desperately. “We’re going to be late. Again.”

“We got to hurry,” Lily echoed. “I have to practice my double axel.”

“You wish! You can’t do a double.”

“Can too.”

“Not. Not. Not.”

Not for the first time, Paul wished his daughters had been interested in a sport he could get excited about. Skiing or rock climbing or mountain biking. If they had to strap on ice skates, why the hell couldn’t they play hockey?

He waited until the car was quiet except for the perky music from the CD, then aimed a stern look at Jennifer, whose rosebud mouth pulled down in a frown. “Don’t ever say that you don’t want to be Lily’s sister.”

“But she’s—”

“Never say it. We’re family. You. Me. And Lily.”

“And Mommy,” Jennifer added.

“Right.” Wherever Mommy was. His ex-wife had taken off before Lily was out of diapers and didn’t stay in touch. “We’re family. Understand?”

“I guess.” She flung herself against the seat and stared straight ahead through the windshield.

He peered into the rear where Lily, the self-proclaimed princess, plucked at the silver spangles on the leotard she wore under her parka. “Why are you wearing your fancy outfit to practice?”

“Coach Megan wanted to see it before tonight.”

“Show it to her, then change into your other clothes. I don’t want those sparkles to get ruined.” That scrap of fabric had cost a pretty penny. “Promise you’ll do that.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He nodded. “Both of you. No more fighting.”

“Daddy?” Jennifer was still scowling. “Is Mommy coming to our performance tonight?”

“She lives in Texas, honey. That’s a long way from here. Besides, I’ll be there.” His presence felt insufficient.

“Who’s going to help me put on my makeup?”

“You’re wearing makeup?”

The girls exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes. “Everybody wears makeup for performance,” Jennifer informed him.

“I’ll take care of it,” Paul said as he merged back onto the road and drove the last couple of miles to the new indoor ice-skating rink. He waited until the girls had scampered inside. After skating practice, they were scheduled for an all-day play date with a friend, another little ice-skating princess.

Paul had to work today. And, apparently, he also had to figure out a way to get lipstick and mascara on his girls. He shuddered at the thought.

Wheeling around in the parking lot, he headed back toward home. There was just enough time to grab a shower, change into his uniform and report for duty. After he checked in, his first order of business would be filling out reports on the five people he’d interviewed at Julia’s place—a waste of time. All five came from the Washington, D.C., area, but none of them recognized John Maser’s name.

Though Paul had suspicions about these people, he’d have to wait for more evidence before pursuing this investigation further. John Maser’s accident could have been just that—an unfortunate vehicular accident.

Still, that single dying word kept repeating in Paul’s brain. Murder.

As he pulled up in front of his house, his cell phone rang, and he picked up. Immediately, he recognized Julia’s rich, alto voice. She sounded agitated.

“Paul, I need for you to come here. Right away.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t explain. Just come. Please.”

If she’d been anybody else, he would have insisted on more details. But he liked that she’d called him. He wanted to be the knight in shining armor who could solve all her problems. “I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.”

JULIA HAD NEVER BEEN in such a complicated situation. The general was dead. He was in his locked bedroom, all alone with the gun in his hand. He’d left a suicide note.

Yet, she knew in her heart that his death was murder.

Her duty as a federal agent was to encourage an investigation. But if the local law enforcement got involved, her safehouse would be exposed. She’d have no choice but to recommend closing down the entire operation, and she didn’t want that to happen. She was proud of her work here and loved the mountains. The safehouse felt more like home than anywhere she’d ever lived, and she’d do anything to protect it. Even if it meant misleading Paul.

When she opened the front door for him, she forced herself to look him in the eye. Inside her rib cage her heart was jumping like a jackrabbit, but she kept her voice steady, “Thank you for coming.”