Geri Krotow - Colton's Mistaken Identity

Phoebe and Skye had regrouped and decided they needed to be the energy behind keeping things positive for the film festival. Skye had been so excited about making this festival work no matter the odds, especially after she learned that the online Hollywood entertainment magazine In Film Today was in place at The Chateau and broadcasting Skye’s two red carpet events live.

Their father had certainly been pleased. Anything that spelled more money for the resort empire he’d built from the ground up thrilled the chronic workaholic.

“ Give your father a break. ” Her mother’s admonishment taunted Phoebe as she tried to not stress about her sister. It was only natural she’d blame her father for not worrying about Skye’s emotional state, instead of the always-present Mara. Whereas Russ tended to be emotionally unavailable, Mara made up for it in spades. Not in the motherly attention they’d enjoyed as kids but in her focus on keeping The Chateau the premier private resort spa in North America.

As the two youngest of five biological Colton siblings, Phoebe and Skye had been born years after their three older brothers and almost a decade after the two cousins her parents had raised as their own. Phoebe and her sister had learned to cling to one another through the thick tension that often existed between Russ and Mara, and through what often felt like strained ties with their immediate family.

Phoebe knew she could always count on Skye, one hundred and ten percent. Which was why she had to fight from allowing her concern over Skye to blossom into all-out panic. Skye was more outgoing, more engaging than Phoebe, and Phoebe liked it that way. It kept the social pressure off her. But it made a logical explanation of Skye’s disappearance challenging, if not downright scary.

She rubbed her sternum through her thin running shirt. Whenever Skye hurt, she hurt. And right now her entire body was humming with worry over her sister. It wasn’t the first time her “twin radar” had issued warning alerts about Skye. There was the time Skye had fallen out of a tree when they were six and Phoebe had convinced her mother that Skye’s sore leg was indeed broken. And when they were seventeen, Phoebe had somehow known that Skye’s homecoming date was going sour on their basement sofa and she had burst in upon her sister and that louse of a football quarterback who wasn’t taking no for an answer. Despite herself, Phoebe let an evil smile flicker across her lips for a second. It had been such a sister moment to face down their high school idol–turned–potential rapist by kicking him in the privates, tying him up with zip ties from their father’s work bench and then reporting him to the police. By coming forward and with Skye’s brave testimony, they’d helped half a dozen other young women the athlete had threatened find justice.

But they weren’t in high school anymore, and they had phones, the ability to text. Skye always texted her at least three times a day, if not more often. And she hadn’t heard a thing since that last message when Skye told her she needed space to work things out. Phoebe didn’t blame her sister, as she’d been almost as upset as Skye when they’d found out that Skye’s serious boyfriend, a successful music producer, had gone and married the rock star whose album he’d produced. They’d married in Las Vegas and had sold exclusive rights to a celebrity magazine, which meant the photographic proof of the infidelity was unavoidable. Skye’s broken heart was the topic of many gossip rags and social media posts.

Phoebe tried to distract herself from her worry by staring at the gurgling brook, where deer and birds hung out to get a sip to ease July’s heat. It led to the area exclusive to the resort that housed the refurbished thermal springs spa and sauna from the 1920s. Her muscles craved a soak in the mineral baths—she’d not visited her favorite respite in far too long.

She’d lost the ability to focus on anything but her own grief the past several weeks. Ever since Sabrina had been found, brutally murdered. It was one thing to host the premiere of a violent movie that portrayed a serial killer and his victims; it was devastating for it to become real life as unspeakable violence struck her own town, her family.

The sound of broken twigs, followed by a sudden silence, sent a jolt of fear spiraling through her. Phoebe stood straighter and took stock of her surroundings, swinging her gaze over the running water, the wet stones, the woods beyond. Since she’d found out a murderer was on the loose, she hadn’t felt safe. It galled her, losing the security this land had always given her. The mountain was a constant source of reliability in her life. Now its serenity was tainted by an evil serial killer.

Nothing seemed out of order as she scanned the running path, the birch and pine trees that made up the woods, the flowing brook. When a buck’s hooves sounded on the forest floor, she caught sight of the animal as it sprinted not more than ten feet in front of her, fleeing an unseen predator.

Phoebe let out a shaky sigh.

It’s just nature, nothing more.

She suspected the culprit for the deer’s run was a fox or even a stray dog, nothing that threatened her. Midsummer wasn’t hunting season, nor was it a time to worry about grizzly bears, which were busy enjoying the plentiful berries and smaller wildlife. They’d had occasional grizzly sightings over the years, but nothing too close. The bears liked to wander the mountains that surrounded their valley but rarely ventured anywhere near the Roaring Springs population.

When she’d first heard of the Avalanche Killer’s activity, Phoebe had wanted to believe it was a grizzly attack. It might explain the gruesome nature of the killings, and it allowed her to deny that such a brutal murderer lived among them in their close-knit town. The killer was most likely someone they all knew, which made it so much more personal to Phoebe and her family. It also increased her constant stress, as the fear of being the killer’s next victim was relentless.

Phoebe put herself under enough pressure—the last thing she needed this week was more from a lethal predator. While Skye grasped the concept of joie de vivre, Phoebe was the more sensible and grounded of the two. She rarely admitted it to Skye, but Phoebe liked the role she played in their twinship. Sure, sometimes she took herself too seriously, and wished like heck that her sister would do the same, but Phoebe never saw herself being able to behave so lightheartedly as Skye. That was why Phoebe had earned her college degree in finance in under three years, while Skye still had some courses to complete for her bachelor’s.

She shuddered in the warming air, and it wasn’t from her perspiration’s cooling effect. She’d text Skye as soon as she got back. Once again, her twin radar was going off like fireworks. Phoebe had purposefully left her phone in her room, wanting the freedom from the constant intrusion of texts and emails about the Roaring Springs Film Festival. But now she wished she’d kept it with her.

Since the film festival was upon them, it was by far the busiest time of year for The Chateau. That said a lot, considering Roaring Springs was nestled in the heart of ski country. A film event second only to Sundance and maybe the Toronto Film Festival, the Roaring Springs Film Festival was also an important source of income for The Chateau. The resort her mother had started from the ground up years ago had turned into a literal gold mine. Until this year.

Normally they’d be sold out for almost a year in advance. But reservations had dropped since the discovery of bodies on the property, on its most striking feature, the mountain that overshadowed the beautiful valley where The Chateau was nestled.