Maggie K. Black - Rescue At Cedar Lake

He blinked—even though he knew better than to be surprised, considering it was Theresa. He waited as she slid a pair of snow pants on over her jeans and laced up a pair of winter boots. Then she pulled a heavy, hooded winter jacket on and zipped it up.

They ran for the back door and pushed out into the snow. It was already up to their calves and growing deeper by the second. She followed him down the driveway and into a small, wooden storage shed.

“The snow’s gotten bad.” Theresa shook the flakes from her hair.

“It’s going to get a lot worse,” Alex said. What had fallen so far was only a small taste of the deluge the forecast was predicting. He took the spare helmet off the back of the snowmobile and gave it to her. “My truck is back at my cottage. So, the plan is we head to my cottage, I’ll call Daniel with my laptop, fill him in and we’ll figure out our next move. Hopefully the power will still be on when we get there and Zoe will be sitting there with Mandy, waiting for us.”

He closed his eyes. Lord, I just pray that wherever Zoe is, she’s all right. She’s strong and she’s fierce. But she might be out in a snowstorm with a client I’m not sure I trust and killers on the loose.

When he opened his eyes, Theresa was looking at him. Strands of dark hair had slipped from the furry hood of her ski jacket. Even now, in the gloomy light of the shed, with flakes swirling like a meteor shower behind her, he had to admit he’d never seen anything like her. It was hard to put into words, but in a world of unstable and transient things, Theresa had always been like a tree, a willow tree, maybe, with roots so long and deep he knew if he just stayed close enough to her he could ride out any storm.

Until she’d cut him off, and left him rootless and drifting.

“I know you’re worried about Zoe.” Theresa’s hand brushed his arm. “She’s going to be okay. She’s smart. If she made it to town and saw the weather forecast before the storm hit, she probably just found a coffee shop or restaurant to ride it out in.”

“I hope so.” He waited as she put the helmet on then climbed on the snowmobile. Her long legs slid over the back of it behind him. She hesitated. Then her hands slid about his waist, in a gesture somehow both so familiar and foreign that he felt his brain almost short-circuit for a moment as he reached for the ignition. “Hold tight. This could get rough.”

The engine turned over.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure in a ski mask stepped into the open doorway, blocking their way to freedom. There was a small, automatic handgun in his hand. “You two aren’t going anywhere.”

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