Cathy Thacker - Snowbound Bride

“I had to fight for every piece of it.”

She flashed him an appreciative smile. “You must’ve been pleased to get it,” she said.

“I was. It’s hard to do my job effectively without it.”

Nora’s glance moved once again to the Wanted notices on the bulletin board as Sam assumed a seat. “What sort of things do you get on the fax?” she asked.

Sam kicked back in his chair and propped his feet on the edge of his desk. “Between the insurance companies and the state and federal government, there’s never any shortage of paper work. And, of course, notices from other law enforcement agencies.”

“Is your computer connected into the Internet?” Nora asked.

Sam nodded, his mind drifting back to the kiss they’d shared in the dressing room over at Whittakers. He knew he’d been out of line, putting the moves on her so quickly, but with her leaving as soon as the blizzard blew over, he had to act fast. Besides, he had wanted to put the considerable sparks flying between them to the test, and considering the white-hot intensity of their embrace, he wasn’t sorry he had.

Noting Nora was still waiting for an answer, Sam said, “Yes, we’re hooked up to the Net, as well as an information system that lets me interact with other law enforcement agencies via computer.”

Nora paled slightly. “I see.”

She seemed edgy, nervous. Why, he wasn’t sure. Unless she was worried he was going to kiss her again? Sam stood. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Sure, of course.”

He studied her, knowing something was up. Moved closer. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Oh, well, your grandparents wanted you to know—what with the snow coming down harder now—that they were closing the store an hour early this evening and would be going home around five. I volunteered to come over and tell you. Plus, I wanted to see a little of the town while I could still walk around.”

Sam looked out the window. “It’s coming down pretty good now, isn’t it?”

Nora nodded. Though the brunt of the blizzard still seemed seven or eight hours away, it had really started to pick up in the past hour or so. She’d heard on the car radio that it was now snowing steadily in Kentucky, Maryland, Pennsylvania and New York state and that “record blizzard” conditions had virtually shut down all roads in the mountains of Virginia. If the forecasters were right, it would soon be that bad here, too. “I’d say we have at least four inches on the ground now,” she said. And the latest forecast indicated their area of West Virginia might get sleet and ice, too. Sleet and ice knocked out power lines.

The phone rang. Sam reluctantly tore his eyes from Nora’s face and picked up the receiver. “Sheriff’s office.” He listened, and was clearly not happy with the report on the other end. “I’ll be right down,” he promised, then hung up.

“Another wreck?” Nora asked curiously as he reached for his shearling coat and shrugged it on.

Sam searched for his keys and finally found them on his desk, beneath the state accident report he’d started to fill out before Nora walked in. “Worse. Domestic disturbance,” he explained as Nora sauntered closer, her eyes glued to his. Sam grimaced, wishing he had time for another kiss, then continued explaining. “Clyde Redmond is down at the hardware store trying to buy a snow shovel, and his wife Charlene is there with him, pitching a fit.”

Nora blinked, still not understanding. She watched as he retrieved his Stetson and adjusted the brim low across his brow. “She has something against her husband shoveling snow?”

Sam nodded, explaining, “And with good reason, since Clyde had his first heart attack two months ago, doing just that.” He brushed a hand down her cheek, gave her one last lingering glance and strode out the door. “Hold down the fort here,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

THE DOOR BANGED behind Sam, leaving her very much alone.

Well, this was her chance to look around. And see if anything from her father had come in, Nora thought as she noticed a stack of recently received faxes in the tray.

Her heart pounding, Nora picked up the stack and quickly began to look through it. The first fax sought information on a young widow from Maryland and her baby. They’d allegedly gone out to run errands early that morning and never returned home, even after it began to snow. Her in-laws were frantic for information of any kind. Next was a report on a burglary ring operating out of Charleston, West Virginia, that had hit elegant homes and various businesses all over the state. Third, came a query about a schoolteacher and seven children who had never made it to the next destination of their field trip. Could they have had car trouble or been involved in an accident? the headmistress of the Peach Blossom Academy For Young Women wanted to know. If so, she asked that the school and the parents of the students, age 6 to 14, please be alerted ASAP. After that came a weather warning, stating that as of 4:00 p.m. that afternoon, all West Virginia freeways would be closed until further notice. On the bottom was what she had dreaded—a photo of herself in her wedding gown, and a faxed alert from Round The Clock Investigations, advising all law enforcement officials in the state to be on the lookout for Nora Hart-Kingsley.

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