Cassie Miles - Snow Blind

Reinhardt turned away from Jacobson and focused on her. “I need to speak with Damien as soon as possible. There are liability problems to consider.”

“Yes, sir.” She hadn’t even considered the legal issues.

“Who was killed?”

Sasha froze. Her lips parted but nothing came out. She couldn’t exactly say that a murder had been committed. Nor did she have a name. And she was reluctant to point to the sleek black-haired woman and say the victim looked a lot like her.

Brady spoke for her. “I can’t give you a name.”

Reinhardt whipped around to face him. “My publicity people need to get on top of this situation right away. The grand opening is Saturday. Who the hell got killed?”

“We don’t know,” Brady said, “because we haven’t found the body.”

Though it didn’t seem possible, Reinhardt’s face turned a deeper shade of red. He punched the air with a fist. “A murder without a body? That’s no murder at all. What kind of sick game are you people playing?”

Panic coiled around Sasha’s throat like a hangman’s noose. She wanted to speak up and defend herself, but how? What could she say?

Jacobson sat in one of the tastefully upholstered chairs and took an orange from the welcome basket. He gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat, Reinhardt. I’ll explain everything.”

While Reinhardt circled the glass coffee table and lowered himself onto the sofa, Brady took her arm. “We’ll be going.”

“Wait for me outside,” Jacobson said.

They made a hasty retreat. As soon as the door to Reinhardt’s suite closed behind her, Sasha inhaled a huge gulp of air. It felt as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time she’d been in the suite. She shook her head and groaned.

“You look pale,” Brady said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m in so much trouble.”

“You did the right thing,” he reassured her.

That wasn’t much consolation if she ended up getting fired. Reinhardt had said that she needed to contact Damien, and she knew that was true. But she wanted to be able to tell him something positive. “Is there anything else we can do?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

He crossed the lounge to the concierge desk where Anita sat with her arms folded below her breasts and a smug expression on her face. “I warned you,” she said. “Mr. Reinhardt doesn’t like to be interrupted.”

“Jacobson said you know this area better than anyone.”

“It’s my job,” she said coolly.

“If I wanted Chinese food, where would I go?”

“There’s a sushi bar scheduled to open next month. Right now none of the hotel restaurants serve Asian cuisine. And I’m sure you know that the local diners specialize in burgers, pizza and all things fried.”

Sasha walked up beside him. Her legs were wobbly, but she’d recovered enough to understand what was going on. Anita was acting like a brat as payback for them not listening to her earlier. The concierge would be in no mood to help. The best way to get through to her was to be even snottier than she was.

“She doesn’t know,” Sasha said, not looking at Anita. “She’s not as good at her job as she thinks she is.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Well, it’s true.” Sasha flipped her hair like a mean girl. “If one of the people up here on the concierge level requested moo shu pork, you’d just have to tell them to suck an egg.”

“For your information, missy, I’ve been providing gluten-free Asian food fried in coconut oil for a guest and his entourage since last Saturday. One of the chefs in the Golden Lyre Restaurant on the first floor of the hotel cooks up a special batch. I had it tonight myself.”

“Who’s the guest?” Brady asked.

“Sam Moreno, the famous self-help guru. He has a special diet.”

Sasha should have guessed. One of the main investors of the Arcadia resort, Mr. Moreno was always requesting special foods and drinks. “He’s picky, all right.”

Anita leaned across the desk and whispered, “And he’s staying right down the hall.”

Of course he was. Sasha groaned. She just couldn’t catch a break.

Chapter Four

Three hours later Brady drove Sasha back to the corporate condo. His shift was over, and there didn’t seem to be anything more he could do at the hotel. He’d tracked the evidence to a dead end, leaving the matter of the assault-slash-murder unsolved and the hotel staff irritated.

The logical thing would have been for him to drive home to his cabin behind the horse barn on Dooley’s ranch, yank off his boots and go to bed. But he was reluctant to leave Sasha. Halfway through his investigation, it had occurred to him that she might be in danger. If she had, in fact, witnessed a murder, the killer might come after her next.

When he parked his SUV in front of her building, she turned to him with the grin that came so naturally to her. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Hold on, I’ll walk you in.”

“That’s not necessary.”

He hoped she was right and he was overreacting to the possibility of a threat. “Not a problem.”

A porch light shone outside the door to the condo entrance, and a glass panel beside the door gave a view inside. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. When she unlocked the outer door, he followed her inside. She hit the button on the elevator and the doors swooshed open. The interior of the elevator was extra large to accommodate skis and other winter sports equipment.

As she boarded, Sasha said, “I should apologize. I think I got you in trouble.”

The sheriff had been none too pleased when Brady had asked for a couple of men to fingerprint and process the suite on the sixth floor. It hadn’t helped that the room was clean. They’d found nothing to corroborate Sasha’s story.

“Not everybody was ticked off,” he said. “Grant Jacobson was real pleased with the way things turned out.”

Jacobson had used the incident as a learning tool to train his newly hired staff. Investigating a possible homicide also gave him an edge in talking to Reinhardt about the importance of security at a top-rated hotel. His budget had been tripled.

“Jacobson is intense,” she said as she got off the elevator at the third floor. “What’s his story?”

“He’s former military, Marine Corps.” He was a man to be respected. “Did you notice his limp? He lost his left leg above the knee in Afghanistan.”

Her blue eyes opened wider. “I didn’t know.”

“According to his staff, he snowboards and skis. One of the reasons he took this job at Gateway was the availability of winter sports.”

“I’m just glad he’s on our team.”

When she reached toward the lock on the condo door, he took the key from her. “I’ll open it. I should go first.”

“Why?”

“In case there’s someone inside.”

She took a step back, allowing his words to sink in. “You think someone might have broken into the condo and might be waiting for me.”

“I don’t want to alarm you.” He kept his voice low and calm. “But you’re a witness to a possible murder.”

“And he might want me out of the way.”

She was a loose end. An efficient killer would come back for her. Brady drew his weapon before opening the door. “Wait here until I check the place out.”

As soon as he entered, he hit the light switch. At first glance, the condo appeared to be empty, but he wasn’t taking any chances. This possible killer had already outsmarted him once tonight.

Quickly, he went from room to room, taking a look in the corners and the bathrooms and the closets. The only bedroom that was occupied was the first one on the right, where Sasha had unpacked her suitcase. It smelled like ripe peaches, a sweet fresh fragrance that reminded him of her and got under his skin. The only other room that had been used was the hot tub, where a damp towel hung from a rack by the door.