Blizzard Showdown
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Shirlee McCoy
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HarlequinONE
Violet James didn’t want to step outside.
Not because of the cold wind that beat against the windows of the medical clinic. Not even because she had her newborn daughter strapped to her chest.
She didn’t want to go outside because she was terrified.
Even now, after seven months of hiding in the Alaskan outback, she wasn’t safe. She would never be. Not unless the police caught her former fiancé, Lance Wells, and tossed him in jail where he belonged.
She shuddered, trying not to picture his handsome face or remember his crooning voice and sweet promises. She’d believed every word he’d said. All the I-love-yous and the forever-afters.
She’d been a fool, and it had almost cost her best friend, Ariel Potter, her life. It had cost the wilderness guide Violet had hired his. Violet had been planning a small wedding. Just her best friend and Lance’s. The guide, Cal Brooks, was going to take them into Alaska’s pristine wilderness for a weeklong adventure. When they returned, they’d exchange vows at a beautiful little cabin on Eklutna Lake.
Instead, the guide had been murdered.
Ariel had been pushed off a cliff.
And Violet had run for her life.
She didn’t like remembering that day.
The helplessness she’d felt when she’d discovered Cal’s body, blood pooling beneath his torso, still sent chills down her spine. She’d tried to render aid, calling for help and hoping someone in the wedding party would hear her. But there’d been no one else around in the vast expanse of Chugach State Park. After she and Lance had gotten engaged, she’d set the wedding date in April and had rented two cabins as far away from the bright lights of Anchorage as she could get. She’d thought it would be romantic...that they’d create unforgettable memories.
Her memories were unforgettable, but not for the reason she had hoped. Instead of following through with her plans to exchange vows with the guy of her dreams, she had found herself fleeing from the man of her nightmares.
She had made so many mistakes. Missed so many red flags. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ariel about it. But she knew what her best friend would say: Give yourself a break. You couldn’t have known.
Maybe not.
She liked to think she had not been blinded by love. That she had gone into the engagement the same way she went into business meetings—clear-headed and focused.
The truth was, she had been swept away by her deep need for connection and family. She had allowed herself to be blind to Lance’s less-than-desirable personality traits because she had craved closeness and had been tired of being alone.
She had been desperate for family after her parents’ deaths.
Lance had offered her a chance to, once again, be part of a loving home. He had known all the right things to say to make her mourning heart feel joy again.
And she had bought into it.
Even when he had balked at the idea of signing prenups. Even when he had asked her to change the way she dressed and the way she wore her hair. Even when every sign pointed to the fact that he wasn’t ever going to love anyone as much as he loved himself, she had allowed herself to believe the lies he’d told her.
She had wanted family so much that she had been willing to compromise on things that she shouldn’t have. Like the vacation home in Florida—a multimillion-dollar property that Lance had made a cash offer on.
Her cash, of course.
The plan had been to fly to Florida after their wedding, complete the purchase and then honeymoon in their dream vacation home.
Only it hadn’t been her dream.
It had been his.
She had been the bankroll, paying his way.
Despite the bragging he had done about the small business he owned, he never seemed to have money. After the first few months of their relationship, when I-love-yous had been exchanged and the future was being planned, he had stopped paying for dinners and trips. She had paid for their dates, fueled their cars and told herself that it was all perfectly normal.
She had known it wasn’t.
Deep in her heart, she had understood that something was very wrong with her relationship. She just hadn’t been able to admit it.
When he had insisted they put the money for the Florida property in a joint account, she’d balked, but he’d hounded her about it, accusing her of selfishness and arrogance, until she’d complied.
He had been a master manipulator.
She only wished that she had realized that before they had gone to the bank together and opened a new account. She had transferred two million dollars of the money she had inherited from her parents.
Lance had been thrilled. He’d treated her to a lovely dinner. Praised her beauty. And told her they would spend the rest of their lives together, splitting time between Anchorage and Miami. Then, later that night, he had given her a diamond bracelet to wear on their wedding day. She should have been charmed, but she’d noticed that the money had come from the account they’d just opened. She’d been embarrassed for him and for her. She would rather he have given her a card with something lovely written inside than an expensive gift that she had paid for.
That night, she’d transferred the house money back into her account, leaving nothing but a few thousand dollars.
She hadn’t told him.
If she hadn’t been pregnant, she probably would have ended the relationship. But there’d been a baby to think about. An unexpected complication to a relationship that had already gone from romance-of-the-century to having her question whether her groom-to-be had ever truly loved her. She hadn’t told Lance she was pregnant. She had been worried about his reaction.
That should have been another huge clue to the fact that he wasn’t the right person for her.
She frowned, staring out into the bright sunlight, wishing she had made dozens of different choices.
She didn’t regret having her daughter, but she regretted the decisions she’d made that led her here—a medical clinic on the edge of Anchorage, desperate, scared and on the run from Lance and the police.
“Are you okay, hon?” a receptionist asked.
“Fine,” Violet said, shoving open the door and stepping outside without looking back.
She couldn’t afford to make a spectacle of herself.
Even sleep-deprived and ever more anxious to return to civilization, she had to make decisions that would protect her baby and protect the survivalist family who had taken her in and helped her stay hidden for the past seven months.
The Seavers lived off the grid in Chugach State Park. Violet had learned a lot from them, but she didn’t want to raise her daughter in an underground bunker in the wilderness. She wanted to bring Ava home to the beautiful house she had grown up in and offer her little girl the same security and sense of belonging she had felt growing up.
“We’ll get back there, sweetie,” she murmured, patting the baby’s back as she hurried along the sidewalk. Brisk October air stung her cheeks and ruffled her hair. She pulled her hood up, more to cover her face than to keep her warm.
Violet wore a dark wig and heavy makeup, thick glasses and layers of clothes, but despite her meticulous disguise, she still worried that Lance would find her. If he did, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. She had no idea what he would do to their daughter, and that scared her more than anything.
She touched Ava’s back, feeling for the subtle rise and fall. At just a few weeks preterm, her daughter had arrived during the first major storm of the season. Labor had been quick and brutal, over almost before Violet had processed the fact that it had begun.
Dana Seaver, the matriarch of the family, had helped her through the birth. It certainly hadn’t been the kind of labor Violet had planned or imagined. She had thought she would be at the medical clinic where she had been going for prenatal care, with doctors, midwives and nurses available during labor.
Instead, Ava had been born in an underground bunker. All the necessary things had been sterilized, but that didn’t change the fact that the walls were packed earth, lined with shelves that contained all the supplies the Seaver family would need for the winter.
There had been no natural light. Oil lamps had illuminated the birthing area Dana had created once she had realized there would be no time to get Violet to the hospital.
If things had gone wrong...
But, fortunately, they hadn’t.
One of the things Violet had been trying to learn during her exile was that dwelling on the past did nothing to change the present or the future.
That would be easier to do once Lance was in prison.
And when the authorities finally apprehended him, she planned to turn herself in to the Anchorage police department, tell her side of the story so she could clear her name and then finally move on with her life.
Please, God, let it be soon.
Bright sunlight reflected off the pavement and flashed on the windshields of passing vehicles, hiding the drivers from view. That made her nervous. Anyone could be driving past.
If Lance did, would he recognize her? She knew that was a long shot because of her disguise, but still, she couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Or take their safety for granted. As always, keeping Ava away from her father was foremost in Violet’s mind.
She walked across another street, forcing herself not to rush. She had to act as if she had all the time in the world. A woman with no worries...with no one hunting her. A mother and child out enjoying a beautiful fall day.
There were storm clouds in the distance, hovering over the mountains and threatening to bring snow showers and heavy winds. The Seavers listened to the weather report religiously, always prepping for the next change in the forecast. Cold weather was coming, and they had spent the past few months preparing. Violet had helped as much as she could, understanding that her presence had strained the survivalists’ resources. Ava’s birth had added to the burden. The family needed more of everything to sustain the two lives they had added to their fold.
One day, when this was all over and she was home with her daughter, Violet would find a way to repay them for all they had done.
She passed several shops, glancing into the windows, pretending to look at parkas and coats, clothing and fishing gear. In reality, she was studying the people behind her.
She had learned to be careful without being obvious about it.
Seven months on the run did that to a person.
She turned onto the road that led out of town. The trailhead wasn’t far away, and she felt confident in her ability to find it and then find her way back to the bunker. It had taken months to get to that point. Up until recently, she had always been accompanied by one of the Seavers—usually Harrison, the Seavers’ teenage son. Sometimes Cole. Father and son were confident in the wilds of Alaska and comfortable in urbanized settings. Dana preferred to stay close to home, tending herb and produce gardens in greenhouses she’d built far off the beaten paths.
The family would have been happy to let Violet stay in their quiet sanctuary forever, but even though Violet had never been the social butterfly the press had painted her to be, she missed all the trappings of civilization. She liked going to the grocery store when she needed food or supplies. She enjoyed seeing other people when she was out shopping. She had no desire to spend hours making candles or heating water to wash clothes in deep tubs.
She wanted what she’d had before she had met Lance—a quiet life filled with the people she loved and admired.
At long last she reached the edge of a neighborhood that abutted the park. The sky had darkened, wispy white clouds gathering into steel-gray masses. Soon the storm would hit. She wanted to be back at the bunker by then. She needed to be. As terrifying as Lance was, the Alaskan bush during a blizzard was even more terrifying.
Suddenly, a car engine revved, the driver accelerated off a side road and appeared to be heading straight for Violet.
Lance!
It had to be!
Shocked, she jumped sideways, stumbling behind a hedge grove between two properties. The driver braked hard, barely missing a vehicle parked on the curb, then backed up and sped forward again.
She ran around the side of a house, flying across the yard and into the woods behind it. As she sprinted between sparse trees, the sound of a slamming car door filling her with dread. Her wig caught on a branch and was yanked from her head. She left it there, every cell in her body focused on escape. One hand cupping the delicate curve of Ava’s skull, the other shoving aside leaves as she raced headlong into the park, she prayed that somehow, someway she could outrun the man who wanted her dead.
The first flakes of snow fell as Gabriel Runyon got out of his vehicle. They splattered on his cheeks and melted, icy rivulets running into the open collar of his coat. He pulled up his hood and grabbed his emergency pack. Dry clothes. Material for building a shelter. Fire starters. Food for Bear. Water. Energy bars. Enough to keep him and his K-9 partner going for a few days. If the weather didn’t worsen.
He glanced at the darkening sky. The meteorologists were calling for a blizzard. If that happened, and he and Bear were stranded, they could survive, but could a woman who who had just given birth?
Could a newborn baby?
He, along with members of his Alaskan K-9 unit, had spent the last seven months trying to locate Violet James, Lance Wells and Jared Dennis. They were all wanted for questioning in the murder of a wilderness guide and the attempted murder of Ariel Potter—a woman who had been pushed off a cliff and left for dead. He and the K-9 team had followed tracks through the Alaskan wilderness, visited every medical clinic and hospital in Anchorage, and spent hours following up on leads. They had even reached out to church groups and charities, hoping that Violet would eventually make an appearance and that Lance would make a mistake.
There’d been sightings, calls from concerned citizens that came in a little too late, near misses that had given him hope that he was on the right track. But today had been different. He’d been following an anonymous tip that a woman named Violet James had a newborn baby and was at Helping Hands Christian Medical Clinic at the southwestern edge of Anchorage. Gabriel hadn’t expected to find his quarry there, but he had followed up on the lead, arriving just in time to see a dark-haired woman step outside.
Violet had blond hair.
He had pored over photos of her. He knew she was small-framed, thin and delicate-looking. Not the sort of woman he would have expected to survive seven months alone. She’d been pampered as a child, raised by parents who had enough money to lavish her with every luxury.
He knew nothing about that lifestyle.
Gabriel had been orphaned at seven, tossed into the foster system and raised by a series of apathetic foster parents. He had no resentment about that, but he certainly had no clue what childhood stability and comfort looked like.
What he did know was that people raised with plenty often struggled when they didn’t have enough. In the past several months, Violet James hadn’t accessed her bank accounts or used her cell phone. She hadn’t logged on to social media. So, aside from a letter she’d sent to her best friend last April, claiming her innocence in the murder of a wilderness tour guide and attempted murder of Ariel, Violet had stayed off the radar.
Had she suddenly reappeared?
Gabriel had kept his distance from the dark-haired woman, inching through midmorning traffic, his unmarked SUV helping him blend with morning commuters traveling to jobs in the center of the city. He’d lost sight of her when she’d turned down a one-way street, and by the time he’d followed the grid-like pattern of traffic onto the side road, she was gone.
As near as he could tell, she had disappeared into the Chugach State Park.
Someone had followed her.
He had flagged tire tread marks leading into shrubbery across from the park entrance. A dark sedan was abandoned there, tires stuck deep in muddy earth. Gabriel had called it in.
Now, he was going hunting.
“Ready, Bear?” he asked as he opened the back hatch.
His K-9 partner lumbered to the ground—one giant step for the St. Bernard. Trained in avalanche rescue, Bear could find a needle in a haystack. He loved cold weather, snow and the hunt. For him, this was a game, the prize a few rousing games of tug.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gabriel murmured as he pulled a search vest over Bear’s boxy head. The St. Bernard stood still as Gabriel snapped straps and slid a glow stick into a pocket on the back. Night fell quickly this time of year. They both needed to be prepared.
He attached a lead to Bear’s collar, called in their location again and walked into the park. A dusting of snow covered the ground. No footprints visible. Or obvious track marks.
He allowed Bear to sniff the area.
“Ready, Bear? Go find!” he called.
The K-9 took off, trotting through sparsely forested land and out onto a trail. Chugach State Park covered 495,000 acres of pristine wilderness. Even after decades of exploration, Gabriel respected the vastness and the biodiversity. Lakes. Rivers. Streams. Mountains. Forests and plains.
There was a little of everything in Chugach, and a lot of danger for the foolhardy. It would be easy for someone who didn’t know the area to get lost. From what he had learned about Violet, while she had been off the grid for seven months, living in the Alaskan wilds alone didn’t seem feasible for someone with her background.
Bear veered to the right, crossing a stream and bounding up a hill. Snow swirled through the shadowy forest, coating the ground in glistening white. Gabriel didn’t think they were far behind their quarry. Bear’s tail was high, his head up. He knew the game, and he loved it. He could go for hours if necessary.
Bear stopped as he crested the hill, snuffled the ground and raised his head to the air. His nose twitched, and then he growled.
Seconds later, a shot rang out. A bullet whizzed past, slamming into the ground a yard or so from Gabriel’s feet. A warning shot meant to drive him back.
He dived behind a tree, shouting for Bear to drop. The dog obeyed immediately, dropping down in an emergency stay that would hold him in place until Gabriel gave the release command.
“Alaska State Police! Drop your weapon! Now!” he called, even though he knew the perpetrator would refuse the command. Out of visual field and completely hidden, his quarry had the advantage.
For now.
Backup would be arriving shortly, but Gabriel didn’t want to waste time. He crawled along the forest floor, keeping ground cover between himself and the gunman as he attempted to take a higher position. Uphill, through dense undergrowth and then along a ridge, he headed in the direction the gunshot had come from. His trek became more challenging as the wind picked up, branches bowing and swaying as snow continued to fall, but he stayed the course.
He finally reached the top of the hill and waited, listening for the sound of approach or retreat. It took just moments. Branches broke and pebbles skittered along the rock face on the far side of the hill. The perp was on the run, probably heading back to the park entrance, using the trail that wound along the top of the hill.
Gabriel followed, whistling for Bear to heel.
They moved together, pressing through the trees and stepping onto the trail. He spotted footprints in the snow. Larger ones heading west toward the trailhead and smaller ones heading east, deeper into the park. His fellow K-9 officers were heading for the park entrance. They could apprehend the shooter. He wanted to follow the smaller prints. After all these months, it was time to finally meet Violet James face-to-face and get her side of the story of how a wilderness guide had ended up dead and her best friend at the bottom of a cliff.
He turned east, following the footprints across the crest of the hill and down the nose. The trail meandered along a clear stream that gurgled over smooth rocks. The footprints veered in that direction, leading to the bank of the river, deep prints in the muddy shoreline. Then nothing.
Whoever it was didn’t want to be followed and was making it as difficult as possible.
That was fine.
Gabriel liked a challenge, and he had no intention of giving up before he found his prey.
“Bear! Find!” he commanded.
Bear loped into the water, splashing to the opposite shore, his head to the wind as he darted away from the safety of the trail and deep into the Alaskan wilderness.
