Chapter 2

“Tell you what. I see the man, I’ll give you a call. Not much else I can say,” Fred told them before going back to what he’d been doing.

Taking that as their dismissal, Mick thanked him and he and John returned to their car.

“I have a bad feeling we won’t find Mr. Murphy until the snow melts, unless he got lucky and hitched a ride,” John said.

“And in this weather, that’s probably not too likely,” Mick agreed.

* * * *

The cat stretched, yawned, and got to his feet. He was hungry, a situation easily remedied if the two rabbits were still outside the cave. If not, he would hunt.

They were gone, not that it surprised him much. So he worked his way slowly down the gradually sloping mountainside, finding a rabbit and a squirrel that had been foolish enough to leave its nest.

His hunger sated for the moment, the cat continued on, moving stealthily through the trees on its way tothe highway. It had things to do that couldn’t be accomplished where it was—or in the form it now held.

2

“I take it whoever was in that car hasn’t shown up,” John said when he came into Mick’s office.

“Not that anyone’s reported. I guess we hope he did catch a ride, probably with someone passing through on their way down the mountain.”

“Better than thinking he wandered off somewhere and died from hyperthermia.”

Mick nodded in agreement. “I stopped by Paulie’s garage where they took the car. The plates are from Utah—Roosevelt, to be exact—which matches the registration. On the off chance, I called the cops there. The man I spoke with had no idea who the owner of the vehicle was. He checked their files. There are no wants or warrants out on Mr. Murphy. Interesting thing is, the address on the registration is fora rooming house, he said.”

“He going to keep an eye out for him? It would be nice to know if he survived.”

“Yeah, he said he would and let us know.” Mick shrugged. “Guess that’s the best we can do unless Murphy shows up here to claim his car.”

“It could happen, I suppose, though you’d think he would have already. It’s been a day since the accident.”

“True. Nothing we can do about it now however. And on a different note, Beth over at the hardware store said it looked like someone tried to break in. Pete’s checking it out. Other than that, it’s situation normal, so let’s get out there and make sure it remains that way.”

* * * *

“Can I help you, sir?” Carly asked as she stood beside the booth, one hip thrust out, ready to take theman’s order.

Wynn looked up from the menu, asking with a smile, “What would you recommend?”

“The chicken-fried steak is good. So is the meatloaf.”

“Meatloaf it is, with mashed potatoes and no vegetables.”

“Coffee?”

“Please, with creamer.”

“You know,” Carly blurted out, negating her well-practiced image as a world-weary diner waitress, “you don’t look old enough to have white hair.”

Wynn chuckled, his pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “So I’ve been told. It’s genetic.”

“You could dye it, you know.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“Um, okay. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Trust me. You’re not the first or I’m sure, the last, to do so.” He smiled as he watched her leave then went back to reading the local paper he’d picked up on his way to the diner.

He wouldn’t have been here at all if he hadn’t wanted to find out if anyone had found his car and maybehad it towed it into town. He suspected even if they had, the front end was probably too badly mangled for it to be drivable—which would be annoying but he’d deal. There was nothing in the paper about an accident on the highway. After checking the date at the top of the page, he realized why. It was a weeklyand had come out yesterday morning before the accident.

Folding the paper, he turned his attention to what was going on outside the diner’s large front window. The streets were plowed after yesterday’s storm and most of the sidewalks had been shoveled. People bustled along, winter coats wrapped tight, hoods or caps covering their heads. As he watched, a police car pulled up and parked, two men in brown uniforms getting out. They paused for a moment, looking around with cop’s wary eyes, then came toward the front door of the diner.

* * * *

Mick checked out the diner as he and John entered. He smiled, nudging John. “Looks like your lady’s working today.”

“Carly is not ‘my lady’,” John grumbled, but his eyes lit up when he saw her. “We’ve been on two dates is all.”

“So, go ask her for a third while I grab us a booth.”

John hesitated then wandered over to where Carly was standing. Two minutes later he joined Mick in a booth, taking off his jacket while smiling happily. “We’re going to a show tomorrow night after she gets off work.”

“So that makes her your lady now, right?” Mick replied with a grin.