Dead of Winter_Aspen Falls Novel Page 2

  2:50 pm

  Blaine cruised down the main street of Aspen Falls and headed southwest. Turning right past Tell Someone You Love Them, he waved at Mrs. Mayer and smiled. She tinkled her fingers at him through the large storefront window, no doubt trying to figure out which police officer she was waving at.

  He chuckled and shook his head. Vanity stopped her from wearing her glasses. She didn’t want to accept that she was well into her sixties and her eyesight was deteriorating. She still dressed like the teenage hippie living in her heart—a young, free spirit that would never leave.

  Blaine kind of loved that about her. She’d always owned that gift and flower shop, and she’d always been the compassionate woman who let skinny teenagers hide behind her hydrangeas when the bullies were out to get them.

  He swallowed and gripped the wheel, memories flashing through his mind as he headed to the outskirts of town. He’d been such a wimpy little wretch back then.

  Grabbing his water bottle, he took a swig and scanned the road, once again grateful that he’d survived high school and was doing something he loved. His transformation had been pretty damn huge. The police academy had turned him into a man. He was built, broad and muscly, and those jerks who had tortured him in high school probably wouldn’t even recognize him anymore.

  Most had stayed after high school and college. Only Taylor (aka Dr. Dickweed) had left. He was the worst prick of them all. With their leader gone, the assholes kind of forgot about making Blaine’s life hell.

  Even though he didn’t need to avoid them anymore, he wasn’t about to cross the street and chat with his past tormentors. The only one he’d interacted with was Howard Eckland. Blaine had had the satisfaction of arresting the guy for drunk and disorderly conduct at a party last summer. Snapping the cuffs on Big Howie had been frickin’ cathartic. Too bad the jerk had been too wasted to remember it.

  Blaine sighed and shook his head. He didn’t like thinking about high school. His senior year had been the worst, and he’d handled it pretty damn badly. If it hadn’t been for the sweet words of a girl he thought didn’t even notice him, he wouldn’t have made it out alive. And that was the truth.

  The horrifying truth.

  Gritting his teeth, he wondered what had become of the girl who’d stolen his heart. She’d never really given it back. Probably because she didn’t know she’d taken it.

  The only time they’d ever spoken was that providential conversation that saved his life. But even before that, he’d watched her from a distance—a hopeless fool who would never have a chance.

  She’d left town right after high school and he’d never seen her again. Even though he’d moved on and was serious with Erin, he’d never forget Rosie Sweet.

  His radio crackled and he blinked, bringing himself back to the present.

  “Unit 126, this is dispatch. What is your location?”

  He picked up the receiver. “This is unit 126. I’m currently heading southwest on 8th Avenue.”

  “A speeding vehicle has just been reported heading southeast on Bleaker. You’re the closest unit, please respond.”

  “10-4.” He clipped the receiver back into place and flicked on his sirens.

  He’d been a cop for two years and no matter how many times he heard those sirens, he always got a buzz. Electric excitement raced through him as he accelerated down 8th Avenue and headed for Bleaker Street, hoping he’d stop the car before it caused an accident.

  The winter roads could be treacherous, and even though the town’s public works department took good care of their streets, no amount of salt or sand could tackle the snow and ice permanently caked on some of the less-traveled roads.

  This speeding idiot could end up causing serious harm if Blaine didn’t stop him in time.

  With both hands on the wheel, he navigated the streets, scanning the roads for the reckless driver.

  He wished Oliver hadn’t had to pull out of his shift that morning. His partner’s wife was pregnant and suffering the worst morning sickness. Oliver was having to juggle caring for their toddler, looking after his wife, and work. It was turning into an impossible task. An SOS call had been sent out to his mother-in-law, who was due to arrive the next day. It couldn’t come fast enough.

  Their chief of police was being pretty good about it, but he couldn’t find anyone to cover Ollie’s shift, which left Blaine on his own.

  Clenching his jaw, he took a left onto Bleaker and drove toward the outskirts of town, wondering if the car had already sped through and was hitting the highway. He was about to radio in with his theory when he spotted an old Ford Escort swerving around the corner.

  Whether they were heading out of town or not, the guy needed to be pulled over and reminded that driving crazy on the icy roads would get him killed.

  He frowned and reached for his radio while taking a hard right and chasing the car.

  “Dispatch, I’ve spotted the vehicle. In pursuit now. Heading southeast on Stanton.”

  “10-4. Please advise if assistance is needed.”

  As soon as they hit a safe stretch of road where the cars could pull over, Blaine gave a short blast on his horn. The Escort’s brake lights flashed immediately and the car slowed, creeping to the shoulder.

  “Vehicle has pulled over. Stand by for 10-28.”

  Blaine pulled his cruiser up behind the Escort and used his police-issued laptop to input the license plate number into the system. The plates came back clean, which at least meant it hadn’t been reported stolen. He peered into the rear window of the car stopped in front of him and quickly assessed that he could see only one person in the vehicle. He opened the door, his hand on his duty belt—it was a subconscious action, almost as if he were checking to make sure everything was there. He stepped out onto the pavement and sucked in a breath of icy air.

  Nerves rippled through him as he slowly approached the car. They always did. No matter how many times he did this, he still felt like a rookie on his first day. He never knew exactly what was waiting for him, so he put his game face on, his muscles coiling for action.

  Following procedure, he stood just behind the driver’s door and lightly tapped on the window, noting immediately that he was dealing with a woman.

  The window lowered with an ear-piercing squeak that made him wince. The car really was a piece of crap.

  “Afternoon, ma’am.” He kept his voice low but soft as he took in the woman’s shaking fingers and messy mop of auburn hair. She wasn’t even wearing a jacket, and he couldn’t imagine the old car’s heating system was that good. She must be freezing.

  His curiosity piqued as he tried to work out her story. “License and registration, please.”

  He rested his hand lightly on his holstered weapon as she reached into the glove box.

  She sniffled and sucked in a shaky breath. It sounded like she was crying.

  Blaine’s eyebrows bunched together, his irritation at her reckless driving replaced with almost instant concern. His boss, Kellan, would reprimand him if he knew, and would launch into one of his lectures about people conning and taking advantage, but something about her pitiful sniffling seemed to speak the truth. At least to Blaine.

  Slashing a tear off her face, the woman refused to look at him as she handed over the requested items. Blaine glanced at the side of her porcelain face, his insides stirring with a recognition that was confirmed the second he scanned her license.

  Rosie Sweet.

  His eyes bulged, his heart rate tripling as he stared down at the woman. The woman. The one who would own a piece of his heart forever.

  “Rosie Sweet,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, that’s me.” Her voice was flat and dead.

  He was desperate for her to look up at him, but her head was down, her chest heaving as she pulled in one ragged breath after another.

  He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention.

  Look at me! Recognize me! I’ve become who you told me to be!

  “Uh…”
He wasn’t quite sure how to play it. Did he admit he was the weakling loser that her boyfriend used to pound in high school? It seemed kind of lame to turn a traffic stop into a little reunion. Besides, he wanted her to recognize him on her own.

  Keeping his voice very police-like and official, he held out her license and said, “Could you look at me, please?”

  She glanced up, her hazel eyes glassy with tears. The second they made eye contact, her expression crumpled, tears spilling onto her cheeks as she dipped her head again.

  “I’m sorry. I know I was speeding. I just… I came here because I used to live in this town, and I thought I could…” She shook her head. “But as I drove around I just realized that… What am I doing here, you know? I can’t catch up with old friends! I cut everybody off when I left this place, and now I have no money, and nowhere to go. So I decided to get the hell out and I didn’t realize how fast I was going. I know I deserve to be pulled over, but it’s just adding to the crap I’m facing right now.” She licked a tear off her lip and mumbled, “I just… I have to get away. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.” Her voice trembled, anxiety pulsing from her in waves that made Blaine’s own chest constrict. She kept muttering to herself as he gazed down at her wretched expression.

  He’d never seen Rosie like this before. She’d always been so together in high school. She was one of the cool girls, one of the seniors that would go places—simply because she wanted to. Sheer will was going to propel her out of Aspen Falls, and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her.

  And now she was back.

  Tapping her license against his palm, he drew in a breath and leaned down so they were eye to eye.

  “Sounds like you’re having a bad day.” He kept his tone as neutral as he could.

  She scoffed and shook her head. “To put it mildly.”

  She didn’t seem to know who he was, and although that kind of hurt, he couldn’t really blame her. He’d changed a lot since high school, and she was obviously pretty focused on whatever crisis she was going through.

  Her jaw trembled, which was probably a combination of the emotions coursing through her and the frigid temperature.

  “Rosie, is there something I can help you with?”

  She stiffened, her eyes rounding for a second before she clenched her jaw and shook her head. “No, I’m just…having a bad day, like you said.”

  Suspicion spiked in his chest. She was lying. This was so much more than a bad day.

  “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

  Her messy locks tumbled around her face as she shook her head. “No, I’m fine, Officer. Really. I…I’m sorry for speeding. Can you just give me the ticket, and I’ll get going.”

  “I’d rather issue you a jacket,” he mumbled. “You look freezing.”

  She hunched her shoulders and refused to look at him.

  He desperately wanted to reach forward and tuck the hair behind her ear so he could see her face properly. He’d love to wipe the tears off her cheeks and find out what the hell was really going on. She seemed stressed and kind of hopeless. Actually a lot hopeless.

  He knew that feeling all too well.

  Follow protocol, man. Issue a ticket and walk back to the cruiser.

  Blaine’s nose wrinkled as he stood tall and tried to decide what to do. He was the kind of cop that followed procedure to the letter. But how the hell was he supposed to issue Rosie Sweet a ticket? She was crying, for God’s sake.

  Leaning back down, he caught the edge of her pitiful expression as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Damn, she was still so beautiful. Those dark eyebrows, those pink lips…but it was her eyes. They were the true heart-stealers.

  They brushed over him, her eyebrows puckering with confusion as he studied her.

  He smiled and willed her to recognize him, but she glanced back down again, like she was too ashamed to look at him for any length of time.

  He let out a sigh and softly broke the rules. “Listen, um, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be racing around on these icy roads when you’re having such a bad day. How about I forego giving you a ticket on the condition that you head to Lulu’s Coffee Shop. You can get yourself a hot drink, defrost a little, and maybe calm your nerves while you figure out where you want to go.”

  She stilled, her lips parting. “Lulu’s Coffee Shop?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned, knowing it would get her attention.

  Louanne Houston used to be Rosie’s next-door neighbor. She’d always talked about opening a cafe in town, and she swore she was going to call it Lulu’s.

  Blaine figured if anyone in town would take in poor Rosie, it’d be her. The woman had been like a surrogate grandmother to her.

  Rosie bit the edge of her lip and gazed out the windshield. Her jaw trembled slightly, and Blaine worried that she might start crying again.

  “Just head toward Main Street, turn right past the gift shop, and then about two blocks down, you’ll find Lulu’s on the corner of 8th and Dwight.”

  Her quivering lips tried to pull into a smile as Blaine handed back her license and registration.

  “Are you sure about the no ticket thing?”

  “Yeah.” He was desperate for her to look his way so she could see his smile.

  She didn’t.

  Instead she pulled in another shaky breath and whispered, “Thank you, Officer.”

  “No problem. Just promise you’ll watch your speed…and go buy yourself a jacket.”

  Her laughter was breathy and short-lived. “I will.”

  “8th and Dwight.” He tapped the edge of her window as he stood tall and walked back to his cruiser.

  He wasn’t sure what the heck he was supposed to report in with. He should’ve issued her a ticket, but he didn’t know how he could’ve done that when poor Rosie was so miserable.

  He’d get flack from Kellan, and no doubt Steph at dispatch would raise an eyebrow too, but he’d take it.

  Rosie’s beat-up Escort pulled away from the curb, slowly heading back into town. Blaine hoped she’d take his advice and head to Lulu’s. It seemed to him like she needed a little TLC.

  Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he watched Rosie’s car until it disappeared around the corner, his mind filled with questions. He wondered what she had been up to since graduation, and how she’d ended up back here.

  But mostly he wondered what had happened to her that had resulted in the broken, tattered version of the girl she once was.

  3

  Friday, February 16th

  Earlier that day – 12:20pm

  Rosie wrung her hands as she waited for Damien to get home. She didn’t know what to think.

  Rubbing her pounding temples, she shifted on the bed and crossed her legs.

  Did she tell him?

  Did she admit what she’d done?

  She had to!

  Would he be mad?

  The lock clicked and she flinched, her eyes bulging wide as it creaked open.

  Damien’s footsteps were loud and ominous as they echoed through the apartment. His face popped into view and he instantly smiled at her.

  “Baby, still in bed?” He laughed. “I told you not to drink so much.”

  “You did not.” She frowned.

  Her memories of the night before may have been fuzzy and vacant, but she knew him well enough to know he’d just keep serving her drinks like he always did. Damien liked her drunk and tipsy. It made her liquid and wild. It made her do anything he asked of her.

  She winced and rubbed her head.

  “You call in sick?”

  She nodded.

  He snickered. “What excuse did you give this time?”

  “Migraine,” she muttered.

  “Aw, baby.” He sat down beside her, running his hand over her head before kissing her.

  Part of her wanted to sink into him. His mouth was hot and wet. They could rip each other’s clothes off and she could forget about what she discovered that morning
. She could pretend it had never happened.

  But that wouldn’t work.

  Because it had happened, and once she floated down from the high of sex it would hit her again…and it wouldn’t be any less brutal.

  She pulled away from Damien’s lips and forced a smile, lightly brushing her fingers down his handsome face. She’d always loved how sharp and angular it was, like he’d been carved out of marble. His pale eyes—a hazel blend like hers—were mesmerizing.

  But they looked different now.

  Now that she knew the truth.

  She swallowed.

  “You okay?” Damien’s eyebrows flickered with a frown.

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded, feeling sick to the core.

  Damien snickered and kissed her quickly before getting off the bed. “I’m only home for a bit. I just popped in to grab something. I have to run a few errands before heading to work.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom while he was talking.

  “O-okay.” Rosie curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  Did she tell him before he left or save it for when he came home that night?

  It’d have to be now. She didn’t think she could last until one o’clock in the morning, and Damien would be tired after work.

  “Hey, Dee, um…we need to talk.”

  “Right now?” He sounded irritated.

  She bit her lip and waited for him to come out, but he stayed in the bathroom, the noise in there escalating as things were shoved aside, his movements growing frantic. “Where is it?”

  Her breath hitched, her heart jumping into her throat.

  Oh shit.

  Damien stomped out of the bathroom, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her.

  “Have you been going through my stuff?”

  “What do you mean?” She flicked the hair over her shoulder and looked down at the crumpled duvet.

  “My stuff.” Damien’s voice went hard. “It was in the bathroom and now it’s not.”

  Stuff. Rosie wanted to scoff.

  Stuff?

  Drugs!

  He meant drugs!

  And not just a harmless little baggie but a freaking huge stash.