Dead of Winter (An Aspen Falls Novel)

1

Friday, February 16th

1:15pm

Rosie snatched her keys off the table, only just managing to grab the strap of her handbag before bolting out the door.

Her boots thumped and slipped on the old wooden stairwell as she rushed her descent.

Shit, she forgot her jacket! There was no way she could go back for it.

An irate roar from her apartment made her flinch, and she gripped the railing to stop herself from tumbling down the stairs.

The walls were closing in on her, the tiny doorway to freedom growing smaller with each step.

Rosie! Damien, her now absolutely ex-boyfriend, hollered from the doorway, injecting fear into her limbs.

With a little yelp, she jumped the last few steps and smacked into the door. The bolt was suddenly impossible to turn, her shaking fingers practically useless.

Come on, Rosie, don’t lose it now. Her urgent whisper was punctured by the breaths puffing out her nose. Her heart was racing so hard she thought it might run right out of her.

Get back here! Chester, the giant asshole who’d shown up at Damien’s apartment, roared again.

Thundering boots, twice the size of hers, were catching up quickly.

Biting her bottom lip, she wrenched the bolt sideways and nearly cried with relief as she swung it back and jumped into the freezing street.

The sun was bleak behind layers of white cloud. The street had never been more dreary and ominous, and the frigid air felt ten times colder than normal.

She shivered and ran for the alley where her car was parked.

The icy concrete was slippery, and she nearly landed on her ass as she skidded around the corner.

The winter air bit her skin, telling her she was an idiot for not grabbing her jacket.

It’s not like I had time!

Terror sliced through her as she relived that moment of utter shock when that towering giant loomed over her, his leering gaze assessing her body to see if she’d be doable.

She shuddered, slamming against her car and shoving the key into the lock.

Rosie, don’t you dare take off! Damien called from the window above, slamming his hand on the frame when she glanced up.

Their eyes locked for the briefest moment, and she poured as much fury into the glare as she could muster.

She couldn’t believe he’d done that to her.

Her boyfriend.

The guy she’d been sharing a bed with had offered her to someone else, like she was a piece of meat that could be passed around and sampled just so he could clear his debt.

A sob threatened to burst out of her as she jumped into the car, but it turned into a scream when she spotted Chester racing around the corner.

Blood dripped from the scratch marks on his face—red tears that made him look like a monster. His dark brown eyes were black with rage.

Turning the key, she gripped the wheel, begging her car to start without any drama. Like some kind of miracle, the engine roared to life and she tore out of the alley before Chester could reach her.

The giant gave chase but she floored it down the alley, taking out a couple of trash cans. She screamed as they flew behind her car, but kept her foot on the accelerator.

Making a sharp right, she careened onto the street, leaving a trail of horn blasts behind her.

Pushing through the intersection, she swerved around traffic, running the red light and wondering how the hell she made it through without causing an accident.

A glance in the rearview mirror told her the giant had either given up or was still lumbering down the alley.

Shit, she whispered. Shit!

She was huffing like she’d just run a marathon, adrenaline coursing through her as she swerved into the other lane and continued out of the city.

Damn you, Brookvale, she muttered with a scoff. Stupid town.

She’d moved there only six months earlier and thought it was the start of a whole new chapter. It wasn’t the monstroplis of Minneapolis, but it was big enough to have a great nightlife and lots of job opportunities.

Growing up in the small town of Aspen Falls had nearly driven her nuts. All she’d wanted to do was graduate and hit the bright lights.

She’d started in Minneapolis with a heart full of hope, but the reality of adulthood hadn’t taken long to kick in.

College was harder than she thought it’d be, and it was so much easier to party into the night and forget about studying. She’d barely scraped through with a degree and then spent the next two years trying to score a job. No one told her that finding full-time employment would be so damn difficult. It didn’t help that she had no idea what she really wanted to do. Her degree was one of those covers all the bases. A liberal arts degree that meant she was overqualified for the menial jobs and under-qualified for anything decent.

"You really need to get some experience first."

How many times had she heard those words!

How the hell was she supposed to get experience when no one would hire her! In the end she’d settled for a receptionist job that bored her so badly she’d quit after three months and moved to St. Cloud. Since then she’d been jumping from one temp job, and one city, to the next. She’d done everything from cleaning houses to stacking shelves at a warehouse, but nothing ever satisfied.

Sometimes she wished she’d never bothered with college.

The only reason she had gone was because it was a family expectation. The Sweets went to college. Period. That was the rule. Her parents were both academics, not to mention her ridiculously intelligent sister.

Rosie made a face.

Angelica was probably working on some kind of PhD by now. Rosie didn’t want to know. Having spent most of her life being compared to her brilliant sister, she just couldn’t admit to her family how stupid she was, and ever since graduating from Aspen Falls High, she’d started to pull away.

The divide had only gotten bigger when her sister married an Australian. In some ways it was a relief. Rosie could only stomach so much of her perfect sister with her perfect Aussie husband and their perfect kids.

Her eyes smarted as she pictured the happy little family with their happy little life in Sydney.

Her parents had always joked that Angie got the brains and Rosie got the looks.

Yeah, well, brains had taken Angie pretty damn far.

And where are you? Rosie choked out—the question for her alone. You’re fleeing from your asshole boyfriend who just tried to sell you for sex!

She still couldn’t believe it.

They’d been living together for nearly four months and she’d had no idea what the sleazebag was really up to.

You are so stupid, Rosie Sweet! Gritting her teeth, she quelled the angry sob rising up her throat. Damn you, Damien.

She’d thought she loved him.

She would have done anything for him.

She did!

She’d bailed him out so many times, believing every single one of his whispered lies until she was basically broke.

Those hot lips of his had done more damage than she cared to think about.

But she knew the truth now.

The whole ugly truth.

Her nostrils flared as she gripped the wheel and headed north.

She wasn’t about to turn the car south and head for Florida. Her parents had retired early and moved there a year ago. It was so cliché that Rosie nearly gagged when she found out. Her parents were only in their late fifties, but the reserved couple had fully transitioned into their golden years—matching sweat suits included.

Having spent most of their working years squirreling their money away and wisely investing every spare penny, they were fully loaded and taking yearly cruises, vacations to Australia every summer, and then basking in Florida’s winter sunshine. They were finally getting to live it up the way they’d always dreamed. They’d travel the world and have the life they so rightfully earned.

Rosie wouldn’t spoil their bliss by arriving on their doorstep with her crap. She was too ashamed to admit how far she’d really let herself sink, especially if they were just going to turn around and compare her to Angie. That fall from grace was just a little too far.

No, Rosie had to get out of this on her own.

She shivered and fiddled with the heater dial. It was freaking freezing without her jacket, and the car’s heating system was hardly first-class.

Where the hell are you driving to? she asked herself, hunching over and desperately trying to think.

Where could she go?

She needed someplace safe to hide away.

Somewhere Damien wouldn’t think to look for her.

Her mind ticked over her past, scrambling through the myriad of roommates and boyfriends she’d had since leaving Aspen Falls.

No. She shook her head. "No. No. Definitely, no." She raised her eyebrows, mentally ticking off each failed relationship.

She went from her days in Minneapolis to St. Cloud, then Princeton, and Monticello before her short stint in St. Paul. And then finally Brookvale. She thought that place might last, but no such luck.

It didn’t take Rosie long to realize there was nowhere she could go. All of her ex-boyfriends and friends had either happily moved on without her or were such losers they’d be no help anyway.

Tipping her head back against the seat, she stared out the windshield, suddenly dwarfed by the failure her life had turned out to be.

She’d had such high hopes.

She was pretty. She was fun. People adored her in high school.

But this wasn’t high school anymore.

High school. She wrinkled her nose, wondering what had become of that little town she grew up in.

With her parents and sister no longer living there, she had no ties to the town.

She doubted any of her high school buddies would have stuck around. They were the kind of people who, like her, couldn’t wait to graduate and leave small-town life behind forever. And she had no idea what became of Taylor, the jerk she’d dated for most of her senior year.

Pursing her lips, she pictured Aspen Falls, the pretty little town north of the cities and suburbs, a small town that was home to both farmlands and undisturbed prairie, that boasted of towering aspens and red pines, that had a hidden gem of a waterfall tucked in the woods. A waterfall that often drew visitors to town so they too could delight in discovering it while wandering the path that followed the Orono River.

Her lips twitched as she thought about the main road through town. She conjured up images of the gift shop on the corner, the diner she used to hang out at every day after middle school, and the old field out near Wyatt Creek where they used to have bonfires, beer, and sex under the stars.

She wondered after six years if all those things would still be there.

How much would a town change in that time?

Probably not much. It was rural Minnesota, after all. Nothing seemed to change. Nothing ever did when she’d lived there.

An unexpected sense of nostalgia washed over her as tears pricked her eyes.

Good ol’ Aspen Falls.

She’d always thought it was such a boring hick town.

But could it actually be the safe haven she needed?

A quiet place to lay low while she figured out what the hell to do with her life?

Damien didn’t know she used to live there. At least she didn’t remember telling him about it. Their relationship had always been about the moment. Four intense months of moments, from the passionate to the extreme.

She’d moved in with him after only three weeks. He was gorgeous, the sex was great, and his apartment had been exactly what she’d needed. Living with him had been a fun adventure—another wild ride to remind her that she wasn’t an utter failure.

She cringed and gripped the wheel, dodging the self-loathing curling through her stomach.

If she’d known Damien’s secrets, she never would’ve stayed with him.

In fact, she’d only found out that morning—three hours earlier—and she’d already broken up with him.

She sat up a little straighter and paid closer attention to the street signs. Flicking on her blinker, she moved into the correct lane and headed for the highway.

Aspen Falls would hide her… and Damien could deal with Chester and the boss on his own.

2

Friday, February 16th

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