Spying the sign for Joltz, he crossed at the light and headed toward the small storefront. As he did, he passed Wild Will’s, the restaurant with the macabre stuffed animals lining the walls, and a small music store that had a display near the front door. A set of three wooden carolers, dressed as if they were in the 1890s, were chained to a ring in the building, to ensure they wouldn’t be stolen, he supposed.
Baby nosed around the two-dimensional man in his top hat and morning coat. He stood between two women, one in a shirtwaist and pin-striped skirt, the second in a red dress, all of whom were holding songbooks, their mouths rounded as if they were indeed caroling.
“Get on with it,” he muttered to the dog, who poked around behind the wooden people and began to whine. “For God’s sake, what’s wrong now?” he said, just as he noticed the fourth figure, different from the others, hidden slightly behind the tall figure in the top hat, tucked in the shadows of the store’s awning.
What the devil? he wondered, peering more closely. A half scream bubbled in his throat as he realized he was looking at a sculpted block of ice with a very dead and very naked woman inside!
“We found Brenda Sutherland,” Pescoli said when Alvarez answered her cell. Standing at the sink where she was filling a teapot, she’d answered on the second ring. “Right downtown, get this, across from Wild Will’s, same as the others, naked and entombed in ice, placed behind a set of plywood carolers that Woody’s Music always puts out this time of year. I know you’re officially off the case, but ... oh, hell. The way I see it, we can use all the manpower, or make that womanpower, we’ve got.”
Alvarez, realizing the teapot was overflowing, turned off the water.
“That son of a bitch set her up right in the heart of downtown, wearing nothing but your damned locket. Found by a man walking his dog about half an hour ago. Freaked the hell out of him.”
“I’ll bet. So ... the body wasn’t far from the courthouse?”
“Right. Finally, the guy fouled up,” Pescoli was saying, and the roar of the wind could be heard as she half yelled into her phone.
Alvarez had already forgotten the tea and was starting up the stairs.
“There are store and traffic cameras all over the place. We’ll get him this time. A vehicle the size of his, we’ll find it, and Woody, the owner of the music store, he’s got surveillance cameras all over his display windows. We’ll get this bastard.”
“I’ll be right there,” Alvarez said, flying up the rest of the stairs.
“Good girl.”
Alvarez heard the smile in Pescoli’s voice and knew she was about to hang up. “Hey, wait!”
“Yeah?”
“Have you heard anything about Gabriel Reeve?”
“Other than the fact that the mother insists you stay away from him?” Pescoli asked. “Well, yeah, I have. He’s being transferred back to Helena.”
“So, it’s today?”
“Looks like it. But with all of this and the storm, it might be hard to find a driver. The Helena PD might have to come and get him and ... don’t even suggest that you could do it, okay? Grayson won’t go for it, nor will the parents.”
Alvarez wanted to argue, but before she could, Pescoli added, “I’ve got to go,” and clicked off.
In the bedroom, she found Dylan lying crosswise over the bed, sheets and duvet wrapped around his naked body, his form barely visible in the half-light from windows. “Rise and shine,” she said as she flipped on a bedside lamp, and Jane, still dozing, raised
her furry head. O’Keefe blinked and winced, turning away from the light while the cat stretched, arching her back, yawning widely to show off her pink tongue and wicked little teeth.
“What the hell?” he grumbled, his voice still sounding sleepy, his hair spiked up at weird angles.
“We’ve got ourselves another one.” She was already stepping into thermal underwear and locating a pair of jeans. Her boots were right where she’d left them on the closet floor and she zipped them on quickly.
“What do you mean?”
“Brenda Sutherland.” Stretching her arms through the insulated undershirt, she added, “Found downtown.” She poked her head through the neck hole and unpinned her hair, running her fingers through it before winding it onto the top of her head a little more neatly.
“What time did you get up?” Running a hand over his stubbled jaw, he glanced at the clock on her side of the bed. The digital readout blinked a bright red six thirteen.
“Hours ago,” she lied.
He stretched, arms over one side of the bed, bare feet out the other, the covers unfortunately hiding his bare buttocks. “And what the hell time did that guy walk his dog?”
“Who knows? Early.”