Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)

“We’re looking at property records now.”

The south side of the cabin was visible from the road, so Tom hiked through the deeper snow on the north side, just to be sure the cabin was still secure. He found the old tracks and was reasonably certain they were his, judging by the wear from melt and wind. Even if someone else had come through, Tom’s prints would’ve still been visible. They had to be his.

If there was no one in the cabin, there wasn’t much to be done. “I don’t like it,” he said to Hannity when he rejoined him in the front, “but it could’ve been anyone. The homeowner. A lost tourist. Hell, it could’ve even been a reporter looking for a good vantage for a photo of the judge’s house.”

Hannity agreed and promised to get back to Tom once the owners had been tracked down.

Tom held back a yawn. “I’ll take another hike around early tomorrow. With this snow moving in, I’ll know if anyone else has been out and about. Have the team keep careful track of their movements tonight so I can eliminate them.”

“Got it.”

Tom drove on a ways, but there was only the one set of tracks leading in and out, and there were no bootprints anywhere that he could see. He’d check again in daylight, but the snow was coming in a steady, gentle drift now. It looked like nothing, but he knew from experience it could end up being two feet of powder by sunrise.

At least adrenaline had kept him going for a while. The exhaustion didn’t return until he slowed in front of Isabelle’s house again. Her driveway was already smoothing out, the new snow hiding the jagged ridges of the evidence of her girls’ night.

He slowed at Jill’s, too, happy to see that even she had pulled her blinds. Isabelle must have called her, because normally her windows were a riot of light and glass sculptures and hanging plants. He wistfully considered knocking to beg for another frozen packet of food, but he drove on to the judge’s and all the work that waited there. He had an early morning tomorrow that would start well before he needed to leave for the courthouse. And if Hannity found anything else, Tom would be up all night again.

For once, he hoped that Stevenson would stay hidden for a little while longer. Tom wanted to be lying in bed waiting for his ears to burn.

* * *

ISABELLE TIPTOED UP the front steps of Jill’s house and tapped softly on her door. She didn’t know why she was being quiet. No one on the road would be able to see or hear her past the shifting sheets of snow. But she felt guilty after promising Tom she’d stay in.

She’d meant it when she’d said it, but then she’d decided to call Jill and talk to her about Tom, and Jill wasn’t answering her phone.

Isabelle tapped on the door again, telling herself it was really the responsible thing to do, coming over to check on Jill. After all, there was a bad guy on the loose. But really, she just wanted to talk to someone else who knew Tom.

The blinds of the front window finally parted, and Isabelle sighed with relief, but that response was short-lived. Jill opened her door only a few inches.

“What are you doing out here?” Jill demanded in a low voice. “You left me a message saying Tom was worried!”

“Oh, please. If there’s a weird survivalist out here, he’s hiding out from the snow like everyone else.” Isabelle stomped the snow from her boots. “Come on. Let me in.”

“You’re supposed to be at home!” Jill grouched, but she opened the door anyway.

“I was bored.”

“You’re never bored. And since when do you want company? Just put on a bad movie and do a puzzle like you always do.”

“God, you’re grumpy.” Isabelle toed off her boots, but then she stopped and narrowed her eyes at Jill. “What’s going on with you? Why’s your hair all squashed?”

“I was already in bed.”

Isabelle looked suspiciously around. “And why are we speaking so softly?”

Jill didn’t answer that, and a spike of fear suddenly pierced Isabelle’s self-absorption. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Isabelle lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned close. “Is there someone here? Give me a signal and I’ll make an excuse to leave. Tom is—”

“No, it’s fine.” Jill’s shoulders slumped. “Everything is fine.”

A distinctive creak sounded from the other side of the house. Isabelle felt her eyes widen until they hurt. “Then why did I just hear your bedroom door open?” she whispered, reaching for Jill’s hand to tug her toward the door, bare feet or not.

But before she could get Jill to move, a woman stepped into the living room. A very young woman. Wearing a T-shirt and tiny black underwear.

“Oh, hi,” the woman said, pushing her long brown hair off her face. “Jill, do you have a charger I can borrow? I need it for my phone if I’m going to stay the night.”