Chill Factor

“Excuse me.” Hoot practically wedged himself between them. “You’ll both be pleased to learn that we’ve been guaranteed a helicopter and small tactical rescue team as soon as the weather clears, which, hopefully, will be tomorrow morning.”

“I want Lilly rescued. I want Tierney arrested,” Burton declared. “You’ve got all the fancy equipment, but this is still my jurisdiction, and he’s my prime suspect.”

“Kidnapping is federal. We can—”

Begley raised his hand, stopping Hoot from saying more. “Understood, Chief Burton,” he said, surprising even himself with his calm.

He wasn’t backing down, he was simply trying to pacify a man on a ledge. It was only a matter of time before Dutch Burton self-destructed, either on purpose or accidentally. Either way, Begley didn’t want him further provoked before Tierney was in custody and the former Mrs. Burton was safe.

“Between now and when the chopper arrives,” he continued, “I suggest you get those cuts on your face treated by a medical professional, then go home and rest. You look done in. Whatever tomorrow holds in store, we’ll all need to be sharp.”

Burton looked angry enough to spit in his face, but he said nothing.

Begley pulled on his gloves and asked Hoot if he’d gotten what he needed from Perkins.

“Here, sir,” he said, holding up a folder. “I took notes by hand.”

“Good. I’m ready for a hot toddy and a crackling fire. I’d be willing to bet Gus Elmer can supply both.” As he moved toward the door, he shot Burton a look that warned him against even trying to search Tierney’s cabin at Whistler Falls Lodge. He would be watching.

A few minutes later, he and Hoot were back in the cold car, skidding along the deserted streets of Cleary. Begley said, “Dutch Burton is a calamity waiting to happen. My guess? He’ll eat the barrel of his pistol one of these days.”

Then he ran his hand over his face to wipe away the disturbing thought. “Give me the condensed version of your conversation with Perkins. Unless it’s something rock solid, then I want details.”

> “Perkins has been searching for any linkage between Tierney and the other missing women.”

“And?”

“Carolyn Maddox—”

“The young, single mother.”

“Correct. She worked at two local motels prior to where she was working when she disappeared. As of now, it’s unknown if Tierney ever stayed in those places. Perkins is still checking his credit card statements.”

“He could have paid cash.”

“In which case we would have to depend on the motel registries.”

“Where he could have signed in as Tinkerbell.”

Hoot nodded grimly.

“I don’t suppose she ever worked at Mr. Elmer’s lodge.”

“No, sir. That was the first thing Perkins checked.”

“Go on.”

“Laureen Elliott, the nurse. Her only surviving relative is a brother, who lives with his wife in Birmingham. They’re snowbound, too, but Perkins reached him on his cell phone. If his late sister knew anyone named Tierney, she never mentioned him.”

“Tierney is a name you’d remember because it’s not that common.”

“My thought, too, sir.”

“The widow?”

“Betsy Calhoun. Her daughter still lives here in Cleary. Perkins was unable to reach her.”

“Do you have an address?”