Deep Freeze (West Coast 1)

“Shit.” He rolled down his window and flicked out the butt of his Marlboro. “You should have been more careful.”

“We,” she reminded him, trying to tamp down her anger. “We should have been more careful.” She glanced out the side-view window to the park, empty now, the playground equipment vacant, the trees bare of any leaves. “I probably shouldn’t have snuck out.”

“You had a good time, didn’t you?” He nuzzled her neck, lips brushing her nape, and she shrugged him off.

“It was all right.”

“No, babe, it was great.” He squeezed her to add emphasis to his position.

“Yeah,” she said, without any enthusiasm. She had enjoyed herself, she supposed, parked far up on the mountain, getting a nice little buzz from the weed and beer, but she still had a bad feeling about it. Not because she’d gotten caught. Not because she’d snuck out. But because of Josh. Sometimes…sometimes he came off like a real hick, and she thought that he might be more interested in her famous mother than he was in her. Unlike the girls in her class, who were obviously jealous. She sighed. In the eighteen months she’d lived here, she hadn’t made one single friend she could really count on. Aside from Josh. And sometimes he was questionable. In L.A. she’d had lots of girls she hung out with at the private school her father had insisted upon. Rich kids, some with famous families, most connected in some way to the film or music industry. Paige and Colby and Bella…real friends who understood. The yahoos in Falls Crossing all looked at her as if she were some kind of freak.

Maybe she was.

She shivered. Even though Josh had cranked the heat in the pickup to high, she was still cold. This damned weather and the stupid truck weren’t part of her fantasy date. In L.A. it would be warm. Maybe even hot. And she’d be sitting in a BMW or Range Rover or Mercedes convertible. New cars that didn’t need to be “tricked out.” They came with all the bells and whistles.

“I think we should drive up to Catwalk Point,” he said, and she felt her insides turn to ice.

“Why?”

“Haven’t you heard? They found a body up there.”

“And you want to go?”

“It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened around here in years. I think we should check it out.”

“No way.”

“Chicken?”

“There are cops up there, and we’d be caught for cutting class.”

“Not if we’re careful.”

“Forget it.”

“I can’t,” he said, and his eyes glinted with a bit of macabre excitement. She felt a frisson of fear—or was it intrigue?—skitter up her spine. But she couldn’t risk it. Not today. “Look, I’ve really got to go.” She squashed out her cigarette in the ashtray and pushed open the door.

“Oh, come on. Do you really want to go to chemistry and English?”

“No. I don’t.” Hopping onto the hard ground, she looked up at his hangdog expression. His hair was shaved nearly to his scalp, his sideburns pencil-thin, his goatee a shadow that was against school rules. He claimed his folks didn’t care about him, that his stepdad thought school was “a waste of time.” His mom, it seemed, had given up on her kids. College wasn’t in his future. Unless he joined the military. “I’ve really got to go.” Before he could argue, she walked briskly toward the school. She’d already missed the first class of the day, a fifteen-minute mini-period held for the express purpose of announcements and attendance, so she was screwed. The school would call her mother before noon. Great.

She cut through an alley and heard Josh’s truck scrape into gear, then the engine roar as he gunned it. His big tires chirped as he angrily headed out of town.

Well, fine! She didn’t look over her shoulder, just in case he could see her in his rearview mirror. No matter what her mother thought, Cassie didn’t always do what Josh wanted. God, it wasn’t as if she was under his spell or he was her Svengali or anything dumb like that. Sometimes her mom bugged the hell out of her.

She ran up the steps to the school.

Get a clue, Mom, she thought disgustedly. And while you’re at it, get a life!

CHAPTER 7

“I know a helluva lot more about horses than I do about machines,” Hans admitted as he wiped his hands and stared at the pump in the tiny pump house between the barn and garage. Hans Dvorak was a short, wiry man with silvery stubble on his chin and a flat nose that looked as if someone had punched it in years before. He’d worked outdoors with horses all his life and had the ruddy complexion to prove it. He’d managed to replace the taillight in the truck, but this pump was another story. “It’s froze up solid.” Red-faced, ski cap pulled over his ears, he’d bent onto one knee. “And here’s the reason, I think. Check out this wire.”

Using the beam of a flashlight, he pointed to the electrical connection in question. The wire had become loose, the ends ragged, as if they’d been chewed by an animal. “I can probably patch this up, but look around.” He swept the beam across the interior of the old building, which was little more than a shed. It was dirty, dusty, lacked proper insulation, and was freezing inside. The single lightbulb in the ceiling was dim.

The pump house was one of the areas pointed out by the inspector who’d checked out the place before she’d bought it. Even though he’d suggested new wiring, updated plumbing, a new roof, improved security system, and countless other updates to the buildings, she’d had her heart set on moving to this remote spot and had promised herself to take care of all the needed repairs. She’d made a good start, but some of the old equipment—this pump, the electronic gates, the security system—seemed to have minds of their own. No matter how many times they were fixed, they continued to b

reak down.