Deep Freeze (West Coast 1)

“You know, I told the McReedys for years that the place needed new wiring. Would Asa listen? Hell, no! And when he put it on the market, I was sure he’d fix things up, but you came along before he had to do anything.”

“I should have taken care of everything the minute I moved in, but there was too much.” She’d spent a lot of time and money replacing windows and doors, refinishing the wood floors, and attending to the wiring inside the house. She’d figured the outbuildings could wait. Apparently she’d been wrong. “I planned to do some more updating this coming spring. I guess I waited too long,” Jenna said, her breath fogging. God, it was cold. And getting colder by the minute.

“Well, we’ll figure something out,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I’ve got enough water for the horses in the troughs, but that’s gonna freeze tonight.” Hans squinted and shook his head. “I should have come over last night and started a drip to keep the water flowing through the pipes. If I had, I might have noticed the wiring and we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“It’s not your fault, okay? I think I’d better get a plumber out here pronto.”

“And an electrician.”

“And a mechanic.” They’d already looked at the Jeep and tried to jump it. The damned engine didn’t so much as turn over.

“Isn’t there anyone I can hire that can fix everything?”

“Maybe. Jim Klondike’s a good all-around handyman but he’s probably pretty busy.” Hans lifted his hat and rubbed his near-bald head. “Then there’s Seth Whitaker and…oh, what’s his name, the guy that lives up the river—” He snapped his fingers. “Don Ramsby. Owns his own garage. They all could be pretty busy. Other folks are probably in the same spot as you today.”

“I imagine.” As Hans turned to the stable where she housed the five horses Allie adored, Jenna walked into the house and hoped to find a local handyman who could help her. “Fat chance,” she thought aloud. In the den, she opened the drawer where she kept her phone books and noticed the red light blinking on her answering machine. Crossing her fingers that Allie hadn’t decided she was feeling worse or that she’d left something else in the truck, Jenna played the messages. The first was from the high school. Cassie, whom she’d dropped off a couple of blocks from the school, was officially AWOL. “Fabulous,” Jenna muttered sarcastically, but refused to panic. Obviously Cassie was with Josh. A lot of good grounding did. The second call was from Harrison Brennan, her neighbor. He was nearly fifty, retired from the Air Force, single, and had intimated more than once that she needed a man to help her out with her place.

Today, she thought unhappily, he was right.

The problem was that Harrison considered himself a prime candidate for the job. They’d dated a few times and it was obvious that he was interested in her. She wasn’t certain what she felt for him, but he certainly wasn’t the love of her life, nor her “soul mate,” a term she didn’t understand nor really trust. He was a friend. She doubted he would ever be more.

“I’m sorry I missed you,” Harrison had recorded. “I was just checkin’ in. I hear we’re in for one helluva storm and wondered if you needed a hand with anything. Give me a call when you get in.”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to depend on Harrison or let him know that some of his instincts were valid or that she couldn’t handle these rugged acres on her own. When she’d moved to Falls Crossing, she’d been determined to make it on her own and didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. If she’d learned anything from her marriage to Robert, it was that the only person on whom she could count was herself. So she’d better be strong.

Sighing, she wondered if everyone in California had been right. Maybe her move north had been a rash decision. It had seemed like a good idea to give up her cheating husband, stalled career, and glitzy life in Southern California. She’d opted for something more “real” for her two children and herself, and this large estate set in the mountainous terrain of the Columbia River had caught her attention when she’d been up visiting her friend Rinda and noticed the “For Sale” sign bolted onto the gate. She’d called a local realtor, been shown the ranch, and made an offer. Private, if isolated, her new home was close enough to I-84 that she envisioned herself popping onto the freeway and driving into Portland in a little over an hour.

The place had seemed perfect when she’d moved here. Set in the hills with oak, pine, and fir trees, a creek, five horses, and an old, half-blind dog that came with the rambling, three-storied log cabin, the hilly acres had appeared to be just what her splintered little family had needed. Charming paned windows, a sharply peaked roof, dormers, and French doors stained to match the rest of the wood interior were complemented by two massive stone fireplaces. Once owned by a timber baron, the house and acres were quaint. Bucolic. A refuge.

Jenna had fallen in love with the ranch.

Of course, she’d first seen the gated acres in the waning days of summer when the weather was dry and warm, the view of the swift, dark river spectacular. And it had been at a time when she’d needed to escape the nightmare that had become her life. This house was so roomy, yet cozy, with its north-woodsy, log-cabin charm, and it was only half an hour away from skiing on Mount Hood. The private log home had seemed custom-made for her and her kids.

But not today, she thought. With the wind whistling down the gorge, the impending threat of snow and ice, and no running water, the place wasn’t quite so enchanting.

A second after she clicked off the recorder, the phone rang. Jenna picked up the receiver and before she could say a word, she heard, “Mom? It’s Cassie. I missed first period, but I’m here at the school and I have to go or Mr. Rivers will mark me absent in Chemistry.”

“Why were you late?”

“It’s complicated. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. I just wanted you to know I’m okay. ’Bye.”

“Cassie, wait—” she said, but heard her daughter click off. “’Bye,” she said to herself and sighed. “Fabulous.” She glanced down at Critter, who thumped his tail against the floor obligingly. “Just damned fabulous.”

“I called the Oregon Department of Transportation. ODOT’s got sanding crews and plows ready. We could get freezing rain as well as snow. In that case we’ll not only lose road service, but we’ll have power outages and people will be stranded. So far, I-84 is clear and passable, but if it gets bad, the State Police will shut it down,” Deputy Hixx was saying from his patrol car somewhere in the county. Carter had the guy on speaker phone in his office and while listening with half an ear, was also skimming his e-mail, hoping for something from the crime lab on the Jane Doe that Charley Perry had discovered.

“Just keep me posted on the road conditions. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the storm won’t hit.”

“Yeah, right,” Hixx said, without so much as a chuckle. “You know the old saying ‘when hell freezes over?’ Well, I think this is it.”

Twenty-nine-year-old Bill Hixx was a glass-is-half-empty sort, but this time, Carter thought as he hung up, the kid was probably right. And the storm, if it was as bad as predicted, would make life hell for everyone, especially the electrical crews, road service people, and, of course, law enforcement. He looked through the window and noticed how the sky had darkened, the gray clouds burgeoning ominously, seeming to collect over this part of the Columbia Gorge.

The door to his office was ajar and he heard his secretary say, “Just a minute…I’ll see if he’s busy—”

Too late. Rinda Dalinsky suddenly appeared in his doorway.

“Are you?” she asked with a familiar smile. “Busy?”

“Always. Just ask Jerri.”