Page 58 of Snow River

“Out of what?I’m just trying to find out who Nancy was.”When Kathy had nothing more to offer, she gave up.“Half an hour of Wi-Fi, please.”

Kathy accepted her cash and told her the day’s password.Snow12345, which somehow seemed appropriate.

Fifteen minutes later, Lila had her first solid piece of information, but unfortunately it didn’t help her any.Jim Sutcliff, the podcaster, had died about six months after he’d produced the Snow River episode.Coincidence?Or something more ominous?

She scanned the obituary and finally found the connection she’d been looking for.Jim Sutcliff leaves behind a fiancée, Rita Cassey, and two brothers.

The obituary must have misspelled Rita’s last name, and that was why it hadn’t appeared during her initial research into Rita Casey.

Scanning further, she learned with shock that Jim Sutcliff been driving his truck in a snowstorm in Michigan and had lost control of the steering and slammed into a tree.He’d died on impact.

Could that possibly be a coincidence?And yet, how could it not be?

Had something caused her to lose control of the steering wheel?She thought back to those moments on the twilit road driving away from Paulina’s place.The steering wheel had felt strange, but she’d figured it was because of the road conditions.Was there more to it?

Seriously spooked, she walked back toward The Fang.Snowflakes drifted from the sky.One landed on her cheek like a cold kiss from above.She looked up and caught a bald eagle flapping across the road.The sky was a soft shade of gray, and the longer she looked at it, the more texture and dimension she saw in the shifting clouds.

This place was so beautiful it made her heart ache.And yet dark things had happened here.Had Rita Casey come to Firelight Ridge to finish the work of Jim Sutcliff and his podcast?

She thought about Paul Bowman.The FBI report had painted a picture of a man who was divorced, bitter, and isolated, who had come to Fangtooth Gulch to retreat from the world.The perfect profile of a killer driven by rage.It would be easy to pin the shootings on him, especially if he was coerced into a confession.

But what if the real killer was the man in Paulina’s drawing, who’d hung around the area afterwards to cover his tracks?He’d done something to Gwen—chased her into the snow until she collapsed?—and threatened Paulina with a knife.Maybe he’d also killed Joe Baker with that same knife.

None of this sounded like a “rage” incident.It sounded more…targeted.

Had someone targeted Allison Casey?She’d been the first victim.The others had come next.Presumably that meant she’d been the focus.But why?

She passed the gas station, where Gunnar was chatting with a large man in work overalls and a parka.Winter gear was everywhere you looked now.It was harder to recognize people now that everyone wore balaclavas and neck gaiters, and she had to learn what everyone’s winter clothes looked like.But Gunnar’s customer looked like one of the old-timers; maybe he’d recognize the photo in her phone, the one of Paulina’s drawing.

As she approached the gas station, the two men turned to greet her, and she saw with delight that the other man was Old Solomon.He’d been around since the mid-1970’s—running from the law, as it turned out.Around here, that didn’t seem to be a problem as long as no further misdeeds were committed.Old Solomon was a retired miner who operated on the barter system.Again, possibly because he’d been evading the reach of the law for so many years.

“Little Miss Lila,” he greeted her.“Still hanging around.Good to see.”

Something in his tone… “You guys aren’t placing bets on me, are you?About how long I’m going to stay?”

The two men shared a glance and shrugged.

“It’s a long winter.Gotta keep ourselves entertained.”Gunnar grinned at her.He was in his twenties, a big blond Viking of a man, someone she might ordinarily find attractive.But in her mind, his image was blocked out by an even bigger dark-haired man.Anyway, he seemed to have something going with Ruth Chilkoot lately, which she entirely supported.

“I’ve got a question for you both, especially you, Solomon.Does this face look familiar?”She angled her phone so he could see the drawing.“He would have been in this area forty years ago, give or take.Around the time of the Snow River murder spree.”

He took her phone in his gloved hand and squinted at it.“Could be a lot of people.What is this, a police sketch?”

Lila shook her head.She didn’t want to bring Paulina’s name into it.“It’s from memory.”

An artist’s memory of a very vivid and traumatic moment.

Gunnar looked over Solomon’s shoulder.“Rings a bell.”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t have…you’re too young to?—”

“Not me, no.I got this stack of old FBI most wanted flyers going back to mining days.There was a time we had a post office here, and this is where they sorted the mail.”He gestured at the building behind him.“It expanded a lot since then, but when I took over I didn’t throw anything out.I was sorting through it the other day, thinking I should dump it all.What’s the point of a forty-year-old Most Wanted poster?”

Lila’s heart felt as if it might jump right out of her chest.More historical records.“Can I see the one you’re talking about?”

“Yeah, come on in.Solomon, you’re good?I’ll order that catalytic converter, should take about a week.”

“Ay-uh.See ya then.What’s it worth, about ten sockeye?”

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