Page 99 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Whoa, she was getting ahead of herself.

But the way her whole being sizzled with the idea… Maybe she was finally figuring out God’s plan, which would use not only her skills but her passions as well.

She researched possibilities until it was almost time to meet the chief, new ideas pinging in her mind. She didn’t have to settle for a job she hated in a place where she didn’t know a soul. Coventry might be cold, but she already had friends here. Her parents had been from here. Maybe she could handle the winters if the other seasons were as lovely as Garrett claimed.

She realized as she waved goodbye to Deborah that she really wanted to find out.

Aspen stepped out the front doors into the chilly late afternoon. The clouds hung low and heavy. The forecast had promised more snow—a dusting, the weatherman had said. Just three inches. She’d never seendustthat thick.

Living here would take some getting used to. And good snow tires.

The library was situated in the center of town, next door to the town offices and two doors down from the police station. Though she’d promised Garrett she wouldn’t go anywhere by herself, she felt confident she could manage the fifty-yard walk without incident, especially with so many people out and about. People walked from shop to shop as if it weren’t freezing cold. As if it were a lovely afternoon for a stroll.

New Hampshireites were made of sturdy stuff.

Maybe if she stayed, she’d become as accustomed to the weather as all these folks were. Assuming, that was, that thelocals quit shooting her dirty looks. And whispering behind hands as she walked by.

And trying to kill her.

Having survivedthe short walk with zero attempts on her life, Aspen pushed into the police station and asked for Chief Cote. A moment later, he ushered her back to his office.

“I’m glad you came by.” He rounded his desk and settled on the far side. “How you holding up?”

She was in very good spirits, buoyed by the prospects of staying in Coventry, going to college to study a subject she’d actually love to learn, and Garrett. “I’m good,” she said. “I’d be better if I knew who ran me off the road yesterday.” She slid into the chair she’d occupied the night before.

“Our search didn’t turn up any useful information. We saw where we think Garrett turned around and where you went over, but that was it. There were no signs of another car parking along the shoulder.”

“Someone was following me.” Irritation and fear rose so fast, it was a struggle to keep her voice level. “Someone with a flashlight was looking?—”

“I believe you.” He added a smile to accompany the words. “We found the footprints, just not any sign of what they were driving. I’m guessing they parked in the street, out of the snow.”

He didn’t think she was lying, or crazy. She took a breath to recenter herself. “Did the footprints turn up anything?”

He slipped on reading glasses and consulted a notebook. “Snow boot, man’s size ten or thereabouts, my guys tell me.”

“Let me guess—that’s a pretty common shoe size for a man?”

“Unfortunately. We’ve asked the body shops in the area to alert us if anybody brings in a car with right-side damage. Patrol guys are on the lookout for the same.”

“Feels like a needle-in-the-haystack situation.”

“Coventry’s a small haystack, but if the driver has any brains at all, he won’t take his car to a body shop anywhere near here. We’ve expanded the search as far south as Concord. I’m hopeful.”

“Do you have any guesses about who it might’ve been? Any suspects?”

He slipped the readers lower on his nose and looked at her for a long time. She wasn’t sure what he was hoping to find there, or what he saw. After a moment, he leaned back. “Can I trust you to keep what I say between us?”

The thought of not telling Garrett what she learned didn’t sit well, but she said, “Yes.”

“I interviewed five people. I’ve got detectives looking into their alibis and checking their vehicles as we speak. I won’t be surprised if one of them was driving that car.”

“Who are they?”

“I spoke to both Bart Bradley, the father-in-law of?—”

“Rachel, the woman who died,” she said. “And?”

“He was home alone, which isn’t unusual for Bart at night. He never leaves his house after dark. His car had no damage. Same was true for Rhonda Patterson.”

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