Devoted to the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 3) (11 page)

The showers were empty. The staccato
drip drip drip
from the middle shower head was all I could hear beyond my breathing. I slunk forward and crouched. Peering under the two toilet stalls, I saw no feet. As I drew closer, I noted the doors were open, and there was no way someone could be hiding inside.

The only places left to investigate were the curtained changing areas. My heart was in my throat. I felt a choked cry trapped in my chest as I approached. Everything in my body told me to run, to get out. It probably would’ve been the smart thing to do, but after going through everything I had, maintaining control over my emotions was incredibly important. If I spooked at every scary situation, I’d never get through life. Plus, the part of me that suspected Nicole was behind this wanted every excuse to beat her face in. I half wanted her to be waiting there for me.

I stretched out my hand towards the curtain and hesitated.
Do I just fling it open? What if someone is actually standing right there? Oh Christ, help me…
I said a wordless prayer and shifted the edge of the curtain a fraction of an inch. When I didn’t immediately see anyone, I ripped the curtain wide open. Not wanting to spoil the element of surprise, I tore the other curtain open straight after. When I also found it empty, I almost let out a cry of relief. Nothing.
No one
.

I slouched against the wall, the tension draining away. With the adrenaline pumping through my blood, I was almost disappointed I wasn’t able to confront my stalker. The keys slipped from my fingers and hit the tiled floor with a clatter. As I bent to pick them up, my eyes landed on a utility closet I hadn’t noticed before.

Standing slowly, I couldn’t pull my gaze from the narrow door. A flood of fear rushed back.
No one could possibly hide in there
, I tried to tell myself.
You don’t know that for sure, do you? Can you afford to take that risk?

For several agonizingly long moments, I stood staring at the door, debating with myself but frozen in place. I finally pushed through the dread, fixed the keys back in my fingers, and marched to the small door. I covered the distance in only a few paces, afraid my nerve would give out. My legs trembled, and my hand slipped from the doorknob as I reached for it, but I tore it open, my fist poised to attack.

I nearly lunged for a mop that stood on its handle upside down, but quickly caught myself. I released a nervous laugh, finally secure enough that I was alone in the locker room.
Unless they’ve been moving around behind you without you knowing
, a nasty little voice said in the back of my mind.

“Fuck that,” I said to myself, slamming the door shut. Even if someone was following me around, I hated that I’d given them any satisfaction by my little display.

Returning to the bag, I ignored the letter. I dressed deliberately, my jaw set and mind firm. I loathed the fact that I’d allowed myself to get so riled up, but I couldn’t stop shaking. Fear or adrenaline, I couldn’t tell which, was causing me to tremble so badly. I resolved to keep as much control as I could. I toweled down my hair and pulled it back into a tight bun. After shimmying into a pair of skinny jeans and a purple sweater, I zipped everything up and looked to the letter on the floor.

I nearly left it but realized it was just more evidence I could take to the police to bring Nicole to justice. I really didn’t want to look at it, but I forced myself to. As I bent, I clearly saw a number six scrawled on the back. Once in my hand, I could tell it was hastily written. Hard pen strokes dented the paper, nearly poking through in places.

Flipping the thick paper over, I realized it was a publicity shot I’d taken with Bryan shortly after we’d gotten engaged. We were standing in front of the main lodge at Powder Mountain back in Colorado, holding hands, with big cheesy grins. I remembered the day well. We were using some of our new-found fame to ramp up the summer session at the mountain, hoping to revive the off season and keep the business in the town’s hands.

The only difference between this photo and the one I had framed in our house back in Tellure Hollow was that this one had been destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a razor blade to my face, slicing the photo paper until my features were unrecognizable. They also severed our hands, but left Bryan completely unmarked. The violence of it was unnerving, but I kept my wits about me. Tucking the photo into my bag, I made sure I had everything, and left the locker room.

As I walked up to the bar, I calmly ran through everything I’d received up to that point.
Whether or not it’s Nicole, this pretty much proves it’s another competitor, probably someone jealous about all the attention I’ve been getting. It’s probably another skier from the U.S., which explains the letters being mailed from both countries. They know I’ve been training here, and have access to the locker rooms. And isn’t it awfully convenient this lands on my bag the very day I challenge her to a race?

By the time I reached the bar, my mind was firmly made up that it must be Nicole. A cold fury settled in my stomach. I knew she was a conniving little brat, but I never thought she’d stoop so low. I planned on having a nice dinner with Bryan, attempting to be a normal couple for once, and then bringing up the photo when we got home. I refused to fall apart yet again, becoming another pile of pieces for him to put back together.

Like all my well-laid plans, this idea fell through too.

I spotted Bryan at the far end of the bar, half a pint of beer to his left, a petite, flirtatious bartender sitting to his right. The bar was almost entirely empty but for the two of them, yet they were so engrossed, neither of them noticed me approach. I walked up from behind and overheard Bryan.

“So, what do you think about these centerpieces? Aren’t they a little, I don’t know, mobster wedding?”

The girl laughed, touching his shoulder as she leaned back. “Yes! I can see it! I think it’s more Greek though, you see the little pillars?”

What are they…
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I heard myself snap. My voice was high and squeaky, so I dropped the bag from my shoulder with a heavy thud, and glared at the two of them.

Bryan spun around in surprise, slamming the wedding binder shut on the bar in front of him. “Hey hon, I didn’t hear you…”

“You’re planning
our
wedding with her?” I couldn’t stop myself. This was one insult too far. It was one thing for him to take care of all the wedding planning, but to let some little groupie help, one who so obviously wanted to climb right into his pants. There was something about the girl that didn’t sit right with me. The way she looked at me, tensed when I arrived, like I was the one intruding.
For all I know, she’s the stalker.

Bryan squinted at me like
I
was the crazy one. “You said you wanted me to take care of things. Liz, we talked about this.”

I let out a frustrated cry and flung my hands out. “I can’t believe you’re making me deal with this right now, Bryan.” I turned to the blonde girl, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
And I’m the tractor trailer barreling down on you, honey.
“I know how it is. He’s famous, hot, friendly, but you need to back the fuck off right now.”

“Whoa, all right,” she said, holding her hands up, again, like my reaction was completely unwarranted. “I’ll go close up the other side of the bar.”

“Yeah, I guess you should get back to your job,” I snapped.

Bryan stared at me in shock, waiting until blondie had disappeared. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Do you have any idea what’s been happening to me? Do you even care that I apparently have a crazy freakin’ stalker following me half way around the world?” I bent and grabbed the photo out of the bag and thrust it under his nose.

He examined it, his brow furrowing. “When did you get this?”

“Just now. Downstairs. Wasn’t there when I went for a shower and then when I came back…” my voice trembled, betraying the real fear I barely had a handle of.

His hazel eyes shot to mine, filled with genuine concern. “Downstairs? Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve…”

“What? Done what? Besides, you were up here playing newlywed with cutie over there.” I snapped. The corners of my eyes pricked with tears, both out of anxiety and rage.

Bryan went silent, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked at the photo. He flipped it over and saw the number on the back. “This is just sick,” he muttered. “Josh went to the police though, right? They know all about this.”

A wave of nausea washed over me and I felt like I was about to faint. The bartender girl glared over at me and I realized how little I wanted to be having this conversation out in public. For all I knew, the stalker was watching me melt down. “Can we get out of here, please? You’re gonna have to drive.”

“Yeah, sure.” Bryan jumped down, wincing as he landed on his bad leg. He tossed a few bills down on the bar for the tab, tucked the binder under his arm, and reached for my bag.

“I’ve got it,” I said tightly.

“Really, I can carry it. You just went white as a ghost.”

I didn’t give him an opportunity to grab it, slinging it over my shoulder. It bumped against my ass as I walked quickly towards the door. When I glanced back to make sure he was following, I saw Bryan give the girl a short wave.

“Could you seriously not do that right now?”

He opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it.

I ran my tongue along the front of my teeth and sighed. “I’m sorry for being
such
a righteous bitch right now,” I said in a way that showed I wasn’t that sorry.

What if it isn’t Nicole? What if it’s some other psycho who just wants me to think it’s her?

As I stormed away to the car, I couldn’t shake that horrible feeling of being watched. Every movement, hell, my every thought felt violated. The suspense was worse than any danger I’d ever faced.

An hour later, we were back at the house. Every light blazed as several policemen searched through each room, ensuring that nothing had been disturbed while we were gone. We all stood in the kitchen, Josh there for moral support. As soon as I’d called him in the car on the way home to find out if he’d gone to the police with the first letter, he’d insisted on coming over. After his initial brush off earlier that morning, he seemed genuinely concerned.

“So, walk me through it one more time,” an older policeman named Henry prodded. He had a kind, fatherly face and a deep voice.

“It hasn’t changed since the last time I told you,” I groaned, crossing my arms. With the initial danger gone, I was growing weary of talking about it.

Bryan patted my elbow and I shot him a look that said, “Thin ice, buddy,” but he didn’t seem to read it.

I rolled my eyes, and rattled off the bullet points with little emotion. “Fine. I finished training with Janet, walked downstairs with her but went into the locker room alone. I dropped my shit, took a shower, found
that
, made sure no one was lurking around with a big butcher knife, scoped out the place, nothing, went and found Bryan upstairs in the bar.”
Found Bryan playing bride-and-groom with that younger, cuter model
, I finished in my head.

“And your coach, can we speak with her?”

“I can give you all her contact information,” Josh cut in.

“She’ll be asleep by now, anyway,” I mumbled.

Henry scratched a few notes onto a small pad of paper, completely obscured by his large hands. He looked up and studied me for a moment, not unkindly. “Did anyone else see you tonight? Know where you were?”

“Some of the staff are starting to recognize me. I mean, I was there all day. I had a bit of a run-in with a girl who hates me, if that helps.” Henry’s bushy eyebrows moved a fraction as he gestured for me to continue. “Nicole Drexel, another American skier. Loads of people saw it, and she’s threatened me before.”

“Like this?” he asked.

“Well, not exactly…” I had to admit. “But she has more reason than anyone else.

“We’ll look into it,” he said as he jotted it down. “Anyone else? Right around the time it happened. Anyone see you near the locker room, maybe a person you passed in the hallway?”

I shrugged again, looking at Bryan. “Just him and the bartender.”