Legend of the White Wolf

Chapter 2

THE GRAYHAIRED MAN APOLOGIZED PROFUSELY AS FAITH pushed him out of her room, her towel clutched tightly around her torso, her wet hair wrapped in another. She'd kill the hotel clerk. Couldn't the woman give one customer a room that wasn't already occupied?

If that weren't enough of an embarrassment, here came her knight to the rescue, wearing a pair of vivid blue silky boxers—and nothing else—none other than Cameron MacPherson.

He raised his brows at her as the man hurried off with his bag, apologizing under his breath.

"Clerk gave him a key to your room?" Cameron asked, a wrinkle creasing his forehead.

Faith began shutting the door to hide her state of undress in case anyone else happened to walk down the hall. "Yes."

"I'll call down and complain to the manager. We haven't been properly introduced, though. I'm Cameron MacPherson. And you are?"

"Faith O'Malley." She pressed the door closed a little more.

"Want to have breakfast with me in the morning?"

She was so annoyed with the clerk, she hadn't planned to let the grudge go, until Cameron asked to have breakfast with her. He was just too cute. And persistent. Her stomach grumbled. Although initially she thought eating too late could keep her awake, now she reasoned she might sleep better if she had a bite to eat. Besides, Cameron could take her mind off Hilson, for a little while. It didn't mean she was going to stay the night or do anything she didn't want to do, she reminded herself.

"Still have some dinner left over?" she asked.

Cameron smiled, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkling, dimples appearing, his blue eyes gleaming with delight, the devilish look saying he knew he could break her down eventually if he tried long enough. "I'll even dress for dinner."

She wondered just what his definition of dressed would be. "Be right over. And thanks… for the rescue." She glanced at his boxers, the same blue as his eyes.

Grinning, he saluted her and stalked back to his room as if his mission was done.

As soon as Faith said she'd eat with Cameron, she'd surprised and pleased the hell out of him. He really figured he didn't have a chance to convince her he was one of the good guys and just wanted a little company. Her kind of company.

He couldn't get the image of her—standing half naked, wearing only a skimpy towel to cover herself—out of his mind. For certain, the gods had smiled on him tonight.

After hurrying back into his room, he jerked on his jeans and threw the rest of his scattered clothes into his suitcase. Then he moved one of the two pillows he'd been using over to her side of the bed. He glanced at the door. He hadn't heard her door opening yet, so he rushed into the bathroom to pick up the wet towel he'd thrown on the floor and hung it up on the towel bar. Afterward, he tossed his toothbrush and toothpaste and shaving gear back into his shaving kit.

Her door opened and closed. He rubbed his bare chest. Shirt? Or no?

He stalked out of the bathroom and grabbed his flannel shirt out of the suitcase, then yanked it on, just as she knocked. He returned to the door, opened it, and smiled at Faith. "Dinner's served."

Wearing emerald-green velour running clothes, she looked incredibly soft and touchable, her blond curls caressing her shoulders like he wanted to do.

She smiled a little to see his shirt hanging open. He supposed he should have buttoned it, but she didn't seem to mind.

She raised her brows at the bed where his tray of food was sitting, and he started his salesman's pitch. "I was watching the Jack Nicholson movie in bed. It's about over. Want to see what's coming up after that one?"

She hesitated, then took a deep breath and headed for the bed. "So what's on next?"

"Looks like werewolf movie night. Something called The Howl of the Wolf."

"Ah." She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off a boot and already his thoughts were of seeing her take off more. But she yanked off the other boot, dropped it on the carpeted floor to join its mate, then climbed on top of the floral covers. "That's Julie Wildthorn's third book in her werewolf series. I'd heard the book was better so never went to see the movie version."

A woman after his own heart. "You like fantasy? Urban fantasy?"

"Both of the above." She took the lemon-lime soda he handed her, her legs stretched out on the bed, a whiff of her floral fragrance enticing him to take a deeper breath. "So is this a vacation or business trip for you?" she asked.

"A little of both." Although he hadn't planned on having any fun until she popped into his room and began stripping while he'd been in the shower. "And you?"

"Strictly business."

He smiled. Yeah, strictly business. That's why she was sitting on his bed, sharing dinner with him.

The movie version of The Howl of the Wolf began, and he couldn't help notice the way she smiled at the funny scenes, chuckling under her breath, but her cheeks grew a little flushed when the hero and heroine went beyond kissing, got naked, and ended up in bed together.

She cleared her throat and leaned back against the pillow. He thought she was going to say something. She didn't, and then she sank lower onto the mattress, her eyes half closed, her long lashes hiding them further, her hand still clasped around the soda can.

When her eyes closed, he reached over and slipped the drink from her hand so she wouldn't spill it, half hoping she'd spend the night. To his regret, her eyes popped open. "Oh…" She stared at the TV, then smiled. "I like the book version better. She ends up with the hunky werewolf, not the wimpy human in the story." A small wrinkle appeared on her forehead, then she turned to Cameron. "If I fall asleep again, wake me and send me home."

He shook his head. "I'm enjoying the company." And he was. The last girl he dated was only into chick flicks. Absolutely no fantasy, no sci-fi, no urban fantasy, no historical, westerns, war movies, nothing. He pulled the tray off the bed and settled back against the pillow like Faith had done, only he drew closer this time, enjoying the warmth from her body, her subtle fragrance, the companionship.

Before long, her eyes were shut again, only this time he slipped his arm under her head. When she smiled at him, her expression quizzical, he said, "I was getting a little chilly. Weren't you?"

She chuckled, the sound low and amused. But she played right along with him, and snuggled up nice and close. Too bad she was here strictly on business. He smiled at the notion, but it didn't take long before she closed her eyes again, and he nodded off also.

He hadn't even realized he'd done so until Faith pulled away from him, waking him, and gave him a weary smile. "Guess we missed the end of the movie. Just remember, the werewolf gets the girl in the correct version." Then she climbed off the bed and stretched like a sleek feline wrapped in green velvet-like duds.

He wanted her to stay the night, but he didn't figure she'd agree. Still… he had to make the offer. "Another werewolf tale coming up."

"I've seen Underworld." She checked her watch. "It's nearly one and I've got business to take care of early in the morning. Snowstorm's supposed to be coming now."

"Want to have breakfast with me tomorrow?"

She didn't hesitate to respond this time, and he knew he'd hooked her for a date. "I'm an early riser. Would six be too early for you?"

He frowned, but at the same time, he was glad she'd share another meal with him before he had to traipse off into the wilderness alone. "Uh. Sure. Pick you up at six."

But he could tell from her expression, she was already distancing herself from him.

"Or we could meet down in the restaurant," she said.

That clinched it. But he wasn't letting her go, just yet. He shook his head. "I'll knock on your door at six."

When she left his room, he waited at his open doorway while she unlocked her door, but then she just stared into the room. He hoped she was changing her mind about staying with him a little longer, and not that something more was wrong.

"Faith?"

"I think the clerk let someone else into my room." Her voice was a little shaky.

Cameron crossed the floor to check out her room when his door automatically shut behind him. He swore under his breath, realizing at once his room key was lying on the desk.

She raised her brows at him. "Did you leave your key—"

"Yeah."

"You could stay here and watch Underworld with me while you're waiting for another room key."

He chuckled and rubbed his hand over her back, but every muscle remained rigid with tension. "You've got a deal. How do you know someone came into your room?" He escorted her inside and shut the door.

"My suitcase was open. My bathroom door was closed. And my overnight bag is on its side now, not standing upright."

"Check and see if anything's missing." He stalked over to the phone and called the front desk and asked to speak with the manager.

"Nothing's missing that I can tell."

A businesslike male voice responded on the phone. "Yes, this is Mr. Dodson, the manager on duty. How may I help you?"

"The clerks on the front desk had given Ms. O'Malley the key to my room and twice, had given a key to her room to other customers."

"I'm so sorry for the trouble, Mister…"

"MacPherson."

"May I speak with Ms. O'Malley, Mr. MacPherson?"

Cameron handed the phone to Faith as she finished looking through her bags. "Yes, this is Faith O'Malley."

Cameron watched the expression on Faith's face change from annoyance to surprise as she glanced up at him. "A complimentary room for the night is fine. Thank you. And can someone send up a room key for Mr. MacPherson in Room 317? Thanks." She hung up the phone. "They'll be right up with your key." She motioned to the bed and turned on the TV. "Might as well get comfortable while we wait."

"No one stole anything, I take it?"

"No." But she was back to looking perturbed.

"If you want me to, I'll spend the night."

That got a big smile from her, which brightened her whole expression, her eyes beaming with amusement, her glossy lips turned up in a big way. He figured she wasn't buying it.

"I'll bolt my door after you leave. I should have done so when I was taking a shower."

He was glad he hadn't bolted his door when he was taking his shower.

He was quick to settle in the bed with her as she turned on the television and found the channel they'd been watching. He hoped the hotel staff would forget the key, but in short order someone knocked on the door, probably trying to accommodate them after all the fiascoes tonight.

He wanted to ignore whoever was at the door, but Faith gave him a little smile. He sighed. "We have a date for the morning," he reminded her.

"Six a.m. sharp."

He leaned over and kissed her lips, just a brush of flesh against flesh, her mouth soft, warm, sweetened with lemon-lime, and way too enticing.

Whoever was at the door knocked again. Faith almost looked hopeful the intruder would vanish as she leaned a little into the kiss, her eyes closing slightly, her breathing nearly nonexistent, her hand barely touching his thigh. But when Cameron went to do the kiss more justice, she pulled away. "Tomorrow, bright and early."

His hands cupped her face, brought her to him, and he pressed his lips harder against her mouth. He gave her something to remember him by, just like he'd be thinking about the enticing woman when he was alone in his room tonight, wishing for more. Then he left the bed.

When he answered the door, a man dressed in a suit apologized profusely.

Cameron glanced over his shoulder before he left Faith, and he thought she looked like she needed more of a kiss, her lips slightly parted, begging for more attention.

But she quickly said, "'Night," as if that would keep her out of trouble.

Smiling, he shook his head. "'Night, Faith. See you in the morning." He just hoped he could wake up in time. He had better arrange for a wakeup call and hope the staff would at least get that right or he'd have somebody's head.

Okay, so Cameron was really a dreamy hunk, but did that mean Faith was supposed to lie awake half the night thinking about his kisses? The first one as light and airy as it was promised so much more. And the second one, he was ready to stay the night for sure. She touched her lips again for the hundredth time, wondering how his kisses, as sweet as they were, made her whole body tingle, when she'd felt barely anything with Hilson's. Maybe because Cameron was new? Something unexpected?

That's what it had to be. An uncanny attraction that made her whole body heat up, again, with delicious anticipation.

Breakfast, that's all this was. And then she'd be on her way to find Hilson, and Cameron MacPherson would be on his way to whatever business he had to conduct. And regrettably, she'd never see him again.

With her bag packed and sitting next to the door, Faith glanced at her watch, and then the room clock one last time. Cameron MacPherson was twenty minutes late. She couldn't wait any longer, no matter how sexy or intriguing the guy was. She whipped out a note on the hotel stationery telling him to meet her if he made it in time and planned to slip it under Cameron's door when she saw the tip of a note under hers.

She opened her door and found a folded note. Inside, the message on hotel stationery said, "Sorry to have missed you. Had to leave earlier than expected. If I return before you have breakfast, I'll meet with you in the restaurant. Cameron."

She sighed, left her room, and closed her door, then headed for the elevator, rolling her suitcase along behind her. Probably for the best. Although self-doubt began to worm its way into her thoughts. Had she turned him off by one too many rejections? She groaned at herself, always overanalyzing everything.

After the hostess seated Faith in the mostly empty lodge restaurant, where the dark brown furniture and décor made her feel as if she were in a bear's den, she watched the entryway. Hoping for a glimpse of Cameron's sparkling eyes and his roguish smile that would brighten up the place considerably, she couldn't help wondering what he might be wearing this morning. From nothing, to a towel, to a pair of jeans and nothing else, to boxers, and jeans again with an open shirt, he seemed like the kind of guy better suited to a hot weather climate.

She delayed ordering her cinnamon roll for a good twenty more minutes. But he never showed. Trying not to feel any disappointment or think anything more about Cameron, she finally gave up, had her green tea and roll, then got into her rental vehicle and drove in the direction of Back Country Tours. She had business to take care of, after all, and Cameron wasn't part of the deal.

When she reached the office, Faith found that the hotel clerk was right. The carved white wolf sign hanging off the building couldn't be missed. Pictures of snow-covered peaks hung in the windows and everything was white—the trim, the brick façade, even the roof was nearly white, which made it blend in with the snow accumulated against the buildings as if it were an ice cave in the Antarctic.

A light was on inside and her spirits lifted. According to Hilson's itinerary, he was coming here first. And maybe she'd finally get some answers to where the hunter guide, Trevor Hodges, was. The man who had taken her father on the tour that changed her father's life forever had to have seen something. Or at least confirm that nothing extraordinary had happened. But when her father had returned home, he began writing the research paper with such zeal, she suspected whatever had happened here had triggered his need to write it. And, besides locating Hilson and the flash drive, she wanted to know the story from Trevor's point of view.

As soon as she walked into the office, she sensed something wasn't right. The place was entirely too quiet. A massive oak desk sat near the entrance, like a fortified barrier to keep the riffraff from going any further into the labyrinth of offices. Or at least that's the way it appeared to Faith.

Then she heard a rustle of papers and a drawer sliding open down the hall. "Hello?" she said, moving toward the hallway leading to several rooms.

The noise instantly ceased. She really didn't have a good feeling about this.

She backed up and turned around to leave the building pronto, when she saw a man's shoe sticking out from behind the massive desk near the entryway.

It's just a shoe, she told herself. A door somewhere else in the building opened, then closed. She hurried around the desk and started, seeing a white-haired old man lying still on the floor, clothed in a suit, missing one shoe, his face gray, his eyes staring at the ceiling, lifeless. She reached for his wrist, felt no pulse. His skin was cold. He'd been dead for a while.

She couldn't see any sign of a struggle, or foul play, but if someone had killed the man and was still in the building, she could be next. She headed for the door, jerked it open, and came face-to-face with Cameron MacPherson.

She gave a wispy gasp, threw her hand to her chest, and took a step back.

Tousled by the wind, sandy blond hair fell to the top of his plaid collar, softening his stern look a hint. His parka was open, a soft cabled sweater hugging his broad chest, the sky blue color electrifying his eyes even more. But his eyes widened at the sight of her, and he quickly reached out to steady her.

Her mouth dropped open and he stared at her with a look of disbelief.

"Faith O'Malley?" he said, as if he was so shocked to see her here, he had to confirm it really was she.

"I… there's…" She pushed against him to get out of the building. The killer, if there was one, could be inside, and might decide to finish them off next.

Cameron took hold of her arm and stopped her, the strength of his touch defeating her panic. "What's wrong? You look as white as this building."

"A dead man's in there. Not that I haven't seen a lot of them in the work I do, but the police always call me to the scene after they've dealt with it. I'm never the first one at the scene."

"The work you do?"

"I'm a forensic scientist."

His brows raised a little, but she swore a hint of admiration appeared in his expression.

"Did you touch anything?"

"Sure, the man's wrist. To make sure he's dead. Been that way for a while. Skin's cold."

"You're sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. He's not, and if he was murdered, the guy might be still in the building. I heard noises in one of the offices off the hall."

Cameron reached under his jacket and drew out a gun, but he still hadn't released her, as if he feared she'd collapse or something. "Go outside and call 9-1-1."

Her lips parted, she stared at the weapon, then looked up at Cameron.

"Private Investigator. I have a permit to carry one. Former police officer, too." Cameron pulled out some ID to confirm it.

She closed her mouth, looked back at the other offices, then slipped her cell phone out of her purse. "Then I'm staying right here." She figured she was safer with him since he had the gun and credentials, than away from him.

"All right." However, instead of checking for the intruder, Cameron did a quick check of the body.

Faith got the 911 operator and said, "I'm Faith O'Malley and I'm at Back Country Tours where I found a dead man behind the receptionist's desk."

The operator asked a million questions, or at least it seemed like it, before Faith finally ended the conversation to see what Cameron had discovered about the victim. "Do you see any evidence of a crime?"

He pointed to the man's shirt. "Speck of blood on the front of his dress shirt. I don't see any evidence of any kind of trauma, blow to the head, strangulation, nothing. Looks like he might have been injected with something. No way to confirm my suspicions without stripping him down and looking for a needle mark, and then identifying something foreign in the body. Stay here, or go outside and wait for the police. I'll be right back."

Cameron strode off down the hallway.

"Wait! Don't you think that's a little dangerous?"

"That's why you're to wait here or outside for the police." He didn't say another word, but headed down the hall.

A cold breeze from the open doorway thoroughly chilled her, and she rubbed her arms, then leaned over the body again and opened the buttons on the man's shirt. Peeling the shirt away just a little, she examined his chest. Cameron was right. He'd been poked with a needle and the area had bled slightly before the man died. But what was really bizarre was a drip of shiny silver glistening at the point of entry.

A couple of sirens wailed down the road, and she quickly rebuttoned the man's shirt, then wiped the buttons clean with a tissue.

Before the police arrived, Cameron hurried back into the office, took hold of her arm as if he were her knight to the rescue, and led Faith out of the building. But even outside, he didn't loosen his grip on her. She could envision him as a former police officer rescuing women in distress and taking great pride in his work. "Did you see any sign of anyone?" she asked.

He looked a little blank.

"When you went into the back offices. Did you see anyone?"

"No. A door was wide open at the back of the building. He or she probably got out that way."

Instantly, Faith was suspicious. Not just of the person who had been in the building looking for something, who probably killed the old man, but of Cameron. Because she could swear he was holding out on her.

As soon as the police arrived, Faith and Cameron showed their credentials to the officers. She thought they acted oddly. She wasn't sure why. Maybe because they didn't seem too surprised. Or because they didn't appear very much concerned that Faith and Cameron might be the murderers. Which may have been because the police were dealing with a serial killer and they knew Faith and Cameron couldn't have been involved because they were out-of-towners and both worked or, in Cameron's case, had worked, with the police. Or maybe it was because the men were jaded—just another dead guy case.

The one had brownish butch hair, his light brown eyes glued to her, as if he was interested in more than her story in regard to her finding a dead body. As if he recognized her, or was intrigued with her, but not as a suspect or witness. Officer Mick Whitson. She couldn't figure out the mixed messages. The other, Bert Adams, moved around the room, his gaze darting about, taking everything in. Several times he sniffed the air. His hair was darker, his eyes hazel, and he had a heavier build. He was the one who asked the questions, as if he was in charge, while Whitson watched Faith's reactions. Not Cameron's, just Faith's.

Officer Adams finished his preliminary cursory examination of the room, then faced Cameron. "And why were you here?"

"Looking for friends of mine, fellow private investigators in a partnership, who haven't returned from a hunt."

"With Back Country Tours?"

"Yes. They made the arrangements with the staff here and are a week overdue back in Seattle. No word, except for a garbled call to our partner in Seattle, which isn't like them."

She was impressed. If she worked for an outfit like that, she'd never expect one of her partners would come looking for her. Just a few calls made, and wait it out a while longer to see if she was just delayed.

Neither of the officers commented concerning Cameron's story, though, which bothered her. She'd hoped they'd reassure him that his friends were okay. She truly thought they'd say something about a recent snowstorm that might have delayed them, or how bad communications were out in the wilderness, but they said nothing, both just seemed to stiffen a little.

Officer Adams shifted his attention to Faith. "And your business here?" Curt, abrupt, businesslike.

She hesitated. Everyone watched her, anticipating her answer. She was sure she'd alerted them something about her story wouldn't quite be on the up and up.

Well, she could say the same about Cameron. The part about looking for his friends was probably true, but he wasn't just checking for the killer in the building either when he went to investigate. And she felt something wasn't quite right about the two cops either.

"Can I see your ID again?" she asked the men.

From their non-reaction, she figured she'd stunned them. Although Cameron managed a small smile.

The officers exchanged glances, and then the one in charge, Officer Adams, pulled out his ID. After she looked at it, at him, and at the ID again, she nodded and handed it back. His face stern, he never broke a smile. But the other one, now he did. The smile showed dark amusement. He handed his ID over, made a point to touch her hand, and when she returned his ID, he managed to sweep his hand over hers, lingering a little longer, a little more invasive, as a prelude to something more.

Cameron looked miffed, even stepped closer to her, and glowered at Whitson as if to remind him to act professional and stay away from Faith.

Not needing the rescue, she tilted her chin up, gave Whitson a look like this was strictly business to her, when Officer Adams reminded her he was waiting for an answer.

"I'm searching for a tour guide who took my father on a hunt last year," she told the officer. "I wanted to take the same trip he'd taken. The guide worked for Back Country Tours." She spoke matter-of-factly, as if she told the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.

She thought about mentioning her father's research paper, that her former boyfriend had stolen it, and was in these parts close by, but she knew the police wouldn't be interested in any of it. But if they were, they'd ask what the paper was about, and she wouldn't be able to explain. How crazy would that sound? It was better not to bring it up.

More than that, and for whatever reason, she didn't want Cameron to know she had a boyfriend. Well, he was an ex, but she hadn't officially told Hilson that. Although she was pretty sure Hilson knew already. And had planned it that way. Unless he was dumb enough to think she couldn't figure out who stole her father's flash drive and hard drive and then intended to come back to her. She couldn't forgive him though.

Cameron's brows raised just a hint. And she was certain he didn't believe her.

The officers again exchanged glances and Officer Adams said under his breath to Whitson, "Kenneth O'Malley's daughter."

"You met my dad?" she asked, unable to contain her surprise.

"No," Adams quickly said. "It's a small town. He was asking a lot of questions, which caught the police department's attention. We discovered he was doing some kind of sociology study and that was the end of it."

But they seemed to have recognized she was related to her father even before she mentioned her name. Or maybe she was just making more of their reactions and wasn't correct in her assumptions. So much for keeping her father's business here secret. At least they probably didn't think she'd totally lied. She did want to see where he'd gone on his trip here.

But what really got to her more than anything, though, was neither asked who the guide was. Although maybe they'd talked to Trevor about him and already knew that he was her father's guide. Small town. Sure.

"If we have any more questions for either of you, where will you be staying for the next several days?" Officer Adams asked.

Cameron, being the gentleman he was, let Faith go first. She cleared her throat, dug around in her purse, then pulled out a piece of paper. Wrong one. List of what she wanted to do when she got here. She dug around a little more, found the slip of paper that she wrote Hilson's itinerary on—after having discovered the password on his computer, teach him to run off with her father's stuff—the receipt for breakfast, for the hotel, and yes! The information on her cabin rental at Nahamkanta Lake Rustic Resort.

She handed it to Officer Adams, who jotted down the information.

"No telephone service that far out. And cell phones won't work," he warned. "When you reach the trail head, you have to ski in, get in by dogsled, or snow mobiles. Snowshoes if you want to trek ten miles on the unplowed road."

"Yes, that's what the clerk said. But they're the only other cabins near Baxter Park that still had a vacancy and that's hopefully where Trevor Hodges is camping. At least the hotel clerk said she thought he was when I called earlier. But I dropped by here first to speak to the staff that employs him to learn more of his current whereabouts in the event he moved camp, if I could."

"You've made arrangements to get to the resort once you reach the trailhead?" Officer Adams asked.

"Yes. I'm renting a snowmobile."

Cameron smiled a little and she wondered if he thought she couldn't do this. Not that she was really a rustic type, but the place had two heated shower houses, flush toilets, and a hot tub. So it couldn't be all that rough. And she'd sledded before so no problem there.

Cameron handed Officer Adams a piece of paper and the guy looked at it, then back at Faith. "All right." He jotted the information down in his notebook. "If we need to get in touch, we will. Have a safe trip."

Officer Whitson gave her a slight nod of his head, as if sharing the other officer's sentiments. For her, not for Cameron. The officer didn't give him the time of day.

Cameron escorted Faith outside, but not before she overheard Officer Adams tell Whitson, "She's a wanted woman, and you don't stand a chance."

She wondered if the officer thought she and Cameron were already an item as Cameron walked her to her vehicle, which amused her and seemed to Cameron also.

"What's the name of your cabin?" he asked, as they crunched along the crusted snow on the walk, his body touching hers in a possessive and provocative way.

There was something about the way he moved beside her, as if she was truly with him, not like the way Hilson would have acted as though he just happened to be there walking in the same direction she was at the same time. She wondered if Cameron acted the same way with all women. Maybe he was a womanizer, well versed in how to make himself more attractive to the female sex. "Don't tell me you're staying at the same rustic resort."

She slipped a little on an icy patch on the snow covered sidewalk, and Cameron's hand shot out to take hold of her arm. Hilson would have done the same, but then Cameron went a step further, pulled her in close to his body and wrapped his arm around her waist, making sure she didn't slide again. She hid a smile. If he slipped next, they'd probably both go down. But it was damned cold out, and she enjoyed the heat of his touch.

"Seems we're looking for clues in the same direction. I'm at White Wolf Den."

"The cabin I'm staying at is Black Bear Den. Are you using a snowmobile?" she asked.

"Yeah, from Skidoo Rentals."

"Guess we are headed in the same direction. Maybe we could have lunch together."

Cameron smiled and the expression was as if he'd found out her itinerary beforehand and had this whole thing planned from the beginning, from handing out keys to his and her rooms, to leaving his own key by accident in his room. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Yeah, well after you stood me up for breakfast…" She arched a brow at him.

He gave her a warm squeeze and chuckled. "I knew I'd never live it down if I saw you again. You want me to lead the way?"

"Sounds—" She spied a gray pickup sitting across the street at a barbershop. No driver in the vehicle, and it might not have been the one that she thought had been following her last night, but then again, maybe it was. She had the most awful urge to take a peek in the truck to see if the seats had white dog hair, or make that— white wolf hairs—on the seats.

Cameron looked over at the truck. "Something wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "No, no, lead the way." As tinted as the windows were, she didn't figure she could see inside all that well anyway.

Again he considered the pickup, then patted her SUV. "All right. Don't lose me."

"I don't intend to lose you." Flakes were already falling, and she was sure if they didn't hurry, they might be caught in the middle of the snowstorm. She definitely didn't want to be alone if that happened.

Once he made sure she got into her vehicle all right, with the pretense he didn't want her slipping again, which was fine by her, he climbed into his rental car. But as they drove off, he inched past the gray pickup as if the speed limit were five miles per hour. She swore he was writing down the license plate number—she had done that too.

When they reached the place for the snowmobile rentals an hour later, Faith and Cameron went inside a small grocery store next door to get provisions. Cameron was picking up a few items on another aisle, when Faith noticed how much the snow was falling. Too fast.

Last time she was in a snowstorm, she'd been visiting her dad at Portland Community College, taking in the hilltop view as she enjoyed a hot cocoa with him in between his classes. The falling snow looked majestic, blanketing everything in a fresh coat of white. Beautiful, until they tried to leave after his final class that day and were trapped with tons of other vehicles attempting to return home in the storm. Pile-ups. Stuck cars. While she and her father had struggled to get snow chains on the tires. What a mess.

"Hurry up, Cameron," she said, coming up behind him as he weighed the options of buying one package of tuna over another.

"I always bargain shop."

"That's great, but do it faster then. We've got to get out of here before we're stuck staying at the lodge in Millinocket for another night because of the storm. And who knows whose room we'll end up in this time if the same clerk is on the desk."

He chuckled and tugged gently on the tassel of her blue and red striped ski cap. "Would be all right if we ended up in the same room again." He eyed the prices again on the packages of tuna. "If I don't choose the right tuna, I could be broke before I return home."

She grabbed one of the packages from him. "Fine. I'll pay for it." Then she hurried to the checkout.

He soon caught up with her with a basket loaded with a week's worth of goodies, and she eyed the snack foods and a couple of salmon steaks in the mix. "If you're so broke, why did you have that gigantic steak for dinner? And room service at that? Plus salmon also now?"

He just winked at her. Yeah, he wasn't so broke. She thought it admirable that he bargain shopped, although about now, all that mattered was that they get on their way.

Then they were off, leaving their rented vehicles in a parking area behind the snowmobile rental shop, bags and sleeping bags loaded onto their snowmobiles, the snow falling way too rapidly. But Faith was sure they'd make the ten-mile trek in time before they lost their way.

She called her father, although she knew he'd still be sleeping at this hour and by the time she reached the cabins, he'd be in the middle of teaching Sociology 101 to a bunch of tired students in the early morning class, but she wanted to leave him one more message. "Dad, I'm off to the dead zone."

She didn't mention how she'd found a body, or a hunk, or how the police officers knew of her father.

She sighed and signed off with, "I love you. Call you later when I have a signal again. Don't work too hard. I'll get the flash drive back. And I'll be home as soon as I can. Don't worry."

But now she was worried. She envisioned getting here, locating Hilson, having it out with him, and he'd have a conscience and give the research back to her. Now she was having doubts her plan would work. What if she couldn't find him? What if he refused to give the flash drive back? Or what if he got rid of it already?

What then?

And something she'd been avoiding considering— why did Hilson want the information so badly? And what had he planned to do with it? Plus, what was the research all about that made it so damned important in the first place?