Wed To A Stranger? Read online

  Sam glanced over the bottles of chemicals in the room, then toward the uniformed officers in the hallway. Raising his voice, he called, “Could somebody bag up these chemicals? I need a full report—their names, what they’re used for.”

  Something about Katie Darnell’s murder scene wasn’t right. And Sam Giles meant to find out what. After all, he had justice to uphold. Not to mention his hundred-percent-solved case rate.

  Chapter One

  White Wolf Pass, Alaska

  The present…

  Fritzi watched as the top of her best friend’s head popped through the neck hole of an oversize sweater. Hannah’s thick golden blond hair cascaded over her shoulders.

  “Fritzi,” Hannah said, “are you sure you won’t mind staying here alone?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Fritzi glanced around the master bedroom of Hannah’s spacious, two-story shingled house in the Alaskan mountains. “The baby and I love it already.”

  “Hurry up, Hannah—” The shout came from the bottom of the stairs. “Or we’ll never make it out of here before the storm hits.”

  Hannah grinned, now tugging on black leggings. “Can you believe I actually married that nag?”

  “Yeah.” Fritzi chuckled and gave the small oldfashioned cradle next to the bed a gentle push. “Your new husband’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  “So’s your baby.” Hannah sighed wistfully, glancing at Malcolm who was sleeping. “I can’t wait to have one. And I can never thank you enough for filling in for me.”

  Fritzi was taking over Hannah’s class while she went on her honeymoon, then staying with Matt Craig until his company transfered him back. Fritzi shrugged. “Well, I hadn’t found a job in D.C. yet.”

  Hannah nodded. “Just don’t forget I told everyone here you were married. They’re all terrified that another unmarried schoolteacher might find herself a husband the way I did.”

  Fritzi’s temper flared. “I am married, Hannah.” At least I thought so. But Fritzi was using her maiden name again.since no copy of her marriage license to David Frayne was on file in Washington, and the chapel where she and David had exchanged vows claimed the minister had never been assigned there.

  Looking uncomfortable, Hannah started stuffing last-minute items into a carry-on bag. “Look,” she began apologetically, “I know you were married, but—”

  But Hannah thought Fritzi had soothed the pain of her parents’ deaths by having a whirlwind affair; she believed Fritzi had gotten pregnant and the man had refused to marry her—and that Fritzi was only pretending she’d gotten married so the baby wouldn’t seem fatherless. Not that Hannah would say it aloud.

  The doubt in Hannah’s eyes hurt. So did David’s betrayal. But the man existed—as surely as the snugly bundle of joy that was their son. Not that six-monthold Malcolm didn’t pose his own mystery. With his jet hair and eyes that were turning black, the baby looked like neither the russet-haired Fritzi nor the brown-haired David.

  Hannah sighed. “Oh, Fritzi…”

  “Forget it, Hannah.”

  “But I just don’t know what to think!” Hannah rushed on. “Everything you said about David sounded so strange. That obviously wasn’t his real name, there’s no record of your marriage or pictures, and I never even met him.”

  A year ago, wrapped securely in David’s arms, Fritzi had thought their spending so much time alone was romantic. Now she wondered if David had intentionally weaseled out of meeting her friends because he’d always planned to leave her. Fighting to keep the defensiveness from her tone, she said, “Hannah, David’s things are all over this bed.”

  Hannah glanced over the items that Fritzi had found in an unused, forgotten closet of her town house—jeans, dress slacks and a few shirts, an old shoe-shine kit, a camera and a silver-handled hair brush.

  “And you packed and brought them?” Hannah murmured.

  Fritzi wished Hannah could understand. “I couldn’t bear to throw away his things.”

  “But he’s been gone a year.” Hannah sighed. “Look, I do believe you, Fritz….”

  But Hannah didn’t. Not wanting to fight, Fritzi conceded, “Well, we may as well leave David’s things out for show, in case your neighbors drop by.”

  Comfortable with the shift in subject, Hannah began another bout of chatter. “Well, they’re your neighbors now. I told everybody you’re married to a man named David. I said he was an embassy worker with a four-month assignment overseas, but that he’ll probably manage to visit you—”

  “Oh, Hannah, don’t you think that’s taking things too far?”

  Always the prankster, Hannah chuckled. “You’ll just have to make excuses when he doesn’t show. Besides, it’ll give people something to think about other than this wretched snowstorm.”

  As Hannah went on, talking about the neighbors, the upcoming Iditrod race and a local musher who was going to compete, Fritzi crossed the spacious bedroom that would be hers for the rest of the winter. Windows wrapped the room on three sides, and, by turns, the outdoors looked inviting or menacing. Probably why Alaska was called the land of many faces, Fritzi thought.

  Practically without sunlight this time of year, everything lay in shades of snowy darkness—in a floating world of pearl mists, gray fog and clouds that shimmered in an eternal twilight. Nature had overtaken the landscape like a stealthy predator, circling Hannah’s house with thick forests of cedar, hemlock and cottonwoods. Northward, through the back windows, cliffs rose above the treeline, their steep rock faces inlaid with jagged, ice-filled crevices. The only sign of civilization was a. faint, flickering yellow light below, from a bed-and-breakfast at the far end of Main Street in White Wolf Pass.

  The town itself was tucked between the No Name and Red Run Rivers, icy intertidal waters that were full of floating ice and red salmon and that converged to the south, then flowed to sea. It was once a boomtown, until the canneries had pulled out in the forties, and now the population was spread over the mountainside and could barely support a school.

  Hannah’s sunny disposition definitely brightened the place; no doubt, things would turn a little creepy once she was gone. Already Fritzi was unnerved by the unfamiliar sounds—the howling wind and wolves, the eerie kleek, kleek of eagles feeding on spawnedout salmon in the icy rivers.

  But it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Especially if David really did come…

  For weeks, she’d run a personal ad in the Washington Post that read, “I still love you, David Frayne. I’m taking our son, Malcolm, to White Wolf Pass, Alaska. Come if you can. Always, Fritzi.”

  And he will come, she thought now. He just has to.

  So many lonely nights Fritzi had lain awake, still craving David’s touch, his warmth. And sometimes, when she’d answered the phone after midnight, the person on the line had remained silent. Deep in her heart, she’d known the caller was David.

  Oh, she’d imagined countless explanations for his disappearance—but she’d finally decided he was in trouble.or in danger. And if that was the case, maybe David could only come to her if she left Washington. Fritzi just hoped he’d see the personal ad and realize they’d made a baby together. Not that they’d necessarily get back together. The man had betrayed her trust. And when he left her, Fritzi had felt rage such as she’d never known.

  “Fritz?”

  Hannah’s voice drew her from her reverie. “Hmm?”

  “I said, there’s a loaded.38 revolver in the top left kitchen cabinet, in case any wild critters come too close to the house.”

  Fritzi’s mouth quirked. “Like I’d really shoot a grizzly, Hannah.”

  Hannah laughed. “Speaking of wild things, don’t do anything on my bearskin rug that I wouldn’t do.”

  Fritzi visualized the sumptuous faux fur rug as she gave Malcolm’s cradle another push. “Believe me, men are the furthest thing from my mind. But you’d better get started on your honeymoon before the storm really hits.”

  Hannah glanced at the heavy snow already sweepin
g past the windows, then nodded. “Another hour and it’ll be too icy for boats to get up the rivers, and nobody’s going to fly in these winds if they can help it.”

  Fritzi cracked a smile. “Trying to tell me I’m trapped?”

  Hannah chuckled. “Yeah, but if you get bored, call Joe Tanook.”

  Fritzi grinned. “The phones are already down. But maybe I’ll break a few laws, give the poor guy something to do.” The amiable half Tlingit sheriff apparently spent his winters whittling decoy ducks in the town’s two-cell jail house, which was called the “detention center.” Every spring, he sold the ducks to tourist shops in Scagway and Haines. When Fritzi met the local lawman, he assured her she’d be safe living alone since no crime had ever been committed in White Wolf Pass.

  Somehow, the comment had struck a nerve. Fritzi had wanted to say that she’d felt safe on her wedding day, too. Not that it meant anything—no more than the sunny afternoon when she’d put her parents on a plane, unaware she’d never see them again. A sudden emptiness hollowed her insides—leaving only loss, abandonment.

  “Fritz?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Seriously,” Hannah said. “You’ve got to get the shortwave radio fixed. The snowmobile and fourwheel drive are out there. And Brownie Mulray’s got his dog team, if you need something. The nearest house is Abby and Mitch Evans’s, and you’re bound to become friends since Abby’s teaching fourth and fifth grades.”

  Fritzi shot Hannah a level look. “I’ll be fine.” And I’ll be waiting for David.

  Of course, she couldn’t tell Hannah she’d really come to Alaska hoping David might approach her in a more remote location. Or that countless questions still haunted hen: Why was David’s office building really vacant? Why was there no record of their marriage? And where was the minister who’d married them? The woman who’d witnessed their vows?

  And there was something else Fritzi couldn’t confess to Hannah—that since her arrival, she’d sensed someone watching her. And Fritzi had begun to believe that David had already followed her here.

  “WHERE’s DADDV’S HUNTING knife?” Fritzi dragged a hand through her hair, visualizing the simple leather sheath, the cherry-wood handle that was monogrammed with her father’s initials, and the sharp, serrated blade. Unlike Hannah, Fritzi was neat and meticulous. And she was positive she’d packed that knife in the box with her best cutlery.

  Not that she’d be throwing many dinner parties here. The storm had hit full force after Hannah’s departure. The next day, Fritzi had taught, but now school had been closed nearly a week. Not a soul had ventured outside.

  The clatter of silver comforted her as she fished in the cutlery box. Old tunes played on a batteryoperated boom box—right now Roberta Flack belted out, “The first time ever I saw your face”—and yet the house still seemed so quiet Fritzi could scream. “Might as well,” she muttered. “Not a soul would hear.”

  Just thinking about her intense isolation made the hairs at her nape rise. Then she felt angry for being so edgy—at David, since she’d only come here in case he might contact her.

  Hoping to finish unpacking before Malcolm awakened from his nap upstairs, Fritzi flicked on all the downstairs lights. Still, she could feel the dense midday darkness wrapping around her like a shroud. Well, if Hannah could enjoy living in this pitch-dark wilderness, so can I. She sighed. “I know Daddy’s knife was here.”

  Or was her mind playing tricks again? Fritzi could swear odd things were happening—supplies she’d shelved were missing, items she’d unpacked had been moved. She’d thought Hannah said the.38 revolver was in a top kitchen cabinet, but now the gun was gone. And just two nights ago, she’d awakened abruptly from a dead sleep. Running to the window, she was sure she’d seen footprints in the snow. When they vanished in a gust of wind, she’d wondered if she was mistaken or if she’d merely seen animal tracks.

  Besides, if David came, he’d surely knock.

  At least, that’s what she’d thought—until last night when she’d awakened in the middle of the night again. It was dark, the air dead calm. She could swear someone was in the bedroom. Afraid to move, she’d stared at the ceiling, straining to hear past her pounding heart and the blood surging in her veins. Then she heard a steady creaking—back and forth, back and forth.

  Malcolm’s cradle, which she kept right next to her bed, was slowly rocking.

  Now a shudder shook her shoulders. It was a dream, Fritzi. Just a dream.

  And yet all week, she’d caught herself standing at the wide bedroom windows, staring into the mesmerizing snow, simply watching for David and waiting.

  Was she going crazy? She kept reminding herself that she wasn’t used to being cooped up, alone in a blizzard, with only a baby for company. Besides, the townsfolk were nice enough, even if only Abby Evans seemed genuinely friendly.

  “No one’s out there,” Fritzi suddenly said. She wanted David to come, so she kept imagining sounds.

  Anymore, Fritzi thought in a rush of temper, she almost felt as though she had imagined David. Even Hannah thought the man was a phantom. And out here, hemmed in by mountains and endless snow, it was easy to think of herself as the proverbial Gothic heroine, a spinster schoolteacher who’d projected all her fantasies onto a dream lover. “I’m really losing it,” Fritzi said flatly.

  With sudden determination, she rose. Making a healthy amount of noise, she stomped through the kitchen, flinging open cabinets and taking inventory. Hadn’t there been another bag of dry beans and more cans of soup?

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not my imagination,” she said, as if there were someone in the room to argue with her. Her heart rate suddenly quickened.

  Were a hunting knife and a loaded gun really missing from her home—

  Suddenly, as if moving of their own accord, Fritzi’s feet took flight. She stopped breathlessly in the upstairs bathroom, her eyes roving over a razor, shaving cream and a bottle of aftershave—all the masculine items Hannah had arranged on the counter in case nosy neighbors visited. No, Fritzi thought, the second toothbrush was right where Hannah had left it.

  Heading for the bedroom, Fritzi rifled through a drawer of Hannah’s sweaters. Then she pulled out the stack of David’s old clothes that he’d forgotten in her downstairs closet in D.C. Impulsively, she pressed them to her face—and the masculine scent of musk and pine made a million memories flood her. How, one day, soon after they met, they’d snuggled on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, sipping hot, steaming coffee from foam cups. Coffee had never tasted so good, and no man had ever felt so right….

  No, David was no phantom, she thought.

  Then a scream pierced the air like a knife. Clutching David’s clothes against her heaving chest, Fritzi gasped, “Malcolm. It’s Malcolm.”

  The cry was only her son’s, waking from his nap. But Fritzi had nearly screamed herself. Heavens, her nerves were stretched so taut. And it was all because she’d convinced herself that a year after he’d so mysteriously left her David Frayne would return.

  Her hands trembling, Fritzi set down the stack of clothes, intending to head for Malcolm, who probably needed a diaper change. But as she stared down, her mouth went dry. Where was the camera? And David’s jeans?

  She’d unpacked two pairs.

  And now both of them were gone.

  “So YOUR HUSBAND’S BACK!” Abby Evans exclaimed, sweeping into Fritzi’s empty classroom with her usual dramatic flair.

  Fritzi glanced up from her desk, the blood draining. from her face. “Excuse me?”

  “I said it must be nice to have a guy to keep you warm in this weather.” Grinning lustily, the thirtyish teacher squeezed into a kid-size chair, shoved a hand in the pocket of her parka, then ran the other through her unruly black curls. She chuckled. “What? Think you can hide a husband in a town this size?”

  Fritzi’s heart fluttered uncertainly. It had been days since she’d realized David’s jeans were missing. Later, she’d become convinced that someone had
rifled through a box containing photographs of her and Malcolm. It was as if David were invisibly creeping around the house, watching her sleep during his nocturnal visits. At odd times, Fritzi could swear she heard a footstep or a creaking door.

  “You’re going to have to introduce David to polite society sometime,” Abby chided.

  “Well, I—”

  “Oh, I don’t blame you for trying to keep him to yourself.” Abby’s dark eyes sparkled. “And neither does anyone else. Like Hannah told us, all David’s traveling has got to be tough on you, especially now that you’ve got the baby.”

  At the mention of Malcolm, Fritzi glanced toward the playpen where he was sleeping. She was teaching both first and second grades, and keeping Malcolm with her was one of the perks. For an instant, her eyes strayed fearfully to the window. It was only four, but already inky dark outside. She’d wanted David to approach her here—but now so many strange things were happening. A strong sense of danger—almost a premonition—kept telling her to run. Maybe I should just cut my losses, pack tonight and try to get out of Alaska.

  “Well,” Abby continued, “if you and David want to go down to the bed-and-breakfast for a bite to eat later, Mitch and I would love to baby-sit. So would any of your first graders,” she joked. “They’ve taken a real liking to you and Malcolm. Well, you shouldn’t work much later, since David’s back.”

  Fritzi realized Abby was watching her expectantly. “Uh, Abby, what made you think that David’s…”

  Abby’s ribald laugh echoed in the silent room. “Dear heart, you live on a hill and three sides of your bedroom are glass.”

  Fritzi’s lips parted in protest. She’d certainly never dressed or undressed in the room, and she’d drawn the curtains at night when the lights were on.

  “Please, don’t look so mortified. No one saw anything—er—revealing.”

  But what had they seen? Fritzi’s pulse accelerated. “Well, that’s good,” she managed to say.

  Abby waved a hand in the air whimsically. “You’re quite the talk of the town.”