It took Dana ten minutes to pack. I’ve got to get out of here and find another place. She suddenly remembered. Aren’t you asking about Cozy Log, our bed-and-breakfast inn? You’re in luck. We have one room available. Dana went down to the lobby to check out. The clerk gave her directions to the inn and drew a small map.
In the basement of the government building, the man looking at the digital map on the computer said, “The subject is leaving the downtown area, heading west.”
The Cozy Log Bed-and-Breakfast Inn was a neat one-story Alaskan log house, half an hour away from downtown Juneau. Perfect. Dana rang the front doorbell and the door was opened by an attractive, cheerful woman in her thirties.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I met your husband, and he mentioned that you had a room available.”
“Indeed we do. I’m Judy Bowler.”
“Dana Evans.”
“Come in.”
Dana stepped inside and looked around. The inn consisted of a large, comfortable living room with a stone fireplace, a dining room where the boarders ate, and two bedrooms with bathrooms.
“I do all the cooking here,” Judy Bowler said. “It’s pretty good.”
Dana smiled warmly. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Judy Bowler showed Dana to her room. It was clean and homey looking. Dana unpacked.
There was one other couple boarding there, and the conversation was casual. Neither of them recognized Dana.
After lunch, Dana drove back into town. She walked into the bar of the Cliff House and ordered a drink. All the employees looked tan and healthy. Of course.
“Beautiful weather,” Dana said to the young blond bartender.
“Yeah. Great skiing weather.”
“Do you ski a lot?”
He smiled. “Whenever I can steal time off.”
“Too dangerous for me.” Dana sighed. “A friend of mine got killed here a few months ago.”
He put down the glass he was polishing. “Killed?”
“Yes. Julie Winthrop.”
His expression clouded. “She used to come in here. Nice lady.”
Dana leaned forward. “I heard it wasn’t an accident.”
His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“I heard she was murdered.”
“Murdered?” he said incredulously. “Not a chance. It was an accident.”
Twenty minutes later Dana was talking to the bartender at the Prospector Hotel.
“Beautiful weather.”
“Good skiing weather,” the bartender said.
Dana shook her head. “Too dangerous for me. A friend of mine got killed here skiing. You might have met her. Julie Winthrop.”
“Oh, sure. I liked her a lot. I mean, she didn’t put on airs, like some people. She was real down-to-earth.”
Dana leaned forward. “I heard her death wasn’t an accident.”
The expression on the bartender’s face changed. He lowered his voice. “I know damn well it wasn’t.”
Dana’s heart quickened. “You do?”
“You bet.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Those damn Martians…”
She was at the top of Ptarmigan Mountain on skis, and she could feel the cold wind biting at her. She looked down at the valley below, trying to decide whether to return, when suddenly she felt a push from behind, and she was hurtling down the slopes, faster and faster, heading toward a huge tree. Just before she hit the tree, she woke up, screaming.
Dana sat up in bed, trembling. Is that what had happened to Julie Winthrop? Who pushed her to her death?
Elliot Cromwell was impatient.
“Matt, when the hell is Jeff Connors coming back? We need him.”
“Soon. He keeps in touch.”
“And what about Dana?”
“She’s in Alaska, Elliot. Why?”
“I would like to see her back here. The ratings on our evening broadcasts have gone down.”
And Matt Baker looked at him and wondered if that was the real reason for Elliot Cromwell’s concern.
In the morning, Dana dressed and drove back into the center of town.
At the airport, waiting for her flight to be called, Dana noticed a man sitting in a corner looking at her from time to time. He looked strangely familiar. He was dressed in a dark gray suit, and he reminded her of someone. And Dana remembered who it was. A different man at the Aspen airport. He had also worn a dark gray suit. But it was not the clothes that triggered Dana’s memory. It was something in their bearing. Both of them had an unpleasant aura of arrogance. He was watching her with a look that almost bordered on contempt. She felt a chill.