Page 48 of Fool Me Once (Blackhawk Security)

As they neared the city of Livingston, a sign flashed on the side of the road. Bozeman Pass was closed because of the storm. Everyone needed to exit at Livingston.

“You see that?” Gideon asked Alex.

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “What are we going to do?”

“Only thing we can do. Stop in Livingston for the night.”

“And give Jerry a chance to catch up to us?” Alex said, wrapping her arms around herself.

“We don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice sharp. “The road through the pass is closed.” He nodded at a sign that flashed past. “There are two Livingston exits. Hotels at both of them. I vote we get off at the second one. I’m betting most people will stop at the first one. Try to get a motel room.”

“Probably,” Alex said. “And Jerry’s impulsive. He’ll stop at the first exit.”

“By the time he gets here, he’ll have to take what he can find. No one’s going beyond Livingston tonight.”

* * *

Jerry turned off I-94 and headed toward Boughton. Alex had been at a little motel in this Podunk town for a few days. Hunkered down in the storm.

Maybe that fancy car of hers had gotten stuck in the snow, and she was waiting for a tow. The tracker hadn’t moved for the past two days, since shortly after the storm started.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to make her death look like an accident. Maybe he could knock her unconscious and dump her in a field of snow. Or in a ditch. Yeah. That would be better. It’d look like her car broke down and she tried to walk to town. He had the spare set of keys for her car, so he could easily set that up. If he knocked her out, she’d freeze to death. It wasn’t painful. Or so he’d heard. You just went to sleep.

And if the Russians had gotten to the motel before he did?

Alex would already be dead. Jerry had made it clear to those two thugs that it had to look like an accident, so his problem would be solved.

The sign for the Parkside Motel appeared as he rounded a curve. He slowed as he got closer. No sign of Alex’s car in the unplowed parking area.

A dark sedan was there, though. He sucked in a breath. The Russian’s car.

Jerry pulled onto the shoulder and watched the motel for several minutes. No sign of the two Russians. Or Alex.

Impatient, Jerry exited the car and began walking toward the motel. It didn’t look as if anyone was staying here, which was strange. Motel rooms would have been scarce during a storm like that one. The owners could’ve charged a fortune for a room.

As he trudged past the rooms, he didn’t see a single light in any of them. There were a few footprints in the snow, but not as many as there would have been if the motel was full. As he got closer to the far end of the motel, he saw yellow tape flapping in the wind.

When he reached what he realized was the office, he saw that there was a police seal on the door. ‘Crime scene. Entry forbidden.’

Jerry sucked in a breath. The Russians must have beaten him here. Taken care of business, then disappeared.

He glanced over his shoulder at the car parked at an angle. Why had they left their car?

Had they stolen another one? Gotten on the interstate and vanished into the wind?

He pulled out his phone and tried calling one of the two men. No answer. He tried the other guy. No answer.

The sealed door was slightly ajar. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then pushed the door open. Ducked under the tape and stepped inside.

He walked around the desk and into the room behind it. No one there, but he noticed a dark spot on the rug near the radiator. Squatting to examine it, he touched the spot. Tacky. His fingers were red when he lifted is hand.

What had happened in this room? Was it Alex’s blood? Or one of the Russians?

Handy if it was Alex.

He sucked in a deep breath, his first one in a long time. Let his shoulders relax.

He was almost to his car when the breath rushed from his lungs. If Alex was dead, who the hell had the money and the files?

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