Snow Cat

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

“I take it whoever was in that car hasn’t shown up,” John said when he came into Mick’s office.

“Not that anyone’s reported. I guess we hope he did catch a ride, probably with someone passing through on their way down the mountain.”

“Better than thinking he wandered off somewhere and died from hyperthermia.”

Mick nodded in agreement. “I stopped by Paulie’s garage where they took the car. The plates are from Utah—Roosevelt, to be exact—which matches the registration. On the off chance, I called the cops there. The man I spoke with had no idea who the owner of the vehicle was. He checked their files. There are no wants or warrants out on Mr. Murphy. Interesting thing is, the address on the registration is for a rooming house, he said.”

“He going to keep an eye out for him? It would be nice to know if he survived.”

“Yeah, he said he would and let us know.” Mick shrugged. “Guess that’s the best we can do unless Murphy shows up here to claim his car.”

“It could happen, I suppose, though you’d think he would have already. It’s been a day since the accident.”

“True. Nothing we can do about it now however. And on a different note, Beth over at the hardware store said it looked like someone tried to break in. Pete’s checking it out. Other than that, it’s situation normal, so let’s get out there and make sure it remains that way.”

* * * *

“Can I help you, sir?” Carly asked as she stood beside the booth, one hip thrust out, ready to take the man’s order.

Wynn looked up from the menu, asking with a smile, “What would you recommend?”

“The chicken-fried steak is good. So is the meatloaf.”

“Meatloaf it is, with mashed potatoes and no vegetables.”

“Coffee?”

“Please, with creamer.”

“You know,” Carly blurted out, negating her well-practiced image as a world-weary diner waitress, “you don’t look old enough to have white hair.”

Wynn chuckled, his pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “So I’ve been told. It’s genetic.”

“You could dye it, you know.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“Um, okay. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Trust me. You’re not the first or I’m sure, the last, to do so.” He smiled as he watched her leave then went back to reading the local paper he’d picked up on his way to the diner.

He wouldn’t have been here at all if he hadn’t wanted to find out if anyone had found his car and maybe had it towed it into town. He suspected even if they had, the front end was probably too badly mangled for it to be drivable—which would be annoying but he’d deal. There was nothing in the paper about an accident on the highway. After checking the date at the top of the page, he realized why. It was a weekly and had come out yesterday morning before the accident.

Folding the paper, he turned his attention to what was going on outside the diner’s large front window. The streets were plowed after yesterday’s storm and most of the sidewalks had been shoveled. People bustled along, winter coats wrapped tight, hoods or caps covering their heads. As he watched, a police car pulled up and parked, two men in brown uniforms getting out. They paused for a moment, looking around with cop’s wary eyes, then came toward the front door of the diner.

* * * *

Mick checked out the diner as he and John entered. He smiled, nudging John. “Looks like your lady’s working today.”

“Carly is not ‘my lady’,” John grumbled, but his eyes lit up when he saw her. “We’ve been on two dates is all.”

“So, go ask her for a third while I grab us a booth.”

John hesitated then wandered over to where Carly was standing. Two minutes later he joined Mick in a booth, taking off his jacket while smiling happily. “We’re going to a show tomorrow night after she gets off work.”

“So that makes her your lady now, right?” Mick replied with a grin.

“Maybe, sort of. Or not.” John reached for the menu to defuse Mick’s interest.

Mick didn’t bother with a menu; he knew it by heart. But he did look at the chalkboard with the daily specials, just in case there actually was one—which there wasn’t. At the same time, he saw someone he didn’t know sitting in the back booth. “I wonder if that’s our Mr. Murphy,” he murmured, almost to himself.

John overheard him and glanced around. “The guy with the long, white hair? Could be, I suppose.”

Mick studied the man, who seemed to be concentrating on whatever was going on outside of the diner. “If it is, he wasn’t as badly hurt as the blood on the windshield of the car might indicate. I don’t see any damage to his face.”

The man turned, almost as if he’d heard them talking about him, a frown marring his handsome face for a second before vanishing as he smiled at Carly when she set his meal down in front of him.

Then she came over to take Mick and John’s order. When Mick asked, she said she’d never seen the man before today, which didn’t surprise Mick. Hair like his would have made him stand out in a crowd, especially since Mick figured from his face and build he couldn’t be more than in his late twenties at most.

“So do we ask?” John said when Carly left.

“Yep.” Mick got up, indicating John should stay where he was, and walked back to the man’s booth.

* * * *

Wynn looked at the dark-haired man who slid into the booth, noting the badge pinned to his shirt. “Can I help you, Sheriff, or are you just welcoming me to town.”

“A bit of both. I’m Mick Greene and you are…?”

“Walt Murphy.” Wynn held out his hand and Mick shook it. He had a firm grip, but that didn’t surprise Wynn. Most men in authority did, he’d discovered over the years.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Mick commented.

Wynn smiled. “Probably because this is my first time here.” He paused a moment. “I had an accident yesterday and when I went back, my car was gone. I’m hoping someone towed it here, since this is the closest town.”

“It’s here, Mr. Murphy. May I ask where you spent your time between when you hit the tree and now? I’d have expected you to show up sooner since you seem to think the car might be here.”

Wynn frowned. “Some of the time, I’m not sure about. I remember seeing the tree coming at me then running into it. After that it’s a blank until I came to, woke up, whatever, in someone’s barn, buried in a pile of hay. My best guess is I hit my head hard enough to daze me, got out of the car and, hell, maybe was going for help. That’s about all I can tell you. When I woke up, it was almost dawn. I didn’t feel bad, just a headache. No one was around, at least where I could see them, so I plowed my way through the snow to the highway and back to where I thought my car was.”

He took a drink of coffee before continuing. “Needless to say, it wasn’t there so I started walking. Saw the sign telling me I was close to a town and, well, here I am. I was hungry, so I decided to eat before stopping by the sheriff’s office to see if my car was anywhere around.”

“It’s at the local garage.” Mick leaned back, studying Wynn. “Not drivable at the moment, I’m afraid.”

“Didn’t think it would be. Can it be repaired?”

“You’ll have to ask Paulie. He’s the man who owns the garage.”

Wynn nodded. “If it is, is there a hotel, boarding house, or what have you where I can put up until it’s fixed?”

“There’s the Blue Creek Hotel down two blocks and Ms. Lang’s Rooming House just at the edge of town.”

At that point, Carly had returned to Mick’s table with his and John’s meals so he excused himself, saying, “Stop by the station sometime this afternoon and file a report on the accident, please.”

“Will do.” Wynn watched him walk away, his gaze landing briefly on the sheriff’s broad shoulders and sliding down to his narrow hips. With a shake of his head, he reminded himself he was here to get what he needed from his car and move on before anyone knew where he’d landed.