The Suspect Groom

“And you’re a pretty big thing.”

“You’re right about that.” He glanced at David. “She’s a beauty. Ain’t Ivan got all the luck?”

“Just so. What’s the problem here, Reuben?”

“Early this morning, at first light, a couple of kids came through here. Cross-country skiing, they said, but I expect they had their rifles with them. No way to prove it, though. So, you tell Ivan not to press charges for poaching. They were good boys to come forward even though they might get in trouble.”

“I hope nothing happened to them,” David said.

“They found a body. A man’s body. Or what was left of it...after the wolves.”

“Anybody we know?”

“I don’t think so. If he was carrying a wallet, it’s gone now. His face and hands are pretty well torn up.”

Trina shuddered. The cold wind swept around her, but the icy feeling came from deep within her heart. What a horrible way to die! Being eaten by wolves. The trembling froze her blood, and she folded her arms across her waist, holding tight to keep the bones from rattling against each other. She tried to be braver. This was beautiful Alaska!

And yet, she was frightened. This sort of thing never happened in urban Denver where she’d worked as a secretary. Her voice squeaked like a rusty hinge on a door that she was trying with all her might to keep closed. “Wolves, you say?”

Reuben nodded. “It was wolves, all right.”

She felt David’s presence nearby. Though he didn’t touch her, he was close, shielding her from the fearful chill.

The sheriff continued. “He had some high-class snow gear. His parka was shredded, but it was one of those fine Gore-Tex things. Good boots. Thermal everything. Not that all the padding in the world could save him from hungry wolves.”

“He was careless,” David said. “Really, Trina, this sort of thing doesn’t happen every day.”

“Every other day?” she said, trying to be rough and ready despite the tremor in her voice.

“Seldom,” David said. “Most people know better than to go wandering off at night and get themselves lost. That must have been what happened. Right, Sheriff?”

“Don’t know. My guess is that he died at least a couple of days ago. Maybe even a week. Hard to say. We’ve had some light snowfalls at night.”

They stood and watched. About two hundred yards from the road, Trina saw a group of men trudging through ankle-deep snow. Two of them glided a litter across the rolling field. Though the body on the coffin-size sled was completely covered, she too easily imagined the dead man.

Her stomach lurched. Trina closed her eyes rather than turning away. She didn’t want to betray any weakness. This was her new home. If she wanted to stake her claim, she needed to be strong.

“But it wasn’t just the wolves that got him,” Reuben said. “Nope, this good old boy was dead before he hit the ground. Three bullet holes right in the back.”

* * *

DAVID HAD BEEN looking forward to meeting Trina and showing her the wonders of Alaska, a little piece of heaven. Instead, he had introduced her to a hellish murder.

Though she had exclaimed enthusiastically when they first beheld the buildings of the Stoddard Lodge and Hunting Preserve, her voice held a high note, a tremble like the sound of a startled thrush. She’d been tense, stiff. When he’d showed her the bedroom in the big house beside the lodge, the bedroom that was to be her own, she asked for a moment alone.

David left her, went downstairs and through the front room to the study. He rapped on the door. “Ivan!”

“What the hell is it?”

Pushing open the door, David entered. “I’ve got her.”

“Her?”

“Trina Martin. The woman you’re going to marry.”

“Oh. Her.” Ivan peered through hooded eyelids that always reminded David of a hawk or a falcon. A predator. That was Ivan. Though he could be vicious and demanding, he never apologized for his attitude. And David respected that. Ivan was what he was—no worse and no better. “What’s she look like, David?”

“If you cared, you could have come to the airfield.”

“I was busy. I had a crisis to attend.”

David glanced around the quiet office. The fax machine was still. The copier, untouched. The screen of the computer, equipped with up-to-date software, stood dark and blank. On the desk top in front of Ivan, a game of solitaire was spread but unfinished. “Light seven to dark eight,” David said. “I can see how busy you are.”

Ivan moved the cards and flipped through the deck again. There were no more moves.

“Looks like you’ve lost,” David said.

“By now, you know me better than that.” Ivan manipulated the layout of the solitaire game and won by cheating. “There. That’s better.”

“By the way,” David said, “about the crisis... Reuben says the dead man isn’t easily recognizable and has no identification.”

“So they don’t know who it was.”

“Not a clue. And he was shot.”

“Murdered?” There was a singular lack of surprise in Ivan’s question. He scooped up his deck of cards. “When?”

“They can’t tell. Reuben said they’d probably go all the way to Juneau for forensics.”

“A forensics team? My, my, a real homicide. That must be a big deal for Sheriff Reuben Kittridge.”

David settled himself into the chair opposite the desk. Over the past five years, he’d sat here so often that the leather was worn to the shape of his rump. The distance was exactly right for David to stretch out his long legs and prop his boot heels on the edge of the desk. Usually, he was content, even pleased, by Ivan’s lack of attention to business because it left more for David to work on. But this was different. Trina was different. David couldn’t allow Ivan to run roughshod over her life.

“Reuben probably thinks he can give me a hard time about this,” Ivan said. A slow, evil smile curled his lips. “I’ll look forward to his feeble attempts.”

“This is murder, Ivan. Take it seriously.”

“One more dead trespasser. Who cares?” He looked up. “Tell me about the girl.”

“She’s okay.”

“Only okay? I wanted somebody who’d make the rest of you backwoods yahoos sit up and notice. Is she going to do that?”

David cleared his throat, paused. He wanted to say that Trina was more than a trophy. One look had told him that. She was warm and bright with an inner beauty that outshone her lovely exterior. But David couldn’t admit his feelings. Ivan would laugh and tell him to forget it. He’d marry Trina just to spite David.

Damn it, there wasn’t time to come up with the right words to express the effect Trina had had on him. And that was a great irony in Alaska where—during the dark cold winter—time stretched into a slow infinity. Since Trina arrived, every moment seemed to speed as quickly as sand in an hourglass. Every moment was sparkling.

“So where’s my bride?”

“Upstairs in her room, making herself pretty,” David said.

“For me.” Ivan grinned. “I’m going to like having some sweet young thing fluttering round, catering to my every whim. I don’t know why I didn’t do this years ago.”

David’s jaw tightened. Ivan didn’t deserve a woman who was as sweet and sensitive as Trina. He wouldn’t appreciate her. He’d ordered up a bride with the casual disregard he might use in placing a catalog order. As long as she was approximately the right size and shape, he didn’t care about what was inside. If it weren’t for those letters, those damn letters...

Trina stepped lightly into the room. She’d changed from her travel clothes into a long, purple and white sweater and matching purple leggings. She wore a large silver locket at her throat. On her feet were beige suede boots that were very stylish, but unsuitable for going out in the snow. Her long mane of brown hair rippled past her shoulders, and her eyes danced with the same happy excitement David had seen when she left the airplane.

David rose to his feet and so did Ivan.

She moved toward them with a fetching shyness, so eager to please, and David hoped with all his heart that Ivan would be gentle with her.

“Trina Martin,” he said. “At last we meet.”

“At last.”

He took her hand, raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her fingertips. “What did you think of your bedroom, Trina?”

“It’s very...pink,” she said.

“Women like pink.”

“Well, yes. And I don’t mean to criticize. But I’m not a Barbie doll.”

“It’s Maybelle’s fault. She’s the housekeeper, and she ordered the bedspreads and curtains. Made David work overtime putting up that rosebud wallpaper.”

“The housekeeper?” Trina brightened. “This place comes with a housekeeper?”

“Maybelle Ballou,” he said. “But she’s leaving at the end of the month. Going south.” He regarded Trina with that hooded stare. “That won’t happen with you.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” she asked.

“You’ll be my wife. You can’t just up and quit because the winter’s too cold. Or you’re lonely.” He sneered. “A wife needs a home, and that’s what I’m giving you. A home and a lodge and a barn and several outbuildings. Not to mention the two thousand acres of land. That’s a pretty damn good bargain, Trina.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” But she wasn’t sure if she believed that she’d just made the deal of the century. Ivan Stoddard wasn’t at all what she had expected. Though he was an attractive man, tall and lean, with sharp features, there was a harsh, intimidating light that emanated from his dark eyes. His short-cropped hair was iron gray. He was most definitely older than his letters suggested. Though Trina had subtracted ten years from her own résumé, she suspected Ivan was closer to sixty-five than forty-five.

“How many employees do you have?” she asked.

“Up to twelve when the lodge is full. Which isn’t often. In the wintertime, it’s usually just me and David and the housekeeper. When Maybelle leaves, that would be David, me and you.”

“Me? Then, am I expected to act as housekeeper?”

“Well, you wouldn’t want some other woman messing with your house.”

“I didn’t sign on to be an employee, Ivan. There’s more to being a wife than—”

“Sure, sure,” he interrupted as he returned to the chair behind his desk. He stared at her. “Turn around, Trina.”

“What?”

“I want to inspect you. I’m making an investment here.”

“To inspect me?” She felt her cheeks grow red with embarrassment and anger. This man was nothing like his letters. Ivan was crass and rude and...

“You heard me, honey. Turn around.”

Finally David spoke, “Come on, Ivan. Knock it off.”

“I have the right.”

“Well, why don’t you ask her to open her mouth so you can check out her teeth like a horse you might buy.” David stepped up beside her and squeezed her shoulders protectively. “He’s joking.”

“I’m not,” Ivan said. “Little Trina here claims to be twenty-five, but she looks a damn sight older.”

She cringed inside. Her lie! She’d already been caught in her lie!

“Does it matter?” David asked.

“Hell, yes. I want my wife to give me some legal heirs. Sons, of course.”

“I see,” Trina snapped. “And do we drown the daughters?”

“What?” A perplexed frown crossed Ivan’s face, then he said, “Don’t take me wrong, Trina. I’ve got nothing against women. I like women. Living up here, I’ve learned that a strong woman can do almost anything a man can do. But I’d prefer little boys. I’m an older man. I’d like a kid to play with, and I don’t much care for dollies and dress up.”

“Talk about your mixed messages,” she said under her breath. In one quick statement, Ivan had credited women and discredited them at the same time.

The telephone on Ivan’s desk rang and he snatched it up. As soon as he recognized the caller, his voice softened like butter in the sun. “And I’m real pleased to hear from you, too. You hold on for just a second, okay?”

He turned his gaze on Trina. His gaze scoped from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “I guess you’ll do just fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding.”

“But—”

“That’s all, Trina.” Ivan nodded to David. “Get her some dinner and put her to bed.”

A dozen protests sputtered behind her lips, but she was too confused to speak, and David was turning her gently toward the door. She gazed up at him and saw a wellspring of sensitivity in his dark eyes. If only he had been the man she’d come to marry, everything would be wonderful. She could have forgotten the dead man in the field, could have been truly happy.

Had she expected too much? She touched the silver locket at her throat. Inside, folded tight, was a scrap of paper from one of his letters. One word was written upon it—love.

When she reached the door, Ivan called out. “Hey! Your backside looks just fine to me.”

What had she gotten herself into?

Chapter Two

Trina marched along beside David, not speaking. She kept her chin high. Her encounter with Ivan reminded her, more than anything, of those years in her childhood when her military father barked out orders and it was her job to obey without question. During that time, she’d learned self-control. Trina knew, from experience, that she could grit her teeth and stand anything—anything!—for a brief period of time. But this was marriage, and marriage should be for a long time. A lifetime.

David directed her through the entry and down a hallway. They passed an arch that led to the kitchen where they could hear the housekeeper, Maybelle, at work. From there, David took Trina down a few steps to another, narrower corridor.

She tripped on another small stair, recovered her poise and said, “This floor plan doesn’t make sense. Up a half flight, down a hall, up another. It’s like a house put together with children’s building blocks.”

“Makes sense when you consider the weather,” he said. “In the summer, it’s possible to build and add on. So the houses up here tend to expand in spurts. This addition was my special project three years ago.”

He opened a door to a spacious room, paneled entirely in faintly redolent cedar. The most striking features were a large moss rock fireplace and wide windows that showed a view of the barn. David opened a door on the right side of the fireplace. “In here is my office. The other closed door leads to my bedroom.”

She watched him warily as he added another log to the blaze in the fireplace. “Why did you bring me here, David?”

“I thought you might need a friend. I know you’re disappointed. Your first meeting with Ivan didn’t go exactly as you wanted.”

An understatement if she’d ever heard one. “It could have gone worse. I mean, he didn’t bite the head off a live chicken or anything.”

“I might have a solution.”

“Murder Ivan?” she suggested.

“The thought has crossed my mind—a number of times. But I don’t think we need to try anything so drastic.”

“Okay, David, what do you think I should do?”

She glanced at him. Even though she couldn’t see him clearly without her glasses, he appeared to be uncomfortable, and he spoke with hesitation,. “Sometimes, Trina, things aren’t as they seem.”

She nodded. What was he trying to tell her?

“Sometimes, a person can make an honest mistake. It occurs to me that things might not work out with you and Ivan. Now, if that happens to be the case—”

“I don’t want to think about that.” She perched on the wide stone ledge beside the fireplace and sighed. “It’s true that Ivan isn’t all that I had hoped for, but I really haven’t given him much of a chance. I felt much the same way about him after our brief phone conversations, but then I’d read his letters again. I know the man has a kind, gentle heart.”

Maybe Ivan just needed a good woman to bring his shining qualities to the forefront. Maybe he just had a gruff exterior. Or maybe she was kidding herself and Ivan was an irreparable jerk. If he really intended to marry her tomorrow, she didn’t have much time to figure out which was which.

“He seems to be a generous man,” Trina finally ventured.

“When it suits him.”

“I mean, you heard all the things he offered me. The house. The lodge. The land.” She lifted her hand, turned it toward the fire. “Look at this ring, this diamond. It had to be expensive.” But the ring felt heavy on her finger. And the diamond glittered with a cold, harsh light.

“Ivan’s a wealthy man,” David conceded. “I don’t know his liquid value, but his assets make him a millionaire. He made his money in oil thirty years ago. He’s owned this lodge and all the acreage for twenty years. He’s rich, all right.”

Comforting, she thought, but money didn’t really matter. Character was more important in a husband than wealth. She stuck to her initial, hopeful assessment. “He’s generous.”

“And rich. I guess that’s enough to make you go ahead with the wedding.”

“What are you suggesting? That I’d marry a man because of his assets?”

“I’ve been told that it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one.”

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Right. Sure.” He sounded disbelieving. “If not money, what do you want?”

“A home.”

“You had a home. In Denver.”

“A place to live isn’t a home. In any case, it’s not there anymore. I quit my job, gave up my apartment and sold my car.”

“Why?”

“Because...” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t tell David that she’d been foolish enough to fall in love with a man based on a stack of letters, but that was the truth. With his written words, Ivan had captured her heart.

“Is it because you knew you’d be coming into money?”

“Why do you keep harping on that?”

“I’m looking at the facts, Trina. You’re a mail-order bride. Why? Money. Why else would you come here and offer yourself to a man you’d never met?”

How dare he insinuate that she could be bought! She bounded to her feet and strode toward the door.

“Trina, wait!”

“I won’t sit here and be insulted. Not by you.”

“But by him? By Ivan?” David caught up with her at the door. “You heard what he wants from you. A live-in housekeeper who will bear his sons.”

“Leave me alone, David.”

He grasped her arm and she pivoted quickly. In reflex, her hand rose to slap his face. He caught her wrist, stopping the blow before it landed.

When she looked into his blazing eyes, sparks ignited between them. She staggered backward a step, shocked by the unwarranted passion she felt. What was going on in her head? She was furious with David, so mad she’d almost slapped him. And yet, she wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms, to taste his lips, to feel his strong, lean body against hers.

This couldn’t be! Though David was undeniably handsome, she couldn’t succumb to this terrible, inappropriate attraction. This was the eve of her wedding day. She shouldn’t even be looking at another man.

“I’ll be in my room, David. I don’t want dinner. I’m not hungry.”

She wrenched away from his grasp and fled through the mazes of stairs and corridors to find her ridiculous second-floor room that was all flounces, fluff and pink, pink, pink.

She’d never been so confused. Pacing back and forth on creaking floorboards, she felt trapped by her irrational emotions. She fought to calm the thumping of her heart against her rib cage when she thought of...David. Not Ivan, but David St. John. From the moment she’d seen him through the window of the Cessna, he’d been everything she wanted in a man. But it wasn’t right! She needed to ground herself, to make sense of this.

She grasped the silver locket, unfastened the catch and opened it. Carefully, she unfolded the tiny piece of paper. When Ivan had been writing to her, the body of his letters was typed on a computer, but the signature was written. At first, he’d signed his letters with “sincerely,” then he progressed to “cordially.” On the letter he wrote on Valentine’s Day, he signed with the single word she treasured in her locket. “Love, Ivan.”

No matter how horrible he’d seemed when they met, he had written to her of love.

Trina dug through her suitcase until she found his letters. She threw herself across the pink satin bedspread and read the promise he’d written on Valentine’s Day. “The nights in Alaska are the worst. Long, cold and dark. I lie in my solitary bed, wishing for the warmth of someone beside me. Wishing for you. Wishing I could touch your long, silken hair. Wishing I could hear your gentle heart, beating in rhythm with mine. If you marry me, Trina, I vow that your nights will never be lonely....”

In other letters, he had talked about seeing the reflection of a waterfall in her eyes, sitting together on the porch, holding hands and watching the migration of Canadian geese. He wanted to show her the snow foxes and river otters at play. But she couldn’t reconcile his prose with the man who had callously asked her to turn around for inspection.

And what about the phone call he’d received before he dismissed her? His sweetened voice and furtive manner made her think that the caller was a woman. Was he in love with someone else? Was he planning his own special bachelor party in the arms of another woman?

Exhaustion descended upon her like a heavy cloud. Trina kicked off her boots and crept under the covers, sleeping fitfully throughout the night.

The next morning, the skies were still blue, but the snow clouds were rising. Gazing from her window, she marveled at this magnificent land and wished she could be happy. Today, after all, might be her wedding day. But her emotions crashed around her. Her wedding day? “What have I done?”

Her father would have told her to buck up and get on with it, and—for once—Trina figured that was good advice. She needed to meet with Ivan, to assess his attitude and make her decision.

But first, she needed to dress. She stripped, grabbed her terry cloth bathrobe and headed across the wide landing toward the bathroom. She knocked on the door and waited for a response. When none came, she twisted the knob.

A man stood just inside. It was almost as if he were waiting for her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Trina stepped back, averting her gaze from his bared chest. All he wore was a robe.

“You must be the blushing bride,” he said.

“Blushing is correct.” With one hand, she shielded her eyes. With the other, she clutched her bathroom supplies and tried to hold her robe closed. “I didn’t know I was barging in on you.”

“I don’t mind. After all, you’re practically family. I’m Victor Stoddard, Ivan’s nephew from Juneau.”

She hadn’t even thought of Ivan’s family arriving for the wedding. To call it off would be dreadfully embarrassing.

“Aren’t you going to shake my hand, Trina?”

“Of course, I don’t mean to be rude.” If he wasn’t embarrassed, why should she be? She stuck out her hand and looked directly into his eyes. The family resemblance was unattractive on Victor. Where Ivan’s sharp features gave definition to his face, Victor’s were exaggerated. His cheekbones jutted outward, creating sunken cheeks. His nose was too large and pointed for his weak chin. She shook his hand quickly. “Pleased to meet you, Victor. I’m Trina Martin.”

“Soon to be Trina Martin Stoddard. My Auntie Trina.”

His weak grasp clung to her. His skin was still damp and clammy from the shower. She suppressed a sense of revulsion. “Are there other family members here?”

“There are no other family members. Both of my parents and my brother were killed in a small plane crash. About two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That makes me Ivan’s only living relative.” He made no move to allow her into the bathroom. “Except for you, of course.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go back to my room and wait until you’re finished in the bathroom. Again, I’m sorry.”

“I’m finished.” When he stepped into the hall and brushed past her, he came a little too close for comfort. Trina dodged around him and slipped into the bathroom. She didn’t breathe comfortably until she’d locked the door.