Free A Wicked Snow by Gregg Olsen Page A

fabricate. It disgusted her. Despite what she'd heard, she still couldn't concentrate. She tried Deke Meyer's office, but his secretary (his fourth wife, Sheila) said he was out "running errands or something." Her mind was preoccupied, and she couldn't focus on anything other than the conversation with the FBI agent. At 11:30, she looked at her watch and called Ethan. When he answered his phone, she told him about her conversation with Bauer.
    "He's going to see Marcus on Friday," she said.
    Ethan knew his wife better than anyone. He knew what she was going to say next and was already exasperated by her, so he said it out loud.
    "You're thinking of going up there, aren't you?"
    "I am," she answered, her words surprising her a little. "I guess I am."
    "Hannah, haven't you been through enough?" he asked. "Haven't we all? Remember when you told me-- promised us --that Orlando would be the last time you went chasing after your mother? I hate to say it. I hate to think it, but you've got to pull yourself in and stop this before we go through this over and over."
    "This isn't about her," she said, stiffening in her chair. "Someone out there knows who I am. Don't you get it? This could ruin our lives." Her voice started to crack. "It could destroy everything."
    Ethan was in a no-win situation, and he knew it. "You've made up your mind. I already know that. Let's talk about it tonight," he said. His voice was uncharacteristically flat. There was no talking about it. The absence of emotion had more to do with resignation than lack of genuine concern. Ethan had stood by his wife as she chased the memories that haunted her. She'd pursued four Claire Logan sightings since their marriage. She'd gone after her mother when news agencies reported appearances in Orlando, Pittsburgh, Tulsa, and Cabo San Lucas. And though Ethan knew this time could be like all the others--a literal dead end--it appeared a bit more promising. The shoes were either a prank or a taunt. He wondered if Claire Logan herself had sent them.
    Hannah had already packed and Amber was reading at the kitchen table by the time Ethan came home that evening. She'd told her boss, DA Bill Gilliand, that she needed a couple days off for personal reasons. And she'd be back in the lab on Monday. After some characteristic browbeating--mostly for show--he acquiesced. Gilliand considered Hannah among the brightest and the most dedicated of the county employees--lawyers and lab rats--in his office. He did not know her family background, even though there had been a hundred times when she wanted to talk to him about it. There were times when she wanted to talk to anyone besides Ethan about it. But outside of her aunt and uncle and a cousin in Georgia, no one knew. Until, of course, an unknown someone had sent the package.
    Hannah also double-checked the refrigerator to make sure Ethan would find something to eat, though she expected he'd take their daughter out to California Pizza Kitchen or another of the little girl's favorite places. The last thing she did was to call a message in to Jeff Bauer. She knew he'd be at the office and he'd given her his home number. Voice mail picked up.
    "Jeff, this is Hannah Griffin. I'll meet you at Cutter's Landing in the prison parking lot at nine thirty tomorrow morning. I'm leaving as soon as I hang up, and I won't have my cell with me. See you there. I want to see Marcus Wheaton, too. Bye."
    When she hung up, she turned to find Ethan standing beside her. He knew what Hannah was going to say, so he spoke first.
    "You're going to see Wheaton. Do you want me to go with you? We could get a sitter."
    "No," she said. She couldn't do that to Amber. "I'll be all right."
    Amber rushed to her mother and wrapped her arms around her.
    "I'll see you and Daddy on Saturday. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die." She made the motion across her breast.
    "Be careful, babe," Ethan said without looking at her.
    "You know I will," she said.
    Amber hugged her a