Chill Factor by Sandra Brown Page B

girl.”
    â€œI worked homicide, not missing persons,” Dutch said tightly.
    He’d been nothing but sympathetic to these people,doing everything he could to find their daughter, but he was still underappreciated. They were expecting a miracle from him because he’d been a cop in a metropolitan area.
    The way he was feeling at that moment, he wondered why in hell he’d taken this job. When the city council—led by Chairman Wes Hamer—offered it to him, he should have told them that he would become their chief of police only after they’d caught their serial kidnapper.
    But he had needed the employment. More important, he’d needed to get out of Atlanta, where he’d been humiliated personally by Lilly and professionally by the department. His divorce had become final the same month he’d been fired. Admittedly, there had been a correlation.
    When he was at his lowest point, Wes had come to Atlanta to extend him the offer. He’d boosted Dutch’s flagging ego by saying that his hometown was in dire need of a badass cop with his experience.
    It was the brand of bullshit at which Wes excelled. It was a halftime, locker room pep talk, the kind he delivered to fire up his team. Even recognizing it as such, Dutch had liked hearing it, and before he quite knew how it had come about, they were sealing their deal with a handshake.
    He was known and respected here. He knew the people, knew the town and the area like the back of his hand. Moving back to Cleary was like slipping into a comfortable pair of old shoes. But there was a definite drawback. He had walked into a mess left by his predecessor, who’d known nothingabout crime solving beyond writing a citation for an expired parking meter.
    His first day on the job, the four unsolved missing persons cases had been dumped into Dutch’s lap. Now, he had a fifth woman missing. He had a limited budget, a staff that was minimally trained and experienced, and the condescending interference of the FBI, which had become involved because it appeared this was a kidnap situation, and that was a federal offense.
    Now, two and a half years after the first girl had vanished off a popular hiking trail, there was still no suspect. It wasn’t Dutch’s fault, but it had become his baby, and it was turning ugly.
    He was in no mood for criticism, even coming from people who were going through a living hell. “I’ve still got a list of Millicent’s acquaintances to talk to,” he said. “Soon as the weather clears, I swear to you that I and every man on the force will be out there searching for her.” He stood up, signaling an end to the discussion. “Would you like me to get somebody to drive you home in a patrol car? The streets are becoming treacherous.”
    â€œNo thank you.” With admirable dignity, Mr. Gunn assisted his wife from her chair and ushered her toward the front of the building.
    â€œHard as it is, try to keep a positive outlook,” Dutch said as he followed them down the short hallway.
    Mr. Gunn merely nodded, put on his hat, and escorted his wife through the door into the wailing wind.
    â€œChief, we got a—”
    â€œIn a minute,” Dutch said, holding up his hand to interrupt the officer manning the incoming phone lines, all of which were blinking red. He pulled his cell phone from his belt and checked to see who had called.
    Lilly. And she’d left a message. Hastily he punched in the keys to access his voice mail.
    â€œDutch, I don’t know if . . . get . . . or not. I . . . accident coming down the mountain . . . Ben Tierney . . . hurt. We’re . . . the cabin. He needs med . . . attention. If . . . possibly can . . . help. As soon . . . possible.”

CHAPTER
6
    L ILLY HAD KEPT THE VOICE MAIL MESSAGE brief and to the point, in case her cell phone lost its tenuous