“Cabin?” Randall frowned. “That has to be at least fifteen hundred square feet. That’s a house if I ever saw one.”
Chase waved a finger in different directions. “They’re popping up all over Norway. Most are not this big, of course. But Norwegians wanting to get away from their busy lives are renting and buying these mountain retreats. It’s the latest craze.”
Devlin stuck her ski poles in the snow, stepped out of her skis, and shoved a hand into a coat pocket. “And you’re sure Crane is using this place right now?”
“Ninety percent sure.”
“Well,” she hauled out her cell phone, “if that’s true, then we need to start doing some recon.”
Hearing her words and seeing the mobile device in her gloved hands, Randall undid his boots from his bindings. “Good thinking, Jessica. But let’s do this right. If Crane is in there, then,” he helped Faith get out of her bindings and gain solid footing, “we don’t want him getting suspicious of people taking pictures of his hideaway.”
Devlin backed up and stood atop a mound of snow on the far side of the ski run.
Chase retreated to get out of the frame.
Wrapping his left arm around Faith’s waist and taking her with him, “Act like we’re,” Randall sidestepped to his right a few paces while glancing over his shoulder at the fancy cabin, “on vacation and in love.”
She hugged his waist with her right arm, laid her left hand on his chest, and tipped her head back a bit to take in his handsome features from six inches away. That won’t be hard to do.
Satisfied he and Faith were in the shot, but not blocking the target, he pivoted back, stopping to regard her attractiveness. A tick later, lowering his voice, “The camera’s,” he tipped his head toward Devlin, “that way.”
“Yes, but the view,” she whispered, “is better this way.”
Grinning from ear to ear, he faced the photographer. That it is, Miss Mahoney. That, he saw her beauty in his mind’s eye, it is.
Beaming, Faith turned toward her sister and gave the camera a big, bright smile.
Devlin snapped several photos of the happy couple and posed with Chase for a few more—to help sell the tourists-on-vacation appearance—before everyone clamped boots into bindings and wrapped fingers around ski poles. The female marshal gave the heavily wooded private real estate a long look. “I’m not making out any roads leading to the cabin. Is there one on the other side we can’t see, Chase?”
“No ma’am...helicopter only. I suppose they figure if you can afford to stay there, then you can afford the transportation cost.” Chase affixed his goggles over his eyes. “If we’re done here, I’ll lead us to our humble little chalet.” He leaned forward and headed down the hill.
*******
45 MINUTES LATER...
9:29 A.M.
Randall glided to a stop outside the chalet located halfway up the southeast side of the mountain, popped off his skis, and leaned them, along with his poles, against the building beside three other sets of ski equipment.
Breaking off from Devlin, Faith, and Chase at the chalet thirty minutes ago, Randall had skied to the gondola and made the trek back to the top of the slopes where he had then found the gap in the trees he had spotted on his first run.
After having scaled the orange snow fence and inspected the area beyond, he had hopped back over the barrier and made a slow pass by the massive cabin again before continuing down the mountain and stopping at the chalet Chase had rented for the four of them.
Randall stomped his boots on the wooden deck and entered the tiny abode. Smelling wood smoke, he spotted a large fireplace on the wall to his left. He shed his winter jacket and hung it on a rack next to the door while glimpsing the rest of his ski group.
Sharing a three-person couch that faced the fire, Devlin and Faith sat with their feet on a four-foot coffee table.
On their two o’clock, his legs crossed—ankle on knee—Chase slouched in a chair while nursing a bottle of water.
Randall spied the rest of the floor plan.
A miniscule-sized kitchen, behind Chase, showed only a small refrigerator and a microwave oven for appliances. To the right of the kitchen, a door led to a bedroom.
Randall pulled off his boots and shuffled over to a second chair situated on Devlin and Faith’s ten o’clock. Glancing inside the bedroom while claiming his seat, he noticed a queen-sized bed and a nightstand on either side before giving the diminutive main space another peek. “Well, this is cozy.” He grinned at Chase. “I hope it didn’t drain the CIA’s bank account.”
Chase lifted a shoulder. “Princess didn’t give me much notice...or else I would’ve booked you a five-star.”
Randall chuckled and eyed the siblings sitting side-by-side, both studying Devlin’s phone.
Faith scowled. “You’re law enforcement, too, Jess, so I know you’re asking yourself the same question.” She glimpsed the men and threw up a hand. “Why aren’t we working with the local police to get a warrant and knock down the door of this cabin, mansion...or whatever the heck we’re calling it?”
Devlin crossed arms over her belly. “Something tells me it’s not that simple.” She eyed the males. “Am I right?”
Chase raised eyebrows at Randall.
Randall swung a finger back at the man. “Since we’re working off your Intel, I’ll let you explain the nuances.”
The younger man put both feet on the floor, “I can do that,” leaned forward to set his drink on the table, clasped hands, and rested elbows on knees. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not disrespecting you ladies in any way, but,” he paused, “you really need to understand that your badges mean absolutely nothing...where you are right now.”
Randall watched the women exchange glances.
“You’re operating in the world of black ops—covert ops.”
Faith cocked her head at him. “How is arresting someone who’s escaped custody a black
