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Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh Book 4), by Kate Watterson
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In Kate Watterson's thrilling suspense novel Frozen, Bryce Grantham wants a quiet vacation at his family's cabin. On his first night in town, he meets a lovely girl at a bar and gives her a ride home. The next day, he finds her cell phone in his car. When he tries to return it, Bryce discovers that the young woman has vanished, leaving behind only a bloody shoe.
Suddenly Bryce Grantham is the primary suspect in a murder investigation.
Detective Ellie MacIntosch has a serial killer on her hands, but without a body, she has few leads and the stalled investigation has her on edge. Bryce Grantham seems to be the perfect suspect.
Eighteen months have gone by without a clue, and yet Grantham starts reporting stumbling across the bodies of the missing women with unbelievable frequency. The evidence against him is almost irrefutable…but Ellie's gut tells her the case is not so cut and dry.
Before Ellie compromises the investigation, her career, and possibly her life in order to prove Bryce's innocence, she must determine whether he is a manipulative, cold-blooded killer…or the victim of a madman playing a sickening game.
At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
- Sales Rank: #350663 in eBooks
- Published on: 2012-12-24
- Released on: 2012-12-24
- Format: Kindle eBook
Review
“From the first bone-chilling page to the last, Frozen kept me on the edge of my seat. Beware. Frozen will have you shivering.” ―Sandra Brown, New York Times bestselling author
“Kate Watterson's Frozen is gripping, atmospheric, and fabulous! Watterson has created a fascinating and determined detective in Ellie MacIntosh. I'm already looking forward to see what Ellie tackles next.” ―Carla Neggers, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Saint's Gate
About the Author
Kate Watterson grew up on a steady diet of mystery/suspense novels. If it involves murder and intrigue, she is bound to be hooked. Kate also writes award-winning historical novels as Emma Wildes. She lives in rural Indiana with her husband, three children, and a temperamental cat named Poot.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
He was a stage prop in his own life.
Now that was enlightening realization. Bryce Grantham eyed the darkening sky as he turned off the highway and took the small county road. Trees clawed tearing hands at the sky, the wind picking up enough that it moaned in rising protest through the branches. The shriek was audible above the music, even when he flicked up the sound.
He’d forgotten what it was like up here in late October.
The north woods held a special kind of melancholy this time of year. Gray skies, falling leaves, naked branches, and deserted roads. No more tourists, no more summer cabins full of life and light, nothing but a vast engulfing silence and autumn dying into the chill, inexorable grip of winter. Most of the places were shuttered, roof supports put in under the rafters to handle the heavy snow load, the boats hauled out of the water and beached, covered with canvas like gray shrouds, lining the shores of cold lakes that would eventually freeze into thick silent ice packs.
There, I’m all cheered up, Bryce thought in grim amusement as he guided the SUV around a turn, the wheels humming on the wet pavement. It was misting, just enough to get everything wet but not enough for windshield wipers. A soliloquy on the bleak state of his surroundings wasn’t going to improve his mood any more than the lackluster meeting he’d just attended in Wausau.
A long, boring-as-hell day with a bunch of similar boring-as-hell colleagues, and a cold, lonely night ahead. What more could a man want?
Food, he realized. A man could—and he did—want food.
All sarcasm aside, he was hungry, and the lunch provided had been little more than catered lasagna, wilted salad, and generic garlic bread. A stop at the grocery store might not have been a bad idea before he headed for the cabin. It was too late now and all he could hope for was some canned food still on the shelves when he got there, and if that didn’t pan out, he had a case of beer in the back of the car.
He hadn’t drunk his dinner since college—not even during the thing with Suzanne—but this just might be the night.
With his first stroke of luck of the day, he caught sight of the little tavern on the corner of the last intersection before he turned for Loon Lake. He’d assumed it would be closed already for the season, but a beer sign glowed in the window and the lot held six vehicles, most of them pickup trucks or four-wheel drives. Bryce pulled the Land Rover in next to a battered Ford Ranger and got out, turning up his collar against the whip of the wet wind. At least he could get some pizza, if he remembered correctly. The frozen variety, cooked in a little electric oven behind the bar, but he really wasn’t too picky at the moment.
For a man who thought he wanted solitude, he was surprised to find he craved the warmth of light and human voices.
This trip wasn’t set in stone, he reminded himself sharply as he held the door for another refugee who also hurried to get in out of the weather. The young woman shivered as she slipped past him, giving him a fleeting smile. “Nasty out,” she murmured. “And it’s just going to get colder, isn’t it? I hate winter.”
If so, she should probably choose somewhere else to live, but Bryce smiled back, grateful himself to be out of the blustery elements as he followed her into the place, hit at once by the smell of food and the yeasty scent of spilled beer. In the corner, Willie Nelson wailed out a lament from the jukebox, and three men in flannel shirts sat at the bar, idly talking. Several of the other tables were occupied also, and the two of them drew cursory looks, but everyone went back to their drinks and murmured conversation.
He said politely, “Yeah, northern Wisconsin isn’t the best place if you don’t like the cold.”
“You’re telling me. And I don’t.” She shivered again and looked around as if picking out a table. “Like the cold, that is. It seeps into your bones up here. If I didn’t have to be here, trust me, I wouldn’t be.”
Even a little wet and windblown, in a padded coat appropriate for a blustery October evening, she was very pretty, he realized in an offhand sort of way. Dark hair cut in a clean swing at the line of her jaw, blue eyes, very little make up because she really didn’t need it, blue jeans hugging nice curves. Young. Early to midtwenties maybe.
Bryce glanced back at the doorway. No one else had arrived with her as far as he could tell, and given how few people were in the place, if she’d been meeting someone, surely the person would have said something or motioned her over.
He was actually a little shy with women most of the time—too damn shy according to Suzanne—but to his own surprise he found himself saying in a perfectly normal voice, “I was going to have a beer. Can I get you one too?”
She hesitated, her gaze assessing enough that he wondered how he measured up. He needed a haircut one of these days but had been putting it off, so his hair was probably a little on the shaggy side, his leather jacket slick with rain, his expensive tailored slacks and Italian loafers out of place in a roadside tavern. Still he must have seemed harmless enough because she gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Actually, that’d be great. Thanks.”
There were no waitresses at the Pit Stop. Bryce went to the bar and asked for two drafts of Old Style, paid the bartender—who looked like a lumberjack right down to his bristly beard—and when he turned around, found the young woman had selected the table in the corner farthest away from the door. Good choice; he didn’t want the blast of cold, damp air every time someone came and went either. Bryce carried their drinks over and set hers down in front of her, but held on to his for a second. “Mind if I sit here too, or are you expecting someone?”
Bold for him. Maybe all of Suzanne’s cutting remarks had had an effect after all.
“No.”
That was kind of hard to decipher. No, he shouldn’t sit? Or no, not expecting someone?
So much for his attempt at being a little more outgoing. He stood there like an idiot, trying to decide if he needed to make a strategic retreat, until the young woman noticed his dilemma and laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t really answer that well, did I? Out of practice, I guess. Please, sit. I’d like the company.”
He pulled out one of the rickety chairs, trying to ignore the wobble of legs probably attached to the base in the 1950s. The scratched surface of the table also dated back decades, and over time people had etched their initials in spots. His companion fingered her glass of beer—it was in a plastic cup actually—and looked at him.
Of course. This was when he was supposed to make witty conversation and wow her with his intellect, but chances were he’d just bore her to tears.
Been there, done that.
Gorgeous eyes, he thought, luminous, dark in color, more indigo than anything, framed in wet lashes. Now that she’d taken off the shapeless parka, he could see that she wore underneath it a shirt in a soft pink material that clung to her breasts. “I get the impression you are not a native. You live close by?” he asked, trying to sound conversational.
“I’m a grad student from Madison actually. I’m up here doing a research project.”
“Beautiful area.” He took a sip of beer and continued. “My family has had property on Loon Lake for years.”
“My place is only a couple of miles from there. I rent a cabin, which considering half of them are deserted this time of year was harder than you might think. I had to find one that was winter-proofed enough I wouldn’t turn into an icicle by mid-November. I expect to be here until spring.”
“What sort of research?”
The jukebox clunked and started as some man in a checkered shirt and Brewers ball cap put in some change. His choice proved to be Patsy Cline proclaiming her state of mental health, but actually, Bryce had always liked the song, aside from the melancholy message.
Everyone was a little crazy in some way in his opinion.
The young woman across the table sighed. “You had to ask, didn’t you? It’s pretty boring really, unless you are getting a master’s degree in biology with a focus on northern aviary species, in which case we in the field find it fascinating, actually.”
“Birds?”
“Birds. Ornithology … exactly. I’m here to study the winter habits of nonmigratory North American birds for my thesis.”
It had been awhile since he’d smiled spontaneously. “I see.”
“Told you so. Boring, huh?” She drank more beer and watched him over the rim of her cup. “Why are you up here?”
“I think I have you outranked in the boring department. I came up for a technology conference in Wausau. I thought a few days at my parents’ place might be a nice change.”
“My family used to have a place here too. They sold it a few years ago.”
“Hey, it happens,” Bryce commented, with regret recalling how little his family used the lake cabin now. “My parents go to Florida or the Caribbean in winter. Someplace where it’s warm, not forty degrees at night in the middle of July sometimes, and has beaches. I can’t say as I blame them. I’m still wondering why I decided to come up at this time of year myself.” He paused and then added, “I’m Bryce, by the way.”
“Melissa,” she offered.
“Nice to meet you.” He was easily ten years older. At least. But what did it matter? It was just a drink in a small tap in the middle of nowhere.
“Same here. I hope you’re staying for ...
Most helpful customer reviews
9 of 10 people found the following review helpful.
A good "who done it"
By Pat
I usually don't buy books (paid for to many duds) but over the holidays the library was closed and I took a chance on "Frozen"...this one draws you in and doesn't let go.
Bryce Grantham is heading to his parent's cabin in the woods for some down-time following a nasty divorce....all he wants is piece and quiet. Unfortunately, he was the last person seen with one young lady who disappears from the area, finds the body of another young lady who disappeared 18 months ago, and items of two additional missing young ladies.
Needless to say, everything heats up for Bryce when Det. Ellie MacIntosh and her partner, Rick, keep him dangling between "person of interest" and
"suspect".
If you like reading Sandra Brown and/or Lisa Jackson, I think you'll enjoy this one.
"THAW" (e-book only, April 2013) has Det. MacIntosh reopening the North Woods Serial Killer case.
"CHARRED" (paperback, June 2013) Det. MacIntosh investigates an arson case that involves murder.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Didn't Finish
By Shelly
I have enjoyed the other books in this series very much. However the books are not labeled book 1 through 4 correctly so when I got to this book (it was incorrectly labeled book 4) I aleady new the outcome so it as a waste of money.
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
One of the better books I've read in the last year
By cal74
One of the more enjoyable books I've read in quite some time. I'm tired of the big named authors pumping out books and their ghost writers just filling in a bunch of pages with the same stories regurgitated.
"Frozen" has kept both my girl friend and I entertained, she usually has a hard time staying focused on any one book but this one
has kept her interest as well.
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