This took far to long to get here. I thought this chapter would end the story, but it wouldn't do that. I apologize for taking so long, the epilogue will put the bow on this Christmassy tale

Frozen

Part Ten

The wind was still blowing. Pop's Place was on the highway and had no protection from the constant drifting of snow over the parking lot and against the building. Cold stung exposed skin and made anyone outside rush to a warm, safe inside as quickly as possible. Tom and Jim Dunbar followed Nellie Smith quickly into the diner by way of the back door. It wasn't locked although it really should have been. Jim just couldn't understand why Smith didn't have her own key. She was a state trooper and the owner's daughter. Pop should have known better, because anyone with a business on the highway knew that locked doors were the best way to keep the riffraff out.

Jim's police training was telling him…Open doors, obviously the riffraff were supposed to come in

"Poppa I finally found them," Nellie's voice echoed through the empty kitchen, "they were in the Williams' storm cellar."

"So, you guys were snug as bugs in rugs," laughed Pop. "When I heard youse guys were lost in the storm I figured we'd be digging you out of the snow bank."

Jim tipped his head to the left. There was something different about the way Pop Smith talked, his accent wasn't right. It wasn't Midwest and it definitely wasn't New York; what was it about this man's speech that caught his attention?

"I don't know about you," Tom groused as he pulled off his parka, "but the only place I want to visit now is the one with 'men' written on the door." He pushed past everyone in the kitchen and headed for the public washroom.

"I think I'll take Hank outside," Jim reached down and scratched his guide dog behind his ears, "he still hasn't learned how to read the signs of the bathroom doors."

"I can do that for you," Nellie reached for the dog's harness, "it's no trouble at all."

"No," Jim's voice cut the air like a shiv, "when Hank is in harness he's at work. He only goes out with me. " This was a lie but there was almost no way the trooper would know this. "If you could have a towel ready when I get back so I can dry him off that would be perfect." Before anyone could say anything to make them stop Jim turned and headed for the back door.

"You don't go out dere, you get lost, it dark outside," Pop's accent got thicker as he tried to block Jim inside.

"It's always dark," Jim smiled, "that's why Hank's a guide dog."

Trooper Smith turned to her father, "how about I keep an eye on Jim and his dog if it'll make you feel better?"

"How about instead you think bout going home, all de way home without stopping for nobody."

"Poppa, you don't mean that, do you?" Nellie's eyes snapped straight into her father's gaze. "It's almost Christmas; we've always been together at Christmas."

"No I take care o' things here; you go all the way home. Make me happy; do what I tell you."

Jim heard Trooper Smith's hesitant steps as she went to her father, kissed him once and went out the door. He knew she was never coming back. Jim just hoped that when Tom came out that he would have the good sense to do what his big brother told him.

"You're gonna take care of us, huh, Mr. Smith." Jim listened carefully to all the sounds that surrounded him. There was Smith's almost asthmatic wheeze from too many cigarettes and not enough exercise, the gurgle of water through the men's rooms pipes, and footsteps, more footsteps than three men could make. "How many friends have you got to help you take care of us?"

"I send most o' them away; don' need much manpower to hide two bodies in snow?" Smith thought as he turned his back on Jim Dunbar. He was feeling comfortable. After all it was a blind man and a schoolteacher; they'd been missing for hours and he knew where Tom Dunbar's car was abandoned. Finding two frozen bodies in that car tomorrow morning was logical, even expected; this was almost too easy.

0o0o0

Rick Dunbar parked his SUV behind the snow drifts on the side of the highway opposite the diner. He knew backup would be there soon but he couldn't wait, he couldn't take the chance that something would happen to his brothers before anyone else got there. He had shrugged into the only fully outfitted white trooper's parka at the station house and prayed it would be enough camouflage to get him to the diner.

"Damn, damn, damn" Rick muttered under his breath, "why couldn't I have just left you at the farm Jimmy? I should've known you'd get me into trouble."

Crouching low, Rick sped across the highway and pressed himself into the snow banks there. He listened, hoping there would be more than just the sound of the wind beating at his ears; nothing, only the damned wind. He pulled his service revolver from its holster and carefully scuttled forward all the while listening for clues to where the snow mobilers were. The two-way radio at his shoulder crackled, "Dunbar, are you at the location?"

"I'm almost there," Rick whispered into the receiver, "request radio silence until I call for you."

"Roger, Dunbar, backup advancing to crossroads. Radio silence begins now. Good luck, Rick."

Soon he reached the entryway to the diner's huge parking lot. There was enough space for at least six eighteen wheelers in a place never meant to handle tractor trailers. God, how many times had he seen those high way menaces there when any truck-stop off the interstate had more to offer? Why hadn't he, or for that matter anyone, realized there was anything hinky going down? Drugs, money laundering, human trafficking; any of those or more could be going down under his nose and Richard Dunbar, Sergeant of the Indiana State Troopers never once questioned it because things like that didn't happen in the Midwest. All it took was for his brother, his blind brother, to stumble over barely hidden corpses for the whole operation to unravel.

"Shit, quit letting someone else do your job and get to work, Dunbar." Rick grabbed his radio receiver, "no lights visible in restaurant; no movement detectible from outside. Bring the cruisers in; no lights, no sirens, and go to the dumpster, the propane tank and the grease tank. There are seven suspects visible from here, let's get them before they warn the occupants of the diner."

"Roger that, Dunbar, we're on our way."

0o0o0

"I think it's time to phone my wife," Jim stood and reached for his cell phone.

"I don't tink so," Smith said as he grabbed Jim's hand. "You don' want I should break you wrist now, eh?"

"Pepe Le Pew," Jim snorted, "I knew I'd place that accent eventually. So I'm betting Smith isn't your name either. Is it Gauthier or Trudeau or maybe just Merde?"

Smith shoved Jim hard all the while twisting Dunbar's wrist. "Nobody call me dat. No you, not you stupid brother, not the whole o' dis stinking little town. By now my Nellie she is half way to Montreal and once I take care o' you I be right behind her." He pressed harder on Jim's wrist. "Maybe I have some fun fore you next little accident. Gouge you pretty blue eyes out; not like dey do anything for you, anyway. But first, maybe I kill you dog, eh?"

"Jim?" Tom Dunbar gasped when he exited the men's room.

"Tom, get back in!" Jim shouted as he twisted his body in the direction Smith had his wrist. Reaching for Smith's knees on the follow through Jim put counter force into every move his enemy tried, thanking God for every judo lesson he'd taken after the shooting. "And slam that door hard."

"You gotta watch you-self, friend," Smith ground out as he slammed his elbow into Jim's kidney. "Now I make you hurt… just be-cause I can... an… eeigh! Sonnabitch!"

"Street fighter," Jim rolled and pinned Smith beneath him, "you know how to fight dirty but you don't fight smart."

The sound of the back door being smashed was the second best sound Jim Dunbar wanted to hear right now.

"Indiana State Troopers, you are surrounded; put your hands on top of your heads," the voice of this brother, Rick, was the best sound Jim could imagine.

tbc