It all started with a statement.


"I need a date."

They were sitting in a department-issue sedan outside of a bar, engine running but lights off, waiting. It was January and a light snow was falling, wetting the tinted windows as they melted. The remaining beads of moisture transformed the urban world outside the vehicle into a kaleidoscope of blurred neon colours until the windshield wipers whisked them away.

Alex's thick winter parka nearly strangled her as she turned, eyebrows raised, to look at Bobby in the passenger seat. The statement had come out of nowhere, a complete non sequitur. A minute before, they had been debating the likelihood that their suspect would return home after he left the club or go to see his mistress.

"Okay . . .?"

Bobby's hair had grown long again, the unruly curls brushing against the back of his hand as he scrubbed at the nape of his neck.

"Not like a 'date' date. More like someone to-to accompany me."

Alex eyed him over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a sip and tried to maintain a nonchalant air even though her heart was pounding.

"So an escort then?"

He shifted in his seat awkwardly, tugging at the seatbelt where it cut into his collarbone.

"I guess, kind of."

"Well, we've worked our fair share of cases that involved escort services," Alex replied dryly. "I'm sure you could look back in our old case files and find a place that will meet your needs. Or if you want, I can reach out into an old friend in Vice, see if he has any suggestions."

She wasn't about to make this easy for him. If he wanted something, he needed to spit it out.

"No, no, not that . . . that kind of escort." Bobby shook his head and ran his fingertips over his lips, gaze shifting to watch a mixed gender group stumble down the sidewalk. "Like a friend."

Alex sighed internally in disappointment. Why did she keep doing this to herself? Why? Why did she keep allowing herself to hope for something else . . . something more?

"Okay, so let me see if I'm following you here. You need a 'friend' to accompany you . . . somewhere."

If he took note of her sarcasm, he didn't rise to the bait.

"Yes. My half-brother, Martin, you remember him, he's getting married up in the Catskills in a few weeks. He asked me to be a groomsman in his wedding party."

She softened, knowing how much that would mean to him.

"That's great, Bobby."

He nodded sharply a few times and squirmed in his seat. "It's a real honour. It's just . . . it's kind of a whole multiple-day event, you know. And everyone in the wedding party, well, they're coming with someone . . . a spouse, or partner, or you know . . . a friend . . ."

Bobby looked at her expectantly then, but she kept her expression blank and dispassionate. There was no way he was getting off the hook. He was going to need to ask. She was more than willing to play stupid until he did.

"I bet Lewis would love to go with you up to the Catskills. Isn't he a huge skier?"

"Yeah . . . no." Bobby shook his head and cracked his knuckles absently. "I was actually hoping that maybe you would go with me. Just, you know, as a friend."

At that very moment, their suspect left the bar and trotted down the short flight of steps to the sidewalk. Flipping his collar up against the cold, he strode off in the direction of the lot where he had left his car.

"There he is." Stepping on the brake, Alex threw the car into drive. "Let's go.


Three weeks later they were in a rented SUV, navigating the winding roads up into the Catskill Mountains to the Westwind Valley Resort and Spa.

A snowsquall earlier in the day had dumped several inches of snow onto the ground. It coated the tree limbs in a fresh, clean white blanket that gleamed in the beam of the car's headlights. The roads were track bare and slippery and Bobby drove cautiously, gloved hands gripping the steering wheel at nine and three. The GPS mounted on the dash followed their progress and warned of twists and turns in the route ahead. Other than the dashboard lights, there was no other illumination inside the vehicle.

"I have to say, I'm impressed, Bobby." Alex ran a hand admiringly over the SUV's smooth heated leather seat. "You spared no expense with this rental. I was anticipating being crammed cheek to jowl with our luggage in your Mustang."

"No way! "Bobby shook his head fervently. "I would never take my Mustang out in bad weather. She's a fair-weather car."

Alex rolled her eyes but couldn't help a small smile. "Spoken like a true guy. And here I thought you had done it for my comfort."

"Never crossed my mind," Bobby teased, grinning at her before returning his eyes to the road. "Plus, you almost never let me drive the fancy cars at work. Got to get my fill somehow."

The radio was set to a soft rock station and an eighties band crooned a ballad as they turned left onto the narrow road that would dead-end at the resort. The tires faltered in the slush, sending the back of the vehicle into a fishtail that Bobby expertly corrected. The computerized voice on the GPS informed them that in a little over two miles they would reach their destination. Off in the distance, flood lights bathed some of the local ski hills in artificial sun.

"Thank you for-for coming with me," Bobby said quietly as he navigated around the curving drive, guided by reflective posts that jutted out from the fresh snow. "It means a lot."

"Hey, it doesn't sound like it's going to be a hardship," Alex joked lightly. "A trip to a resort in the mountains, spa treatments, hot springs, good food, expensive wine? I probably should be thanking you!"

As they rounded the final bend in the road, the Westwind Valley Resort rose up from the landscape. An intimate establishment, with accommodations for no more than seventy people, it sat like a winter oasis in a sea of white. The eaves of the three-story building had been decorated with strings of twinkling white lights and a warm yellow glow issued from the large main floor windows. Despite the recency of the snowfall, the lot was clear. Salt crunched under the SUV's tires as they pulled into a parking spot.

"I do feel bad, taking you away so close to Valentine's Day." Killing the ignition, Bobby sat staring at the building in front of him. "Are you sure that Warren is okay with this?"

Tension knotted Alex's shoulders as she unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed the door handle. "Yeah, I'm sure."

She had eased the door open, letting in a gust of cold air, before realizing he was still sitting motionless in the driver's seat. When she glanced over at him, he was assessing her with dark, serious eyes and a doubtful expression.

"Yes, Bobby, for the millionth time, he's fine with it," Alex snapped before swinging her legs out of the car. "Now c'mon, let's go."