The Witch and the Huntsman Read Free Page A

knockout is why—and about ten years younger than me. She’s blonde, has a perfect figure, and glamorous good looks. He was probably hoping she’d tag along this morning, too. In fact, I realized that was probably why he’d gone to all the trouble with his appearance. Sigh.
    “ Sorry, you’re out of luck. She’s off on a film shoot in Baja.”
    Did I mention that Ivy’s talented, too? It figures she’s an up and coming actress. If we weren’t so bound up together now with this trifecta business, I’d probably hate her.
    “ Anyway, I did come up with an idea or two for you in the night,” I went on. “It was the ski lifts in the distance that made me think of it. So first thing when I got up I went online and Googled ski lodges in the US. I’m pretty sure that’s where she was—is—and probably pretty close by, too. Because I’ve never actually established a close psychic link with anybody overseas.”
    In point of fact, I’ve never even known anybody overseas, aside from in the military, but I didn’t need to tell him that; Smithy thought I was enough of a yokel as it was.
    “ So I checked out a few ski lodges here in California, but they’re all closed right now because it’s summer. And you know, there’s a drought and all.” As I was speaking, Smithy was nodding and tapping away at his own keyboard while he stared at his monitor. “There’s only one ski lodge in America that’s open for skiing all year round—La Chasse Lodge in Oregon.”
    “ Got it,” he said. “Good work, Allison—you’ll be up for my job at this rate. You sure this is the place?”
    I nodded, beaming at the compliment. I’m a sucker for a well-earned compliment. Anyway, I was pretty sure it was the place; something inside me had sort of hummed when I first saw its web page. My Higher Self, the part of me that’s attuned to Mother Gaia.
    The Great Detective brought up their Wikipedia page on his desk computer. “Let’s see...La Chasse Lodge, halfway up Mount Hood, opened in 1937, dedicated by President Roosevelt, blah, blah...looks kind of like that hotel in The Shining , doesn’t it?”
    “ You’re not cheering me up.”
    “ Sorry about that. Oh, I see. Turns out that all the exterior scenes for the movie were shot there, so not just my imagination. Let’s see, nearest police station is in Sandy...damn, that’s pretty far away. Oregon State Police has a substation in Government Camp, that’s pretty near. Hold on, I’ll give them a call.”
    It took him a while, but Smithy finally got through to a sergeant on duty, who was named Robinson Doberman. Helluva name for a cop. Smithy next told this guy his name—still just the ‘F. A.’, no Fred or Frank or Ferdinand—and asked him if they’d had any reports of a missing hotel guest named Marisa, no last name.
    “ No missing guests or strange women wandering around in the snow up there? Okay, well, thanks for your time, Sergeant—I’ll stand you a cold one next time you come down here to the Southland. Ha! Cold day in hell, he says,” Smithy said after he hung up. “Wonder why it is that everybody in Oregon hates California so much? I like it here.”
    Which made me wonder if he was originally from someplace else. But I didn’t have time to ask—I was already on my cell scrolling for plane reservations.
    “ What’s the nearest city to this God forsaken place?” I asked him.
    “ Portland. It’s about an hour’s drive away. What the hell, Allison, you aren’t seriously thinking of flying up there, are you? On your own dime? Just on a crazy hunch?”
    “ Welcome to my wild and crazy world, Detective,” I told him with a smile. But the smile was fake.
    The truth was that inside, I was scared shitless. I had an eerie premonition about this trip—and it totally wasn’t that it was going to be my dream vacation. Normally when I psychically look ahead to things, I get a clear vision of myself doing something afterwards, too. You know, some event like