MARGARET HAFFNER
Snowblind
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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First published in Great Britain in 1993 by The Crime Club
Copyright © Margaret Haffner 1993
Margaret Haffner asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780002324090
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2017 ISBN: 9780008252724
Version: 2017-03-28
For Ted Wood,
with thanks for his encouragement
Snowblind
Simon Hollingford, an Ontario Provincial Police detective, has been suspended while a charge of police brutality against him is investigated. He jumps at the chance to get away from it all by volunteering to be the radio operator for a scientific expedition in Canada’s high arctic.
Once in the north, his enjoyment is marred by the information that the previous year’s radio man, the scientist Phillip Loew, had been lost in a storm and the body had never been found. Then a series of potentially fatal accidents sets everyone on edge.
While birdwatching one day, Simon stumbles on the body of the lost man—but he hasn’t died of exposure. Two bullets in the chest prove the theory that high-velocity lead poisoning can kill faster than sub-zero temperatures.
All the same people are back in the north this year, which means one of them is a murderer. Amid steadily deteriorating weather conditions, Simon searches for the answer and uncovers a web of lies and hatred. Everyone had a motive for wanting Phillip Loew dead, and someone is willing to kill again to keep their secret safe …
CONTENTS
September, 1985
Phillip Loew staggered and fell again to the frozen ground. He fumbled at his shoulder and his hand came away wet with blood. His blood. As his vision blurred with pain he clenched his teeth against rising panic. Hard-driven snow blasted his face and the icy wind tore the breath from his lungs. He gasped for air.
Struggling to his feet, Phillip strained to see through the shifting veil of snow. Whichever way he turned, spicules of ice lashed at his face, and his eyes streamed. Was his assailant still out there somewhere? It didn’t matter; he had to get back to camp. He swung his head from side to side like a deer scenting the breeze. Which way? He couldn’t afford to guess wrong. ‘If the wind is coming from the west …’ He turned his left cheek to the strongest of the icy blasts and stumbled forward. Hand pressed to the bullet wound, blood still oozed between his fingers. He choked back a wild, hysterical laugh.
He’d been walking for what seemed like hours when he blundered against an arch of ice across a frozen stream bed. As his knees buckled, he slid down its smooth side to lie crumpled beneath it. He reached painfully for his backpack and the food it contained but the pack was gone. ‘Rest … just for a minute …’
Considering the severity of his wound and the abysmal weather conditions, Phillip Loew had done well, but then he was a strong, determined