Chilled (A Bone Secrets Novel) by Elliot, Kendra
“Here’s the plane’s last known whereabouts.” Sheriff Patrick Collins tapped a finger on the plastic Cascade Mountains map spread across his Suburban’s hood and turned a resolute brown gaze on his team. Shivering, Brynn studied the wet map, ignoring a buzzing rush as it dumped a load of adrenaline in her gut.
It felt good.
“A hunter called it in late yesterday. He’d seen a plane flying low through the range that sounded like it was in trouble.” Collins spoke grimly. A dark, lean man, the deep lines around his mouth reflected his demanding twenty-five years with the sheriff’s department. “He said the little plane barely made it over Cougar Ridge, and he swore it had to have hit the trees on the other side of the ridge, but he couldn’t see any smoke from his position.”
The determined eyes of his three Madison County Search and Rescue team members memorized the spot on the map as icy rain ran off their red hoods. Brynn brushed a drip off her cheek and plunged her hands into the pockets of her winter parka.
“He didn’t try to check it out? Give us a clearer location?” Jim Wolf, the SAR team’s leader, scowled at the map. Confidence hovered around the stocky man like a mist. “The possible search area is huge.”
Collins shook his head. “He was alone and scouting from the forest service road.” He drew his finger along a dotted line on the map. “From that road—actually it’s more like a muddy, rut- crammed path—Cougar Ridge is over a thousand feet straight up before it drops to form a deep valley in the Cascades. There’s no way he could have hiked up there.”
Brynn eyed the distance from Collins’s finger to their present location on the map. “We’re miles away,” she muttered. From the spot where a small plane may have crashed in a huge forest.
“This is the quickest way into that valley,” Collins stated. “It’s gonna be a harsh run. You guys are the most experienced, and that’s why I want you out there. You’re the best hasty team I’ve got.”
As the hasty team, their mission was to get in to the emergency site first and fast, and assess the location. The sheriff’s department had nicknamed them “hard chargers.” After appraising the situation, they communicated their needs to the sheriff, requesting specific help or conveying bad news.
Brynn watched as Collins traced a route from the trailhead where they stood. The route left a groomed wilderness trail and pushed through one of the densest forests in the Cascades. The path wasn’t flat. There were ups and downs all the way to the site. Mostly ups.
It was going to be a tough one.
Bring it on.
Two wavy blue lines crossed their projected path on the map, and Brynn’s stomach gave an acid twinge. Rivers. And they’d be deadly fast and high from the five inches of Oregon rain in the last twenty-four hours. She glanced at the three men. Sheriff Collins and the biggest member of the team, Thomas Todoroff, were studying the route, discussing elevation. Jim wasn’t looking at the map. His concerned gaze rested on her; he knew her hatred of river crossings. She gave him the tiniest shake of her head.
“So we don’t know for sure if the plane even went down? And we’re guessing where it might’ve crashed?” Steam hovered in the frosty air from Brynn’s quick questions. She’d wanted to distract Jim, get his piercing eyes off her. “What about its emergency locator transmitter? Can’t they pinpoint it?”
Collins shook his head. “The plane didn’t make its scheduled landing at the Hillsdale airport last night. Calls to other airports confirmed it hadn’t landed anywhere within two hundred miles. And as for the ELT, no one can pick up anything. You’ve got to be in line of sight to pick up the signal, and the crappy weather is keeping away the search planes. Or it’s possible the ELT is damaged and not working.”
“Not working? I thought those things were indestructible.” The words tripped out of Brynn’s mouth as she stared at the sheriff.
“They run on batteries,” was the dour reply. “Or can be turned off.”
The group grumbled in unison at the information.
“No luck with the radar?” Jim asked.
The sheriff grimaced. “Apparently, there are several radar gaps going over the Cascades. The hunter’s visual spot was farther north than where the plane last appeared on radar. That valley’s the best place we’ve got to start, and this weather isn’t going to let up, so we’ve got to go in on foot.” Collins paused. “One more thing.” Three gazes locked onto his, and Brynn tensed at the heavy discomfort in his eyes.
What worse news could he tell us?
Collins rubbed his lips together.
“What?” Jim asked sharply. “What is it?”
“I got a call from the US Marshals’ office early this morning. Looks like the plane’s one of their transports.”
Transport? A plane packed full of convicts?
“I thought they flew the big stuff. You said this plane was small.” Brynn’s stomach twisted.
Collins shook his head. “This was a lease. They were moving a single prisoner back to Portland. The caller also told me there were two pilots and a marshal on board.”
Brynn’s stomach relaxed the littlest bit. Only one convict.
“What kind of prisoner? What’d he do?” Thomas cut to the chase. The dark man didn’t usually say much, but when he did, it was direct and to the point. The huge Alaskan hoarded words like thousand-dollar bills.
“‘Extremely dangerous’ was the phrase the marshal used to describe him.” Collins’s brown eyes glanced at Brynn. “He didn’t get more specific, but I could tell he was uncomfortable with the idea that the guy might be loose. Even in this freezing wilderness.”
Brynn looked steadily at the sheriff. He wanted to suggest she sit this search out, but he didn’t dare say the words. Her team’s first instinct was to keep her out of harm’s way. She was a nurse, not a cop. Thomas and Jim were both deputies with the Madison County sheriff’s office, and she was the only one without a gun or two hidden on her body. Her job as a death investigator with the medical examiner’s office didn’t require firepower. Her role on the team was strictly medical support and investigation.
She glanced around the dreary clearing.
“Where’s Ryan? He’s going in with us, right?” Brynn asked Collins.
Ryan Sheridan made up the fourth and final member of their SAR team. The young, energetic cowboy of a cop worked for the city of Salem and volunteered for the rescue team. Just like the rest of them. No bonus pay here.
Collins’s cell phone rang. He glanced at its face as he answered Brynn’s question. “Ryan should be here any second. I called him at six this morning. Same as you guys. I gotta take this call. It’s the marshals’ office again. Hang tight for a minute.” He stepped away from the truck.
Brynn glanced at the other two men. “Marshals? Like in The Fugitive? Or Con Air?” Images of Tommy Lee Jones and John Cusack dashed through her mind.
“Extremely dangerous? What the hell does that mean?” muttered Jim. “A fucked-up felon, probably. A damn rapist who likes little girls or a murderer who likes to feed his victims their fingers before he finishes them off. A piece of shit I don’t want to waste my time on in this fucking weather.”
“Jesus, Jim. Thanks for the lovely images.” Brynn swallowed the lump in her throat and took another look at the dark sky. A rapist? Murderer?
Jim clomped his waterproof boot in a puddle, sending muddy water shooting in all directions. “Hate the rain. Classic March in Oregon.”
“Beats hiking in during a snowstorm,” Thomas spoke up. He’d removed the hood from his parka, pulled the collar up around his neck, and put on a red cap with the Madison County SAR logo. Thomas never wore hoods. Brynn felt the icy breeze touch her cheeks and wondered how he put up with the bitter cold on his neck.
“We’re gonna get snow. Weather report shows temps dropping. We’ll have snow tonight and tomorrow.” Both men swore at Brynn’s words. This wasn’t a one-day, quickie in-and-out rescue. They’d be in the freezing wild for at least two nights.
The weather didn’t bother her. She welcomed the rescue trip for the chance to get out of town and put some space between herself and Liam. She guiltily fingered the cell phone in her pocket. Liam had been asleep when she got the call for the mission. She’d left him a note.
She flipped open her phone and held down the end key until the screen shut off.
“Hey.” Jim pulled her aside two steps and lowered his voice, his blue eyes probing. “Any chance you’re pregnant?”
“What?” She shot out the word as her lungs stopped functioning. Pregnant? Where the fuck did that question come from?
Jim had the decency to blush, an odd sight on the rugged man. “Liam was pretty pissed about what happened to you on our last rescue mission. He claimed he was gonna get you knocked up to keep you out of the woods.”
“Liam said what?” Brynn’s throat choked out the words. Knocked up? Was this a movie? Just because Jim had known her since she was fifteen didn’t give him the right to stick his nose in her private life. Blinking rapidly in the misting rain, Brynn opened her mouth and then closed it, coughed, glared at Jim, and then tried again. “First of all, it’s none of your damned business.”
“As field team leader—”
She cut off his words with a sharp swipe of her hand in the air. “You need to think twice about the crap spilling out of your mouth, Jim. Liam doesn’t decide if I’m getting pregnant.”And then tell you about it.
“He was furious when you got caught in that rockfall last time. You were lucky to walk away with a concussion and broken collarbone,” Jim argued, leaning closer.
Her face heated, she glanced at Thomas, who was blatantly following the conversation with mild amusement. “That could’ve happened to anyone. I’m gonna pretend you never brought up this subject. If Anna knew you were talking to me like this you’d be sleeping on the couch for a month.”
She wanted to smack Jim on the back of the head. His wife, Anna, would cheer her on. Jim pressed his lips together.
Brynn seethed, her vision tunneling. Was Liam trying to ruin her volunteer job? And why in hell was Liam discussing private things with Jim? Jesus Christ. Pregnant? She blew out a breath. She’d been right to sneak out this morning.
Jim shouldn’t listen to Liam. Liam was the one who’d been sleeping on the couch for a month at his brother’s house. There was no possibility she was pregnant. The only reason Liam had stayed in her spare room last night was because they’d argued late into the evening. She bit her tongue. She didn’t have the energy to explain their issues to Jim. He thought Liam and she were still living together and skipping down the contented road to marriage.
Wasn’t. Going. To. Happen.
At the sound of sharp barking, she turned toward the forest. Her gray-and-white dog bounded out of the trees, leaping over puddles as it sped toward the group.
“Kiana!” Brynn held her arms straight out from her sides and then brought her hands together at her stomach. “Come ‘ere, girl!”
At a second hand command, the dog skidded to a stop directly in front of Brynn. Brynn jumped and ducked back, knowing what was coming. Kiana shook, drenching Jim, and then she sat, her eager blue gaze on her master. Jim cursed at the unexpected soaking.
Good dog.
“I think you’re waterproof. It’s just a little more rain.” She scratched the dog under the chin, smiling as Jim gave Kiana a rough head rub with both hands. The dog pressed her nose against Jim’s leg, asking for more attention. Seeing her dog soak Jim cheered Brynn immensely, and their spat was forgotten. Almost.
“Rain doesn’t fall upward.” Jim brushed the dirty water off his cheeks.
An old Ford truck roared into the clearing and parked behind Brynn’s Nissan. Brynn watched Ryan Sheridan toss his battered cowboy hat on the seat, yank up his jacket’s hood, grab his backpack, and jog over to join their group, holding the forty-pound pack like it was a sack lunch.
He slung on his pack. “Sorry. Traffic sucked. Are we ready?” He nodded at the three waiting team members, his gaze eager. Enthusiasm radiated from Ryan. He was pumped for the mission. As usual.
Thomas shook his head, tipping it at the sheriff. “Collins hasn’t given the OK yet.”
Jim updated the late member on what they knew about the plane and its occupants.
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “A felon? Someone’s ass to haul back in cuffs. Excellent.”
Collins slapped his phone shut and marched back to the wet clique. Brynn eyed the tight muscle in his jaw and stiff set to his neck and knew he was furious.
“OK. Listen up. We’ve got a fed coming in from the marshals’ office. They say he’ll be here any minute, and he’s going out on the search and rescue with you guys.”
“What?” Brynn blinked.
“Bull-shee-it.” Ryan drew out the word into three syllables.
“Forget it.” Jim shook his head. “We don’t need some idiot who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing out here. I won’t compromise my team’s safety or speed with a suit.”
Collins went on as if he hadn’t heard, “We are to extend every courtesy...”
“Courtesy? It’s not a fucking tea party. Do we have to take this guy on the mission? What if he can’t keep up?” Thomas’s angry voice packed the intensity of a lion.
Collins firmly met the livid man’s gaze. “I told them this wasn’t how we did things out here. But he insisted. That was the head honcho at the Oregon US Marshals’ office, and if he says he wants a man on our team, then he’ll get a man on our team.” Collins blew out a harsh breath. “I’m outranked here. He says the marshal is physically fit and won’t have a problem keeping up. Claims the marshal competes in triathlons. I don’t have a sufficient reason to turn him down.”
The search and rescue quartet stood silent.
Jim spoke first. “You know there’s more than just fitness involved out there, Collins. It can be a mental nightmare. Especially if the crash site is an ugly one. You’re telling me I’m taking a rookie into this shitty weather to find a plane crash that has a convicted criminal on board? Maybe a murderer?”
At the word convicted, Ryan’s gaze met Brynn’s and an eager grin stretched across his face. Adrenaline junkie. She narrowed her eyes at him and he winked back with those damned gorgeous lashes. He had a face high school girls would pin on their walls. Adult women too.
“Marshals aren’t wimps. I think he can handle whatever gets thrown at him. And that plane’s carrying a pair of blameless pilots and at least one other agent who deserve our damnedest effort.” Collins spotted Ryan’s grin. “No hotdog stuff. You’ll probably be disappointed anyway.”
Translation: a plane crash in the Oregon Cascades meant death.
“This is a big-ass waste of time,” Thomas said evenly. “No one can survive a crash out there, and chances are we won’t find the plane until we get some air support. It’s going to be like hiking in circles in the Arctic.”
“Fine. You sit on your big ass.” Brynn glowered at him, her voice sharp. “I won’t wait around when there’s a chance that someone’s hurt out there and my help could determine whether or not they live. That’s not how I’m programmed. If there’s a chance I can help, then damn it, I’m going in. And I don’t care if it’s a convict or your grandma. It makes no difference to me.”
The plinking sound of rain on their outdoor gear was the only noise in the forest clearing. Thomas had looked down at Brynn’s words, his boots shifting in the mud.
She softened her tone but maintained the urgency. “We won’t know till we get in there. We have to try. The marshal on the plane and those pilots might still be alive.” The men all nodded, purpose spreading across their faces.
Jim looked to Collins. “So where’s our fed at?”
Alex Kinton pulled his SUV to a lurching stop, choosing the smallest puddle to park in, and then sat and absorbed the gloomy tableau before him. Wet, foggy, cold, and wet. A close-knit circle of red parkas turned his way. Even from fifty feet away he could see and feel the tension in the postures.
He wasn’t welcome.
He didn’t blame them, but he also didn’t care.
He had a plane to get to.
Alex forced himself to open the door and step into the bitterly cold air. Christ. Fucking weather. No turning back. He ran a restless hand through his hair and pulled up his hood as goose bumps spread across his arms.
One of the red parkas stepped out from the circle as Alex worked his way across the mud and muck. His lungs contracted at the stabbing chill in the wet air. It smelled like snow. That fresh-scrubbed, icy smell that came before the skies let loose with the white stuff. Had to be close to freezing. He couldn’t stop a full-body shudder and shiver and hoped the onlookers hadn’t noticed. Why hadn’t the crash happened in the middle of August? When it was hot enough to wear shorts?
The man in the parka approached, holding out a hand in greeting, but his brown eyes were cautious. The dark man looked to be in his fifties; an air of natural leadership emanated from him.
“Alex Kinton?”
Alex nodded. “You must be Collins. The boss said you’d have a pack and equipment ready for me.”
Collins’s chin jerked at the curt tone, and Alex levelly met his gaze. He didn’t have the time or patience for how-do-you-do chitchat. His stomach abruptly cramped, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast. The gut pain coordinated with his growing headache from ignoring his medication last night and this morning. He’d wanted a clear head to meet the plane so he’d deliberately left the small orange pill bottle on the shelf.
Now he had a clear, pounding head.
Collins nodded slowly, his gaze plainly assessing. As if he’d decided something, his expression suddenly cooled and his lips thinned. “I’ll get you a pack. This is the team that’s going in. Jim’s in charge.” Collins tilted his head at the four remaining men, turned his back, and strode to his Suburban.
Alex let his spine relax a millimeter. Collins had recognized the persona Alex had presented. A soldier reporting for duty. No opinion on the task ahead, a simple acceptance of what was thrown on his plate. Locked, loaded, and ready for action.
He turned toward the others, sucking in a deep breath to fill his lungs. Wondering which red parka was Jim, Alex solidly met each man’s stare. Whoops. The last person was a woman. Her mouth twitched and her dark eyes danced in amusement and confidence at his obvious surprise.
Alex froze. His vision tunneled on her face, and her eyes widened a fraction. Their eye contact splintered his carefully constructed wall of indifference. For a split second Alex didn’t feel the cold, his concern about the missing plane evaporated, and his mind became refreshingly clear. She bit her lip and glanced away, breaking the connection.
Alex’s brain slammed back to the task at hand and the muddy woods.
With her height, hood, and bulky parka, she’d blended in neatly with the men. A big gray-and-white dog sat at her feet, studying him with a keen blue gaze, its tail happily wagging. Alex’s gaze went back to the other men, and he blinked at the hostility that’d crept into their faces as he’d stared at the woman. He stiffened.
At least the dog didn’t seem to mind his presence.
“Alex Kinton.” He gave a stiff nod and fought the urge to salute.