Boyles nodded slowly. “You think he’s that focused?”
Paul gave a rehearsed look of surprise. “You need to ask? You wanna see the scar he left on my stomach? Back then, Kinton lost every shred of common sense over one of Besand’s transports and took it out on me. Now he’s lost it again and I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. He’s a walking time bomb, and those searchers are completely expendable to him. It’s our duty to get Darrin Besand safely to his next trial in Portland. I’m not going to let a hothead ruin the plan.”
Darrin stamped his feet. The copilot’s coat made him feel heavenly warm, but his damned feet were cold. He’d hoped to find an extra pair of socks in one of the pilots’ duffel bags but no luck. He did find sweatpants that he’d put on over his jeans and under his jumpsuit. The sweats were a little too short and tight. Darrin was tall and definitely not skinny, with a wide chest and shoulders. Before he’d gone to prison, he’d had a hard time getting clothes that fit properly.
That was one of the reasons he’d liked his job as a caregiver. Scrubs fit him easily. They came in all sorts of roomy sizes. He’d also liked the open access to a wide range of patients and medical personnel. Drugs too.
Darrin gently touched his left shoulder. In one pilot’s bag he’d found a bottle of Vicodin, which no sane pilot should be taking while flying. Darrin had immediately popped two in his mouth and washed them down with bottled water. Now the shoulder was feeling much better. His head too. As long as he didn’t move it abruptly.
When is the rescue group going to leave?
He was ready to get out of the woods. He’d follow them back, figure out a strategy for dealing with Alex Kinton, implement it, and then vanish before they reached their base camp. Had the plane wreck created much attention? There had to be media and cameras hanging around, waiting for their heroes to return. Briefly, he considered strolling out in front of the press. Being on TV was a head rush. And what a sensation it would cause if the lone survivor of the plane crash walked out of the woods.
No. He had to leave. He had a new life and money waiting for him in Mexico.
He’d take care of Alex Kinton and then move on.
Darrin raised the binoculars. The group didn’t look like they were in a hurry to leave. In fact, they appeared to be having quite the argument. The three in the red SAR parkas were shaking their heads and disagreeing vehemently with whatever Kinton had suggested. Darrin grinned broadly. Kinton was a stubborn bastard when he put his mind to something.
Who’d told Kinton about the plane crash?
Darrin wouldn’t have been surprised to see a US marshal on the search and rescue team. After all, there had been an agent on board and the marshals were responsible for the transport. But there were no marshals in the group. Instead, here was a guy who hadn’t been an agent for over a year. Kinton shouldn’t know a thing about the plane.
Kinton should be standing at the airport in Hillsdale. As usual, waiting to glare at Darrin as he stepped off the plane. Alex Kinton had appeared in the airport every time Darrin had been transported by plane. Darrin had flown several times because three different states were building murder cases against him. Somehow, Kinton always knew when and where Darrin would be returning home, and he’d appear outside the security checkpoint, saying nothing, doing nothing. Simply watching with hard eyes and a face full of hatred. Like an angry superhero with his hands tied.
Darrin had started expecting the familiar face every time he landed back in the Portland area. Darrin would grin and nod, sometimes even greet Alex. He’d looked forward to seeing the A-man.
Not Batman or Superman. The A-man.
Whose special power was to entertain Darrin.
How did Kinton get here so fast? There was no way he could have found out about the flight plan change to the Granton airport. A tiny airport. With virtually no security. Darrin had been looking forward to separating from his federal escort in Granton and hopping into the car waiting to whisk him south through California and across the border.
Darrin ground his back teeth and kicked at the snow.
Fucking snowstorm. It’d messed up his perfect plan.
Darrin’s brows shot up as Kinton stepped in front of the female as if to protect her from the words of the shorter SAR volunteer.
Interesting.
The Alex Kinton that Darrin knew had no use for women. The man had been badly burned by his ex-wife and hadn’t dated since his divorce. Darrin knew all about Kinton’s personal life. He believed in keeping his enemies close. His contacts on the outside had kept tabs on the former marshal.
What else was a guy supposed to do in prison for amusement except plan for Kinton’s quarterly visits? When Kinton visited his parents’ graves, Darrin knew. When Kinton shut himself away in a cabin at the beach for three months, Darrin knew.
Darrin wished the female in the SAR group would push back her hood. His earlier views of her had been quite pleasant.
She put her hand on Kinton’s arm to move him aside and joined the argument. She waved one sassy finger in the shorter man’s face as she angrily spoke.
Darrin sucked in a breath as he pressed his eyes against his binoculars. He’d never put up with that type of attitude from a woman. The new LPN at his second nursing home had learned that lesson the hard way.
The search and rescue woman turned, giving him a perfect view of her face. Lovely. Dark, direct eyes, strong cheekbones, and a wide mouth that made his heart jump.
Ohh. She had to have an effect on Kinton. How could anyone spend time in her company without falling madly in lust? Darrin’s lips turned up in a half smile. Kinton in lust? He’d like to see that. Kinton was always a walking, emotionless rock except when it came to his dead brother.
Darrin moved his binoculars to Kinton.
Sure enough. The A-man was wearing his usual stone mask.
Do I know this guy or what?
Darrin’s gaze swung back to the female. Now there is some passion. What was she arguing about? The determination in her expression would be enough to convince Darrin to follow her. Wherever the fuck she might lead.
Maybe she was already paired up with one of the men? He frowned. She didn’t act attached. The shorter rescuer had visibly cringed at her tongue-lashing, and the big guy had barely spoken to her at all. Neither acted like a boyfriend or husband.
The argument continued. The female kept gesturing up the hill in the direction they’d come and then back to the plane. The shorter guy pointed toward the faint sunlight. Darrin glanced at his watch. Three o’clock. Surely they weren’t considering making camp at the crash site? Why weren’t they heading out? Was the trip back too long?
The female dropped her pack and made tracks back up the hill, leaving a snowy wake of attitude. The rest of the men stared after her, the shorter shaking his head. Kinton stood silent and then dropped his pack. The other men did the same.
Darrin slowly lowered the binoculars.
Alex tried not to stare at Brynn as she hiked away to check on Ryan. Even under the thick coat, she pulled his attention. It was the way she carried herself, the way she moved smoothly like she’d been walking though the outdoors all her life. She always showed confidence and a clear head, and he liked to watch her whether she was throwing a stick for her dog or standing her ground with Jim and Thomas. And himself.
He wondered what her boyfriend was like.
“I guess she told us,” Jim muttered. He too was watching Brynn hike back up the hill, but Alex knew he watched her with the eyes of an older brother. A stab of jealousy hit Alex in his chest at the closeness of the relationship even though he knew it was platonic. The idea of Jim sharing her tent heated his blood, and not in a good way.
Stupid. Alex shook his head at his reaction.
“What?” Jim caught the movement and regarded him with questioning eyes. “Still don’t think I should’ve let her hike up there alone? You’re the one who said Besand probably left the area. You really think he’d risk death in the wilderness over going back to prison?”
Alex nodded, relieved Jim had misunderstood his shaking head. “I know he would. Besand was dying inside those walls. He’d do whatever it takes to never go back.”
Jim’s gaze probed deep. “I don’t know what put the idea in your head we’d ever consider leaving you alone out here to find the guy. Especially considering you don’t know shit about the outdoors. Why don’t you just ask me to sign your death certificate?” A curious light entered his eyes. “You seem to know this asshole real well. Better than most armed escorts would.”
Alex met his frank gaze. Jim was an honest, up-front sort of guy. The type of guy Alex would have considered a friend before his life had crumbled to pieces. Alex looked up the hill, following Brynn, a tiny red figure against the snow. His guts ached to be honest with someone. He abruptly decided to take the plunge.
“I’ve made it my business to know everything about Darrin Besand. He murdered my brother.”
Jim stood silent, his gaze hard on Alex. His blue eyes flickered, his focus speeding from one of Alex’s eyes to the other. Alex held his breath, hearing his blood pound an erratic beat in his ears.
Would Jim shut him out or help? It wasn’t every day someone told you his brother had been murdered.
Jim’s gaze went up the hill to Brynn and Ryan, and then he turned to check on Thomas, who’d disappeared into the cockpit.
It’d felt good to unload on Jim. Alex’s shoulders felt lighter, his brain less clouded. Deep down he’d always known Besand was going to face death at his hands.
Jim looked Alex directly in the eye again. “You’re here to kill the guy.”
Alex nodded.
Jim’s lips tightened and he glanced up the hill. “My objective is to search for survivors and maintain the safety of my team. Do you see a conflict here?” His voice was stiff, words clipped.
Alex shook his head.
“I’m here to protect life, not take it away,” Jim stated firmly.
“If he gets out of this mountain range alive, more people will die. I’m protecting life. I don’t see a conflict.” Alex kept his voice even as he ran a hand through his hair. He was losing Jim. His mind raced for explanations to prove his cause.
Jim gave a rigid nod. “That’s for the courts to decide. I’ve never believed in vigilante justice.”
Alex hesitated. “There’s more…”
“More what?”
“There’s a flaw somewhere. Yeah, the courts sentenced him, but someone’s been trying to get him out of prison.”
“Get him out…What the fuck are you talking about?” Jim eyed him cautiously. He was carefully dissecting every word out of Alex’s mouth.
Alex shifted his feet, speaking slowly. “The security details on Besand are always too light. He nearly killed a marshal because only one agent was assigned to him when there should’ve been at least two. He’s one of the most violent offenders, but treated as a white collar. And this flight—”
Alex stopped abruptly. He hadn’t put all the pieces together yet. He’d been thinking and concentrating the entire hike, but there were holes in his theory. He blew out a tense breath.
“What about this flight?” Jim snapped.
“Someone closed the flight plan after the takeoff. It was canceled.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked. I was waiting for Besand at the Hillsdale airport. The landing time came and went.” Alex pounded his fist in his palm in time with his words. “I knew when and where that plane was scheduled to land. When it didn’t, I asked at the airport and they told me the flight plan had been closed. When I asked what time it’d been closed, they said it’d happened soon after takeoff. And there weren’t any other marshals at the airport to meet the plane like there should have been. They knew the plane wasn’t going to land.”
“Wait a second.” Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you call your boss to find out where the plane was supposed to land?”
Alex twisted up one side of his mouth. “’Cause he’s not my boss anymore. I haven’t worked for the US Marshals’ office in over a year.” He waited, watching Jim.
Jim’s face reddened. “But…” He closed his mouth and his nostrils flared as he stared at Alex.
Alex counted off three seconds in his head.
“You’re impersonating a fed,” Jim said quietly.
Alex smiled wryly. “It’s not hard.”
Brynn stamped her way up the hill, keeping to the side of the steep slope.
Idiots. Alex was stupid if he believed they’d even consider leaving him behind to attempt a manhunt on his own. And Jim was crazy to believe Ryan could fast-track back to base camp. She’d set him straight on that idea. Everyone would sit tight until tomorrow morning. There was no other logical option. If they were lucky maybe they’d get some air support and evacuate Ryan. Or maybe he’d feel good enough to head out.
She wasn’t leaving Alex behind. He was utterly lost in the woods. He didn’t know a thing about the GPS units and compasses. Maybe he had a criminal to catch, but then what would he do? It wasn’t like they could leave him a trail of bread crumbs. She fought a smile. With her lovely navigational skills, if she and Alex stayed behind together they’d be as lost as Hansel and Gretel.
Ryan waved. The hike up the slope was longer than she’d remembered. And steeper. She was huffing good when she plopped down beside him.
“What’d you find?” Ryan wrinkled his forehead. “Jim radioed that there was three dead.”
“There’s a body missing.”
“Missing?”
She frowned. “Turns out Darrin Besand was on that plane. And he’s the one missing. Alex wants to stay behind to look for him while we head back.”
“Besand?” Concentration skittered across Ryan’s face as he tried to place the name.
“Killed a bunch of people in Portland. Idaho too. Mostly nurses and nursing home patients. Claimed he was being merciful.”
“Oh! I remember that. Nasty dude.” Disgust filled Ryan’s tone. “So he was being merciful by killing the nurses after he raped them?” His face suddenly blanked and Brynn knew he’d remembered she was a nurse.
“How you feeling?” She changed the subject.
His smile was wan. None of his usual sparkle. “Not bad.”
“Bullshit.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He gingerly touched his abdomen. “My stomach feels like I swallowed acid. Lungs are tight.”
Brynn laid a hand on his forehead. He seemed pretty hot, but her fingers were half-numb. “You don’t smoke, do you?”
His chin jerked. “You know I don’t. What kind of question is that?”
“Any chronic pain problems you dose daily with ibuprofen or something else?”
His brows came together and he shook his head.
“No ulcers, right?”
He started to shake his head but stopped. His eyes narrowed. “I’ve had chronic heartburn for a couple of weeks. I’ve been dosing it a lot with the pink liquid stuff.”
“That could signal an ulcer. And that pink stuff has salicylic acid in it. Could be thinning your blood, making you bleed easier. You’re not supposed to use it over and over for weeks on end.” She took a quick glance at the roughed-up snow to his far left. Faint hints of red showed in two spots.
“Still bloody?”
His eyes dropped. “Yeah. And I feel like I’ve run a marathon. Not the kind of tired I get from doing these missions, more like everything hurts and I’ve used up every resource in my body.”
“Muscles and joints hurt?”
He nodded.
“Can you think of anything you ate that could make you throw up?”
“I’ve been running over everything I ate in the last twentyfour hours or so. Nothing new or odd. Couldn’t it just be a virus?”
“Not with blood. Either something’s torn the lining of your stomach or esophagus or you’ve got an ulcer you’ve not known about or…”
“Or what?”