The men plodded through the snow. Jim was right. Alex kept hearing the soft, floaty thumps of clumps of snow falling out of the trees. Each time he’d turn his head in that direction, expecting to see Besand. His gun was out of his pocket now and his fingers were getting frozen. He transferred the gun from hand to hand, wiggling his fingers back into warmth.
“What’s going on with Brynn?” Jim sliced him with the surprise question, and Alex stumbled. He’d been so focused on Besand and Thomas he’d nearly forgotten his pleasant surprise upon waking that morning.
“Nothing.” Truth.
Jim stopped and turned to face him; his brows were together and the lines around his mouth creased deeper. He carefully pondered his next words. “She’s seeing someone. They live together.”
“I know that.”
“Leave her alone.”
“I haven’t touched her. What’s it to you?”
“She’s practically my wife’s little sister.”
“So you’re the overprotective big brother. Can’t she think for herself?”
“Yeah. But I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She admires you for some stupid reason and was beside herself with grief when we couldn’t find you yesterday.”
“She would’ve been like that for any of you.”
Jim nodded, then angrily shook his head. “No. It’s different. She doesn’t know who or what you are. Maybe I should say what you aren’t.”
“You mean I’m lying to her. You don’t think I deserve her sympathy.”
“Just don’t be twisting her sympathy around into something else.”
“I can’t make her do anything. She’s a big girl, Jim, and I think she’s got her head on pretty straight.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Jim clamped his mouth shut, and a guilty flush touched his cheeks. Alex’s eyebrows rose.
“What the hell does that mean? She’s as sharp a woman as I’ve ever met.”
Jim started to speak, paused, and started again. “She comes from a messed-up family situation. Her parents completely ignored her. They didn’t even protest when the state placed her in foster care due to neglect.”
“When she was sixteen, she was placed with my wife’s parents for foster care. These are good people. She’d been bounced from home to home before that. Me and Anna had been married about five years at that time, and Anna adored Brynn. Even though Anna no longer lived at home, Brynn was like the little sister Anna always wanted. I think Anna was easier for Brynn to bond with at first. It took her awhile to warm up to Anna’s parents.”
“That’s understandable. So her childhood pretty much sucked?”
Jim snorted. “What childhood? Brynn was the adult in her real family. Her mom was like a spoiled little kid, and both parents were alcoholics. Anna says Brynn told her she was packing her lunch and getting herself to school in the morning as far back as she can remember, because her mom was always still sleeping off her drunk. Brynn would ask the neighbors for bread to make sandwiches for her lunch or she’d ask if she could pick apples from their tree. Some weeks she lived off what she scavenged from the next-door neighbor’s garden. Do you think the neighbors knew that girl wasn’t getting fed?”
“No other relatives she could’ve gone to?” Alex asked slowly. He was feeling sick to his stomach. He’d lost his parents in his midtwenties, but before they’d died there’d been lots of happy times.
“None. No one wanted a thirteen-year-old. I don’t know if any of them tried to get to know her. They probably worried that she was a rebellious, out-of-control kid. But they were so wrong. She was the adult in that family. She paid the bills and went to the grocery store on her bike. They never bothered to take her to get her driver’s license. Her foster parents did that. They told me she was a perfect driver from day one.”
“She probably wasn’t using just her bike to go grocery shopping,” Alex said dryly. His brain was trying to absorb Jim’s story.
His mental hard drive was struggling to process all the data. How could someone do that to their kid?
“She had perfect grades in high school. Valedictorian. Full ride to college. Could have picked any school, but wanted to stay in Oregon and do nursing. Said she didn’t want to be too far from Anna’s parents. By the end of high school, she was a true member of that family. Anna has three brothers and one sister, all older. They gave Brynn the big family she’d always wanted.
“But Brynn’s got a pretty bad track record when it comes to men. I think her upbringing gave her a slightly distorted view of marriage. Most men she dates have walked all over her, and they’ve all been older than her. She seems to lean toward older men.” Jim looked at him sideways.
A touch of relief went through his head. Maybe he wasn’t too old in her eyes. But he didn’t want to be a father figure. Alex scowled.
“Liam is closer to her age and treats her like a queen.”
“I don’t see a ring on her finger.”
“Liam says it’s just a matter of time. They’re already talking about getting pregnant.”
“She might be pregnant?” Alex’s toe caught in the snow and he tripped again, barely catching his balance.
“She says she’s not.”
“Jesus, you asked her? You outright asked her if she’s pregnant? When?”
Jim looked uncomfortable. “Day before yesterday. I wasn’t going to let her come on this mission if she was pregnant.”
Alex studied his face. “I bet that conversation went well.”
“I think she was about to skin me. I’m glad she doesn’t carry a gun.”
They were walking just inside the tree line, moving quietly from tree to tree as they talked. Jim cut off the conversation as they drew within a hundred feet of the cockpit. Alex continuously scanned the area, seeking any movement. He didn’t like the constant prickle in his spine. He couldn’t see a reason for it. The avalanche had slammed the cockpit against a bank of firs and covered two-thirds of the metal. Alex couldn’t make out where Jim and Thomas had dug their way in yesterday. The men had hoped to find some extra supplies. Flashlights or tarps or even something to eat, but they found nothing.
Had someone beaten them to it?
The snow turned everything an innocent white. But tension hung in the air around the cockpit. Maybe it was simply from knowing there were two dead men still sitting in their seats and a third laid out on the floor. They’d argued about putting the men in better positions. Courtesy to the remains of a fellow human. But the pilot’s legs were horribly mangled in with the wreckage. Getting him loose would have been a messy chore. They’d reluctantly decided to leave them as they were.
Jim motioned Alex behind him and took the lead as they neared the plane. Alex wanted to argue, but he let him lead. He was part of Jim’s team, and Jim had impressed him several times with his leadership skills. And Jim was a cop. Not unemployed, former law enforcement like Alex.
The path Jim and Thomas had made yesterday was gone, buried in the fresh snow. Alex strained his eyes trying to see a new path made by different feet that had entered or left the plane. Blue shadows were everywhere in the snow, making him see footprints where there were none. His breathing seemed too loud in the quiet Christmas card setting; inside his head he sounded like a train struggling to make it up a long, steep hill.
Jim looked over his shoulder. Alex nodded and stepped to cover Jim as he turned the corner and pointed his gun into the open back of the cockpit. Every fiber of Alex’s being strained to hear. The inside of the cockpit was silent. Jim motioned him in. The two men studied the interior. Linus was still stretched out on the floor where Jim and Thomas had placed him yesterday after he’d been tossed out by the avalanche.
“Has anything been moved?” Alex asked.
Jim continued to examine the inside, his gaze constantly moving and sweeping. “I can’t tell. The wind’s blown some snow in. But I would think there would be more. You know how windy it got last night.”
Alex nodded. Three-quarters of the ripped entry to the cockpit was blocked by a bank of snow. It had been totally blocked until Jim and Thomas dug it out. His neck prickled again and he swung around, his gaze tracking the tree line.
Nothing.
“Fuck this. There’s no one here. There wasn’t anyone here last night. If Besand was on that plane—” Jim started to say.
“He was on it. He took Linus’s gun.”
“Well he’s gone now. He left before we got here yesterday. And unless he found a tent or tarp to sleep in overnight, we’re going to stumble across a human Popsicle on our way out. More likely a hunter or hiker will find him this summer.” Jim kicked at the snow. “Let’s get back and get packed. We need to head out too.”
“You think Ryan is ready?”
Jim frowned. “He seemed better last night. I’ll see how he feels this morning.” A myriad of emotions flickered on Jim’s face. Concern, determination, and exhaustion. “One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Brynn still believes you’re a marshal.”
Alex didn’t say anything.
“She might suspect something though. I nearly told her.”
“I’ll tell her.” Alex had never felt the loss of his job so keenly as at this exact moment. He had nothing but an inner burn to stand face-to-face with his brother’s killer.
When that was accomplished he’d start his life over. Concentrate on his computer game development. It had always been a hobby. An excellent-paying hobby. He had no worries about retirement, and he’d always enjoyed it better than the security programs he wrote. Could he stick to it as a career?
Most definitely. He stood straighter.
His life wasn’t completely about Darrin Besand. Not quite.
But Besand had been his primary focus for two years. Especially the last year. That couldn’t be healthy, so much negativity flowing through his brain and heart. He’d spent the last year getting as close as possible to the scumbag. Visiting him in prison and following him to different states as he stood trial for his crimes. They’d developed a sort of sick repartee. Alex had nearly begged for any crumbs of information Darrin would drop about his crimes that Alex could pass along to detectives. Darrin had always gloated, feeding off Alex’s pain.
Darrin had revealed the hiding places of two female bodies in Arizona during one particularly upsetting exchange. For those women Alex had traded stories of his wife’s dislike of Samuel, ripping open fresh emotional wounds to bleed all over the prison floor. But Alex’s suffering was worth it. If he could alleviate the pain of other families then he’d gladly sacrifice some time being mentally poked at by a killer. It was almost as if he was seeking absolution for not listening to Samuel, for not letting him live in his home. Yes, he was experiencing mental and emotional pain through the process, but helping solve Darrin’s other crimes made it worth it.
But each session’s aftermath was hard.
Alex had to shower for extended periods of time after being in the same room with the killer. Or swim in his hotel’s pool. Lots of chlorine seemed to destroy the stench of Darrin’s ego. But nothing had completely helped with the cling of despair that swamped Alex after those meetings.
“Christ. It’s not the end of the world.” Jim was staring at him, studying his face.
Alex jerked. “My mind’s somewhere else.”
Alex met Jim’s gaze, but there was no pity, only strength.
“Besand’s last assumed victim was a male. I remember it. I also remember the vic’s brother was instrumental in getting Besand arrested. Something about DNA evidence even though it didn’t link Besand to that last murder. You were all over the news for a while. No wonder Sheriff Collins thought you looked familiar when you first met.”
“It was nothing.” Alex looked away.
“You probably stopped Besand from killing a lot of other people.”
I didn’t stop him soon enough. His gut wrenched as looked back to Jim, silently transmitting those words.
“I’m sorry about your brother, Alex.”
Now pity did flash in Jim’s eyes. Alex turned away from him and started back up the hill. He said over his shoulder, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Brynn the truth.”
“Hang on. I want to get these guys’ IDs. There’s a chance we might not be back.”
Jim ducked back into the cockpit while Alex waited. He could help Jim get the pilots’ drivers’ licenses, but he really didn’t want to go back in there. Breathing was difficult. The cockpit was so tiny and those bodies…
“Alex! Come look at this!”
Jim sounded like he’d been punched in the stomach. Alex’s teeth ground as he whirled around and took two leaping steps back to the cockpit.
He knew it would be bad.
Paul Whittenhall’s mood was black.
The damn rescue team was unreachable. He hadn’t heard a word from his own two-man team, and Regan Simmons had spent the night with the cameraman from CNN.
Paul had been awake most of the night expecting her to call or knock on his door, and she hadn’t done either. After the dirty looks he’d shot her at yesterday’s press conference because of her comments about Darrin Besand on the plane, what’d he expect? If looks could kill, she’d be slaughtered. And he thought she’d return to his bed?
How stupid was he?
Two new deputy marshals were manning the outpost from Antarctica with him. He didn’t know either very well. They were new to Oregon and not men he considered part of his inner circle. He gave them strict instructions not to talk to anyone, especially media, and left them alone. They’d spent most of the time in one of the federal SUVs. They’d tried to hide their DVD player, but Paul had seen it and knew they were watching one of the Die Hard movies.
He glanced at the black Suburban. One of the men threw his head back and laughed at something on-screen. Paul wanted to strangle him out of sheer boredom and stress. But there was nothing else for the men to do. Why not watch a movie?
Paul stomped around the vehicles. He’d made a path over the last few hours and continued to stomp down the fresh snow as it fell. Every few laps he’d stop and brush the snow off his own Suburban. And a few other cars. He had too much restless energy. If he were a decade younger and knew the slightest bit about winter survival he would’ve gone in after Kinton. He had too much to lose if Kinton and Besand crossed paths now.
Besand had to be dead.
“Whittenhall!”
Paul turned at the voice of the sheriff.
Sheriff Collins looked tired. The skin around his eyes was tight, like it was tired of holding open the lids. His mouth was pressed closed so firmly his lips were nearly hidden.
“Sheriff?”
Collins glanced over Paul’s shoulder at the Suburban with the two agents inside. “They watching anything good?”
Paul shrugged. “Die Hard.”
Collins relaxed slightly. “I wouldn’t mind a little John McClane right now. Anything to get my mind off this shit.”
Paul nodded. The sheriff wanted to make small talk? He didn’t believe it for a second.
“I’ve just heard about that chopper that flew overhead yesterday. Remember?”
Paul’s spine tightened, and he nodded again.
“Was a pair of local boys. Both pilots. One’s from the air force rescue squadron up north. His brother flew the two of them out to look for that downed plane.”
Paul grew hot in the icy air. “Air force? You knew about that?”
“I know who Liam and his brother, Tyrone, are. We’ve used them before in rescues. I didn’t know that was them in that bird yesterday.” Collins’s eyes darted to the left and Paul knew he was lying. The sheriff had known exactly who’d flown overhead and why. “The rescue squadron didn’t sanction that flight. It was just two boys trying to help out on their own.”
“They find anything?”
Paul hadn’t thought it was possible, but Collins grew more grim. “They haven’t been heard from. They were supposed to return yesterday. No one can raise them.”
Paul stared. “So now you’ve got two aircraft down in those woods.”
Collins met the stare. “Yes, I do.”
“Any more aircraft going up today?” He deliberately drew out the words.