Chilled (A Bone Secrets Novel)

Alex heaved Stewart’s pack onto his back. Matt slung on his own pack, and Alex watched Matt’s hands tremble as he fiddled with the straps. They’d covered Stewart with a thick layer of snow and tied a shirt to the nearest tree to mark the area. Matt had noted the location on his GPS. Alex broke the tense silence. “What the fuck is going on? What are you doing out here?”

 

“You say that like you own this piece of woods. I could ask you the same question.” Matt gave him a level look. “Stewart contacted me and said he needed someone with outdoor experience to go in after a plane that’d crashed with Linus on board.” He spoke Linus’s name with the slightest quiver.

 

Alex swallowed and nodded for Matt to go on. He’d tell him in a minute about Linus. It wasn’t going to be easy. At one time, the three of them had been as close as brothers. Until Alex had stopped all communication.

 

“When I got to the base camp, the sheriff told me that a marshal had already gone in with his team. You.”

 

Alex didn’t say anything.

 

“Stewart told me you’d manipulated your way onto the team because you wanted to get to Linus. But halfway up here he told me that Darrin Besand had been on the transport, and right then I knew Linus wasn’t your only motivation. Hell, Linus might not have been your concern at all.” Matt spit the last sentence, his face dark.

 

“That’s not true,” Alex stated firmly.

 

Matt rubbed a hand over his mouth, and Alex knew he didn’t believe him. “Then this morning he tells me he has orders to shoot Besand on sight if he survived the crash. I was still trying to wrap my mind around that statement when Stewart spotted you.”

 

Matt shook his head. “It was weird. We’d both spotted you through binoculars, and I was so damned glad to see you in this freezing hellhole that I didn’t notice Stewart had put his rifle to his shoulder. I’d told him a hundred times on the hike up here that the AR-15 was too awkward to bring along. Now I know why he insisted on bringing it.”

 

Matt shuddered.

 

“That shot scared the shit out of me, but I knocked him down and got the rifle out of his hand. What I really wanted to do was beat him over the head with it. We’d been going at it for a few minutes when you came up.” He grimaced at Alex. “You

 

startled me when you yelled his name. For a split second you sounded like the big boss man, Whittenhall.”

 

“Did Stewart say why he shot at me?”

 

Matt shook his head. “I kept asking him why the fuck he’d done that, but he’d only say that he had to.” He paused. “Do you know why?”

 

Alex stood silent. “Yeah, I think I do. I’ll fill you in on the way back to the plane.” He started off in the direction he’d come, stepping in the footprints he’d made earlier.

 

“The plane? You found it? Anyone live?” Excitement filled Matt’s voice as he stepped along beside Alex, but then he frowned. “How come you’re alone?”

 

“Everyone else is back at the plane. Linus died and the pilots didn’t make it.” He met Matt’s gaze and watched the pain line his face. “I’m really sorry to tell you about Linus. The three of us used to be tight. But it looks like Besand lived.”

 

Matt halted. “Looks like?”

 

“He wasn’t with the plane, and I think he’s hiding out nearby, waiting for me. I thought that shot had come from him.”

 

“Then what are you doing wandering around the woods if you think Besand’s trying to kill you?”

 

Alex’s lips formed a cold smile. “Trying to draw him out.”

 

“Kinton.” A new voice.

 

Matt whipped around and leveled his gun at Thomas.

 

“Don’t!” Alex lunged and pushed Matt’s arms down. “He’s with me.” Alex glared back at the Alaskan. “About time.”

 

“I’ve been watching for a while.” Thomas’s mouth twitched.

 

 

 

 

 

Thomas did reconnaissance, covering the area a hundred yards out from the cockpit in a circle as Alex led Matt to the small piece of plane to look for any new signs of Besand. They dropped their packs and approached with weapons drawn. The skin on the back of Alex’s neck tingled and pricked as they stopped behind the pilots’ seats.

 

Alex forced his gaze to the ceiling. No new messages. He let his lungs slowly deflate.

 

“So where is Besand hiding out?”

 

Alex shrugged. “I’ve searched the area pretty good. I don’t know where he’s hiding out during the day. He may have rigged some sort of shelter. We think he might have found one of the packs, which means he’d have a tent and food. He’s probably somewhere he can watch the other part of the plane. My gut tells me he’s not far away.”

 

Matt’s head jerked as he spotted the writing. “Is that blood?”

 

Alex explained the message.

 

“God, he’s a sick fuck. You think he’ll target the woman?”

 

“I think he’s trying to push my buttons.”

 

Matt studied Alex’s face, his eyes probing. Matt had a dark brown gaze that could stop a charging bull. “Is it working?”

 

“Yeah. He’s got me wandering around in a blizzard wanting to wrap my hands around his neck. I’d say it’s working.”

 

“You said you knew why Whittenhall wants you taken out.”

 

Alex compressed his lips, his eyes on the message. He had a hunch. That was all.

 

“I think Whittenhall was trying to get Besand out of prison.”

 

Matt stopped short, his jaw dropping for a split second. “Why the fuck would he do that?’

 

“That’s the part I don’t know. Besand must have something on him.”

 

“Blackmail? You think he’s blackmailing Whittenhall?”

 

“Possibly. Each time Besand was transported, Whittenhall assigned him a detail made for a kindergartner. Like he was trying to make it easy for the guy to get away.”

 

“Besand’s a big dude.”

 

“I know. That’s what makes it more suspicious. Besand is a big, physical guy who is willing to kill. Do you remember when he assaulted Berry during the trip to Salt Lake?”

 

Alex watched comprehension enter Matt’s eyes, then anger. “That’s right. Berry had a black eye for a week. They didn’t beef up the details after that?”

 

“No, they got worse. Green guys, smaller guys.”

 

“So why would Whittenhall order you shot because you might meet up with Besand out in the woods? What could Besand say to you out here that he hasn’t said during all those damned social visits?”

 

Alex frowned and dropped his gaze, a trickle of guilt running down his spine. “You heard about that?” He silently swore. He’d thought the prison visits to Besand had been kept from the other marshals. The district attorney’s office knew, the detectives on the cases knew, but he’d believed that’d been all.

 

“Everybody knew. They thought you were nuts for seeing that guy. Until the information about his missing vics started trickling in. Besand was telling you, wasn’t he? You were the only one he’d talk to, right?”

 

Matt gets it. Alex’s shoulders straightened a little. It was good to have his old friend beside him. He’d missed Matt’s straightforward, no bullshit attitude. But that loss was his own fault.

 

“What did you trade him for that kind of information?” Matt said evenly.

 

Alex rubbed a glove over his face as every sore muscle in his body begged for rest. He glanced at Matt. “It felt like I gave him a part of my soul every visit. You don’t know how filthy I’d feel after listening to that bastard talk for an hour. Inside and out. I wanted to soak in a hot tub of bleach after every episode.”

 

Matt was quiet for a few seconds. “But what’s different now? What’s got Whittenhall in a panic over you meeting up with Besand? The blackmail?”

 

“If Besand’s got a free ticket out of the country waiting for him somewhere, then he wouldn’t have much motivation to keep Whittenhall’s secret to himself anymore.”

 

Matt took that in before saying in a stunned voice, “That’s a pretty good theory.”

 

“It’s all I can think about. I managed to get a call through to the sheriff at the base camp and told him the same thing. I asked him to look into a few things on Whittenhall’s background and Besand.”

 

“You got a call through? My cell hasn’t worked out here since the first hour we left.” Matt slid his phone out of his pocket, looking hopefully at it.

 

“There’re pockets of reception here and there. Not very consistent though.”

 

“What made you stab Whittenhall?”

 

Alex snorted at the abrupt subject change. “I didn’t stab him. That was an accident. He and Linus messed things up and we all scuffled. I was pissed that day, not thinking straight. All those wretched victims of Besand’s. And Whittenhall wasn’t taking the threat of him seriously.”

 

“You still stabbed him.” Alex heard the admiring note in Matt’s words. “Had a lot of guys doing high fives behind Whittenhall’s back. I think we’ve all wanted to take a swing at him one time or another.”

 

Alex couldn’t stop his tired smile. It had felt good to take Whittenhall down a notch. Too bad it’d cost him his job. He mentally shook his head. That move didn’t cost him his job; he’d been on the way out for six months. His head hadn’t been in the game. He’d been obsessed with his brother’s killer to the point nothing else in his life mattered. Not his friends, not his marriage, not his health.

 

“There were rumors floating around. That Whittenhall could make a convict’s life easier for a price,” Matt said in a thoughtful voice.

 

“Easier? What does that mean?”

 

“I figure it means what you just said about Besand. Light details, maybe get someone switched to a different prison. Like something closer to their home.”

 

“For a felon? Whittenhall couldn’t do that.”

 

Matt shrugged. “Maybe he thought he could. Enough to convince people to pay him. Maybe that’s the information he’s afraid Besand will spill.”

 

“Could be. Besand would need to have some pretty concrete proof though.” Alex stared out of the cockpit, faint memories pushing at his brain. “I knew something odd was up. Linus had been sucked into something. He’d said something a couple of years ago after a lot of beer that made me think he was in over his head with…I wasn’t sure what.”

 

“I know he got screwed on his mortgage in that lender debacle and was in danger of losing his house. And I think—” Matt abruptly stopped talking, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

 

“Think what?”

 

Matt spoke quietly. “I think he had a gambling problem.”

 

Alex thought hard. Linus had always been the one who hit the video poker terminals that sprouted in every bar in Oregon. And he loved to visit Vegas. He’d been going to the Indian casinos when Alex lost touch with him. More affordable. No airfare or hotel bills.

 

“I can see that.” And in hindsight he saw it clearly. Deep in debt with two kids? That would drive a man to do anything. Even something illegal if he needed the money badly enough. What had Whittenhall pulled Linus into?