The tension in her shoulders slips a little. I push my advantage and help her to her feet and into the weeds. There might not be much traffic, but I need her out of the road. “We can call off the search and all these officers can get out of this storm.” I continue talking and leading her further into the field.
I pull off my gloves and slip them onto her red fingers. Then I pull her tight against my chest. Wearing my dress coat, I’m not exactly prepared for a winter storm either, but my recent sprint across the field has warmed me up. I unzip my coat and slide her arms around my waist, all the while talking softly and slowly.
Her arms are like ice tentacles wrapped around my middle. She pushes her face against my chest and I can feel the cold of her cheek through my shirt. “We’ll find the kids,” I tell her. “I promise.”
The tension in her body releases a little more and she leans against me. “I tried so hard,” she whispers.
“I know you did.” I kiss the top of her hooded head. “This storm’s really kicking up. We have to get out of this weather.”
Gabby suddenly springs upright and searches my face. “Where’s Olivia?” she asks in a panic. I’m touched by her concern for my daughter, but not surprised.
“Alexis took her home with her.”
Gabby sags against me. “Crap on a cracker. That means Dustin’s here.”
I nod, biting back a smile.
She unwinds her arms from inside my coat and starts retracing her steps through the field.
“I can call a car to come pick us up, you know?” I say following her.
“Dustin’s going to throw a fit at me. Walking will take longer and postpone the lecture.” Her shoulders are thrown back and her chin is up. She looks nothing like the desperate broken woman that was pawing at the road a few minutes ago.
I match my stride to hers. “You know he only acts like that because he worries about you.”
“So I’ve been told. Doesn’t change the fact that he can be a real pain. I may be his younger sister, but I’m not a child.”
We walk a few paces in silence.
“Don’t you dare say that out loud,” she says suddenly.
My cheeks burn against the cold air. “Say what?”
“That I may not be a child but I act like one sometimes.”
I stop in my tracks. That’s exactly what I was thinking.
Gabby breaks into a loud laugh. “I was just guessing, I didn’t read your mind or anything.”
I look at her, unsure.
“I was thinking that sometimes, maybe, I do act like a child.” She flashes a glance in my direction. “Only makes sense you would have been thinking it, too.”
“Aren’t we all just kids on the inside? Scared kids trying to play grown up?”
Gabby stops suddenly and looks me straight in the face. “That is the smartest thing anyone has ever said,” she whispers. She then leans in slowly, and touches her lips to mine. Alone in the snowy field on Christmas Eve, the scene is almost romantic and I can forget the reason we’re out here. We take advantage of the moment.
All the worry and frustration of the last hour pours out of me in that kiss. Gabby matches my intensity. When we finally pull apart, she tips her forehead to my chest.
“I can hear your heart beating,” she says. “It’s going pretty fast.”
“Well, I have been traipsing all over the wilderness tonight,” I tease.
She tips her head back and gives me a special look, “Is that all?”
I drop my head to kiss her again. Dustin’s voice rattles out of my radio. “Hartley, are you and Gabby almost back? We have an ID on the victims.”
I grab my radio and answer. “We’re headed that way.” I pull away from Gabby, giving her a hopefully later look. We start walking across the field again. “Wait, did you say victims, plural?”
Dustin’s voice is somber as he says, “The woman died en route. If what you say about them being forced off the road is true, we have a double homicide.”
“And a kidnapping,” Gabby adds.
The snowy field is no longer romantic. A different kind of passion burns in me as we retrace our steps through the woods.
Chapter 4
GABBY
Maybe he’s too busy dealing with the case or maybe it’s a Christmas miracle, but Dustin doesn’t chew me out when Lucas and I get back to the wrecked car. His sharp blue eyes take in every detail from my tightly tied hood, to the tear in my jeans from the barbed wire fence. Satisfied that I’m okay or at least not going to cause him any immediate trouble, he shifts back into cop mode.
“The driver was Eric Landry,” Dustin says, checking his notes. “Dead on the scene.”
As if we didn’t know that part already. I’m more surprised at the woman’s passing. Lucas shares my concerns.
“The woman was stable when I was with her,” Lucas says. “Well, maybe not stable, but her breathing was regular, her heartbeat was steady. What happened?” The pain and disappointment seeps past his attempt at official detachment. “She wasn’t even bleeding. The air bag took most of the impact.”
Dustin doesn’t have an answer. “They just said she died on the way to the hospital. I guess we’ll know more later.”
Lucas looks at me for any insights. “Did you pick anything up from her? It doesn’t make sense that she died.”
I can only shrug helplessly. “I didn’t really touch her or anything. I was more focused on her kids.”
“What was her name?” Lucas asks. “Who was she?”
“Lauren Whitlow. We ID’d both victims by their driver’s licenses. That’s all we have at the moment.”
“Different last names,” I point out. “Boyfriend?”
“Likely,” Dustin says. “We’re still working on names and ages for the kids, but we’ll have that info soon. Any other info on the car that picked them up?”
I look with shame at the heavy gloves covering my hands. “I didn’t get anything new. Just a light colored four door sedan.”
Lucas blows air hard in exasperation. A shiver shakes his shoulders.
“Why don’t we get out of this storm for now,” I offer. “Then figure out our next move.”
Dustin looks at me sharply, “We?”
“Yes, we. I’m part of this. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even have found this car or known about the missing kids.”
“I’m so sick of the ‘if it wasn’t for me’ line,” he grumbles. He says it under his breath, but I hear it anyway.
“Sorry to be such a help,” I snide back.
“Just knock it off,” Lucas snaps as if he’s correcting fighting children.
Dustin and I are both knocked speechless from his harsh tone.
“Two people have died and three children are missing.” Lucas’s chest heaves with frustration. “And you two are squabbling like children.”
Dustin and I both raise our chins in identical expressions. “Sorry,” I grumble. “You’re right.”
Lucas takes charge of the situation. “Gabby, you take my car and go home. Dustin and I will ride back with the other officers and pick up our cruiser.”
I want to argue, to bristle at being told to go home, but Lucas holds up his hand before I can form the words.
“We have to go inform some family members that their loved ones were killed on Christmas Eve,” he says, his voice breaking. “Whatever you’re about to say isn’t important compared to that.”
Lucas turns suddenly and stalks through the brush, following the tire tracks back to the road.
“He’s pretty upset,” I say to my brother. “I’ve never seen him like that.”
Dustin kicks his dress shoes at the snow and rubs his slinged arm. “I have,” he says softly. “You wouldn’t understand.” He follows Lucas up the tracks.
I don’t take offense at the words and match pace with him. “Yes, I guess I can’t understand.” I can’t imagine what they go through on a daily basis. I can only be thankful for them. “He’s right ab
out the woman. Lauren Whitlow? There’s something fishy about that. She was banged up, but she didn’t seem that bad. Will there be an autopsy or anything?”
“Normally, not, but I can order one.”
I nod, thinking about Lauren Whitlow and what she was so afraid of. I finally give words to my fears, “Do you think the kids are okay?” I ask my brother. “They went willingly into the car that found them. But why was someone looking for them? Who would even know they were out here to be found. It had to be the same person who forced them off the road.”
Dustin takes pity on me. “Whoever has them probably won’t hurt them. Most likely their father took them. Family abductions rise sharply at the holidays.”
The thought gives me a little hope. “He wouldn’t hurt his own kids, then, right?”
“Let’s hope not.” He raises his damaged arm, reminding me how he got the gunshot that put him in the sling. Some fathers are capable of anything. Despite our differences, Dustin and I share that fact.
We’ve almost reached the road, a few more steps through the brush and we’ll be visible. Lucas impatiently waits for us, talking to another officer, making plans. I touch Dustin’s sleeve, stopping him. “He’s pretty upset,” I say, nodding to Lucas. “Keep an eye on him.”
Dustin surprises me by wrapping his good arm around my shoulders. “I always do.” The tender moment is fleeting, but infinitely warm.
He drops his arm and hurries up the bank, leaving me wondering if I’d imagined the half-hug.
When I reach Lucas, he has deep lines on his face and his lips are tight. “Can you take my car?” he asks. “And can you do me a massive favor?”
“Anything for you.” I add a wide smile, hoping to take the edge off the last several minutes. He doesn’t return the smile.
“Olivia went home with Alexis, but all her presents are still at my house,” he starts.
“Say no more,” I interrupt him. “I’ll take them to Dustin’s for you. Can’t have her thinking Santa forgot about her.” I plaster on another smile. Lucas doesn’t take the bait. His mind is on the awful news he has to deliver tonight.
“Keys are in the car,” he says with barely a glance at me. I’ve been dismissed. He turns away, and takes a step towards the cruiser waiting for him. A guilty rush of jealousy flows into my blood. I have no idea what I feel jealous of. I don’t envy what he has to do the rest of the night. I don’t really want to be there when they deliver the death notices. The ugly jealousy remains.
I watch him climb into the back seat of the cruiser, the whole time expecting him to say something else to me, make some remark to let me know we’re okay. He’s in full cop mode, his mind on a million other things.
The cruiser door shuts and my boyfriend and my brother pull away. A few cars are still on scene and a few officers are still working on their various jobs, but I feel alone. I recognize the jealousy for what it really is.
The familiar ache of emptiness.
The icy snow blasts my face and a chill climbs into my chest.
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper to the fading tail lights of the cruiser. This evening started off with so much promise. The lovely party at Grandma Dot’s, my mom finally out of prison and with the family, and Lucas by my side. It had been the best Christmas I ever remembered.
I shiver against the blowing wind. My best jeans are soaked from climbing through the snow and torn from my battle with the barbed wire. The skin underneath stings where the wire cut me. My toes are frozen and wet inside my dress boots. I still wear Lucas’s oversized gloves, but my fingertips burn with cold.
At least on Christmas’ past, I wasn’t standing alone freezing and wet on the side of the road.
I push the selfish thought away. Lauren Whitlow and Eric Landry will never have another Christmas. Those three kids probably won’t have gifts waiting under any tree in the morning. If they even see the morning.
The morbid thought gets my feet moving. Lucas and Dustin work in their way, I work in mine. I may have been dismissed in an official capacity, but that hasn’t ever stopped me before.
But first, I need to play Santa.
That thought makes my stomach sink. It means I’ll have to see Alexis.
“Crap on a cracker,” I mutter as I climb into Lucas’s car. “You just ran off into the woods during a snowstorm without flinching. Seeing your sister-in-law alone should be a piece of cake.”
I’d rather just eat the cake.
Chapter 5
GABBY
Driving Lucas’s car feels oddly like a violation of his personal space. Maybe it’s because I rarely let anyone drive my old Charger. I’m pretty sure Lucas doesn’t have that kind of unhealthy attachment to his car. Thinking of my Dodge Charger, I decide to make a quick stop at my house first. In these dress clothes and Lucas’s car, I don’t feel like myself.
Chester, my gray and white cat, is pleased to see me, as always. Earlier, before Lucas picked me up for Grandma Dot’s, I’d had a private celebration with Chester. I’d given him an entire can of tuna, served on the fanciest plate I owned. I’d seen something similar on those cat food commercials where the fancy cat gets fed on fine china, complete with a sprig of green garnish. My clear glass plate was far from fine china, but Chester didn’t seem to mind. He rubs himself extra excitedly against my legs now, no doubt hoping for more tuna.
“You’ve already had your holiday treat,” I tell him. He puts his front paw ups on my leg and looks up at me with the largest, begging eyes. “You’re hopeless,” I say and rub him between the ears. “Tell you what, I’ll let you lick the can.”
If I’d had another can of tuna, I’d gladly given it to him, but I’d only had the one. After digging the can out of the trash, I put a little bit of water in it and swish it around to catch the stray pieces of fish for him. No fancy plate for him this time, I simply set the can on the kitchen floor. Chester makes small noises of contentment as he laps at the fishy water.
“You’re so easy to please,” I tell him. “Too bad everyone isn’t like you.”
I leave Chester to his late night snack and go to my room to strip off my soaked boots and ruined jeans. It’s late, almost officially Christmas. The thought makes me sad. I want to climb into my bed with Chester and pretend it’s just a night like any other, not the greatest night of the year.
“No rest for the weary,” I tell Chester who has followed me into my room, licking his lips. “Or is it no rest for the worried? No rest for the weirdo? That sounds more like it.”
I find some mostly clean jeans, dry hiking boots and a t-shirt. On a sudden inspiration, I remember a red hoodie Grandma Dot gave me years ago. I dig to the back of my closet and find it on a wire hanger. It’s been hanging there so long, one shoulder is misshapen.
I pull the hoodie on and look in my dresser mirror. “What do you think?” I ask Chester.
The bright red hoodie has a hideous picture of Santa with a glittering beard checking his list. The shirt says, “I don’t care what Santa thinks, I’d rather be naughty than nice.” When Grandma Dot gave it to me three Christmas’s ago, she’d laughed like it was some inside joke between us. I’d smiled politely, but didn’t get it. Looking at it now, I still don’t get it. I mean, I get it, but I don’t understand why Grandma thought it was a good gift for me.
“Does she think I’m naughty?” I ask my reflection. I guess looking back over the last year, maybe she’s right. Either way, the huge red hoodie is the only holiday wear I have. It’s thick and warm and bright and has lots of glitter and bling. After three years exiled to the far reaches of my closet, the glitter writing has started to come loose. A small shower of it drops to the carpet.
I’m too tired to care about the glitter. With a last pat for Chester, I zip my coat tight over the sweater, pull on a fresh pair of gloves and head back out into the cold. The blasting snow has stopped, but the cold bites at my nose and makes the hairs inside sting. I rub at my face, hating that particular sensation.
“Som
eday, I’m going to move where it’s warm all the time,” I grumble as I slide into my cold Charger. The freezing leather seats seep through my jeans and chill my rear. “I’m going to drive south and not stop,” I continue as the heater battles with the chill. “Or maybe go out west. Anywhere there isn’t snow.”
I wipe at my tingling nose again, knowing full well I’ll never leave River Bend. Everyone I love is here. That’s how they get you, how they trap you. Why else would anyone want to live somewhere that’s so cold?
I put the Charger in reverse, and continue grumbling. “That must be why the Canadians are all so nice to each other. Otherwise everyone would flee the weather.”
I’m so tired, I chuckle at the lame joke. Driving through the deserted streets to Lucas’s house, my eyes search for the car I saw pick up those kids. A light colored four door sedan is barely even a description. There has to be hundreds of them even in a town as small as River Bend.
I think hard about the car, try to remember any distinguishing features. Was there some sort of sticker on the back passenger window, or was that a smudge of snow? I focus hard on the memory. There had been a shape, but I can’t be sure what I saw. I’d been so focused on the kids, I hadn’t paid the car much attention. I can’t even be sure if the person who took them was a man or woman.
“Not your best work tonight,” I chastise myself as I pull into Lucas’s driveway. In the front yard, a lighted blow up decoration of two penguins having a snowball fight has fallen victim to the storm. It’s blown from the yard into the bushes by the front door. The light and fan are still running, but the penguins look like they belong in a Salvador Dali painting, melted and misshapen.
I pull the decoration out of the bushes and set it back up in the yard. The ground is too hard to drive the stakes back in, but one of them is still in the ground from before. I secure the penguins as best I can to the remaining stake.
Message of Murder 04-Message in the Snow Page 3