by Carolina Mac
After that chore was done, he drove across the road and bought a case of beer.
“Now, all I have to remember is how to get to the cabin from here.”
After turning down the wrong side road a couple of times and nearly getting stuck in a snowbank, he found Annie’s road. The steep driveway up to the cabin was plugged full of three feet of snow and there was no way in hell he could drive up the hill. He’d have to walk.
On his first trip up the steep grade in leather cowboy boots, he slipped and fell and dropped the bag of groceries. Half the stuff he’d bought disappeared into the white stuff. Those cans of stew would never be seen again until spring.
He tried again and struggled, clinging to brittle tree branches that kept breaking off in his hand and pulling himself up the hill inch by inch. Finally, at the top of the grade with half a bag of groceries, he waded through thigh-deep snow around to the back of the cabin where the key had been hidden last time he was here.
His jeans were soaked through and the denim was freezing stiff and hard against his legs. Trying to ignore the cold, Tyler used the light from his phone to search the back porch for the key. The welcome mat was frozen hard to the decking and he couldn’t pry it up with his gloves on, so he took them off and ripped away at the corners until his fingers bled. The corner of the mat closest to the threshold finally gave enough that he could grip it and pull. With a grunt of effort from Tyler and a cracking ice sound from the mat, he peeled it off the frozen cedar boards underneath and tossed it out of the way. He turned on the light on his cell phone and searched. There was no key.
“There has to be a key. Annie always leaves a key here.”
He left the bag of food on the back step and forged his way around to the front porch using the path he’d already made. The four steps leading up to the elevated front of the cabin were icy and slick and Tyler held tight to the wooden railing to haul himself up there without falling and killing himself.
He brushed away inches of snow that had accumulated on the floor of the porch and began searching the same way he’d done at the back. There was no key.
The front door was solid wood. No glass insert. If he had to break in, it had to be the back door. He’d break the glass in one of the garden doors, let himself in and then patch up the door. It was the only way.
Tyler was exhausted by the time he plowed through the deep snow and once again stood on the back porch. He looked around for something he could use to break a pane of glass in one of the doors and the only thing at hand was a can of stew in his grocery bag. Luckily he had one left that hadn’t fallen into the snow on the hill.
With his gloves on, he took the can and smashed it against the glass. Nothing. He did it again and again. On the fourth try the glass broke with a loud crack. He picked out the shards, then stuck his hand through and turned the lock.
Once he was inside with the lights on, he found a plastic bag that he taped over the hole. He’d get the glass fixed the next day so he wouldn’t lose heat. Not that there was any to lose. Not yet. But the inside of the cabin was warmer than outside. That was something.
Starting the stove was next on his list.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Monday, January 21st.
6:00 a.m.
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
JESSE emerged from the walk-in closet with a duffel in his hand and opened the top drawer of his dresser.
Marnie opened her eyes and tried to focus on him. “You’re already dressed and what is that you’re doing? Packing?”
“I have to go to Canada, Marn. I don’t want to, but I have to find Tyler and talk some sense into him before he gets himself killed.”
Marnie threw back the covers and sat up. “I’m going with you. You can’t go alone.”
“You don’t feel well. I don’t want you to come.”
“I’m better now. I’m not so nauseous.”
“As a courtesy, I have to tell Ace we’re going to her property. And once she finds out I’m going, I’m sure she’ll insist on going too.”
“Then we’ll all go.” She pointed at the duffel. “I’ll pack a bigger bag for both of us.”
Jesse threw down the pair of socks in his hand. “Would you? I’ll go make coffee and call her. Then I’ll see what time the flights to Toronto are.”
“What should I take. Is it cold there?”
“Jesus, Marn, it’s freezing. January in Ontario is the high shits. Ice and snow up to your gorgeous ass. I don’t think you should come.”
Marnie laughed at him. “I’m not a chicken shit, Jesse. I can wear a sweater.”
A sweater? I almost froze to death at that fuckin cabin.
“Bring sweatshirts,” he said as he headed out of the room.
While the coffee brewed, Jesse sat in the kitchen and pressed Annie’s number.
6:15 a.m.
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
ANNIE sat at the granite island in her nightshirt sipping her first coffee of the day and watching Luc make toast. He always ate two or three slices of toast with blueberry jam before breakfast. The guy was a bottomless pit. Her cell rang on the counter beside her and she jumped.
Luc turned his head and scowled. “Who call dis early?”
Annie picked up the phone and said, “Jesse.”
“Ace, Blacky found out that Ty flew to Pearson from Albuquerque. I’m going to see if he’s at the cabin. I don’t want the RCMP tracking him like a dog and shooting him if I can find a better way. Just letting you know I’m going.”
“The cabin? Maybe it’s the first place he thought of,” said Annie. “Luc and I will come with you. Have you looked for flights?”
“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”
“Do you want me to book the seats?” asked Annie.
“Sure. Marnie is insisting on coming with me.”
“You’ve been stressed out and she wants to watch over you,” said Annie. “I’ll get four seats and call you back with the time.”
“Thanks, Ace. Appreciate it.”
7:00 a.m. E.S.T.
Maynooth. Ontario.
THE fire in the red enamel woodstove had gone out during the night and the air in the cabin was frigid when Tyler woke up in Annie’s queen size bed. He could see his breath in the bedroom and the windows were covered in a coating of ice.
Under the red Hudson Bay blanket, he was warm and cozy and didn’t even want to think about touching the cold hardwood floor with his feet. Today he’d find out how to turn the furnace on or turn it up. It was warmer in the cabin than outside, but not by much. If the furnace was on, it was on the lowest setting, just to keep the pipes from freezing.
He needed more heat.
8:00 a.m.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
SINCE there was no night shift on the weekend, Farrell was up and dressed for the Monday morning meeting. Carlos, Billy and Cody wouldn’t report for work until eleven at night.
Blaine started as soon as all the boys were seated. “Jesse won’t be working today. He has a family emergency.”
“I’m going to see Roy at his rooming house to see if he can shed any light on Florin Moffatt, the guy who beat him up,” said Farrell.
“Yeah,” said Blaine, “that guy is a creep and needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Are we on the gym, boss?” asked Fletcher.
Blaine nodded. “You guys stay on the gym for now. I’ve got an appointment with a translator at ten and we’ll find out what’s on the recording you made.”
“Hope it’s evidence we can use,” said Luke. “They sounded pissed about something, but me and Fletch didn’t know what the hell they were saying.”
“Nobody would,” said Lil, “except another Russian.”
The boys laughed and Blaine noticed Rob Vicars looking at Lily in a way he didn’t like.
Did I give him the speech about not fuckin around with Lil? Can’t remember.
9:00 a.m. E.S.T.
Maynooth. Ontario.
THE stove was out, and the wood box built into the stone chimney was empty. Wearing his bulky hunting coat, Tyler had made coffee, fried an egg, made toast and enjoyed a fried egg sandwich for breakfast. Warmed by the hot coffee and proud of his newfound cooking skills, Tyler felt every bit the survivor. He put his plate in the sink and turned to the next task at hand—chopping wood.
His first challenge was to find the wood pile under the snow. He bundled up in his parka, gloves and toque and ventured outside. The sun was shining, the wind had gone down, and the snow had stopped blowing around. He could see the barn and the garage and a couple more small buildings he hadn’t noticed before.
“I might have to look in all of them to find an axe,” he mumbled to himself.
Tyler plowed through snow three feet high to get to the barn and when he got there, he couldn’t get the doors open.
“I need a shovel.” Glancing over at the garage, the situation was the same. Probably both of the buildings had shovels inside, but he couldn’t get to them. He needed a shovel—to get to the shovel—to get to the axe—to chop the wood—to light the stove—to keep Tyler from fuckin freezing to death.
“I’ve got to go to the store and buy a shovel.”
10:00 a.m.
Language Institute. Austin.
BLAINE met with the Russian translator he’d spoken with on the phone, a Mr. Vladimir Kristof. A large, solidly built man with graying hair and steely blue eyes. He was dressed casually in black slacks and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Blaine introduced himself, and Mr. Kristof took the flash drive from him and plugged it into his computer.
“I may have to listen to it several times before I translate,” he said. “Just to get the essence of the conversation correct.”
“Take as much time as you need, sir.”
Blaine sat quietly and checked email messages on his phone while he waited. One from Annie.
“Going with Jesse to cabin. Call you later.”
“Be careful. I love you.”
One from Misty.
“Missing you. I still love you.”
“Same.”
Mr. Kristof began writing on a notepad next to him. When he finished he said, “I’ll have my secretary type the translation up and send it to you, Ranger Blackmore, but this is what the two men are saying.” He set his pen down and picked up the pad to read from it.
“We’ve got to cool it with Blackmore sniffing around. If he gets a warrant to search this place before we get everything moved, we’re in trouble.”
“Stop panicking. He doesn’t know anything. The Cobras don’t know one thing about the operation.”
“If you’re sure of that, why are we moving?”
“Because it’s stupid to stay in one place too long.”
“Where will we stash the girls while we’re moving?”
“I’ll rent a couple of motel rooms and lock them up with Natasha and Sylvia to watch them.”
“You’ll need more than a couple of rooms for forty girls.”
“Don’t nitpick. I’ll get ten rooms at Blue Tango.”
“That’s all there is on this drive, Ranger Blackmore. I hope that helps you with your case.”
“It certainly does. We’ll get people in position tonight.” He offered his hand to Mr. Kristof. “Send the bill to the Agency, sir. There might be more work coming your way in the future.”
“Appreciate the business, and here at the Institute, we’re always pleased to help law enforcement.”
11:30 a.m.
Austin-Bergstrom Airport.
IN first class, Annie and Luc sat across the aisle from Jesse and Marnie. “Does Marnie feel alright?” asked Annie as she leaned closer to Jesse. “Maybe we should ask for some ginger ale for her.”
“I’m fine, Annie. Don’t worry about me.”
Luc did up his seat belt and held tight to Annie’s hand. “I don like dis, cher.”
“I don’t like flying either, sugar pop.” She squeezed his hand and tried to reassure him.
I crashed once. Not something you soon forget.
Noon. E.S.T.
Maynooth. Ontario.
WHEN Tyler trekked down the hill to go to the hardware, he eyed the Wrangler and thought he might not be going anywhere. The snowplow had gone around his Jeep during the early morning or during the night and packed snow two feet high against the side of it.
With his gloved hands he dug enough snow away from the driver’s door that he was able to open it halfway. He squeezed his body—extra thick with the heavy coat—behind the wheel. He pulled the door closed, stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine gave a groan and didn’t turn over. A couple more tries produced more unhappy sounds from the motor, and he figured he’d killed the battery. But surprisingly, on the next try, the motor roared to life.
He sat there for almost ten minutes letting the frozen vehicle warm up before he asked it to get him out of the snowdrift.
A couple of attempts driving back and forth in four wheel drive and the Jeep broke free of its snow prison and skidded down the snow-covered road. Tyler turned around at the first space wide enough and headed out to the highway.
The heater was kicking out dandy heat by the time he drove the three miles farther north to Maynooth. He chose the general store, parked out front and went inside to see what they had to offer.
The shelves near the front were lined with food—bread, milk, staples and snacks. Farther back a section of the wall was fitted with pegboard and a large array of tools hung in a neat row. Tyler picked out a wide snow shovel and happened to notice a selection of axes close to the shovels.
“Why don’t I just buy an axe too, and I wouldn’t have to shovel the barn doors to open them?” he muttered to himself.
He took the tools to the front of the store, leaned them against the checkout counter and gathered up everything else he might need in the next few days. More bread, coffee, cream, eggs, cookies, cans of soup. He placed it all next to the cash and asked the clerk for a carton of smokes. They only had Canadian cigarettes, so he pointed at a pack he’d never tried, and the guy gave him a carton from the locked cupboard.
“I only have American money,” said Tyler. “Is that a problem?”
“Nope. No Problem. I’ll give you today’s rate. I check every morning with the bank.”
“Thanks.”
“You ice fishing?”
“Is that a thing?”
“Yep, around here it is when the lakes freeze over.”
“Oh. Nope. Not ice fishing.” Tyler shoved his change in his pocket and tried to pick up the bags of groceries and the shovel and the axe at the same time.
“I’ll give you a hand to your car.”
“Hey, thanks.”
He drove back to the cabin and discovered while he was in Maynooth at the store, the plow had been by again and cleared the spot where he’d been parked at the bottom of the driveway. Tyler gathered everything up and tried to make it up the hill in one trip. Couldn’t do it. He leaned the shovel and axe against a tree, carried the rest of his purchases up and put it all on the front porch, then went back for the tools.
Once he had everything inside and put away, he put his coat back on, picked up the axe and went to find the wood. After a bit of tramping around in the blinding sunlight, he found a huge stack of logs under a lean-to at the side of the first garage—the bigger garage of the two. Annie had a lot of out buildings on her property.
Beside the woodpile was a chopping block and a wheelbarrow. “Uh huh. A wheelbarrow ain’t going nowhere in three feet of snow. I’ll have to carry the wood.”
Tyler picked up the broom leaning against the wall of the garage and swept off the woodpile. It had a coating of snow but protected by the overhang, the amount of snow was a pittance compared to the rest of the property.
He chose a good size chunk from the pile, stood it on its end on the block and picked up the axe.
Whack.
&n
bsp; He split the chunk in two. Two more chops and he had four burnable pieces that would fit in the stove. He tossed the split wood into the wheelbarrow figuring when it was full he’d have enough until the next day.
After half an hour of chopping, Tyler was no longer cold. In fact, he was sweating in the big winter coat. He undid the zipper, picked up another chunk and placed it in the center of the block.
He raised the axe over his head and as he was bringing the axe down with a mighty chop, the loudest noise he’d ever heard cut through the frozen air right behind him. Startled, Tyler lost his focus, missed the chunk of wood, missed the chopping block completely and drove the blade of the axe into the front of his leg.
As he fell to the frozen ground he saw a huge animal slowly walking away. That was the last thing he remembered.
1:00 p.m.
Downtown Austin.
FARRELL parked in front of the run down rooming house that Roy called home. The grass on the small front lawn had turned brown and dead weeds filled the flower bed next to the steps. Crying out for maintenance, the place was dirty and smelled bad, just like the lady who owned it. She was a piece of work and Farrell always tried to avoid seeing her.
He’d never been sure if Kamps lived in the same room as Roy, or if Kamps had his own room, or if Kamps lived someplace else. The relationship between Kamps and Roy was a little on the cloudy side.
Farrell ran up the stairs to the second floor and knocked on Roy’s door. He waited until he heard a weak voice tell him to come in. Farrell turned the knob of the unlocked door and barked at Roy. “You shouldn’t tell people to come in when you don’t know who in hell it is, Roy. It ain’t safe. Especially in a dump like this. Any of these low-lifes could take you out.”
“Sorry, Ranger Dead-Eye. I wasn’t thinking.” Roy’s speech came out of his swollen mouth all garbled and funny.
Farrell looked at the mess Roy was in and felt bad for giving him a calling down. The swelling around Roy’s eyes had gone down, but around his mouth was still puffy and sore looking. His long silver hair was a tangled mess under his head. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, Roy. I was worried. Are you eating?”