Jack Frost: Detective Jack Stratton Mystery Thriller Series

by Christopher Greyson

  Jack took a deep breath. “For the record,” he said, “this time, breathing is a must.”

  4

  Not Worth Jack

  Alice parked Jack’s prized Charger in the parking lot and left the engine running. The slope of Mount Minuit rose up before them. At its base, at the far end of the parking lot, two men and one woman were loading equipment onto the gondola that would take Jack up to the filming location.

  “Please, can’t we talk to Brian again? I don’t like you going up there without me.”

  Jack shook his head. “We’ve been through this. We’re going to divide and conquer and get this case done twice as fast. You’re going to be crazy busy and tied to your laptop. You won’t have time to miss me.”

  Jack had Alice’s back just as much as she had his, but they had both read the disclaimers. Anyone on the production site needed to be able to climb, for real.

  “I can climb. You taught me.”

  “C’mon, Alice, Pete’s Pike is an indoor climbing gym. They won’t count that as experience.” He lightly ran his fingertips over her knee. “Even if they did, Leah was adamant. Only one person on the set.” They could really screw things up for Brian, too, and for any future in the business if they breached their contract in any way.

  “Have you figured out how we’re going to communicate?” This was a real problem. The contract Jack had signed said absolutely no cell phones were allowed on the production site. And even if he could have smuggled one up there, he doubted there’d be a signal. Leah had a satellite phone and was supposed to check in with Brian daily.

  “Brian said we’d be able to update each other during his calls with Leah.”

  Alice took his hand in both of hers. “It’s a good thing I’ll get to talk to you every day. I’m going to be worried; I can’t help it. Aunt Haddie and your folks stood in your way of ever climbing this mountain for a reason: to try to keep you in one piece.”

  They both craned their necks to see the awesome mountain ahead through the windshield. Its beauty was breathtaking; severe gray stone, crystalline ice, and white snow, all frosted by a lavender haze spreading across the morning sky. Jack had to admit the frozen peak was stunning but intimidating. Known locally for its weather station, Minuit attracted climbers from all over. But only ones with top-notch ice axe skills dared to ascend the treacherous elevation to the notoriously sheer summit. The dangers on the mountain were legendary, and several daredevils had lost their lives. The climbing conditions posed a threat on their own, but unpredictable weather could turn even a leisurely hike at lower levels into a harrowing fight for survival.

  “When’s the last time you climbed? Eight years ago? And was it ice?” Alice must have realized that her mountainside manner needed a little adjustment. “I’ll ride Lady up there if I have to.”

  Jack chuckled. “I’ll be fine. You’re going to be with Kiku. You’re the one we should worry about.”

  Alice was right. It was a dangerous job, and that was part of the fun. Jack was looking forward to getting back out on the rock face, where his life depended on his wits and the strength of his fingertips. In the military, on the force, in a situation like this—it served him far better to be excited about the mission than to fear it. Fear saps the strength in the muscles…unless you convert it into psychological fuel.

  “Ah, Kiku... She did promise to be on her best behavior.” Alice stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. “The timing of her visit isn’t great, smack in the middle of our first job for Brian, but I am glad she’s willing to help. But seriously, be careful.”

  “Of course, I will be. The only one not promising to behave and be careful is you, my darling.”

  “You called me darling! Just like your dad calls your mom!” Alice threw her arms around Jack’s neck and kissed him.

  That’s why she’s been calling me ‘darling.’ Now it made perfect sense. Alice admired his parents’ love for one another as much as he did. They both must have picked up the habit from them.

  They got out of the car and walked to the trunk, their breath fogging in the crisp mountain air.

  “Well, you already dodged two bullets,” Alice said with resignation. “I caught the weather report and the storm front coming down from Canada has slowed. There’s another one heading up the coast, but it’s supposed to miss us completely, too.”

  “See? Nothing to worry about.” Jack tugged the hundred-pound duffel bag out of the trunk and laid it at his feet. He faced Alice and smiled. “And I have some good news.”

  Which he had deliberately saved for this moment. He knew this mission was hard on Alice, and he wanted to leave on a positive note.

  “My father thinks his cardiologist is going to give him travel clearance. My parents will be in Hope Falls in six weeks.”

  “Does this mean you’re fine with a little chapel wedding?” Flecks of gold sparkled in her eyes.

  Jack sighed theatrically. “Well, ever since I was a little boy, I’ve dreamed of a lavish wedding in a grand cathedral, with a full orchestra, and a flock of doves released when I enter. But those dreams—”

  Alice swatted his arm, laughing.

  “Of course I’m okay with a small wedding.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “I’m just glad you said yes.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips and chest against his, both vulnerable and imperious.

  “I love you, Jack Stratton. Come home to me.”

  He forced a smile, but the words stabbed him right through the heart—exactly the same words that Kelly, his first girlfriend, had said to him in the airport before he deployed to Iraq. In an instant, all the memories, all the feelings, and all the pain of war blasted through him.

  Come home to me.

  When Kelly had said it, he was sure he would. But the Jack who made it back wasn’t the same Jack who’d left. Part of him died in Iraq with his best friend, Chandler.

  “I will,” he said. “I love you, too.”

  Jack set his jaw, opened his eyes, and turned away quickly. The already heavy Army-issue duffel bag felt like an anvil as he walked toward the gondola, gulping air like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water. All of his therapist’s suggestions for dealing with PTSD echoed in his head, but he shoved them aside and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, soldiering on.

  Two men were struggling with a tarp-covered crate the size of a refrigerator. One was tall, lanky, and reminded Jack of Abe Lincoln—if the president had had a neck tattoo, nose ring, and a soul patch in place of a beard. The other looked to be in his late thirties and was built like a dump truck. He was five inches shorter than Jack but his shoulders were broad, and judging by his crooked nose, he’d been in a fight or two.

  “You the new gofer?” the stocky man asked in a thick Australian accent, lifting his square chin.

  “I am.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there gawking. Dump your gear and help this candy boy with his end.”

  “All the weight’s on my side,” Abe protested. He shifted over so Jack could get a handhold on the huge crate.

  Jack set down his duffel bag, and between the three of them they managed to lug the box into the gondola. As they lowered it, Abe’s side slipped, and the crate hit the metal floor with a tremendous bang.

  Abe jumped back like he’d dropped a bomb. And when the Australian pulled off the tarp, Jack understood why.

  Warning labels in multiple languages covered the crate, but the one in English was good enough for Jack—DANGER: EXPLOSIVES.

  The Australian ran a hand over his sweaty forehead and through his dirty-blond hair, graying at the temples. “Thanks for the help. I think this guy gets scrawnier with every job. Name’s Ollie. This here’s Abe.”

  Son of a gun, I called it! Jack wasn’t the only one who had noticed the resemblance.

  “Jack Stratton. And the next time you ask me to move explosives, give me a heads-up on what we’re moving.”

  Ollie sco
ffed. “Aw, they’re just big firecrackers. Avalanche charges. That mountain’s as pregnant as a two-week-overdue momma. She’s ready to pop all on her own; this stuff just lets us say when.” He eyed Jack up and down. “Leah said you’re US military?”

  “I was. Army.”

  “That where you learned to climb?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You can spot for Abe then.” He pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Don’t know what’s wrong with your military, but I’ve never known one of you who knows how to really climb. Not even a Ranger. If you want real training, join the Australian Defence Force.”

  Jack swallowed a comeback and went back for his bag. Abe followed him out of the gondola.

  “Ignore him,” he said, tipping his head back toward Ollie. “He busts on everyone. Ollie’s about as approachable as a porcupine. Just don’t get on his bad side.”

  “Let me guess, Ollie’s one of the guys I report to?”

  “The gofer’s low man on the totem pole. You report to everyone, dude. Go-fer this. Go-fer that. I should know, I was a gofer before I got promoted to camera work. Ollie is the other cameraman, and he gets really pissed when we have to haul boxes and stuff, but that’s half the job. And the gofer has to do the jobs nobody else wants to do.”

  Jack took an instant liking to Abe. He looked to be a couple years younger than Jack and when he wasn’t being bullied, he was open and smiled easily.

  Jack hefted his duffel while Abe grabbed a three-foot-wide crate and rocked it awkwardly onto his shoulder.

  “When do we head up?” Jack asked.

  “Now. We just came down for these crates and you.”

  Abe stepped aside at the gondola’s door so a young woman in a glossy new winter jacket could get on first.

  “Thanks, Abe.” She extended a hand toward Jack. “I’m Bree.”

  “Jack Stratton.” He shook her gloved hand.

  “Did you get enough batteries?” Ollie asked.

  Bree nodded and patted her backpack. “I got ten packages.”

  “Ten? You shoulda got twenty.” Ollie smirked. “Here’s a tip for you: all those little microphones that are always on need lots and lots of batteries.”

  Abe shot Ollie a look that Jack interpreted as Ease up.

  Bree tightened her lips and adjusted the faux fur collar around her head. “Yeah, well, everybody forgets stuff.” To Jack she added, “In season three, we were in the Alps, and Charlie forgot his wind muffs for the microphones. We looked for a whole day in this little Swiss village—lots of cheese, but no wind muffs. We finally found someone who fashioned one for us out of an old jacket collar. It worked sweet, and it totally saved our jobs.” She and Abe were laughing at the memory, but Ollie killed the moment.

  “Leah should have fired both of you for that one.” He moved over to the intercom and yelled into the mic, “Everyone’s on board! Bring us up!”

  Glancing back at the Charger, Jack saw Alice still idling, waiting, as he knew she would be. She’d probably wait there until the gondola disappeared into the clouds. Jack drew in a long, deep breath, as if to swallow the space between them, and held it for a second, savoring her one more time.

  “Congratulations, Bree,” Abe said. “I heard they gave you a promotion to lead audio official. I wish you got it under different circumstances.”

  A dark storm cloud passed through Bree’s eyes. “Thanks.” She grabbed the handrail as the gondola jerked forward.

  “How much did they bump your pay?” Ollie asked. He wiped the corners of his mouth like he was eager to chew on the answer.

  “You know we can’t discuss pay; it’s against union rules.” Bree set down her bags and leaned against the railing.

  “Who’s gonna know? Besides, I’m due for a raise and I’m asking as soon as an opportunity presents itself. You don’t have to tell me a number, love. Just get me hand-grenade close. Twenty percent?”

  “You should ask Leah to double your pay.” Bree grinned. “But let me know before you do so I can put my headphones on to block out the screams.”

  Abe pointed at the avalanche charges. “Yeah, we won’t even need these explosives. Leah’s shrieks will bring down the mountain.”

  Jack chuckled.

  Ollie shot him a dirty look, but Jack met his glare head-on. Jack’s cover was playing the part of a gofer; he was supposed to keep a low profile and observe—but Ollie was a bully, and Jack was already tired of keeping his mouth shut.

  “Well, just wait until you got a question that you need an answer to,” Ollie said to Bree, turning a splotchy red and pointing his finger inches from Bree’s face. “When that time comes, I bet you’ll wish you’d told me. Unless you think you won’t have any questions, you being so experienced in your job and all, Miss Fancy Pants.” Ollie brayed at his own joke and the other occupants of the gondola, embarrassed, looked at each other and came to a silent agreement to let it go one more time and not call Ollie on his bull.

  Jack gave Bree a reassuring smile, which she returned.

  “I’m not risking my job and the wrath of Leah to help you get a raise,” she said. “Seriously, stop asking me. You’re getting annoying.”

  “Whatever. But I see which side your bread is buttered on. Who did you come to when Gavin’s microphone stopped working? Me.” Ollie thumped his hand on his chest for emphasis. “Like I said, wait till next time you need something. No more Mr. Nice Guy.”

  “Hey, Bree, you can ask me if you need anything,” Abe offered.

  “Fat load of good that’ll do you,” Ollie huffed.

  “Thanks, Abe,” Bree said pointedly.

  Budding romance between Abe and Bree? Certainly no love lost between Bree and Ollie.

  Jack looked down at the parking lot falling away behind them. Alice had gotten out of the car and was waving back and forth.

  Ollie whistled. “Is that yours? Just say the word, and I’ll turn the gondola around and bring her up with us. As long as she agrees to keep us all warm—”

  Jack grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it partially open. The chilly wind blasted in. “Say another word about my fiancée and we’ll see if the ADF taught you to fly,” he yelled over the racket.

  Ollie wiped his mouth with the back of a callused hand and stepped back. “Don’t go getting all touchy.” He held his hand up, palm out. “Just havin’ a little fun.”

  Jack waved back to Alice, then slid the door shut. All they could see from the windows now was white mountain face or infinite blue sky.

  Silence reigned in the gondola for a minute, then Bree brushed her light-brown hair away from her face and turned to Jack. “Engaged, huh? Congratulations. When’s the wedding?”

  “Right after we’re done filming.”

  “What will you do on set?”

  “He’s the gofer.” Ollie eyed him up and down. “Leah said you went to film school. Trying to be the next Spielberg or something?”

  “I want to get an idea of what TV is like behind the scenes,” Jack said.

  “Oh, and maybe this could be your ticket to Hollywood.” Ollie rolled his eyes. “You’ll really go places with this job.” He put one hand on his hip and stuck his arm out, trying his best to imitate Leah. “Go over there and get me that tape. Go stand over there and hold that mic pole.” He burst out laughing. “Get it? Go places?”

  Abe groaned, and Bree shook her head.

  “I’m the sound woman,” Bree said. “I handle all things audio.”

  “I figure, on a show like this, you must have a dozen cameramen,” Jack said. “How many do you have?”

  “Two. I’m camera two,” Abe said. “Ollie’s camera one.”

  “What? How?” Jack asked. “I’ve seen the show. It looks like you shoot from fifty different angles, so you must have fifty different cameras.”

  “We do,” Ollie said. “But the rest are all remote-controlled, mate.”

  “We set up dozens of them all over the mountain and in the camps,” Abe said. “The unmanned cameras are
less intrusive.”

  Ollie scoffed. “They’re cheaper. It costs a hell of a lot less for plastic and lens on a stick than a person. Then Harvey can get whatever shot he wants.”

  “Harvey’s the control room operator,” Abe explained. “You should see his setup. It’s like being on the starship Enterprise.”

  “Yeah, he’s in the captain’s chair, and we get the grunt work,” Ollie grumbled.

  “Aw, c’mon, they use you for the important shots,” Bree said.

  “They use us, all right,” said Ollie. “We’re about as disposable as those cameras. If Leah really wants a shot, she’ll have us dangling over the edge. They don’t care about losing a camera or a cameraman.” Ollie stared at Jack. “And especially not a gofer. Keep that in mind, mate. Up here, your life’s not worth jack.”

  Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Abe walked over to the door and pointed.

  On a large, flat boulder about twenty feet away was a long, thick red line with a circle underneath. Someone had taken the trouble to scrape the snow and ice off the boulder to expose its surface. The whole thing had to be six feet across—very large, very red, and very angry.

  “Stupid graffiti even up here,” Ollie grumbled. “I’ll have to tell Harvey to keep that out of the shot.”

  Abe turned to Jack, his face serious. “Did Leah tell you that some nut job made some threats against the crew?”

  “Death threats,” Bree added.

  Jack nodded.

  “Don’t go on about it; you’ll be scarin’ the greenie.” Ollie walked over to the other side of the gondola and sat on a crate. “It’s all a big ado, nothin’ to it. TV draws crazies like ants on a dropped doughnut.”

  Jack turned back to look out the window. “I think we should take any threat seriously. Especially this one.”

  If you knew the symbol, it was a clear warning. He’d seen it during Alice’s research for Brian. It was the Iroquois symbol for death.

  5

  Homey