The Dead Chill

by Linda Berry

  “Lay down,” he said huskily.

  Sidney let the robe slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor, then she laid back and watched him undress, revealing his smooth skin and muscled limbs, his beautiful erection a declaration of desire for her. The smallest hint of a smile played around his lips as he lowered himself to the bed, confident in his masculinity, in his unique abilities. He kissed her slowly, unhurried, his hands finding her sensitive areas, allowing her feelings of pleasure to expand and grow. She surrendered to an ache that deepened in intensity, a piercing need that had no name but craved expression and ultimately, blissful release.

  ***

  Sometime during the night Sidney woke to find the room pitched in black. She reached across the bed but David was gone. The smell of their lovemaking lingered on the sheets. Remembering, her lips curved into a smile.

  The phone buzzed, breaking the hypnotic spell. The clock read 11:15 p.m. Her fingers fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. It was Granger.

  “Hey,” she said sleepily.

  “Sorry to wake you, Chief. You said to give you an update.”

  Her brain sharpened as her thoughts shifted to police work. “You’re back.”

  “Wish that were the case. I’m using the satellite phone.” He sounded exhausted, his voice strained. “I’m still out in the backcountry. We’re staying on the trail as long as the old woman and boy are out here. Tommy’s convinced they can survive the cold, but something else bothers me more. Another rider was following them, about an hour behind.”

  Sidney’s stomach tightened. “You think he caught up to them?”

  “Doubt it. I underestimated Elahan. That old woman is shrewd. She drove their horses in and out of Beartooth Creek a few times. That’s why we lost her. In the dark we couldn’t find her last exit point. The tracks of the other rider disappeared in the water, too. A guy from the village named Magic intercepted us. He’d been following the tracks all the way from Grisly’s property. Said you sent him.”

  “Yeah, we did. I guess Magic told you Grisly’s dead.”

  “Yep. Can’t believe it. Sounds like all hell broke loose. If Grisly’s dead, who’s riding his horse?”

  “Good question. Whoever it is, I doubt his intention is friendly.”

  “My thoughts, too.”

  Sidney didn’t reply. Her long exhalation expressed her deep frustration.

  “The twins headed home. Magic brought some down bags and a tent,” Granger continued. “We’re setting up camp. Tommy, Magic, and I are aiming to get a good start at dawn.”

  “Stay warm.”

  “Three guys in a small tent? Should be like a sauna.”

  “You get hold of Captain Harrison?

  “Yep. They’ll have the chopper out scouting the terrain first light.”

  “Good. They might have better luck than people on the ground. Be safe out there.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  MOOLOCK’S SLEEP was haunted by nightmares. He woke to find himself thrashing in his sleeping bag on the thin rubber mat that protected his body from the icy floor. His ears still rang from the wailing siren at the base, followed by the ear-splitting shrieks of exploding rockets, and the tortured wails of wounded men. He opened his eyes. The dream vaporized. But his heart raced for several seconds while his memory played merciless tricks.

  The hazy light of dawn filtered into the cavern through the frozen waterfall, illuminating the figure of the boy huddled in his sleeping bag just feet away. Elahan crouched near the pit stoking the fire into popping, dancing flames. The steaming coffee pot sat on the grill, and the aroma from something sizzling in the cast iron pan made his stomach clench with hunger. The wolf lay on the other side of the pit, gnawing hungrily on a gristly bone.

  Hearing him rustle as he slipped out of the bag, Elahan turned and put her finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

  “It’s okay. I’m awake,” Tegan said sleepily.

  “Then come eat.”

  Moolock and Tegan pulled sweaters and pants over their long johns, yanked on socks and snow boots, and joined her. Moolock poured coffee from the pot into a tin cup. Elahan heaped large portions of eggs, potatoes, and bacon onto plates and they settled into the camp chairs and ate heartily. They made small talk and Moolock’s mind sharpened from the strong, black coffee.

  “Thank you, Mother. That was delicious,” Moolock said with forced cheerfulness. He nodded toward the frozen waterfall where the soft morning light had turned golden. “Looks like sunshine out there. That means good visibility. I’ll go pack a few things and then I’ll be heading out.”

  Tegan fingered a soft deerskin pouch that hung from his neck on a string of rawhide. His medicine bag contained sacred items that held supernatural powers—sage and sweetgrass from the plant world, a tuft of Lelou’s fur from the animal world, a crystal from the mineral world that Elahan had placed in his palm when she healed him from his burns, and most powerful of all, from the world of man, a lock of Elahan’s hair. The boy started to pull the pouch over his head. “Take this with you, Moolock. For protection.”

  “No,” Elahan said sharply. “What your bag contains is sacred, and good medicine for you alone.”

  At her tone, Tegan dropped his hand as though burned.

  The boy’s selfless gesture touched Moolock deeply. Tegan had been willing to part with his most prized possession to keep him safe. A wave of tenderness swelled in his chest and he placed his large hand over the boy’s small hand. He said gently, “Your nana is right, Tegan. The magic in your bag is your magic. I have my own.” He reached beneath his shirt and produced his own pouch, made of parfleche and painted with natural dyes. “Mother gave me this on the day we were reunited. Over time, I’ve added a few things—seeds, fur, roots, feathers. The magic has served me well. Kept me safe in the woods all these years.”

  “I have something for you both, to add to your medicine bags.” Elahan reached inside the collar of her black flannel dress and pulled out her own pouch which hung low to her breast. Made of sturdy fabric, it was decorated with small, glistening beads. She loosened the strings and plucked out three polished turquoise stones. The stones, placed on her lap, fit together like puzzle pieces. “I have carried this stone next to my heart for sixty-five years. It was given to me by the medicine man of my village on my wedding day when I was eighteen years old. It holds very potent magic. Two days ago, I broke it into four equal pieces. Tommy has one piece in his bag. I will keep one, and the other two are for you. Four pieces to unite the four people in our family. Together we are strong. When we are apart, the magic of this stone will hold us together. When we face danger, the stone will draw strength from the rest of us. The magic of this stone will increase your hunting and fighting skills. It will allow you to heal yourselves and your allies. It will hinder your enemy, and it will even alter the weather to do so.”

  “Thank you, Nana,” Tegan said with feeling, holding his stone in his closed fist and whispering a prayer. Then, with great reverence, he placed the turquoise in his pouch and tightened the strings.

  Moolock’s throat was thick. “Thank you, Mother.” He rubbed the beautiful polished stone between his fingers, and imagined the power of Elahan’s magic rushing into his skin, into his spirit. He said a silent prayer asking for guidance and protection, then placed the treasured stone in his pouch.

  In military fashion, with a straight spine and a soldierly stride, Moolock began to prepare for his mission. He packed provisions, haltered Gracie, and secured a few of the heavy buffalo hides to her back. He saddled Taba, shoved his rifle into the scabbard and strapped his holstered pistol to his thigh. All the while he felt the presence of the wolf, the boy, and his mother standing nearby, watching attentively.

  “Why are you haltering Gracie?” Tegan asked. “You’re taking two horses?”

  “Yes,” Moolock said. “I must also take Lelou. A man is following the tracks of these two horses and the wolf. I’ll need them to lead him far away from this cave.” He pu
lled his leather hat lined with rabbit fur over his head and turned to Elahan, taking a moment to memorize her face. “Goodbye, Mother.”

  “Goodbye, my son.” Her eyes were old and knowing, and the sharp edges of her cheekbones pressed against paper-thin skin.

  Don’t burden her, Moolock thought with a pang that hit straight under the breastbone. Don’t let her see your doubts. His mission was to extinguish a dangerous threat to himself and his loved ones. Though he was ex-military, he was not an infantryman. He was a doctor. Trained to save lives. Not take them. He would defend himself if he was under attack, but he didn’t know if he was capable of outright murder.

  Moolock tenderly kissed his mother’s withered cheek and an odd protectiveness tightened his chest. “If I don’t return by morning, promise me you’ll head back to the village.”

  “You will return,” Elahan said fiercely. Something happened to her face then. Her features ironed into perfect stillness, and it was as though something moved at the bottom of a deep lake, sending a surge to the surface. He felt a thrumming current like electricity transfer from her body to his. Moolock stood as still as his mother. Time stood still. Then he released a long, slow breath, awestruck and speechless, and managed to nod.

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Tegan said, grabbing Gracie’s reins and turning in the direction of the tunnel they used last night.

  “I’m leaving from a different tunnel today,” Moolock said. “Come, Lelou.” The wolf fell into step behind him. The Maglite beam lighted the way through a narrow passage in the back of the cavern. The hooves of the horses stamped the stone floor behind him. This tunnel was longer. To the boy it must seem to traverse the entire mountain. At last stunning daylight appeared. They emerged on a thin slip of shoreline hidden from the opposite bank of Beartooth Creek by evergreen trees. The bright sun reflecting off the water was glaring. Moolock reached into his pocket for his shades and scanned the sky through the lenses—deep blue, with cumulous clouds lined along the distant horizon like schooners, scudding westward.

  Tegan handed over the reins and stood at Moolock’s side, vacant eyes staring at nothing. “I hear fast-moving water.”

  “Beartooth Creek comes right up to this cliff. I’ll travel back through the creek and come out below the point where you exited last night. Then I’ll go due east.”

  “I smell a storm coming in, Moolock. A big storm.”

  “Yes. It’s on the horizon. Moving west.”

  Tegan’s fingers curled and flexed, curled and flexed at his side. Close to tears, he let out a single sob and hid his face in the folds of Moolock’s sheepskin coat. “I wish you would take me with you. I hear things you don’t. Feel things. Smell things. Together, our power is doubled.”

  Moolock rubbed the boy’s back, feeling his bony frame through his sweater. “You heard your nana,” he said gently. “The magic of the four stones will protect me. I’ll return this evening.”

  Tegan untangled his fists from the coat and tilted his face upwards, presenting Moolock with a brave but wobbly smile. Then he flung his arms around the neck of the wolf. Lelou slurped the boy’s face several times before Tegan tore himself away and darted into the tunnel.

  Moolock’s eyes were hot and burning when he placed his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle. He directed both horses into the water.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  THE BUZZ OF Sidney’s phone woke her from a dead sleep at 8:00 a.m. Bleary-eyed, she glanced at the ID. It was Dr. Linthrope. She pulled herself into a seated position. “Hello, Doc.”

  “Sorry to wake you, Chief. I know sleep is a valuable commodity these days.”

  “Actually, I owe you. I slept through my alarm. I have a meeting at the station in an hour. Don’t tell me you’ve already done Grisly’s autopsy.”

  There was a long pause. “You better get down here right away.”

  “I’ll be there shortly.” Spurred by the note of urgency in his voice, Sidney threw the covers aside, stormed into the bathroom and indulged in a two-minute shower, and dressed in a clean uniform. She flew down the stairs, through the living and dining rooms into the kitchen, headed straight for the coffee pot. “Good morning.”

  Sitting at the table in her chenille bathrobe, a cat curled on her lap, Selena looked up from the paper with raised eyebrows. The other three cats were stretched across the carpet, drowsing in sunbeams pouring through the window. “You off to the races?”

  “Running late. Anything in there about Nikah?” Sidney filled a travel mug nearly to the brim.

  Selena pushed off the tabby and padded into the kitchen. “Yes. A small article, front page. Just the bare facts, from Winnie’s press release. A woman was found dead in a frozen creek. Period. Doesn’t identify her. Doesn’t hint at murder.”

  “Good. For now.”

  “Let me make you a smoothie.”

  “No time.” Sidney secretly hated Selena’s smoothies. No one should be drinking pulverized kale and spinach and hemp, and the other weird stuff Selena put in the blender. She usually poured Selena’s smoothies down the drain when she got to the office. After adding milk and sugar to the travel mug, she screwed the lid on tight.

  A cabinet opened and closed behind her, then Selena stuffed a protein bar into Sidney’s breast pocket. “This will keep you going until lunch.”

  “Thanks.” A protein bar she could tolerate. Sidney detoured around her sister, hurried into the laundry room, and grabbed her duty belt.

  “So, what’s going on with the case? Any suspects?”

  “Not yet.” Sidney buckled the bulky duty belt around her hips and turned to the combination lock on the safe.

  “What about last night? Don’t I get any details about David?”

  Sidney met her sister’s curious gaze, and grinned. “A little slice of heaven.” She opened the safe and made sure the magazine of her Glock semi-automatic contained a full load before holstering the weapon.

  “So, what’s going on between you two? You’ve been mum for weeks.”

  “No ring, no wedding proposal, no commitment, if that’s what you mean. But the sex and food are great. No expectations.” She swallowed. “We’ve only been dating six weeks.”

  “You’ve been doing a lot more than dating, Sidney,” Selena said. “I’m jealous. I haven’t had sex in a year.”

  Sidney met her sister’s somber gaze. “Maybe it’s time you did. Granger’s clearly smitten. You can’t hold a good man off for long.”

  A delicate blush colored Selena’s cheeks and her countenance softened. “Yes, I know.”

  “He’s a special man.”

  “Soon,” Selena said softly, as though sharing a secret, then she changed the topic. “What about the murder case? I’m a consultant. I should be privy to what’s going on.”

  “A consultant doesn’t have unlimited access, Selena.” Sidney assessed her sister for a moment. “I’ll give you an update this evening. I promise. Right now, I need to get to the morgue. Then a meeting at the station.” Sidney yanked her police jacket off the peg and wrestled her arms though the sleeves.

  “Will Granger be there?”

  “No. He’s out in the field, which reminds me…” Sidney paused to check her text messages. Sure enough, one was from Granger posted at 7:00 a.m. She read out loud, “We’re heading out, Chief. S&R is already in the air.”

  A touch of alarm appeared on her sister’s face. “Heading out where? Why is Search and Rescue involved?”

  “We’re looking for someone.” Sidney kept the details mum. She didn’t need to alarm her sister further. Outside the window the weather was clear and bright, as Captain Harrison had predicted, and snow glistened like diamonds in the early morning light.

  “Is it dangerous? Should I be worried about Granger?” Selena asked.

  “No,” she said, which was half true. “He’s with expert trackers.” Before her sister could ask another question, Sidney gave her a quick hug and hurried out the door.

  ***<
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  Sidney crossed the lobby of the small community hospital to the elevator and descended to the basement. The sound of her footsteps was amplified in the sterile tiled hallway as she passed the open door of the forensic lab. Inside, she spotted Stewart Wong at his workstation, his head bowed over a microscope. An astringent chemical odor reached her nostrils as she pushed through one of the double doors at the end of the hall and entered the morgue. The spotless room was equipped with cold storage compartments, a cleanup area, and a stainless-steel slab in the middle of the room, currently occupied by the charred corpse of Grisly Stokes. She sucked in a breath as she confronted the ghastly remains in the unforgiving bright light. The facial skin had been burned back to the scull and his teeth were bared in a hideous grin. His opened chest cavity looked like the hull of a ship, stripped of internal organs.

  Wearing a clear plastic mask, a lab coat, and gloves, Dr. Linthrope was weighing a liver on a scale. She approached and inadvertently wrinkled her nose as she caught the smell of the corpse. She would never get use to the smell of death.

  “Good morning,” the doctor said brightly, displaying his normal good cheer. He stripped off his gloves and mask and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. Beneath his cumulous of white hair, his hazel eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “Ready for some interesting news?”

  “What’cha got?” she said, itching with curiosity. The doctor’s enthusiasm was contagious. Clearly, he had unearthed something of consequence.

  “Cause of death is a 9mm gunshot wound to the chest, which matches the service weapon of Sander Vance. No surprise there. Ready for the bombshell?”

  “Yep. Lay it on me.”

  “This isn’t Grisly Stokes.”

  His words hit home like a sharp thwack to the head. “What?”