Chill Factor

by Sandra Brown

  CHAPTER

  17

  LILLY NUDGED HER TOE AGAINST THE CURL OF blue velvet ribbon on the floor. She’d found it in a zippered compartment of Tierney’s backpack while she was looking for evidence of another woman in his life. When she lifted her gaze to him, words were unnecessary.

  “I found it,” he said.

  “Found it?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Where?”

  He raised his chin in the direction of Cleary Peak’s crest.

  “Just lying on the ground in the forest? A length of blue ribbon?”

  “It was caught in some brush,” he said. “Fluttering in the wind. That’s how it caught my attention.”

  Her distrust must have been apparent.

  “Look, I know why you freaked out when you saw it,” he said. “I know what it implies.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Everyone knows about the ribbon, Lilly.”

  She shook her head. “Only the police and the culprit.”

  “No,” Tierney said evenly, “everyone. Dutch’s police force isn’t an airtight organization. Somebody let it leak that a blue velvet ribbon had been left at the presumed spot of each abduction.”

  That was what Dutch had told her, but in confidence. “They intentionally withheld that information.”

  “Not very well. I’ve overheard it being discussed in the drugstore,” he said. “Once while I was picking up my dry cleaning, the owner told the lady customer in front of me to beware of Blue, and she knew what he was talking about. Everyone knows.”

  He nodded down at the strand of ribbon. “I don’t know if that’s the kind of ribbon Blue is leaving behind, but it’s a damned odd thing to come across in the wilderness. So I removed it from the brush, tucked it into my backpack, and was taking it back to town with me to turn over to the authorities.”

  “You didn’t mention this last night.”

  “It wasn’t relevant.”

  “Those missing women have been the talk of Cleary for more than two years. If I had found something that was possibly an important piece of evidence, I think I would have mentioned it.”

  “It slipped my mind.”

  “I asked if there was anything useful in your backpack. You said no. Why didn’t you mention the ribbon then? Why didn’t you say, ‘No I don’t have anything useful, but take a look at what I found fluttering from a bush today’?”

  “And if I had? Think about it, Lilly. If I had shown you the ribbon last night, would that have precluded me from being Blue?”

  She didn’t have an answer for that. She didn’t have answers for a lot of things. She wanted desperately to believe that he was exactly what he appeared to be: a charming, talented, intelligent, fun, sensitive man. None of those qualities, however, disqualified him from committing crimes against women. Indeed, those personality traits would work to his advantage.

  He still hadn’t explained the handcuffs. Outside of S & M sex and law enforcement, what purpose did they serve? It made her ill to speculate. “Millicent Gunn was reported missing a week ago.”

  “I’ve been following the story.”

  “Is she still alive, Tierney?”

  “I don’t know. How would I?”

  “If you took her—”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I believe you did. I believe that’s why you had a length of blue ribbon and a pair of handcuffs in your backpack.”

  “Incidentally, why were you searching through my backpack?”

  Ignoring that, she said, “Up on the crest yesterday afternoon, you were doing something you wanted done before the storm. Disposing of the body, perhaps? Digging Millicent’s grave?”

  Again, the skin seemed to stretch tightly across his features. “After sleeping a couple feet away from me last night, you actually believe that only hours before I was digging a grave?”

  Not wanting to think about her misjudgment and vulnerability last night, she tightened her grip on the pistol. “Pick up the handcuffs.”

  He hesitated, then bent down and picked them up.

  “Put the bracelet around your right wrist first.”

  “You’re making a dreadful mistake.”

  “If I am, you’ll spend an uncomfortable afternoon, and it’ll piss you off. If I’m right, and you are Blue, I’ll be saving my life. Given the choice, I’d rather piss you off.” She raised the pistol a fraction. “Lock the bracelet around your right wrist. Now.”

  Ponderous seconds ticked by. Finally, he did as she asked. “In case the cabin catches on fire, or you start to suffocate from an asthma attack, do you have the key handy?”

  “In my pocket. But I won’t be releasing you until help arrives.”

  “Which could take days. Can you survive that long without your medication?”

  “That’s for me to worry about.”

  “I worry about it, too, goddammit.” His voice had turned harsh, husky. “I care what happens to you, Lilly. I thought my kiss would have conveyed that.”

  Her heart tripped over a few beats, but she ignored the flutter. “Get on the box springs and put your right arm through the ironwork of the headboard.” Supported by a frame of sturdy wood, the decorative wrought iron had spaces wide enough for him to reach through.

  “When I kissed you—”

  “I’m not going to talk about that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Get on the box spring, Tierney.”

  “You were as shaken by that kiss as I was.”

  “I’m warning you, if you don’t—”

  “Because it satisfied our curiosity and then some. I’d fantasized kissing you, but it—”

  “Get on the box spring.”

  “It was a million times better than my fantasies of it.”

  “This is your last warning.”

  “I am not handcuffing myself to that headboard!” he shouted angrily.

  “And I’m not asking again.”

  “You lay there last night for a long time before going to sleep, didn’t you? I knew you were awake. You knew I was. We were thinking about the same thing. About that kiss and wishing—”

  “Shut up or I’m going to shoot you!”

  “—that we hadn’t stopped there.”

  She pulled the trigger. The bullet smacked into the wall, coming close enough for him to have felt the movement of air against his cheek. He looked more shocked than afraid.

  “I’m good,” she told him. “The next shot counts.”

  “You wouldn’t kill me.”

  “If I take out your kneecap, you’ll wish I had. Get on the bed,” she said, enunciating each word.

  Regarding her with renewed respect, he backed up until his calves made contact with the box spring. He sat down and scooted backward on his butt. She knew his grimaces of pain must be genuine, but she didn’t let them weaken her resolve. When he reached the headboard, he hooked his right hand through the iron fretwork.

  “Now lock the other ring around your left wrist.”

  “Lilly, I beg you not to make me do this.”

  She said nothing, just stared at him down the short barrel of the pistol until he relented and fastened the bracelet around his left wrist. “Pull down on them hard, so I can see that they’re locked.”

  He gave several hard tugs, rattling metal against metal. He was secured.

  Lilly’s arms dropped to her sides as though they weighed a thousand pounds. She slumped against the wall behind her and slid down it until her bottom reached the floor. She rested her head against her raised knees. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how terribly cold she was. Or perhaps she was shaking with fear.

  She was afraid her assumption that he was Blue was right. And equally afraid it was wrong. By keeping Tierney handcuffed to the headboard, she could be dooming herself to death by suffocation.

  No. She refused to contemplate anything except survival. Dying was not an option. Death had cheated her daughter out of a long life. She’d be damned before i
t cheated her, too.

  After a few moments, she pushed herself to her feet. Without even a glance toward Tierney, she went into the living room.

  “You need to bring in more firewood while you still have the strength,” he called to her.

  She refused to engage in conversation with him, but that had been exactly what she was thinking. The leather of her boots was damp and cold, but she worked her feet into them regardless of the discomfort.

  Tierney’s watch cap was crisp with dried blood, but it was handier than dealing with the bulky stadium blanket for head covering. She pulled the cap down over her ears and as low as her eyebrows. She also used his scarf to wrap around her throat and the lower half of her face. Her cashmere-lined gloves were inadequate against such brutally cold temperatures, but they were better than nothing.

  When she was ready, she approached the door.

  Watching her from the bedroom, he said, “For godsake, Lilly, let me do this for you. You can hold me at gunpoint the whole time. I don’t care. Just let me do it.”

  “No.”

  “That cold air—”

  “Be quiet.”

  “Christ,” he swore. “Don’t leave the porch. Move the logs inside before you start splitting them.”

  Sound advice. He had excellent survival skills. Was he as good at getting women to trust him? she wondered. Evidently so. Five had trusted him. Actually six, counting herself.

  The interior of the cabin was cold, but nothing compared with outside. The cold air slashed her exposed cheekbones. She had to keep her eyes narrowed to slits. The tarpaulin Tierney had placed over the stack of firewood was covered with several inches of snow that had been blown beneath the overhang.

  She reached beneath it and dragged a log off the top of the stack. It was so heavy it slipped from her hands and banged against the floor of the porch, narrowly missing her toe. Awkwardly, she picked it up and cradled it in her arms while she opened the door. She carried it inside, shutting the door with her foot.

  She placed the log on the hearth, then paused, inhaling deeply through her mouth in an attempt to fill her lungs, trying to convince herself that breathing was easy.

  “Lilly, are you all right?”

  She tried to tune him out and concentrate on forcing air through her constricting bronchial tubes.

  “Lilly?”

  His alarm sounded sincere. The handcuffs rattled against the wrought iron as he pulled against it. She moved away from the hearth and stepped into his line of sight. “Stop yelling at me. I’m okay.”

  “Like hell you are.”

  “I’m fine except for being trapped with a serial criminal. What do you do to them while they’re handcuffed, Tierney? Do you torture and rape them before you kill them?”

  “If that’s what I do, why haven’t I tortured, raped, and killed you?”

  “Because I called Dutch and left the message that I was here with you.” She was struck by sudden enlightenment. “Now I understand why you flinched every time I mentioned his name, why you were so preoccupied with him, why you hounded me with questions about our current relationship.”

  “Because I wanted to know if you were still in love with him.”

  That was exactly what she had concluded. He had duped her into thinking that jealousy was behind his persistent questions about Dutch, the ex-husband. That she’d fallen for the ploy made her as angry at herself as at him. “I won’t waste any more breath talking to you.”

  He gave the handcuffs several vicious yanks. Fortunately, they held.

  She went back outside. For almost an hour she labored, carrying in one log at a time. Each seemed heavier than the one before it. The chore became increasingly difficult. The rest periods between trips grew longer.

  Luckily some of the logs were small enough to catch when she ignited kindling beneath them, and the warmth from the fireplace was welcome. The hatchet, as feared, wasn’t up to the task of splitting the larger logs.

  She debated walking to the shed to get the ax Tierney had overlooked but decided against it, fearing she wouldn’t make it back. Instead, she used the hatchet to hack away at the wood until she had enough chunks to last for several hours.

  What was uncertain was whether she would last that long.

  • • •

  “Lilly?”

  For half an hour she’d been sitting on the mattress with her back against the sofa, resting and trying to ease her breathing.

  “Lilly, answer me.”

  She laid her head back against the end of the sofa and closed her eyes. “What?”

  “How are you doing?”

  She was tempted not to answer, but he’d been calling her name intermittently for the last five minutes. Evidently he wasn’t going to give up until she responded.

  Throwing off the afghan, she stood up and padded to the open bedroom door. “What do you want?”

  “Jesus, Lilly.” His face registered shock, confirming her suspicion that she must look like a zombie. She’d seen herself in the throes of an asthma attack before. It wasn’t pretty.

  “Are you warm enough?” she asked ungraciously.

  “You’re starved for oxygen.”

  She was about to turn away when he said quickly, “I could use a blanket over my legs.”

  She retrieved one from the mattress. The woven wool had retained the heat from the fireplace. Standing at the foot of the bed, she unfurled it above him and let it settle over his outstretched legs.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She noticed that his wrists were raw from pulling against the handcuffs. “That won’t do any good. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

  He glanced at the abraded skin. “I finally came to that conclusion.” He flexed his fingers a few times. “My hands get numb for lack of circulation. I didn’t plan very well when I locked myself to the headboard. I should have placed my hands lower. Waist level. Then I wouldn’t be in such an awkward and uncomfortable position.”

  “That was lousy planning.”

  “I don’t suppose you would consider unlocking the cuffs long enough—”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He shifted his position, wincing with pain, but she didn’t give in to the pity he was trying to invoke.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “My stomach’s been growling.”

  “I’ll bring you something.”

  “Coffee?”

  “Okay.”

  “It’ll have to count for a ration of water.”

  Always the Boy Scout. Ever prepared.

  Five minutes later she returned to the bedroom with a mug of fresh coffee and a plate of crackers spread with peanut butter, staples they had brought with them from her car.

  She said, “I left the pistol, along with the key to the handcuffs, in the living room.” She moved aside so he could look past her to the end table. “If you’re thinking about burning me with the coffee, or pinning me down with your legs, or overpowering me in any way, it won’t do you any good. You still couldn’t get to the gun or the key.”

  “Very clever.”

  Setting the coffee and the plate on the floor, she unwound the scarf from around her neck and tossed it far out of reach.

  He frowned at her. “Have I just been insulted?”

  “You could use it as a weapon.”

  “Strangling you wouldn’t be very smart, would it? You’d be dead, and I’d be helplessly handcuffed.”

  “I’m taking no chances.”

  “Why were you wearing my scarf?”

  “Can you handle the mug?”

  “I’ll try. Can’t promise not to dribble. Why were you wearing my scarf?”

  “For warmth, Tierney. No other reason. I don’t want to go steady.”

  She placed the mug between his hands. He folded his fingers around it, then lowered his head to it and took a sip. “I guess it’s a good thing my hands aren’t at waist level after all. I couldn’t eat or drink if they were
.”

  “I wouldn’t let you starve or die of thirst.”

  “You’re a kind jailer, Lilly. Not into cruel and unusual punishment. Although.” He waited until he was sure he had her full attention before saying, “It’ll be pretty damn cruel if you die on me.”

  “I don’t plan to.”

  “See that you don’t.”

  His voice had meaning behind it. So did the way he was looking at her. She resisted both. “Ready for your crackers?”

  “I’ll finish my coffee first.”

  She backed away and sat down in the rocking chair a safe distance from the bed, keeping her head averted.

  “Did Dutch talk to you often about the missing persons cases?”

  Surprised by the question, she looked at him sharply.

  “He must have been the one who told you about the blue ribbon, the nickname Blue.”

  “I never asked him to discuss his cases, but I listened when he did.”

  “What else did he tell you about the Cleary disappearances?”

  She responded with a cool, steady stare.

  “Come on, Lilly. If you’re convinced I’m Blue, you won’t be divulging anything I don’t know. Did Dutch know the significance of the blue velvet ribbon?”

  “Its significance to Blue, you mean?”

  He nodded.

  “He had a theory about it.”

  “What was it?”

  She was hesitant to discuss what she knew about the cases with Tierney. But if she did, she might learn something. “The first to disappear, Torrie Lambert, is the only one who isn’t a local resident.”

  “She and her parents were vacationing in Cleary,” he said. “They went on a guided hike to enjoy the autumn foliage. She and her mother quarreled. In typical fifteen-year-old fashion, the girl stalked off to pout alone. She was never seen again.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Stop looking at me like that, Lilly. I came to Cleary shortly after the girl disappeared. The story was front-page news for weeks. I read the accounts like everybody else. Anyone could tell you what I just did. What’s Dutch’s take on the ribbon?”

  “That’s all they found of her,” Lilly said. “The other hikers in the group, including her parents, thought she would eventually catch up with them. When she didn’t, they became concerned. By nightfall they panicked. After twenty-four hours they concluded that this was more than just an adolescent snit, that she was no longer missing by choice. Either she had been injured and couldn’t make it back, or she was hopelessly lost, or she’d been taken.”