Cold Ridge

by Carla Neggers

Manny scoffed. "Are you kidding? A Winter as a snitch? I've never seen a more tight-lipped, closemouthed, stubborn bunch. No, another guy I know in Boston. It started really coming together Tuesday night, Wednesday morning. Then Louis calls me to meet him at the Rancourt house—fool that I am, I went. By the time I got there, he was tits up. Dead as a doornail."

  "You didn't see Jodie Rancourt or whoever took those pictures?"

  "Not a thing. I went outside to call the police on my cell. I should have seen Carine going inside and stopped her—"

  "She's handling it."

  "Then the cops were all over us. I knew I wasn't the killer. I was pretty sure Louis Sanborn tied back to the shooters last fall. I didn't know about Gary Turner—I thought he could be legit. I was more interested in the Rancourts."

  "Because they'd hired Louis?"

  "And me. That didn't make any sense, either."

  "Did you know Louis and Jodie Rancourt were having an affair?"

  "Suspected." He stared out the side window as Ty turned onto the notch road. "I thought the police'd sort it out. I cooperated with them. I put you on Carine. I shut Val out. I figured Eric was safe at school." He was silent a moment. "I guess my plan didn't work out that well."

  But North's focus was up the road, where an elderly man had jumped out in front of them, waving them down, a Ford Taurus with Maine plates was parked crookedly in back of him. There was a second car—it had veered off into a dry ditch, its front end smashed against a granite ledge.

  Ty pulled over, but Manny was already kicking open his door. "That's Val's car."

  He was out of the truck before they'd come to a full stop and charged down into the ditch. When Ty climbed out, the old man, decked out in a winter parka, hat and gloves, was on him. "She was coming from the other direction and crossed right in front of me—I knew something was wrong. I think she must have had a heart attack or something. I didn't know whether to leave her and go call an ambulance."

  Manny ripped open the driver's side door. Val fell out into his arms. Ty shoved his cell phone at the old guy. "Call 911. When you connect, give the phone back to me." He grabbed his medical kit out of the back of his truck and ran down to Manny and Val. He could see the blood on her front, mostly on her left side. He opened up his med kit, setting it on the ground. "What's her condition?"

  "She's been fucking shot."

  "Manny—"

  "Airway, breathing, circulation are okay."The ABCs, the basics. "Skin's clammy, she's shivering—she could go into shock."

  Ty grabbed gauze and moistened it with IV fluid, then thrust it at Manny, who immediately applied pressure to the wound. It was his wife—he didn't bother with protective gloves. "Abs?" Ty asked.

  "Guarding."

  They both knew that was a positive sign. Manny checked for bowel sounds in all four quadrants, then nodded, satisfied. They needed to get Val to definitive care, the sooner the better. The "golden hour" rule. Every minute care was delayed, the patient's chances of recovery dimmed.

  Ty handed Manny an Ace wrap to hold the dressing in place. "You okay?"

  He nodded, concentrating on a task he'd performed hundreds of times in simulations and missions. The training took over, and if he was going to panic in a crisis, Manny Carrera wouldn't have lasted as a PJ for twenty years. Ty helped him put in a saline IV and let it run wide open—Val had suffered enough bloodloss that she needed fluid or she might not make it to the hospital.

  Ty leaped back up from the ditch and got a blanket out of his truck, and he and Manny laid Val on it and wrapped her up as best they could to keep her warm. Then they elevated her feet, to keep blood flowing to her vital organs.

  "Val," Manny said, "what happened, sweetheart?"

  "White hair, missing fingers." She tried to sit up, clawed at her husband's arm. "He has Eric and Hank."

  "How long have you been out here?"

  "A few minutes. Not long."

  The old man handed the phone down to Ty. "I've got the dispatcher. There's a lot of static."

  Ty nodded and spoke to the dispatcher, explaining that he was a paramedic and knew local procedures— they needed to get an ambulance to pick up Val and take her to the soccer field at Mount Chester, and they needed to get a medevac helicopter there to fly her to the regional trauma center.

  Val rose up and hit Manny in the chest. "Goddamn it, leave me out here! Go find Eric and Hank! He'll leave Eric to the elements. Manny, he'll die—"

  "Val—Jesus, how can I leave you?"

  Ty got to his feet. "Carine and Gus headed up to check the east ridge trail near the Rancourt place. I'm going up there. Ambulance will be here in a few minutes. Val, you hang in there. You're going to be okay."

  But her eyes were locked on her husband, her teeth chattering as she shivered, even with the blanket over her. "Go, Manny, for God's sake. There's nothing more you can do for me here. I'll be fine."

  She sank back, her breathing rapid, her color not good. Manny looked up at the old man. "You'll stay with her? Apply pressure to the wound. She's not going to die on you."

  Despite his obvious confusion, he didn't hesitate. "Of course. I'll do my best."

  Manny kissed Val on the forehead. "You hang in there, okay? I love you."

  She didn't answer, and Ty could see how hard it was for Manny to leave her. He didn't look back as he climbed up the steep wall of the ditch and got into Ty's truck. "This fuck Turner wants us. It's payback for last fall. He and Louis must have been in cahoots. We put an end to their nice little smuggling operation. He doesn't want Eric. He can have me. He used my wife— my boy—"

  "Don't go there." North thought about Turner on the back deck with Carine, talking to her about the pictures, asking about having dinner with him sometime in Boston. "Hell, he wants Carine, too."

  "She's up by the Rancourts? We need to warn her. That fuck's out here somewhere."

  Ty pulled out onto the road. "Knowing Hank, he'll have this all sorted out by the time the police get there."

  "Yeah. Damn pilots."

  "It's going to work, Manny. I gave the dispatcher the lowdown. The cavalry's on its way. If we find Turner first, we isolate the situation until a tac team can get in there. Right?"

  Manny didn't seem to be paying attention. "Don't you have a gun?"

  "No."

  "Val did." He pulled a bloodied Glock out of his waistband, then shook his head. "It's unloaded. No ammo. That woman."

  Ty manufactured a smile. "This is why she works in a bookstore."

  Manny looked down at his wife's bloody gun, his wife's blood on his clothes and hands. He glanced out the window when they turned up the access road to the Rancourt house and the east ridge trailhead. "So, what happens if Callahan's elected president—he gets a mountain named for him up here?"

  And Ty relaxed slightly. Manny was with him.

  Thirty

  Gus narrowly missed a head-on collision with the Ran-courts'SUV as it careered out of their driveway onto the access road. He veered off to the side, almost plowing into a hemlock. "Jesus Christ! What the hell do they think they're doing?"

  "Obviously they didn't expect anyone else to be on the road," Carine said, jumping out of the truck.

  Sterling rolled down his window and gave her a cool, unfriendly look. "The sun was in my eyes. Is Gus all right? Is his truck hung up on the rocks?"

  "He's fine. I thought you'd gone already." She shivered in a stiff gust of wind. "Have you seen Eric Carrera?"

  "Up here, you mean? No, why? Is something wrong?"

  "He left a note saying he was on a hike, but it doesn't all add up. The police and forest rangers are on the case, but we were hoping to catch up with him before he'd gone too far."

  "I'm sorry. We just don't know anything."

  Carine knew she'd been dismissed, but she didn't give up. "What about Gary Turner? Is he here?"

  "I assume he's left, but I don't keep track of him. Goodbye—"

  "How did you end up hiring him? Did he come to you, or di
d you go to him?"

  "Carine, this isn't the time or the place for this discussion. I'm glad we didn't collide. Give your uncle our best—"

  Carine straightened. "The Sanborn Dairy was before your time up here."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  Gus circled around the back of his truck and took her by the arm. "Come on, honey. We'll go back to North's, figure out what's next."

  Jodie Rancourt jumped out of the passenger side of the SUV and came around the front, Sterling banging the steering wheel in frustration. Jodie ignored him. "My God, I wish we'd never met those bastards. Gary and Louis, Tony, whatever his name was. Louis was socharming and sexy. They came to me, separately. First Gary, months ago. Then Louis. I manipulated Sterling into hiring them, playing on his anxieties following our ordeal last fall." Her voice was hoarse, but her words were distinct. She shrugged, and said without sympathy or apology, without so much as a glance at he rhusband. "I was bored."

  Sterling banged the steering wheel again with the palm of his hand and made an angry hissing sound.

  "Did you know they were the smugglers?" Carine asked.

  "I was aware Louis had a past he wanted to hide. My God, don't we all? I wasn't sure he and Turner knew each other. I suspected it, but I wasn't positive. And I didn't ask. I—frankly, I wasn't interested."

  "The pictures?"

  For the first time, she showed a hint of embarrassment. "I've wanted to believe it was Manny Carrera. It was more convenient to think that whatever they were involved in, Gary and Louis wouldn't hurt anyone—me included. I don't know who took the pictures. I never saw, never heard, never suspected a thing. I left, and Louis said he was leaving. Then—he was killed. And the next day I got the call about the pictures. It had to be Gary."

  "Why would he want Louis dead?"

  "I think Gary wants everyone dead. But specifically Louis—I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if Louis had his own game, if Gary found he couldn't control him." She averted her eyes, staring down at the valley. "I doubt Gary liked the idea of us having a…whatever it was."

  Carine shoved her hands into her pockets. "Right now, all I want to do is find Eric. Hank Callahan and Val Carrera are on their way up here, too. If you see them—"

  "We're leaving," Sterling said, his voice strangled, hoarse.

  Jodie Rancourt raised her eyes to Carine. "The boy is in the warming hut. Turner has him tied up. He threatened to kill us if we said anything, but I can't—he's a child."

  "Eric's here?" Carine was stunned. "And you haven't called the police?"

  Sterling glared at her. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

  Gus swore. "I'm going up there—I won't do anything stupid. Carine, take the truck and get where you can make a call."

  "Where's Turner now?" she asked the Rancourts.

  Sterling ignored her. "Jodie, get back in the car," he said coldly. "We're leaving. We have to save ourselves from this madman. He'll hunt us down, just the way he has Hank Callahan, Manny Carrera—Carine, you and North are next. I don't know why. Some kind of revenge. Frankly, you're risking making the situation worse by interfering."

  "What about Val Carrera and Hank?"

  "I have no idea where they are." He winced, the color draining out of his face as he looked down the road. "Christ. We're out of time. Jodie!"

  She jumped back into her seat. The SUV screeched forward, narrowly missing an old Audi careering up the road, turning onto the driveway.

  Gary Turner was driving, Hank Callahan in the seat next to him.

  Carine dove into Gus's truck, hitting the floor, hoping Turner hadn't spotted her. She got onto her knees and peered over the dashboard, and she saw Gus pause and look back, the car charging for him.

  She kicked the door open, screaming, "Gus!"

  He dove, but too late. Turner was gunning for him and caught him on the right front bumper of the Audi. Gus went sprawling, facedown, onto the damp grass along the side of the driveway.

  The Audi sped on up the driveway.

  Carine ran to Gus and knelt beside him, pushing back a rush of panic. "Gus—Gus, are you okay? Talk to me!"

  He was writhing in agony, every few words a swear. "Fuck…I'm okay. Goddamn it! I think I broke a leg— my ribs…"

  "Don't move. Come on, Gus, be still. If you've got a back or a neck injury—"

  "I don't. Shit!"

  Swearing seemed to help his pain. Carine took a breath. "Turner—he's got Hank. I didn't see Val. I have to do something. I can sneak behind the house and try to get a view of the hut and see what's going on. Don't worry, I won't do anything nuts. But if Turner starts hurting anyone—I don't know, maybe I can create a diversion."

  "You're a sitting duck out here. Take cover, will you?"

  She picked up a softball-size rock off the side of the driveway. "I used to be pretty good with a rock."

  "Christ, kid."

  She blinked back tears. "Eric…he's just fourteen…."

  "Something starts going down, look to Hank for guidance. Understood? He's got combat experience. You don't—well, you didn't used to." Her uncle winced, holding his right side with one arm, in obvious agony. He was pale, pearls of sweat on his upper lip. "I'll see if I can get into my truck and get a call out to the police."

  "You shouldn't move—"

  "Just fucking stay out of the line of fire, will you?"

  She nodded. "I plan to."

  * * *

  Jodie was white-faced as they drove down the hill, but Sterling kept his eyes on the twisting road. His jaw was clenched, and he had to fight with himself to concentrate on his driving. This was no time to two-wheel a sharp curve or lose control and go airborne off the damn mountain.

  "We have to call the police," Jodie said quietly, wringing her hands in her lap.

  He glanced at her coldly. "You lied to me about everything, didn't you? Your affair with Louis. When you met. What you knew, what you suspected. What else?"

  She turned away, staring out at the scenery. "I met Louis up here over the summer. We didn't—" She broke off awkwardly, and he could see her fighting for the right choice of words. Or perhaps just another lie. "I put him off until he moved to Boston."

  "Put him off?"

  "He'd made it clear he was…interested."

  "I see."

  "No, I don't think you do." Her voice was surprisingly flat, as if she didn't care anymore. "I didn't want to tell you that we knew each other. I knew you'd be suspicious—"

  "Rightly so." Nothing in his tone or demeanor let her off the hook—he didn't want it to. "He asked you to recommend him to Gary Turner?"

  "He pressured me to get Gary to hire him. He never said there was a connection between the two of them. Neither did Gary."

  "You had nothing to do with their smuggling operation?"

  "No! Of course not. I was just—a pawn."

  Sterling gave her a cold look, feeling in control again. He'd lost it up on the hill, when he'd almost plowed into Gus Winter's truck, and then Carine had stood there, so damnself-righteous."You were more than a pawn, Jodie." His hands relaxed slightly on the wheel. "You were a willing participant. Did you tell the police everything?"

  She stared down at her hands and gave a small shake of the head. "No. I didn't tell them I knew Louis from up here. Manny Carrera—he saw us together in September. I'd hoped he wouldn't remember."

  "For Christ's sake, Jodie, with his training and experience—"

  "He's not a law enforcement officer, he's an air force pararescueman. He wouldn't even be involved in our lives if you hadn't called for help when we were on the ridge. We could have made it on our own."

  "We'd have died."

  "You've been trying to prove yourself and protect yourself ever since. You hate feeling vulnerable, inadequate. It's made you impossible this entire year."

  "Don't blame me for your own failings."

  "Sterling—" Her voice cracked, all her remoteness and reserve suddenly gone. "Let me at least try to get throug
h to the police. Eric Carrera could be dying on our property. If you don't get the human component, at least, for God's sake, think about how it'll look. Carine and Gus know we left that boy up there."

  He said nothing. Big chunks of the puzzle were still missing, but he had a fair idea of what had happened. They'd drawn attention to themselves last fall when they were rescued off the ridge, and Turner and Sanborn had seized the opportunity to take advantage of them, exploit them, use them. Louis had preyed on his wife. They'd both preyed on him.

  "Jesus…" Jodie's voice was barely more than a croak now. "You hope Turner kills them, don't you? Then they can't report what a goddamn coward you were."

  "What? Jodie, for the love of God, no, I'm not hoping he kills anyone. But don't you get it? Turner is a killer. We're caught in the middle. He won't harm us unless we give him reason to. If he gets away—what do you think he'll do? He got away last fall, but did he slink off and disappear? No. He used us to get access to the people who ruined him. He wants them dead. What do you think he'll do to us if we ruin his revenge?"

  "Nothing if he's in prison!"

  He shook his head. "I'm not taking that chance."

  Her eyes shone with tears. "What happened to us? We used to be better than this."

  "I'm being smart, Jodie, not a coward."

  "Sterling…"

  He bit off a sigh. "All right. We'll call the police the first chance we have. We'll tell the police we were scared and didn't want to cause more problems. Remember your crisis training classes—your first job is to escape a dangerous situation. The police don't need two more hostages on their hands."

  "If we'd helped Eric while Turner was out—"

  "I didn't know where Turner was, how fast he'd be back. What if he'd caught us and killed all of us? Killed the boy in front of us? Then how holier than thou would you feel?"

  She was crying now. "I just…I just don't know what to do."

  "Then shut up and let me think."

  When he reached the bottom of the hill, he turned left instead of right toward the village of Cold Ridge. He didn't want to run into the police or any search parties already out looking for Eric Carrera. Jodie stared at her cell phone, but Sterling knew there wouldn't be service—or a house where they could call—for at least several more miles. Any delay wasn't his fault. Then he'd let Jodie notify the police, and he'd call their attorney to meet them when they arrived back at their house on the South Shore.