by Adira August
He jerked against the cuffs on each arm. “Oh, I’d waive my rights, but they cuffed me to the chair, Ruthie.”
She moved around behind his chair and slid him up to the table. “The chair restraint is a new protocol until we can have all the table bolts inspected.”
She took a pen from her skirt pocket and put it into his hand. Her fingers touched his.
She bent and stretched to reach the advisement she’d left on the other side of the table, her hand on the back of his chair for balance. Her body so close to his, she felt his heat. And he could feel hers.
He inhaled her scent.
She spoke more warmly than was strictly necessary. “Sign here if you wish to refuse questioning. Or here to waive your attorney privilege if you want to talk to the police about this matter.”
He hesitated. “You're the police, right?”
“I am.”
He signed. She took the pen and form back to her chair.
“Why now?”
“You said you wanted to talk.”
“Is he really dead?”
“Who?”
“The boy in the Amber Alert.”
She didn’t answer.
“Just because I signed doesn't mean I have to talk to you.”
She considered this. Rotated the laptop to face him.
“What— Where did you get that?”
“From the laptop you set up in the firetower. And I don't need you to talk to me. You’ll be charged within seventy-two hours with this crime. Blood and body fluids from your trunk—”
“No! My car is clean, perfectly clean.”
“—have been tentatively identified as Brian Trowbridge's and DNA will confirm. You showed that dog picture to another boy in the park. He and his father have identified you. Brian's scarf was pulled from the back of your car by Officer Xavier—”
“There was nothing on the car, nothing when he stopped me. You're lying. Again. ALL YOU DO IS LIE.”
Drawn by the shouts, Natani appeared in the doorway.
“Would you bring me the scarf?” Ruth asked. Natani left for a few moments and reappeared with a clear evidence bag.
Ruth placed it in front of Ferriter. "BRIAN" showed.
“Remember this? Remember that accident at Sheriden and Sixth Avenue? The traffic jam? Officer Xavier chased your car up the ramp when he saw this dangling from your rear wiper. It came off your car when you accelerated onto the highway.”
Ferriter's eyes darted around, looking for a way out, trying to find the lie. Instead, a clear flash of memory—grabbing Brian, the edge of the scarf sticking out of his backpack—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
“As you see here, he got loose from the duct tape. Got around the tree, out of camera range. Covered himself with leaves.”
Ferriter still stared at the scarf.
“We can't see Brian, so we don't know his condition. Mister Ferriter, if he dies you're facing the rest of your life on Death Row. In this case, for killing a child. Colorado will carry out that sentence. Promptly. I don't need any statements from you to charge you. And the state will get the conviction, in my opinion.”
His eyes widened—fearful, teary. Little Lost Ferriter.
“Possibly Brian Trowbridge will die in this storm, just as you planned. You hid him too well for us to find him in time.” She tilted her head at him, clasped her hands—kindly Mama Ruth. “But I can get Assistant District Attorney Natani back in here and get her to take the death penalty out of the equation. If you tell me where you left Brian Trowbridge and we get to him in time.”
She leaned forward just enough to expose a hint of cleavage. “Will you tell me where he is?”
IN THE BULLPEN, a tense silence as everyone, including Hunter Dane, watched the CCTV stream on one of the three laptops on Chang’s desk.
On the screen, Ferriter raised his eyes to Ruth.
“There's a road outside Conifer.”
Victor Garza whispered with fierce triumph. “She's got him …”
“It winds through this new—”
“WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING IN THERE WITH HIM?” Bradley Cowl bellowed as he strode into the room.
Ferriter jerks up at Cowl's shout, head tilted toward the door. “You in trouble, Ruthie?”
Garza looked from the monitor to Cowl to the monitor. “Motherfucker.”
The mayor’s man charged across the room toward Interrogation Three. “Do you people not know the word ‘liability’?"
Natani and Hunter jumped up to stop him. But an enraged Garza vaulted a desk and reached Cowl first.
“What's this?” Cowl sneered. “Act two of the play's the thing to catch the conscience of the twisted perver— erch!”
Garza snatched him by the collar and belt, swung him around, dragged him across the room and threw him through the door of Interrogation Five. Cowl hit the floor in a heap of arms, legs and overturned chair.
Chest heaving, face a mask of fury and need to pummel and pound, Garza moved on the man, looming over him. “Don't get up.”
“Are you insane? The mayor is shutting this operation down! Now!” He started to get to his feet, too arrogant to perceive the danger.
Natani edged past Garza and squatted down next to Cowl. “Brad? You really don’t want to get up right now.”
Cowl didn’t protest; he’d finally seen Victor Garza's face.
Hunter slid in front of Garza, looking down so as not to directly challenge him.
Garza's eyes filled.
With one arm around his shoulders, Hunter led him away.
RUTH SAT FORWARD, focused on Ferriter as if nothing had happened.
"The play, Ruthie?”
“I told you the truth.”
"‘Twisted pervert’? Is that your truth? You didn't tell me that.”
“I never said that. I did not lie to you about the evidence.”
He sat back. “There's only one way to know what the evidence really is. Look at it. Know who can do that?”
Before she could formulate an answer...
“A LAWYER! LAWYER! I WANT A GODDAMNED LAWYER NOW! D.A. BITCH GET IN HERE, GET ME OUT OF HERE, GET THIS OTHER BITCH OUT OF HERE …”
On the laptop, a wind-shift. Falling snow slanted, plastered itself in wet globs to the lens.
The monitor was blank.
WIPERS BEAT A FAST rhythm against the horizontal snow. Through Vargas’ windshield, the view of the curving road lasted barely a second before it was obscured by the storm.
The radio crackled over Jeffco dispatch.
“All units accounted for, Command twenty-five. Your ETA?”
Vargas fought the wheel and used his shoulder mic. “Arriving at number eighty-three. I’ll get Coulter on his way and head in.”
“Roger that, Command twenty-five. Keep us advised.”
In the passenger seat, Camden Snow—eyes icy as the road—glared at the storm.
Vargas found the driveway to number eighty-three, helpfully lined on both sides with decorative wrought-iron lanterns on tall poles. He managed not to take any of them out, and slid to stop perilously close to the pickup and the Bronco. He left Cam inside with the engine running and hustled head down to the driver's door of the pickup.
Avron slid out followed by Hans, still in his harness, who trotted off to roll in the new snow. The men huddled against the side of the truck, gaining some small protection from the wind.
“What are you waiting for?” Lonny asked.
Avron held up his cell. “Word everyone got out okay. Soon as Hans pees, we’re off.” He shielded his eyes, looking for Cam. “Where’d the skier get to?”
Lonny shook his head. “I don’t know. Must have gone to his vehicle. He’s taking it personally.”
“The new ones always do. Give me a hand getting the covers tied down good and tight and we’ll be off.”
RUTH SHUT THE door to Interrogation Three behind her; Ferriter's stream of demands muffled.
She approached Hunter standing over Garza who had his
head buried in his arms at a desk by the window. She head-pointed Hunt to the side of the room.
He joined her near the wall. “What?”
“I did what he wanted. The result wasn’t my fault.” She held out her hand.
“Here you go.” He took the evidence baggie with the nut from his pocket and handed it to her. “You might want to put that back on the bolt in Interrogation Two where I got it. Don’t want any more suspects getting loose.”
Her eyes flew to his face. “You lied.”
“Bluffed,” he said. “Though it would be pretty ironic if you were surprised I’d lie to a suspect. Your unsolicited statement made it easy to get the phone warrant for your coat. Good-bye, Captain.”
“Lieutenant?” Davidson called.
Hunter walked over to her. He didn’t bother to watch Teller leave the room.
“If you want, Fulton and I can take him over to the jail. I can finish the booking slip over there,” Davidson said.
Hunter nodded gratefully. They had all had enough of Harold Ferriter.
Davidson and John Fulton entered Interrogation Three. The shouting stopped.
A few minutes later, the two stone-faced detectives brought Ferriter out, cuffed behind. He stiffened and stopped at the sight of Hunter Dane.
“Mister Ferriter? You need something?” Natani asked.
“Lawyer.”
“You can make arrangements from the jail. But you will be spending at least the weekend there.”
Ferriter glared. “I'll make bail.”
“The courthouse closed down early. The judges went home. Even if you had a sitting judge and he were willing to set bail, that could easily exceed a million doll—”
“You think you know who I am?” This was directed at Hunter.
Garza raised his head.
“You know shit! A million dollars? Ooooo, so much money! You think, you and that polyester pansy. You don't know what I'm worth. You can't imagine my kind of wealth! You don't know how many companies I own, where I'm invested. You egregious twit. You have no idea who I am!”
Natani remained calm. “You asked for a lawyer. No one here can talk to you.”
“Get him out of here. Now,” Hunter ordered.
Davison and Fulton dragged Ferriter away as he fought them, screaming for Ruth. Natani closed the door behind them, cutting off the noise.
“Jeffco severe weather watch says Conifer’s a white-out,” Chang announced quietly, hanging up the desk phone.
“So that’s it, then,” Garza said.
“I told you before, we don’t give up.” Hunter’s words were for his team.
“You can’t think there’s still hope.”
“I think I don’t like assumptions,” Hunter said. “This is a great team. And one of us is on the ground in Conifer. He told me he’d find the boy. I believe him.”
“You mean you believe in him,” Garza said.
“Boss?” It was Merisi, staring at Cam's map plotting houses Ferriter represented that included the void over Conifer. “When Cam’s here, he does things on his own. What we—well, assume—is everything that could have been done, has been done.”
Hunter went over to the cluster of computers. “You think Cam missed something?”
“I think because Ferriter’s a realtor, Cam searched properties he was selling or could access for a buyer. He added the addresses of people on vacation he got from mail forwarding and hold requests. Cam had a great idea and chased it down.”
“Okay.” Hunt stood next to him, studying the map.
“But Ferriter couldn’t be sure what houses would be empty even if the owners are on vacation. How would he know no one came back or stayed the week-end or offered it to a friend? Too risky. He’s gotta own one of the properties on that ridge.”
“You don’t think Cam thought of that?”
“I think he took off right away and didn’t get this far.”
Chang was typing. “Tax assessor's office will have it. ... Name of the subdivision?”
"Big Horn Estates."
Garza drifted over.
The room was quiet as Chang searched the listings. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Ferriter's name isn't on this list.”
“Companies,” said Garza. “Ferriter just said it. He said he owns companies.” He leaned over, checking the screen. “There. Owner: HCF Enterprises. Harold Charles Ferriter.”
“Get the address to Vargas at Jeffco sheriffs. I’ll text Cam directly,” Hunter said.
Chang and DiMato typed furiously.
LONNY VARGAS DIDN’T get to his vehicle before the back of the Bronco opened and Cam appeared, wearing what seemed like a silver space suit with a small backpack. The close-fitting silver hood zipped to the body of the suit. The goggles had dark green lenses with thick, silver frames. Cam hefted a set of cross-country skis and poles from the back.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Vargas struggled his way to Cam, poles in hand, who stepped into the skis.
“I got a text,” Cam shouted. “You should check your onboard. Ferriter owns number eighty-seven. That’s two properties up the road.” He closed up the Bronco. “I’m going to get the kid.”
Vargas got in front of him. “No, you aren’t. In an emergency situation, I have authority. You’re coming with me.”
“It’s not a blizzard yet, Lonny. Just a lot of snow.” Cam did a quick jump turn. The startled detective lost his balance and fell. Cam slid past him toward the end of the parking slab at the edge of the slope.
Vargas tried to scramble to his feet and fell again. He crawled to the bumper of the Bronco and used it to stand up.
The wind came hard. Falling snow slanted, and Vargas plowed forward toward the pickup to find Cam and stop him. By the time he reached the bumper, the blizzard had arrived.
“TWO PROPERTIES AWAY is a mile,” Avron shouted at Cam only a foot away. “Look around. Visibility's five feet. There's no way to search. To get back. No way.”
Avron let out a sharp whistle. Hans appeared beside them, leading Vargas, who had one hand on his harness. He let go and grabbed the edge of the truck bed.
Hans' head came up, facing into the wind—nose in the air, ears pricked. He woofed once.
“No!” Avron’s shout was snatched away by the wind. He made a grab for the harness.
Big Hans charged into the mouth of the storm and disappeared.
Avron ran toward the slope edge, whistling frantically again and again. Vargas struggled after him and dragged him back to his pickup.
“Check your tracker.” Cam pointed to the device on the dash inside the truck.
Vargas got the door open and looked at it. No dot.
“He's out of range,” Avron shouted. “It's sending, but the wet snow limits the distance.”
“The wind shifted,” Cam said. “He got a scent or a sound from the boy.”
“Or somebody upwind called their cat inside. Or swore when they fell on the way in from their car.” Fear etched the old man’s face.
“He's gone after Brian. Give me the tracker.”
Avron hesitated.
Cam held out a gloved hand. “I’ll go find your dog.”
Avron took the tracker from Vargas, who didn’t bother to protest and handed it over.
Cam tucked it into a pocket, pushed off and disappeared.
“YOU HAVE TO TELL HIM.”
Chang cornered Merisi when he came back from the bathroom. “I think you should.”
“Thing about Dane is, if he feels anything, you won’t know it. He’s all about the job.” Merisi moved off. “It’s fine.”
Hunter had seen the exchange from across the room. “You have something, Detective?”
Chang consulted his notepad. “Three members of the search team are unlocatable right now. The incident coordinator of the local SAR team—”
“Avron Coulter, right? He runs search and rescue for the county.”
“Yes, sir. He was supposed to be on his way in with the deputy. Vargas.
They haven’t showed up or checked in. Not answering their cells. Lieutenant … Cam Snow was with Vargas. I can’t raise him, either.”
Hunter’s lips pressed for a fleeting moment before he answered. “Cell service is pretty iffy up there, especially in bad weather. Let’s not read anything into it.”
Everyone in the room busied themselves with something that kept them from looking at Hunter Dane.
Morning Snow
* * *
WHITE
In every direction.
Blinding sunlight coruscated off the hillocks of car roofs, buried under fresh snow. Clean-edged shadows of light poles rippled over them.
“Mister Trowbridge?” Carol Twee spoke quietly.
Ben Trowbridge started awake on a couch in Captain VanDevere’s office. Twee set a tall container of coffee, packets of sugar and creamer, and a bagel in a napkin on the coffee table next to him.
“Toasted bagel,” she said. “The coffee's not bad.”
He rubbed his face. “You haven’t heard?”
“Not yet.”
IN THE SQUADROOM, Victor Garza carried in a large tray with coffee and breakfast breads he set on DiMato’s desk. The detectives were folding up cots and blankets.
Garza poured a cup for himself and settled cross-legged on an empty desk without spilling a drop.
“You guys all boy scouts? Be prepared?" Ben Trowbridge had wandered out of the captain’s office. He set his coffee and bagel down, untouched.
Hunter hung up a desk phone. “The building's a designated emergency shelter site. Feds paid for a few hundred cots and blankets, some very strange stuff they insist is food. But the cafeteria stayed open all night.”
The man nodded automatically, not interested in the answer. He made his way to the big window at the end of the room.
A crystalline blue sky. Trowbridge squinted at the city almost at a standstill under the enormous drifts.
“Oh, dear God, my baby boy.” He collapsed into a chair, tears running down his face for the son he was sure was dead.
Hunter went to him and crouched in front of him. “We don't know anything yet. Cell towers are down. One of our people is missing, along with a Jefferson County deputy. Last anyone knew they were with the head of Jeffco Search and Rescue at one of the search locations.”