Cold Pursuit

by Susan Sleeman

  Sitting in a cell? Did they arrest Percy?

  She hurried into the room. “Did they…is he?”

  He held up a finger, his attention remaining on the call. “Figure out a way and then call me back so we can talk about it when you all will arrive tomorrow.” He shoved his phone into his pocket and met Whitney’s gaze. “Yes. The Marshals have Percy in custody.”

  She gaped at him. “In jail? He’s in jail? Percy. For real? He’s in jail?”

  He nodded. “I asked Eryn for a picture as proof, but honestly, we don’t need it. He’s been arrested.”

  Joy bubbled up inside. Incredible, delightful, breath-stealing joy, and she didn’t think but hurled herself at Alex and threw her arms around his neck.

  He stood stock-still for a long moment then circled his arms around her back and drew her close to him. His skin was warm, and he smelled of a musky aftershave. She eased even closer, and an emotion she’d never felt came rushing in.

  Pure, unfettered love for a man. She’d never really loved anyone like this. She’d had crushes, relationships, but if this untainted rush of joy told her anything, it told her that she’d never before truly been in love.

  He eased back. Peered into her eyes. Emotions raced across his face so fast she couldn’t pin them down. He tenderly caressed the side of her face. Slid a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Whitney, I…” he said, then shook his head and lowered it.

  He was going to kiss her and seemed to be asking permission.

  She didn’t think twice but slid her hand into his hair and drew his head down. His lips touched hers. Warm. Soft. Full. Heat rushed through her limbs, and she felt his touch clear to her toes.

  Incredible. Oh, how incredible. She’d waited her whole adult life to feel genuine love and now she had. He deepened the kiss. She matched him. Wanted it go on and on. To start a relationship with him.

  Shocked at her thoughts, she stiffened in his embrace and tried to push free, but he held fast for a moment longer.

  His head came up. His honey-brown eyes darkened with reluctance. Confusion. Frustration.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice hoarse and throaty but he didn’t completely release her, and she didn’t try to escape.

  Hopeless. She was hopelessly in love and wanted this moment to last. Because the second she broke contact she was on her own again, and her heart would be shredded. Twisted like a roller coaster. She was a mass of confusion and longing.

  “But I…” He shrugged, lifting her arms with the rise of his shoulders.

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  It had felt so right for him to hold her. To kiss her. To love her, and she had to acknowledge that to herself. Maybe to him. She touched his cheek—she just had to do it. One time. The last time.

  He sucked in a quick breath.

  “I don’t want to feel anything,” she admitted. “But I do. Deeply. Still, I can’t pursue it.”

  If possible, he looked mad and thankful at the same time as he took a step back, breaking their hold. “Yeah. Me too. I can’t. I know that now. Wish I could, but…”

  “Hey, I get it. I’m there, too.” She looked around the room for something to say. Saw her tote bag. “Since Percy’s been arrested, it’s safe for me to move back to my apartment, right?”

  “Um…yeah…well, sure.”

  “You have reservations?”

  He seemed to ponder that. “The fire still troubles me, but honestly, that seems like a McCray thing directed at me and Sam. So yeah, it should be fine to resume your normal life.”

  “Normal. Weird to think about. I don’t even know what that might look like now.” She let her mind wander. “Guess I’ll give Tomio time to find a replacement and then move back to Portland. Maybe start fresh in a new job. New hospital. Or even a doctor’s office where I’d have more regular hours for the kids. And I have to call my parents to tell them we’re all safe now.”

  Alex’s phone chimed, and he dug it out to display a picture of an angry Percy sitting in a small jail cell.

  Whitney stared at, and even in seeing him sitting in the tiny boxy room, she could hardly believe he was back behind bars. “Wow, Eryn works fast.”

  “She said her Marshal buddy was still at the jail, and she’d have him snap a picture.” Alex’s phone rang in his hand. “It’s Gage. I need to take the call and arrange for the team to bring Nate and the medical examiner in when the storm clears.”

  She nodded. “And I need to pack.”

  They shared one final look that acknowledged everything they were giving up by going their separate ways, and in a flash their moment ended. Her heart clenched. She’d never, ever forget their time together or him.

  22

  A helicopter whirred overhead, and Whitney grabbed her jacket to step outside of the restaurant for her lunch break. The morning broke sunny and calm—blindingly sunny with heavenly warm rays sparkling off white undulating snow, and she had to squint to take in the scenery and bustling activity around her.

  Tree branches encrusted with the white powder bent toward the ground looking like abstract sculptures in white. Beauty beyond imagination unfolded everywhere around her. Beauty only God could create.

  It all remained undisturbed except for where Tomio’s crew had been working all morning clearing the area around the lodge and grooming the slope, allowing the lift to open in an hour. But now, snow whipped into a frenzy at the base of the run while a large helicopter settled down to the ground. Sam stood waiting for their team to land, but not Alex. He’d gone out early to try to track the killer, and she hadn’t seen him all morning. Maybe he was avoiding her.

  The helicopter touched down, bringing Blackwell’s team along with the sheriff and medical examiner so they could take over the investigation into Vose’s murder. She’d hoped that Alex would have located the killer this morning. It could still be McCray, but they had no proof that he’d fired the deadly shot. Couldn’t prove he didn’t, either. There just wasn’t any evidence. Maybe the sheriff would do a better job, but then she didn’t think so. Not with as thorough as Alex and Sam had been.

  Whitney shielded her eyes against the sun, wishing Alex stood by her side. She missed him all morning, and her heart was cold and dark and filled with a flurry of emotions so powerful she could hardly think. Emotions piling up against the wall of her heart. Swirling wildly. Wanting to blow open at the least little problem. Just like the blizzard.

  Oh, Father, why can’t I be happy that no one else got hurt and Percy is once again behind bars? Why this gloom?

  Sam turned to look her way and curled her finger, summoning Whitney over to the team. She eagerly stepped across the cleared area, skirting several clumps of snow left behind by the plow. She dodged skiers dressed in vivid colors excitedly headed toward the ski lift. Guests were so tired of being inside, they were rushing out to wait in line for the lift to open.

  The rotors thumped an even rhythm as they slowed, and Alex’s teammates poured out of the helicopter like ants from a mound.

  She ran her gaze over them and recalled names from the video call. Of course, Eryn was the easiest to remember as she was the only woman in the group. She was two inches or so shorter than Whitney, but physically fit. She probably worked out a lot like Sam.

  The final guy off the helicopter was in his sixties and carried a medical-type bag so she assumed he was the medical examiner. He stopped to talk to a man dressed in a khaki uniform—Sheriff Nate Ryder, she assumed. He was over six feet tall, had broad shoulders, and was powerfully built. His expression was confident, and she felt comfortable just seeing that.

  All over six feet tall, Alex’s other teammates wore intensity like a coat of armor as they scanned the area. She hadn’t noticed that intensity in the video call, and she was taken aback by the strength of it. Though Alex was intense and driven, he seemed more laid-back than these guys. Or maybe he tempered his intensity for her as he knew she was still reeling from Percy
’s aggressiveness.

  She didn’t recognize one of the guys, and Trey, who she’d met the other night, was missing. She reached the group, and they all turned to look at her.

  Gage stood directly in front of her. He was as fierce-looking in person as on the screen. But as he shot out a hand and a smile spread across his face, replacing intensity with sincerity. “Gage Blackwell. Glad to meet you in person, Whitney.”

  “I’m the one who is so glad.” She shook vigorously and ran her gaze over the others. “To meet and thank all of you in person for locating Percy and working so hard to protect us.”

  “We’re glad we were able to help.” He stepped back and nodded at a guy she hadn’t met. “You’ve met the team except Coop. He’s one of our helo pilots.”

  He nodded, a serious expression on his face. He had dark brown hair, laser-eyed focus, and a steady hand as she shook it. “Glad to see Alex and Sam were able to keep you and the kids safe.”

  That she could smile sincerely about, and she did. “They did an amazing job. You all should be very proud of them. And I am forever in your debt. If you ever need anything, please ask.” She thought about what she’d said. “Of course, as a nurse, you probably don’t ever want to need my help there, but…” She chuckled.

  “I really need to get moving before the sun thaws our victim,” the medical examiner said.

  The thought sent acid curling through Whitney’s stomach.

  “Right,” Gage replied and quickly introduced him and the sheriff.

  “I’ll show you where he is,” Sam said, her focus going to Gage. “I’ll come back to update you.”

  “Any idea when Alex will be back?” Gage asked.

  She shook her head. “He said when he hears the helo if he’s in a position to return he will. Otherwise he’ll call you.”

  “Ma’am, we need to get moving,” the ME said pointedly to Sam.

  “Right this way.” She spun and marched across the courtyard toward the tent, the ME struggling to keep up.

  “I need to go, too,” Whitney said. “My niece and nephew are waiting to have lunch with me.” She smiled. “Thank you again, and I mean it. If I can ever repay you, please ask.”

  Gage offered his hand again, and then she took off. Feeling their piercing gazes on her back as she walked unnerved her, but she resisted the urge to turn and try to read their expressions.

  She forgot about them and wound through the snow piles to head down the side path to her apartment. Tomio had done a quick pass-through with the snow blower there and cleared a strip just wide enough to walk. Didn’t matter as the staff were all working, too busy to be out back here and the area was deserted.

  She reached the stairs and took the first step.

  “Aunt Whitney, help,” Isaiah’s terrified voice came from behind the breezeway.

  “Isaiah?” She turned to look. Saw nothing.

  She knew he planned to play outside this morning. Had he gotten stuck in a snowdrift? She could just imagine his thin little body wedged in a pile of snow but unhurt, and it brought a smile to her face.

  “Help!” His tone was high and frantic now, and her smiled evaporated.

  This was more than a stuck-in-a-snowbank cry. He was in serious distress.

  She bolted toward the area where she heard his voice. She raced through the second breezeway, and her footsteps faltered.

  A tall, angry-looking man held Isaiah against his broad chest, a 3-D printed gun in his hand.

  The killer. He was the killer. And he had Isaiah!

  No! Not Isaiah! God, no, please. Don’t let him be hurt. Help me!

  “Isaiah.” She rushed toward him.

  Her nephew’s eyes glistened with tears but he was fighting them and his chin was up. She’d never been so proud of him. But he needed her, and she needed to be calm.

  The man raised the gun and planted his feet wide in the snow. “Slow your roll, Whitney, or the kid gets hurt.”

  Whitney stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding in her ears. She searched the man’s face to place him—to figure out why he was threatening her nephew and how he knew her name.

  She’d seen him before, but where?

  He was unique-looking and should be easy to place. He wore a heavy parka with the hood up, shadowing his face, but she could still make out his features. A square jaw. Small, thin lips. Large nose resembling a ski slope. Several moles on his cheek. Big and muscled, he looked like a hardened criminal.

  Know him or not, she had to get Isaiah away from him. But how? He had a gun.

  Panic crawled up her back and weighed her down. “Did Percy put you up to this?”

  “Percy?” Confusion flashed across his expression.

  “Do I know you?” she asked searching for anything to help.

  “By name, no. We met for just the briefest moment at the hospital. You can call me Ibson.”

  “What do you want, Ibson?”

  He stabbed a finger at snowmobile behind him. “For us to take a little trip.”

  “But why? What do you have to do with me?” she asked, actually sounding calm when her insides were quivering like a bowl of gelatin.

  “Think back to your last day at the hospital. You came to check on the guy who was admitted from the ED. You poked your head into the room. Said you were off for the day and wished me well.”

  “A patient?’

  “No.”

  “Staff.”

  “Ding, ding, ding.”

  “MD or nurse.”

  “Neither.”

  “Please. I’m confused. Just tell me.”

  “Posed as a nurse to visit Mr. Bingham.”

  “Oh right. You were giving him pain meds in his IV. I remember now.” She remembered seeing him standing over the very wealthy investment banker who was sound asleep. “Wait. It wasn’t pain meds. He wasn’t in pain. He was sleeping.”

  “Bingo. You caught me giving him a dirt nap.”

  Her eyes widened. “You killed him. And I saw you. Could have stopped you, but I was too preoccupied.” Guilt flooded through her. “Did you? Did he?”

  “Yeah, he’s in never-never land for good.”

  No. “But why?”

  “It’s what I do.”

  Do? “You’re a hit man?”

  “I prefer being called a cleaner, but yeah.” A sick smile crossed his mouth. “And I don’t like leaving loose ends. I’ve even taken to printing my own guns so they’re not traceable. But you seeing me and then disappearing? Not something I could let go. Took me weeks to catch your trail.”

  She stood in shock. She had no idea. None. “How did you find me?”

  “I have my ways.” He said, shifting Isaiah and aimed the gun at her. “Now let’s take that ride so I can tie up those infuriating loose ends.”

  “You and me only, right? And you’ll leave Isaiah here?”

  “Sorry. Can’t leave a witness behind.”

  “You shot at me in the courtyard and started the fire, too.”

  He grinned but didn’t speak.

  “Aunt Whitney?” Isaiah cried out. “I’m scared.”

  “Hey. Hey, buddy. It’ll be okay. I’ll be with you,” she tried to comfort him. “Let’s go for that ride together. It’s so sunny and pretty after the storm. And it’ll be fun.”

  Ibson jabbed his chin at a black-and-silver touring snowmobile that Tomio used to drive around the resort. “You drive. Kid on my lap.”

  He strode to the machine, carrying Isaiah like he was a ragdoll. He threw a leg over the raised padded seat in the back and settled Isaiah on his lap.

  “Please,” she said. “Isaiah won’t tell anyone he saw you. He knows how to keep a secret. Please just leave him behind. You can’t manage me and a kid at the same time.”

  “Get on,” he snarled and lifted the gun. “Before you make me use this.”

  A tear slipped from Isaiah’s eye, and Whitney couldn’t take it anymore. She bent down and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be fine. God has us, and Alex will hel
p. I know he will.”

  “A-a-are you sure?”

  She squeezed his hand. “I am.”

  “Shut up,” Ibson said. “And get on. Now!”

  She climbed onto the driver’s portion of the bulky machine. Thankfully she’d grown up around snowmobiles and knew how to handle one. She’d never driven this particular model, but she could operate it safely.

  She pulled her hat down hard and swiveled to look at Ibson. “What about a helmet for Isaiah?”

  He glared at her and shoved a pair of goggles into her hands.

  Right. No reason for a helmet from his point of view if he was going to kill Isaiah anyway.

  “Get us moving. Climb the rough on the right and just keep going.”

  “But where?”

  “I’ll be taking the pass at the top. You…” He shrugged.

  “Us what?” Isaiah asked.

  “Enjoy the ride.” She patted his knee as fury made her feel like a fierce mother lion with a cub to protect. One more try before turning the key. “You know there’s room for him to ride in front of me. The seat lets me scoot back. That will give you more control.”

  He seemed to think about it for a moment then shook his head. “No more stalling. Go now.”

  She gladly put on the goggles. With the deep snow, she knew she was going to get a face full of powder and reluctantly reached for the key to get the engine running. She pulled the throttle and off they went. It took her a few minutes to get the hang of running it, but soon had them climbing through the deep snow.

  Powder peppered her face, and she had to keep swiping the goggles to keep them clean. Her chest was soon caked with snow. Her neck and face were freezing. She hoped her body was protecting Isaiah.

  She kept them moving at a steady clip, sinking into the fluff and accelerating to come out, the engine cutting the quiet.

  She had to concentrate on driving, but she also had to figure out how to free Isaiah, because free him she would. She might lose her life to this man, but there was no way her nephew was dying today. No possible way.