A Dark Lure
Page 39
He grabbed the shotgun that was lying at Burton’s side and ran toward the bank and up into the forest.
“Ace! Buddy! You okay?” he called out.
Silence.
Then as he entered the cover of trees he heard a yip. His chest near burst with relief.
The old dog yapped again, louder, his voice hoarse as he jerked against his line to reach Cole.
Cole dropped to his haunches in front of the dog. Ruffling his fur, he unhooked the harness. “Someone needs you now, bud. More than she ever will. Go! Go find Olivia!”
The dog bulleted out of the forest, down the bank, and into the snowy field. Cole ran after him, tracking line and shotgun in hand. They raced across the snow toward the cabin.
Ace wiggled into the door and found her in the corner.
Olivia gave a gut-wrenching sob as she grasped hold of her dog, burying her face into his fur, just rocking and holding him. Cole entered the cabin and stood there, watching woman and dog. Emotion flooded his eyes.
He let them be for a moment. Ace whined slightly, licked her face. When Olivia looked up, her eyes were hollows, her face white under blood and bruises and cuts.
He wasn’t going to tell her about Gage Burton right now. That could come a little later.
He crouched down beside her and moved matted hair from her face. “You should let me look at those injuries now.”
She held his gaze. Then she leaned into him, put her head against his chest. Cole’s heart clean broke. She rested like that, as if drawing strength from his presence. Slowly, gently, he put his arm around her. She had hers around Ace.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming to find me, for drawing him out like that. I . . . I wouldn’t have made it otherwise. He . . . he’d have taken me . . .”
“It’s over, Liv.”
She nodded against his chest. “My sat phone,” she said as he stroked her matted hair. “It’s in his jacket pocket. He took it from me and put it in his pocket.”
“In a moment,” he said. “I’ll get it in a moment.” He closed his eyes, just held her awhile longer, and said a silent thanks to the universe that this woman—his woman—had made it through. That he’d arrived in time. That maybe, just maybe, there would be a second chance. For both of them now.
CHAPTER 27
By the light of the small fire he’d kept going in the cabin, Cole listened to Olivia’s recount as he patched and bound her up as best he could with the help of his first aid kit. He’d already called in with her satellite phone, which he’d retrieved from Eugene’s jacket pocket.
“I’ve heard of dominance-submissive issues between twins,” he said, “but this seems to take it to the extreme. Sounds like his mother was at the root of his problem. From what he told you, she fueled this notion in his brain.”
He peeled open another butterfly suture and applied it to the rip under her ear, carefully drawing the edges of the wound together with the bandage. She winced, eyes watering.
“It sure explains the DNA evidence used to convict Sebastian. And how you thought it was him in the police lineup.”
“Where is Tori?” she said after a long period of silence.
“With my dad.”
“How did you manage to take off from Broken Bar in that storm?”
He smiled ruefully. “I suspect we had a helping hand—don’t ask.” He paused and sat back, examining the bandages, then the sling he’d fashioned for her arm.
“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “I wonder if there is a greater plan, if things are just meant to be. If all my life I was supposed to circle back to Broken Bar, and meet you.”
Her broken eyes met his. Her hand still rested on Ace. “That’s what I asked Melody Vanderbilt once. She was Gage’s wife, a journalist who used to come and sit with me in the hospital. I asked whether she thought we could pinpoint the exact moment our life first started on a collision course with another’s—” Her gaze sharpened suddenly as it struck her. “If Tori is with Myron, where is Gage? He . . . he didn’t come with you, did he?”
“Olivia—”
“Oh, Jesus, no . . . the gunshot . . .”
“He’d have wanted it this way, Liv. He was dying, close to the end. And he had this one thing in life to finish. All his life, the Mountie believed the real killer was still out there. And he proved it. He finally found him. The Mountie finally got his man.”
Her eyes flickered toward the shape under the tarp, and a shiver ran through her body.
“He also brought you and Tori together.”
“She’s lost both her parents,” she whispered. “How . . . how is she going to cope?”
“She has you.”
He held her gaze. “We can do this, Liv. Together.”
She stared at him, a range of emotions chasing through her features as she absorbed the subtext of his words. Tears, finally, filled her eyes. And when Cole saw them, his heart clenched. She was coming back. They were going to win this.
“I want to see him.”
He thought about it a moment, inhaled, nodded slowly. “You think you can stand, walk?”
“Yup,” she said quietly.
Cole took her arm and led Olivia outside. It was dawn, merely a lighter shade of night.
She blinked, feeling as though she’d stepped from one reality into another. She glanced up at Cole. His eyes were dark, stormy, intense, full of questions and worry. In his touch she felt his compassion, love. And in that moment, in that exchanged glance, with her arm in his, leaning on him like this, she believed she could, maybe, just love this man back. Maybe, one day, she’d figure out how to trust someone again.
“What?” he said quietly.
“I . . . nothing.” He held her gaze a moment longer, then gave a quiet nod. As if he’d read her mind. As if he’d seen in her face what she was feeling inside. But he was not going to push her. Olivia believed now that Cole McDonough would never rush her. And in spite of everything she’d just been through, a sweet warmth filled her chest. It wasn’t a sensation she could articulate. Didn’t even want to. Not yet.
He led her away from the abandoned cabin. Away from Eugene’s body. Ace followed at their heels. Cloud was low and heavy, mist thick. Snow had fallen several feet deep, and was still coming down.
As they neared the mound in the snow, Olivia heard the faint thudding of choppers above the clouds. Her heart kicked. She glanced up into the tattered swaths of mist—there was no way a pilot could put down here. Yet it was still good to know they were out there, coming. This time she was no longer alone.
Cole crouched down, dusted some snow off Burton’s body.
“Take the snow off his face,” she said.
He dusted the face free. Wide, frozen eyes looked up at them.
Olivia stared at the body. A long time. Finally, softly, she said, “I can’t believe how inextricably our lives have been entwined. Gage’s, Tori’s, Melody’s. Mine. Eugene’s. All these years, and I didn’t even know it.”
Cole squeezed her hand. She let go of him and lowered herself painfully into a crouch. Ace sat at her side.
“I’ll look after her, our baby girl,” she whispered. “I promise.” She reached out and gently closed Sergeant Gage Burton’s blue eyes. “I’ll make sure she’s proud of you.” Her voice caught.
Wind soughed through the snowy pines, and flakes stirred around them.
She came to her feet. Hesitated, then said, “I don’t know what happened to me back there in the cabin.” She looked at her hands that were still stained with Eugene’s blood, “I don’t even remember doing it, stabbing him like that.”
“You wanted to live. It was self-defense.”
“It was overkill, Cole. They’ll come down on me hard for that.”
“Liv, I doubt it.”
She glanced up into his eyes.
As the distant whine of snowmobiles deep in the forest reached them, Cole put his arm around her.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
Cole loaded a cartridge into the pencil flare from the first aid kit.
He fired it up into the cloud. Pink light exploded into the misty snow, mushrooming into an umbrella of color that hung low and haunting among the dark trees.
Out of the woods and over the ridge they came, an army of law enforcement personnel, paramedics, search-and-rescue volunteers on snow machines.
He drew her closer to his body. “Time to go home,” he said.
They stood in the glare of headlights, under the pink cloud from the flare as the cop on the lead snowmobile dismounted. He took off his helmet and came rapidly toward them, followed by another member. Two paramedics also dismounted and ran toward them.
Cole stepped forward to greet the lead officer. “I’m Cole McDonough. This is Olivia West—she needs immediate medical attention.”
The cop’s gaze darted around as he shook Cole’s outreached hand. “Sergeant Yakima, homicide,” he said as the EMTs surrounded Olivia. “This is Constable Martinello.” He motioned to the cop behind him who took off her helmet. Blonde hair in a ponytail came free. Her face was pinked from cold.
The female cop nodded toward Cole, and moved directly to Olivia’s side, joining the paramedics as other personnel deployed around the scene.
Tori held the old man’s hand. He was in great pain as he lay in bed. His gnarled fingers clutched hers tightly, as if she were a lifeline. She swallowed, besieged by a sense of grave responsibility, and for a moment she felt as though she were a bridge, holding hands with the other side, and if she could just hold on long enough, she might keep him here until Olivia and Cole and her father returned.
The other cops were downstairs in the library, but one sat in the room with her—the nice, young-looking one. He was seated on a chair in the corner, near the heater. His phone buzzed.
He answered and spoke softly, then looked up and said to Tori, “They got him.”
“Is Olivia okay?”
“Yes. She’s safe. With Cole.”
Tori stood up from her chair, still keeping her hold on Myron. “And my father?”
The officer was quiet a moment. He stood, came over to her, placed his hand on her shoulder, a strange look in his eyes. He seemed to be weighing how to tell her something terrible. And she knew. She just knew.
“Your dad would have known that this is the hardest thing a cop does—”
“He’s dead?”
“I’m sorry, Tori.”
She swallowed, her heart falling. She clutched the old man’s hand tighter, moving closer to the bed.
“What . . . happened?”
“Your dad went down a hero, Tori Burton,” the young cop said, a gleam in his eyes, a crack in his voice. “A real hero. He got his man. After all these years, after no one believing him, he got the Watt Lake Killer.”
Tori tightened her mouth. The insides of her stomach trembled.
She felt Myron squeeze her fingers. Her gaze shot to him. His eyes were open. He was looking at her, right into her. Emotion clogged her nose, her throat. She didn’t know what to do. What to say.
“How did it happen?” she asked again.
“In the course of rescuing Olivia West, he took a fatal gunshot wound to the heart.”
She looked away. The day was dawning outside—cold and wintery. A new day. And the whole world was changed. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She didn’t even know who she was anymore.
“Tori,” the old man whispered. “He’s . . . a hero. He did it for you.”
She looked at him, then the cop.
“Can I get you anything?” the officer said.
She shook her head, and reseated herself slowly on the chair next to Myron’s bed, still holding his hand. After a long while the cop stepped out for a moment to take another call.
Tori felt something change in the old man’s grip. The air grew suddenly cold in the room. She glanced up, sensing a presence.
Something moved like a breeze beside Myron. For a nanosecond Tori saw the shape of a woman, just like the one in the frame next to his bed, then she was gone. Then Tori saw another face. She saw her mother—Melody’s face. She smiled and held out her hand to Tori. Warmth filled Tori’s heart. And the image faded.
Tori’s heart raced. She shot a look at the old man. He’d gone still.
“Myron?” she whispered, coming sharply to her feet. He didn’t move. Cautiously she touched his cheek with her fingertips. His skin was ice cold.
And he had a smile on his face.
Thanksgiving Day. Evening.
The police had brought a victim services worker up from Clinton on a snowmobile to stay with Tori and talk to her.
The woman was cooking supper for them both in the kitchen.
Tori was in the library, which was the warmest room in the lodge right now with the big fire going. Myron’s wheelchair was empty next to the hearth. She watched out the window, feeling hollow inside, unsure. Snow lay thick and silent under the eerie bluish light of evening. There was a gap in the storm—the whole world looked frozen and still. The social worker said another front would be blowing in around midnight.
She heard it. The distant chop of a helicopter. She tensed and peered down the side of the window. It came into view, making a loud thuckthuckthuck sound. Trees bent, and snow blew up in a dervish as the chopper lowered to the ground.
Tori turned and fled down the stairs. She burst out the front door, stalled. Suddenly afraid.
The helicopter set down a short distance from the lodge, clear of telephone and hydro lines.
The door opened as the rotors slowed. A figure jumped out. Cole. He helped another person out, lifting her to the ground. Olivia. She had an arm in a sling. Ace jumped out behind them. Cole put his arm around Olivia’s shoulder, and they ran in a crouch under the rotors. Once they were clear, Cole gave a thumbs-up, and the helicopter rotors sped up again. The skids lifted off the ground, then the chopper took off at an angle and disappeared into cloud.
Tori walked slowly to the edge of the porch.
Cole and Olivia started toward the lodge, Cole’s arm still around Olivia’s shoulders. Tori’s heart tightened, and a spurt of tears came into her eyes. She ran down the steps and raced through the snow toward them. Olivia crouched down. She had bandages on her face. Tori hesitated. Their eyes met.
A long shivering moment of indecision seemed to trap them on the spot, all the questions about the future shimmering and multiplying silently between them.
Olivia held open her good arm. “Tori,” she said softly. “Come here.”
Tears streamed suddenly down Tori’s face.
Olivia hugged her tightly with her good arm. So tight Tori could hardly breathe. She wouldn’t let go, and she pressed her face against Tori’s hair, drinking her in.
“Tori,” she murmured against her hair, “the social worker told me that you know who I am.”
Tori went still inside, nodded.
Olivia moved back, still crouched down in the snow. Their eyes met, and it struck Tori that they were the exact same color. A funny little quiver ran through her chest. This was her mother, her biological mother. She really was a genetic part of this brave woman who she’d read about in her mom’s book. On the back of that quiver came a soft burst of pride. Olivia was a survivor. She was very cool that way.
“My mom, Melody, she loved you,” Tori said quietly. “It was in her book.”
Olivia’s mouth tightened, and she seemed unable to speak for a moment.
“She wrote that book for when I was ready,” Tori said. “I . . .” Her voice choke
d on a surge of thickness in her throat. “ I . . . don’t know what to do now.”
Olivia reached for her hand. “We phoned your Aunt Louise,” she said gently. “She’s flying out to see you. She’ll be here tomorrow morning. If the weather is really bad Cole will go and meet her at the highway pullout on snowmobile.”
“Aunt Lou on a snowmobile?”
Olivia nodded. “She insisted. Come hell or blizzard, she’s getting here.”
“My dad . . . he would have thought it was funny. Aunt Lou on a snow machine. She’s quite fat, you know. And bossy.”
Olivia smiled, and her eyes gleamed with moisture.
“I don’t want to go to Ontario,” Tori said. “I . . . I don’t want to live with Aunt Lou.” Tears, hot ones, filled her eyes again, and she fought to hold them in.
“We’re going to work this all out. All of us.” Olivia glanced up at Cole. “Step by baby step. It’s going to be your choice, Tori, all of it, but I want you to know that my heart, my home, this place, it’s yours, too. If you wanted to stay . . .” Her voice caught. She swallowed, struggling with her own emotions. “But I’d really like it if you stayed. Cole would, too. Myron would also have wanted it that way, his ranch, the old house, full with a family.”
And something whispered through Tori’s mind, through her heart and body and soul, and it was, she realized with shock, her mother’s voice, as if whispering through from the other side: You’re going to be okay, Tori. You’re going to find a new home. Here. With these two people. I want it this way, too. We looked after you until you and your mom were ready to meet, until your father could be certain you were both safe . . .
On impulse she hugged Olivia.
Olivia gave a sob, wiped her nose with her sleeve. She seemed unable to speak further, but Tori saw it in her eyes. Love. Raw, whole, consuming, the unquestionable love of a mother for her child.
Tori glanced up at Cole. He had a dark, intense look on his face, his features tight.
“Myron’s gone,” she said quietly.
Cole nodded. He placed his big hand, warm, on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your dad, too,” he said.