Black Ice

by Becca Fitzpatrick

  "Britt," he breathed, closing his eyes, and I realized with alarm that his energy was dwindling quickly. "Leave me. Go get help. I'll wait here for you."

  "I'm not leaving you with Calvin," I said firmly. "Who knows what he'll do to you. I might not make it back in time."

  "I can't walk. I hurt my ankle trying to free myself. I think I twisted it. Don't worry about me. Calvin told me he wouldn't be back for a while."

  He said it so convincingly, I was tempted to believe him. But I knew Jude too well. He'd given up on saving himself. His smooth assurance was intended to make certain I got out before Calvin returned. Which, I had no doubt, would be soon. Calvin would not leave Jude alone for more than a handful of minutes.

  "I'm going to make a sled out of the sheet. I'll drag you out of here."

  "Down the stairs?" Jude said, shaking his head. "I'll never make it. Go get help. Calvin left a gun in the bedside table. Take it with you."

  I opened the drawer and slid the gun into my pocket. I hoped I didn't have to use it, but I would shoot Calvin if I had to. This time I would not hesitate.

  "Let's get your boots on," I said, sliding his left foot into a boot as gently as I could. He sucked in a sharp breath as the boot slid over his swollen ankle, then went utterly still. His eyes shut, and this time they did not reopen. His breathing fell back into a shallow, uneven rhythm.

  He'd passed out.

  I felt dizzy, unprepared for such a bad stroke of luck. But I wasn't going down without a fight. I would get Jude out of here. Dragging him inch by inch if it came to that.

  I buttoned his shirt and shoved his right foot into the other boot. Grasping his legs, I pulled him toward the edge of the mattress, hardly gaining a few inches. I made more progress when I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and jerked backward, throwing my weight into it. At last I untucked the corners of the fitted sheet under him, and lugged him off the bed in a series of exhausting heaves and tugs. His body fell to the floor with a heavy thunk, and for the first time, I was grateful he'd passed out. He hadn't felt a thing.

  Jude moaned.

  Hadn't felt anything consciously, anyway.

  Sweat drenched my face and I strained to pull him across the floor. I glanced behind me at the doorway warily, knowing Calvin was somewhere beyond it, but there was no other way out. I could not drop Jude safely out the second-floor window.

  I took a moment to tug on my own boots and coat.

  Inhaling deeply, I drew one last steadying breath.

  Then I opened the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  I scanned both ways down the hall. No sign of Calvin. Peering over the banister, I checked to see that he wasn't downstairs, either.

  Where had he gone? To look for the map on his own?

  I dragged Jude into the hall. Surveying the steep wooden stairs, I realized Jude was right: There was no way I could safely get him down. The sheet would not provide enough padding against the sharp edge of each step, and I didn't have time to saddle his back to a pillow.

  "Wake up, Jude," I whispered, kneeling beside him and slapping his cheeks firmly.

  He stirred, muttering incoherently.

  "We're going to climb down the stairs together." Even with his twisted ankle, if I shouldered some of his weight, and he put the rest on his good leg, together we could hobble down the stairs.

  "Britt?"

  His head rolled to the side, and I patted his cheeks harder to rouse him. "Stay with me, Jude."

  He flinched at my touch. Mercifully, his eyes cracked open. I pinned his face between my hands and gazed intently into his eyes, wishing I could transfer some of my energy into him.

  "Go, Britt. Before Calvin comes back." He flashed a brave smile. "I won't go anywhere, I promise."

  I cradled Jude's head in my lap. I stroked his damp hair, my hands trembling as I did so. I had to convince him that he could do this. His talk frightened me. He was giving up, and I could not do this without him. "We're a team, remember? We started this together; now we have to finish it."

  "I'm holding you back. The reality is, I might not make it."

  "Don't talk like that," I said, hot tears slipping down the back of my throat. "I need you. I can't do this alone. Promise me you'll stay here with me. You're going to stand up. We're going down the stairs together. On the count of three."

  Jude's face softened, the way I imagined a body slackens right before death. Right before the pain ends, when rest is in sight. He slumped in my lap, looking paler than before.

  I swiped at my tears with the backs of my hands. I'd have to think of another way out.

  And then an idea came to me. I rolled Jude over so he was lying facedown. Hooking my elbows under his shoulders, I dragged him headfirst toward the top step. His legs, trailing behind him, would drop against the steps as we descended, but better them than his spine.

  I walked backward down the steps, one at a time, panting heavily. He had to weigh close to two hundred pounds. Fortunately, carrying him this way I was able to distribute most of his weight to the stairs. Unfortunately, I might reopen his shoulder wound and cause him excruciating pain. As awful as that would be, I had to get him out, and worry about the damage I caused later. It was better that I injure him than leave him for Calvin to kill. At the bottom of the flight, I took advantage of the smooth hardwood floors to slide him to the front door.

  Opening the door, I hunched my shoulders against the icy whipping of the wind. Calvin's SUV was parked in the snowed-in drive. He hadn't left. My eyes flicked anxiously to the forest as I tried to guess where he'd gone.

  As if to punctuate my thought, a geyser of snow shot up near my feet, and a moment later I heard the piercing clap of a gunshot. Swearing, I dragged Jude faster toward the cover of the trees.

  Four more staccato bursts of gunfire. Gritting my teeth against the heavy drag of Jude's weight, I heaved him toward the trees. The minute I crossed into the shadows of the forest, the bullets stopped.

  "Britt?" Jude uttered softly.

  I fell to my knees beside him. Sweat bathed his face, and his bloodshot eyes darted wildly around. "Where is he? Where's Calvin?"

  "In the trees on the other side of Idlewilde. I saw the bursts of light from his gunfire. It's too dark for him to see us. He'll have to get a lot closer if he wants a clear shot."

  "If he's smart, he'll come for us now. He can't see us, but we can't see him, either. It gives him the perfect opportunity to sneak up and take us by surprise." Jude thought only a moment. "You said there's a cabin a mile away. Go to it--"

  "I'm not leaving you alone."

  He stared at me. Alarmed, he pushed himself up to sitting. "Of course you're leaving. This is your chance. It's not a great one, I'll give you that, but it's the best one you're going to get. The longer we wait, the greater the likelihood Calvin will get close enough to take a shot, or take you from me."

  Without thinking, I grabbed him and kissed him.

  He'd hunched his good shoulder against the cold, or maybe to battle the pain, but I felt him loosen at my touch. I expected him to try to push me away, to try to talk reason into me, but he needed me as much as I needed him. We were facing death; that was the cold hard truth. Down to the final minutes, we weren't going to waste them. This wasn't about desire. It was hot, urgent need. A reaffirmation of life. Jude gathered me roughly against him. If I was making his injury worse, he didn't seem to care. He kissed me back hungrily. We were alive. Never more so than in the face of death.

  "I'm sorry I didn't believe you," I choked out. "I was wrong. I made a huge mistake. I believe you now. I trust you, Jude."

  Relief shone in his eyes. "You're sure I can't talk you into running to that cabin?" he asked, pressing his forehead against mine. He panted softly, but I didn't think from pain. He seemed jolted back to life, rallying to the fight. There was a determination in his expression that no amount of pain could hold back.

  I shook my head no, short of breath myself. His kiss had wo
rked like a shot of adrenaline. If I was scared, it was outweighed by a reason to live. And that reason was looking me straight in the eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  "Calvin won't kill me until I've told him where the map is," Jude mused coldly. "He thinks he has to find it before a park ranger, or someone in law enforcement, does."

  "Where is the map?"

  "When I came back from hunting this morning and found you gone, I knew you'd hiked to Idlewilde. I knew Calvin was a killer and I had to get to you as soon as possible. I didn't have time to hike to the ranger station and leave the map there. So I left the map under our tree. I bluffed to Calvin. No one will find the map without help. And even if they do, they won't know what it reveals. They're just as likely to throw it away as turn it over to a park ranger. But I'm not going to let Calvin believe that's a possibility. We have to make sure he feels the threat of being found out. Britt, I'm going to see to it that you get out of here alive. You'll have to show the police where the map is."

  "We're both getting out of here alive," I corrected him firmly.

  "Calvin could shoot you, to eliminate you as a witness," Jude continued without answering me, "but I don't think he will. You're his last bargaining chip--if you're killed, he knows I won't give up the map. His plan is the same as before. To use you to try to force me into talking. Which is why we're staying together and going after him. We'll try to catch him from behind, and I'll disarm him. After that, it's just a matter of holding him until we can turn him over to the police."

  "What if he catches us from behind?"

  Jude merely glanced at me, but I knew the answer. We had a fifty-fifty shot, at best, of taking Calvin down.

  Jude gave me a rough kiss. I felt warm and reassured as he held me tightly, and I wished he'd never let go. I wished we could stay here, holding each other, and somehow it would be enough.

  "We don't have to go after Calvin," I suggested softly. "We can hike to the cabin down the road and call the police. It's the safer thing to do."

  "He killed my sister," Jude said. "I'm not running. I'm bringing him to justice. Give me the gun."

  The dark shadows brewing at the back of his eyes worried me. I touched his sleeve. "Jude, promise me something. Promise me you won't kill him."

  His eyes cut sharply to mine. "I've spent the last year driven by the idea of killing him."

  "He doesn't deserve to die." I wasn't in love with Calvin anymore. But I'd known him my whole life. I'd seen the good and the bad. It was too late to help him, but I didn't want to destroy him either. He was Korbie's brother. My first love. There was too much history.

  But most importantly, I didn't want Jude to become like Calvin. A killer.

  "He deserves worse," Jude said.

  "He thought killing was the answer. I want to prove there's another way."

  "You're asking me to let the man who murdered my sister live," he said tightly.

  "He'll be in prison. For a long time. When you think about it, that's not really a life. Please promise me."

  "I won't kill him," he said darkly at last. "For you I won't. But I want to."

  I handed him the gun, hoping I wasn't making a mistake.

  Jude checked that the gun was loaded. "When this is over, I'm going to give Lauren a proper burial. With family and loved ones. She deserves that."

  I dropped my eyes to the ground. "The dead body in the storage room. The girl was wearing a black cocktail dress. I think--I think she was Lauren."

  Tears glistened in Jude's eyes. He gazed up at the black sky, blinking them dry. He had known it was her from the moment I'd told him I'd found the body, but it was only now that his shoulders trembled and his breathing quickened. He'd kept his grief bottled up, because he'd needed to stay strong. For me. He couldn't have protected me if he'd been focused on her.

  "She's forgiven you, Jude. You have to believe that. She chose to go drinking. She chose to leave with Shaun. What happened to her after that is inexcusable and horrific, and I'm not saying she deserved to be killed, because she absolutely didn't--no one deserves that--but at some point, she had to stop relying on you to save her, and learn to save herself." I spoke from the depths of my heart. In more ways than I could ever express to Jude. It had taken being with him to see how dependent I was on my dad, Ian, and Calvin. Jude had helped me see that I needed to change. He'd been with me as I took those first scary steps. And now it was up to me what I did with this newfound strength and independence.

  Jude made a hot, tormented sound deep in his throat. "If only I could forgive myself. I keep asking myself why Calvin did it." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I want to know why, because in my mind, there has to be a logical explanation, when in reality, there is nothing logical about the mind of a cold-blooded killer."

  "Calvin resented Lauren because she got into Stanford and he didn't. He spent his whole life being led to believe by his dad that girls are somehow inferior, and it killed him to think that someone under him had achieved more." As I said it, it hit me how flimsy a reason it really was. It made Calvin's violence that much more senseless.

  Jude stared at me. "He killed her because she got into a school she didn't even want to attend?" He shook his head in a disgusted and pained manner. "That's why he took her Cardinals hat?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "The Cardinals ball cap Calvin gave you. It was Lauren's. The yellow splatter on top--not mustard but paint. I was with her when it happened. We painted her bedroom yellow together. Yellow with black stripes," Jude said in a measured tone, but I saw the anguish in his eyes. "Calvin took the hat as a symbol that he'd triumphed over her and taken back what was rightfully his."

  The hat wasn't even Calvin's. I'd spent the past year holding on to it, clinging to it, because I wasn't ready to let go of us. I'd thought the hat was his, and I needed to feel him close. But I'd been holding on to something that wasn't real. It hurt, but in a strange way, it also made it easier to let go of him for good.

  Suddenly Jude turned his face toward the sky. "Do you hear that?"

  I strained my ears, picking up the distant drone of a motor. It was coming this way. "What is it?"

  "A helicopter."

  "The police?" I breathed, not wanting to hope too soon.

  "I don't know." He faced me. "Someone could have found your abandoned car and called it in. They could be looking for you and Korbie." He paused. "But I find it hard to believe they'd send a chopper up after dark and in this weather."

  "It's them." I told myself it had to be. I couldn't bear the thought of it not being someone coming to help us. I buried my face in Jude's good shoulder. "It's the police. Or search and rescue. They're going to find us. We're going to be okay."

  I sensed his wariness in the rigid, uncertain way he held himself. At last he stroked my hair soothingly, but his voice was heavy with doubt. "Even if we see their spotlight, we can't run into the open and flag them down. I don't know if Calvin will shoot at us with witnesses looking on, but I don't want to take any risks. Until we've got Calvin, we stay hidden in the trees, understood?"

  We paced through the deep snow, weaving through the trees, making a wide path around the back of Idlewilde. Even though Jude limped only a stride ahead, I felt alone. The forest was dismally black. Anything could be lurking out of sight. I felt the eyes of the trees on me. Was Calvin watching us?

  Suddenly I heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind me. I whirled around just as Calvin sprang lithely through the snow, running in a crouch at me.

  "Jude!" I cried out.

  Jude whipped around, aiming the gun at Calvin. Calvin stopped in his tracks, leveling his own gun at me. We stood at a standstill.

  "If you shoot me, I'll shoot her," Calvin told Jude.

  "You can hear the helicopter overhead," Jude said. "It's a police chopper. It's over, Calvin. They found the map. They're coming for you. You're going down."

  "That's a surveillance chopper," Calvin said dismissively. "Probably search and rescue. Som
eone must have found Britt's car in the road and called it in. They can't see us down here. Nice try, but I'm not scared."

  "You're scared all right," Jude said. "Not of being apprehended, but of never measuring up. You're scared of failure. It's why you pick the targets you do. What kind of man gets off controlling defenseless girls? I'll tell you: no man. Is it frustrating to realize you're not a real man, Cal?"

  I drew a sharp breath. Was he trying to set Calvin off?

  "It's going to feel good to kill you," Calvin said through gritted teeth.

  "Sure it will," Jude replied in that same unworried voice. "I'm wounded, and that's what you like, isn't it? An easy target."

  A slow, scheming smile spread over Calvin's features. "I took my time with them, especially Lauren. Every kick, every squirm, every flash of panic in her eyes--I drew all these out, feeling invincible with all that control and power," he went on, knowing how to unnerve and rattle Jude best. "I only wish I could have heard her screams, but I tied the rope around her neck so tightly, not a single noise came--"

  Jude's eyes burned black fire, and then everything happened quickly.

  Jude lunged at Calvin, attacking his gun hand. He seized control of Cal's wrist and chop-blocked the gun away. He finished his assault with a brutal thrust to Cal's face, sending him faltering backward, howling and clutching his nose.

  "You broke my nose!" Calvin swore viciously.

  Jude picked up Calvin's gun and aimed it at him. "Count yourself lucky. There are two hundred and five other bones in your body that I'd like to break. Hands on your head."

  Face blanching, Calvin uttered a shaky laugh. "You wouldn't shoot me. Britt, you won't let him do it. I know you."

  "Don't talk to her," Jude snapped. "You don't deserve to talk to her. You're a worthless bastard who never deserved to live."

  Calvin seemed to absorb this, blinking over and over. He shook his head, his eyes empty and unfocused. "You're not the first person to tell me that."

  "How did you find the girls?" Jude asked harshly. "You must have researched them somehow."

  "Calvin worked with Macie as a rafting guide," I said. "He must have killed her when he learned she was going to Georgetown in the fall. And Kimani went to Pocatello High, our rival high school. He knew she was expected to go to Juilliard. Everyone in town knew."