Cold Case Secrets

by Maggie K. Black

  Except the fact that something inside her wanted to. She didn’t want to keep something like that from him. Even if he never looked at her the same way after, even if he never spoke to her again, she had to take the risk of opening up to him like he’d opened up to her and let him know who she really was.

  “Hey!” Jacob’s voice rose. “We got something up ahead!”

  She glanced downriver and then she saw it, coming up all too quickly as the water carried them ever faster downstream. Smoke rose from a mass of broken treetops, bent and fractured like a giant foot had stomped on them. The stench of fuel filled the air. They rounded another corner and saw the wreckage. The helicopter lay at the water’s edge, sideways and half submerged, only managing to cling to the shore by the twisted rotors wedged in between some rocks.

  “Hold on!” Jacob shouted. “We’re going to turn fast.”

  Then she felt the canoe suddenly yank beneath her. They spun quickly, tossed in the current, flying around so fast they ended up backward. She dug her paddle deep into the water, her arms straining as she paddled in deep sharp strokes toward the shore. The canoe turned. The water beat against them, threatening to pull them away from the crash. Behind her, she could hear Jacob shouting encouragement, telling her they were going to make it and that she just had to keep paddling.

  Then she felt the canoe buffet against a rock. She reached for it, held onto it tight, feeling it sharp and wet underneath her hand as Jacob steadied the boat. Then slowly and surely, using rocks and debris as a guide, they pulled and pushed their way through the water to the shore. Dirt scraped beneath them. She leaped out, splashing through the water as she pulled the canoe high enough onto the shore that Jacob could get out, as well. Then she stumbled along the shore toward the wreckage. Jacob was one step behind her.

  The helicopter looked more like a broken toy than the same almost majestic aircraft she’d seen flying above them, promising rescue. The tail was snapped. The rotors were bent and twisted. Water coursed through the smashed cockpit window. There was no one to be seen.

  “We have to get inside,” she said. “You stay here. I’ll go.”

  “No, I’ll go.” His hand landed on her arm. “It’ll be a lot faster for me to scrounge up anything of value. And while the fact that it’s mostly submerged should keep it from exploding, I’m not about to risk your life any more than necessary.”

  So much for hoping they were past this.

  “Do I need to remind you you’ve been shot?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “But need I remind you that this is my job. I’m a cop and you’re—”

  He caught himself before finishing the sentence. So, she finished it for him.

  “A journalist,” she said. “That’s what you were about to say, right? Because even though I’m nowhere near my laptop and even though there isn’t of pad of paper anywhere in sight, you never stop reminding me of that. Why?”

  He looked down at where his hand still lay on her arm. “Maybe it’s helpful for me to remember.”

  “Helpful how?” Her voice rose. “To remember what?”

  “Not to drop my guard around you.” His eyes snapped back to her face. She gasped to see just how deep the emotion floating there was. “Because no matter what, you’re always going to be thinking like a journalist. We can stay up all night talking in the cabin about real stuff, and the next morning I discover you’re hiding things from me and having a secret conversation with a convict in the woods for a story.”

  She rocked back on her heels. No, she hadn’t been thinking like a journalist. She’d been thinking like a daughter. But there was no way to explain that to him now.

  “You want to know why I never responded when you kept hounding me for coffee?” he asked. “Because I didn’t want a reporter in my life. I didn’t want someone around who treated me like nothing but a source for information and someone to be interviewed.”

  He started to pull his hand away from her arm, but somehow she found herself grabbing on to it, holding on to his fingers just like she had when she’d helped pull him to safety the day before.

  “You think the only reason I invited you for coffee or tried to make any connection with you back in the real world was to use you?” she asked.

  Yeah, she kept telling herself that was the only reason why. But maybe she hadn’t exactly been honest.

  “You wanted a source within the police,” he said slowly. His fingers brushed over her hand and somehow neither of them pulled away. “You wanted to build a working relationship with a cop.”

  “Maybe I wanted to build a working relationship with you,” she said. “There are hundreds of cops in Toronto. A dozen have invited me out for coffee. And I shot them all down. Because I don’t trust easily. I find it hard to make connections. I don’t let people in. But you were honest and fearless. You were fundamentally good. There was something about you that made me want to get to know you better. Even if you clearly didn’t want to get to know me.”

  There, she’d said it. She’d admitted it to herself, finally, even if blurting it out to him like that had left her feeling vulnerable and stupid. She pulled her hand away from his and crossed her arms across her chest.

  “Anyway, you might be a cop, but you’re also injured,” she said, changing the subject before he could respond. “So, how about we find a way to work together that keeps you from potentially drowning? I have some rope in my bag. How about we tether you to a tree and you rappel in? I’ll stay out here and keep watch.”

  Jacob didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead, he just stood there, staring at her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve in his head. He ran his hand over the rough brown scruff that traced the strong lines of his face. It looked like less of a beard and more like the need for a shave. The fact that he was still attractively rumpled and disheveled after everything they’d gone through was ridiculous.

  “I’d feel more comfortable if you were a safe distance away,” he said. “But I’m guessing that’s not going to happen.”

  She felt an unexpected smile curl on her lips. “Nope, I’m going to be standing right here, with Cutter’s gun in my hand, watching your back. Just like I know you’d be for me.”

  To her surprise he chuckled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re unbelievable,” he said. “And I mean that in a good way.”

  He stepped toward her in the clearing, and she felt her breath tighten in her chest.

  “You’re also wrong.” He reached for her but didn’t touch her. Instead, his hand just hovered there in the air between them. She took a step toward him and felt his hand brush up against the side of her face. “Part of me very much wanted to get to know you better, but I couldn’t risk it.”

  “Because I was a reporter.”

  “Because I liked you,” Jacob said, “and because you were a reporter, and because I couldn’t risk letting myself get too close. Not to you. Or to anybody. I still can’t.”

  Because of his sister? Because of the responsibility he felt to his family? Either way, it didn’t matter, because once he found out the truth about who her father was, he’d never look at her the same way again.

  “I understand,” she said. “You can’t.”

  Even if he wanted to and she wanted to. His eyes darkened, his fingers brushed her cheek and she could tell he was thinking about kissing her. One foolish, impulsive kiss he’d immediately and forever regret.

  She made the decision for him, rising on her tiptoes and letting his lips meet hers for one fleeting moment.

  Then she stepped back, and his hand dropped from her face.

  Had that really just happened?

  She turned to her bag and rummaged inside for her rope, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. Finally, he asked, “Are we going to talk about what just happened?”

  “No.”
They couldn’t. It didn’t matter how much she liked him. They could never be together, and talking about the reasons why would only hurt them both.

  “Then can you tie knots?” he asked.

  “I can physically tie a knot,” she said, “but maybe not the specific knots you’re thinking of.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. She stretched out the rope without meeting his eye, not even wanting to know what she’d see there. He took it. “Now, let’s get to work.”

  Not even ten minutes later she was standing on the shore, with the rope looped around her left hand and Cutter’s gun in her right, as she watched Jacob step back into the fast-moving water. Almost immediately, his legs shook as the river buffeted against him, threatening to knock him over and send him downriver. Her own feet dug deep into the ground and her legs braced. The rope grew tighter in her hands.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Am I okay? Is any of this? Will I ever feel all right again?

  “Yeah, yeah.” His feet steadied. He glanced back over his shoulder just long enough for their eyes to almost meet. Then just as she was about to remind him to focus on where he was going, he turned back to the river. “It’s just a bit more slippery than I was expecting. Now, I’m going to start making my way along the wreckage. Give me a few inches of rope for each step. Okay?”

  “Will do.”

  He crept deeper and deeper into the raging river, using his one good hand to guide him along the hull. Finally he reached the door, grabbed the handle and, after a battle against the added weight and pressure of the water, yanked it open. He looked in. She held her breath.

  “It’s empty,” he called after a moment that felt way too long for her liking. “There’s nobody in the cockpit or the back. Hopefully the only person who was in this thing was the guy who parachuted out when the copter started failing. Now, I’m going to climb in and see what I can find. There are a couple of air pockets in here. Not too big but enough for me to gasp some air in. So I might not come out for a couple of minutes. If you need me just give the rope three sharp tugs.”

  “Got it.”

  He disappeared through the cockpit door and dove underwater before she could answer. She felt the rope tighten suddenly in her hands. Two tugs reverberated down the rope. She quickly fed him a few more inches of rope.

  A twig snapped behind her. She turned and saw nothing but leaves and branches. There was another snap, this one more like a footstep and closer. Her heart clenched in her chest as her grip tightened.

  “Drop the rope and the gun!” A deep voice behind her barked. “Now!”

  TEN

  A figure stepped out of the woods. A cop. Or at least someone who dressed in the same dark clothes and police vest Jacob had been in the night before. The visor of his helmet covered his face. His weapon was trained on her.

  “Ma’am, I’m a police officer.” Authority moved through his baritone voice and something in it made her think she’d heard the voice before. “I’m not going to hurt you. But I need you to drop both your weapon and the rope and put your hands up.”

  Right, or he could be an escaped convict who’d somehow managed to steal an officer’s clothes somewhere after the breakout and escape.

  “First show me your face and give me your name and badge number!” she called. She glanced over her shoulder toward him. “And I’m not letting go of either.”

  She wrapped the rope around her fist, tugged three times and tightened her grip on the gun as if to make her point.

  “Grace? Grace Finch?”

  Warren? Detective Warren Scott shoved up the helmet of his visor with one hand. Disbelief flooded the man’s voice. “Wow, I barely recognized you!”

  Just how muddy and disheveled did she look?

  Grace blinked. She’d run into Detective Scott at more than one crime scene. The charming detective had the kind of square jaw that counted as chiseled and had made several casual attempts of asking her out on a date before eventually getting the picture.

  “What’s going on here?” Jacob’s voice sounded to her right. She turned. He was hanging half in and half out of the helicopter, holding onto the rope with one hand. “Warren? What are you doing here?”

  “Jacob!” Warren sprinted toward the shore.

  He grabbed the rope just two feet away from her, taking the weight off her arms, and wrapped it around his fist. Then he reached his other hand out over the water for Jacob. “Come on, man.”

  “Thanks!” Jacob clasped his fellow detective’s hand and let him help him to shore. “What are you doing out here? How did you get here?”

  “I was coming to get you,” Warren said. “And I got most of the way in the helicopter before it completely fritzed out on me. Then I grabbed a parachute and jumped.”

  That would explain the parachute they’d seen. Warren dropped the rope as Jacob splashed out of the water and stumbled onto the shore.

  “Was there anyone else with you?” Jacob asked. He took two steps and collapsed to his knees on the ground. He had a first aid kit in his hand and what looked like part of a radio. “Also I’m guessing you got the main radio and walkie-talkie.”

  “I did,” Warren said. “And thankfully I was alone. This was a solo flight.”

  Grace pulled herself free from the rope and started for Jacob. But Warren already had him by the arm and was helping him to his feet. The two cops—the two men—stood there facing each other as if she’d temporarily vanished.

  “Was this because of the food poisoning?” Jacob asked.

  Warren’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah... Everyone got really sick. I was sick some but okay to fly. Well, better than most so I decided to risk it.”

  “Any idea what caused the illness outbreak?”

  “Not that I heard.”

  “How are you?” Jacob asked. “Any injuries?”

  “Nah, I’m good. No injuries.”

  “Cause of the crash?” Jacob asked.

  “Something mechanical.” Warren shrugged. “It just stopped responding. Like a computer virus had corrupted the controls, if that is even possible.”

  “Have you run into any...trouble since you’ve landed?” Jacob asked.

  Warren shook his head. “No. Thankfully. How about you?” Then he paused, as if suddenly remembering she was there. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk in front of the civilian.”

  “This civilian has a name, Warren,” Grace said, her arms crossed. “As you well know.”

  Warren didn’t answer right away. Instead the detective looked from Jacob to her and back again.

  “You two are together?” he asked Jacob.

  Jacob nodded. “She’s the civilian I rescued yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry if this puts you in an awkward position,” Warren said, “but I need to ask her to surrender her weapon.”

  This again? Grace almost groaned.

  Come on, Jacob—she urged him silently—we’ve gone through too much to make me surrender my weapon again now.

  “It’s not hers,” Jacob said. “She took a gun off Cutter yesterday, who we assume got it off a prison guard.”

  Warren nodded. “I understand.”

  Good! Because she didn’t exactly want to give it up.

  “Grace?” Jacob’s voice was just as soft and yet unrelentingly strong as when he’d wrapped his arms around her. But the tenderness she’d once seen in his eyes had disappeared back behind the invisible mask of being a cop. “Warren’s not wrong. You know it’s illegal for you to carry. I only let you have it because of extraordinary circumstances. You’re safe now, with two cops.”

  Her jaw tightened. Everything in her heart and mind felt differently toward Detective Jacob Henry than it had just twenty-four hours ago. But to him, she was still just a reporter, a civilian, an obligation he was unexpectedly stuck with.

  Jacob had called her brave onc
e. Well, he had no idea how much courage she was summoning now.

  “Okay, Jacob,” she said, ignoring the other detective in the clearing and locking her gaze on Jacob’s green eyes as if he were the only man there. “If you really want me to give you back the gun and go on unarmed, then I’m going to trust you. Because I figure if worst comes to worst, I’m going to be a whole lot safer with you watching my back than any attempt I make to go it alone.”

  His eyes widened. Slowly, she watched the softness begin to return to the depths of his eyes, like an ice barrier beginning to freeze. Do you get what I’m saying, Jacob? Because I don’t know when or if we’re ever going to be alone again. And I just wanted to show you how much I respect you and that maybe I’m not the woman you think I am. She pulled the weapon from her belt and let the trigger loop drop into her fingertips.

  “I know I haven’t always trusted you,” she added. “And you’ve definitely had plenty of good reason not to trust me. But now I know the kind of man you are. I trust you. More than that, I appreciate you. Like a lot.”

  Appreciate. It was as close as she could get to what she was actually feeling, with Warren standing there. She admired him. She respected him. She liked him, in the deep down kind of way that when she was younger would’ve made her say, Will you be my best friend? And oh, how she was attracted to him.

  Especially after that fleeing kiss.

  She stepped closer, he stretched out his hand and she dropped the gun into it.

  “Thank you,” Jacob said. His voice dropped as he said the words and she found herself watching his lips as they moved. He slid it into his ankle holster and pulled his pant leg down over it. Then he took a step back and looked back up at Warren.

  “Grace Finch,” Warren started, then he sighed. “I’m really sorry to tell you this, but you’re wanted for police questioning in regard to the prison break, the escape of three convicts and death of two guards.”

  * * *

  Jacob watched as Grace’s face paled. Her mouth opened and for a moment, no words came out. She looked from Warren to the sky above.