Chill Factor (5 page)

"Boots," he repeated impatiently. She pulled up her pants leg
and
extended her leg far enough for him to see her foot. He frowned. Taking
several pairs of socks from the suitcase, he tossed them over the seat
at her. "Put those in your pocket. Take this, too. You can put it on
once we get to the cabin." He passed her a thin silk turtleneck that
she'd originally bought to wear under ski clothes.

Then, startling her, he reached over the seat and took a
strand of
her hair. "Wet." He dropped the strand quickly, but Lilly was glad he

emu

was thinking about her damp hair and not the fistful of
panties he
was holding in his other hand. "Have you got a cap? A hat of any kind?"

"I didn't plan on being outdoors much during this trip."

"You've got to have something on your head."

He tossed the undies back into the suitcase and pulled the
stadium
blanket from his shoulders. "Lean toward me."

She came up on her knees and faced the backseat. He fashioned
a hood
for her out of the blanket, placing it over her head and folding it
across her chest. He buttoned her coat up over it, then patted it into
place. "There. Before you get out of the car, pull this loose fabric up
over your nose and mouth. Is there anything in the trunk except a spare
tire?"

The familiar way in which he'd touched her left her surprised
and
slow to process thought. Her mind raced to catch up with what he'd
asked her. "Uh, a… I think there's a first-aid kit that came
with the
car."

"Good."

"And some food I was taking from the cabin."

"Even better." He gave the car's interior a cursory glance.
"Flashlight, anything in the glove box?"

"Only the instruction manual for the car."

"Just as well. I doubt we could have gotten anything out of
it,
bashed in as it is." He made a swipe at the fresh blood trickling down
his cheek, then pulled on his gloves. "Let's go."

"Wait. My handbag. I'll need it."

She looked around for her purse and discovered that it had
been
slung down to the passenger-side floorboard when the car crashed into
the tree. It was difficult, but she managed to reach between the dash
and the seat and wrest her bag from beneath the wreckage.

"Loop the shoulder strap around your neck to keep your arms
free.
Better balance."

She did as he suggested, then reached for the door latch.
There, she
paused and looked at him apprehensively. "Maybe we should just stay put
until we can call for help."

"We could, but nobody's coming up this road tonight, and I
doubt
we'd survive till morning."

"Then I guess we don't have a choice, do we?"

"Not really, no."

Again she reached for the door latch, but this time it was he
who
stopped her by laying a hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to sound
so curt."

"I understand the need for haste."

"We've got to get to shelter before it gets worse out here."

She bobbed her head in agreement. Their gazes held for a
second or
two, then he removed his hand from her shoulder, opened the back door,
and got out. Lilly joined him at the rear of the car, where he was
surveying the contents of the open trunk. He found the first-aid kit
and told her to put it in her pocket. "Some of those canned goods, too.
And the crackers."

He was likewise filling the many pockets of his coat with
cans,
which must have weighed him down, especially after he retrieved his
backpack from where they'd left it lying in the road.

"Ready?" he asked, squinting at her through the blowing frozen
precipitation.

"As much as I'll ever be."

Using his chin, he motioned for her to precede him. They'd
trudged
only a few yards when they determined that trying to walk uphill on the
road's icy surface would be futile. For every step forward they took,
they slipped back three. Tierney nudged her toward the road's shoulder.
It was narrow, often forcing them to walk single file, hugging the
embankment and dodging outcropping boulders. However, the uneven ground
actually worked to their advantage. They found purchase on rocks and
vegetation beneath the ice and sleet.

The grade was steep. On a fair day with ideal weather
conditions,
the uphill hike would have been a strenuous workout for even the most
physically fit. Most of the time, they were walking directly into the
wind, which forced them to keep their heads bent against it, sometimes
walking blind through a maelstrom of ice pellets that felt like shards
of glass when they struck the exposed skin of their faces.

They stopped frequently to catch their breath. Once Tierney
stopped
suddenly, turned away from her, and vomited, leading her to believe
that he had a concussion. At the very least. She noticed that he had
begun to favor his left leg and wondered if he also had a fracture.

Finally, walking became such an effort for him she insisted
that he
place one arm across her shoulders. He did so reluctantly, but out of
necessity. With each footstep he leaned more heavily upon her. She
slogged on.

They reached a state of total exhaustion and continued only
because
they had to. The distance she had covered in three minutes by car took
almost an hour on foot. They were stumbling over each other by the time
they reached the cabin's porch steps.

Lilly propped him against a support post on the porch while
she
unlocked the door, then assisted him inside. She paused only long
enough to shut the door and dump her handbag on the floor before
collapsing onto one of the sofas. Tierney slid his backpack off and
sprawled on the sofa facing hers, separated by the coffee table.

For several minutes they remained where they'd landed, their
breath
soughing loudly in the darkness. Because she had turned off the heat
before leaving, the room was cold. But compared with outside, it felt
balmy.

Lilly didn't think she would have the energy ever to move
again, but
eventually she stirred and sat up. She reached for the lamp on the end
table and switched it on. "Thank goodness," she said, blinking against
the sudden light. "I was afraid the electricity may have been shut off
by now."

She unloaded the cans of food from her pockets and set them on
the
coffee table, then fished out her cell phone and punched in a number.

Suddenly alert, Tierney sprang up and asked, "Who are you
calling?"

"Dutch."

CHAPTER  5

Lilly's prediction about the chaos in town had been correct.
Dutch
had been back for only a couple of hours, and already he was wishing
for the peace of his mountain cabin.
Formerly
his
cabin, he
thought bitterly.

Rush hour in downtown Atlanta had never been as congested as
Main
Street in Cleary this evening. It was bumper to bumper in both lanes, a
ribbon of red taillights on one side, a ribbon of white headlights on
the other. Everyone on one side of town seemed bent on getting to the
other side, and vice versa.

The sheriff's office was dealing with the outlying areas of
the
county, leaving the township itself up to Dutch and his department. Now
would have been a good time for a burglar to burgle, because no one was
at home where they should be, and every police officer was busy trying
to control the pandemonium generated by the approaching storm.

The signal light at Moultrie and Main was busted again. On any
other
day it would be no big deal. Drivers would take turns, politely waving
one another through the intersection and joking about the
inconvenience. But today, when patience was wearing thin, the
malfunctioning traffic light had caused a gridlock that was making
motorists fractious.

The officers not on the streets directing traffic were
monitoring
the crowds in the market, trying to prevent fistfights over the scant
merchandise left on the shelves. There had been one altercation already
over the last tin of sardines.

With sleet pellets larger than grains of rock salt, the rapid
accumulation would soon become nasty. As the weather system moved over
the mountain and swept down the eastern face of it into the valley,
picking up moisture, conditions were going to get even more
unmanageable. Until the storm was over, and all the ice and snow had
melted, Dutch could count on little or no rest.

Glancing up toward the crest of Cleary Peak, he saw that it
was
completely engulfed in cloud. He'd come down just in time and was
relieved to know that Lilly had been right behind him and was well on
her way south to Atlanta by now. If she made good time, she could
probably outrun the storm, arriving home before it caught up with her.

He still thought of her constantly, of where she was, of what
she
was doing. It was a habit that no goddamn decree of divorcement could
break. Remembering how she'd looked at him before he left the cabin
created a weight in his chest as heavy as an anvil. She'd been afraid
of him. Which was nobody's fault but his own. He'd given her reason to
fear him.

"Hey, Chief!" Wes Hamer was shouting at him from the sidewalk
just
outside Ritt's Drug Store. "Get over here. I'm a taxpaying citizen, and
I've got a gripe."

Dutch pulled his Bronco out of the line of cars inching along
Main
Street and into the handicapped parking space in front of the
drugstore. He lowered his window, letting in a blast of frigid air.

Wes came toward him with the shoulder-rolling amble of a
former
football player. Both his knees and one hip were afflicted with
osteoarthritis, but that wasn't something Wes advertised. He would do
damn near anything to keep from owning up to a weakness of any sort.

"You got a complaint, Coach?" Dutch deadpanned.

"You're the number one peace officer around here. clear the
streets
of these morons?"

"I'd start with you."

Wes guffawed but immediately sensed Dutch's dour mood and
leaned in
closer. "Hey, buddy, why the long face?"

"I said good-bye to Lilly for the last time. Couple hours ago.
Up at
the cabin. She's gone for good, Wes."

Wes turned away. "Scott, go warm up the car. I'll be right
there."
Scott, who'd been standing beneath the awning outside Ritt's store,
caught the set of car keys Wes tossed to him, raised his other hand in
a farewell wave to Dutch, then sauntered off down the sidewalk.

"Has he heard anything from Clemson yet?" Dutch asked.

"We can talk about that later. Let's talk about your wife."

"Ex-wife. Emphasis on the
ex
, which she
made perfectly
clear this afternoon."

"I thought you were going to talk to her."

"I did."

"No go?"

"No go. She's got her divorce and she's happy about it. She
wants
nothing to do with me. It's over." He rubbed his brow with his gloved
hand.

"Are you gonna cry, or what? Jesus, Dutch, don't make me
ashamed to
call you my best friend."

Dutch turned and looked at him. "Fuck you."

Unfazed, Wes continued. "The way you're mewling around." He
shook
his head over Dutch's pathetic behavior. "Lilly didn't know a good
thing when she had it. So screw her. My opinion of her has always
been—"

"I don't want to hear your opinion of her."

"She thinks her shit don't stink."

"I said I didn't want to hear it, all right?"

Wes held up both hands as though in surrender. "All right. But
it
isn't like she holds me in high esteem."

"She thinks you're an asshole."

"Like I'm gonna lose sleep over what Ms. Lilly Martin Burton
thinks
of me." Smiling crookedly, he clapped his hand on Dutch's shoulder.
"You're taking this breakup way too hard. You lost your wife, not your
manhood. Look around," he said, gesturing expansively. "There are women
everywhere."

"I've had women," Dutch muttered.

Wes tilted his head. "Yeah? All along or lately?"

Both
, Dutch thought. He'd lined up plenty
of justifications
for his first affair. He was under continual pressure at work. Lilly
was preoccupied establishing her career. Their lovemaking had become
predictable and uninspired. Blah, blah, blah.

Lilly had shot down his excuses like ducks in a shooting
gallery. He
had acknowledged his weaknesses and pledged never to stray again.

But the first affair was followed by a second. And then
another, and
soon he'd run out of even lame excuses. Now he realized that it wasn't
his
last
affair that had spelled the beginning of
the end of
his marriage. It had been the
first
. He should
have known
that a woman like Lilly wouldn't tolerate unfaithfulness.

Wes was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
"There
for a time, you know, after Amy, when I was in a bad way, I looked for
relief anywhere I could find it, with any woman who would say yes, and
there were plenty of them. None of them could replace Lilly, though."

"Bullshit. You just haven't shopped long enough. Are you
getting
laid now on a regular basis?"

"Wes—"

"Okay, okay, don't ask, don't tell. But what woman would look
twice
at you these days? If you don't mind my saying so, you look
like
crap."

"That's what I feel like."

"Right, and it shows. In your face, the way you walk. Your
butt's
dragging, my friend. You look about as much fun as a case of recurring
herpes. That approach isn't going to attract the kind of woman you need
right now."

"What kind is that?"

"The anti-Lilly. Stay away from brunettes with brown eyes."

"Hazel. Her eyes are really green with brown flecks."

With a look, Wes scorned the detailed correction. "Get
yourself a
bleached blonde. Short, not tall. Big titties and a butt you can hold
on to
.
A gal that's none too bright,
without an
opinion of her own except regarding your cock, which she thinks is a
fucking magic wand." Wes was pleased with his description of the
perfect female; his entire face was involved in his grin.