Chilled (A Bone Secrets Novel) (24 page)

She’d tried to get Patrick to change their minds.

He’d threatened to arrest her if she didn’t stay out of his face.

He’d met with the three spouses and privately told them all he knew. Which wasn’t much. He’d passed on his spotty conversation with Ryan Sheridan about “three dead.” The looks on the
women’s faces had sunk in despair, then shot up in hope, then down in despair again. When four men were on a plane, “three dead” weren’t good odds.

Patrick had fielded more questions about the damned helicopter too. The reporters had all talked among themselves, and no one confessed to sending up a copter.

Patrick had claimed no knowledge of the copter’s source.

Why did it feel like that denial was going to come back and kick him in the ass?

Deputy Tim Reid jogged over, his cell phone in hand. “Dispatch has been trying to reach you.”

Patrick pulled his own cell off his belt. The damned screen was blank. Dead battery. “Shit.” He never let his cell completely die. Especially on a mission like this. At least he had a charger in his truck. He held his hand out for Reid’s phone.

“Collins.”

“Morning, Sheriff. I trust you got some caffeine this morning?” The grandmotherly voice of his favorite dispatcher came across the line.

“I’d be doing a disservice to Madison County if I skipped it, Marilyn.”

“I’m well aware of that, sir.” She gently cleared her throat. “I’ve got Al Rice at the tower from the Springton airfield on the other line, sir. He says Tyrone Gentry never returned with his helicopter yesterday. He talked to Tyrone personally, sir. Tyrone had told him he and his brother would be back before dark. He’s already tried calling both the Gentry boys’ homes and no one is answering.”

Patrick closed his eyes and felt his heart land on his toes. Only Marilyn would call thirty-year-olds “boys.” “Has he checked any other airfields?”

“Yes, he did, sir. Within the last hour he called every place he could think of. He tried both boys’ cell phones too. He’s very worried, sir. Knows that family real well.”

Patrick did too. Was he going to add Liam and Tyrone Gentry’s mama to his list of grieving women? “Thank you, Marilyn. Tell Al I’ll take care of it from here.”

There was a pause.

“Do you want me to send someone over to Shirley Gentry’s home, sir?”

“No, not yet, Marilyn. I’m gonna get a hold of Liam’s commander. He’s officially their boy, not ours.”

Marilyn paused again. “You’re right, Sheriff. Anything else I can do?”

“Yeah, keep it quiet for now.”

“Of course, sir.” She huffed.

“I know you will, but I have to say it, Marilyn.”

“Stay warm, sir.” The line clicked in his ear.

His mouth in a grim line, he handed the phone back to Tim. “Gentrys.”

“I’d guessed, sir.”

They both hazarded a look toward the media camp. Several faces and one camera were pointed their way. Patrick wondered if any of them could read lips. That’d be a handy skill for a snoopy reporter to have. “Keep it under wraps for now.”

Tim nodded.

“Tell them there will be a briefing in…” He checked his watch. “Five hours.”

Tim grinned and jogged over to the engrossed reporters.

Patrick sighed and rubbed both hands on his face, stretching the skin. What the fuck had happened to the Gentrys? Their helicopter must have gone down in the arctic weather. He had
one team in the field and he really hated to send in another without knowing what was going on in the forest. One of his deputies had been instructed to try the team’s cell phones every hour, hoping they’d move into a pocket of cell reception. He hadn’t heard a word from the deputy so he knew there wasn’t any good news.

Patrick suddenly felt very old.

How many more people would die because of Darrin Besand?

Alex ducked out through the cargo door and nearly ran into Jim as he sat strapping on his snowshoes. They had exited as quietly as possible as the other three in the plane slept.

“Sorry.” Alex took two steps and sank to mid-calf.

They must have had eight inches overnight. They were going to need those snowshoes. He yanked up the hood to his parka and took a good look around. The snow was heavy. Visibility was shitty. At least the wind had eased up. Snow was coming down at a soft twenty-degree angle instead of the face-biting ninety degrees.

With all this snow, how would last night have been in a tent?
Alex patted the body of the plane affectionately. Wherever they slept tonight was going to suck.

“You think Besand slept in the cockpit last night?” Jim kept his voice low.

“I would have.”

“If he’s still here.”

“If he’s still here,” Alex agreed. “Yesterday…”

“What about yesterday?”

Alex wiped at his nose and stared into the snow. “I kept getting that hinky feeling. You know? Where you turn around
because you think someone’s behind you? But no one’s ever there? I felt…watched all day. Until…you know.”

Any cop understood that feeling. That rise of the hair on the back of the neck feeling. Jim’s gaze darted around. “It’s ’cause we’re in the woods. You hear soft sounds sometimes from snow or rain or leaves and you think someone’s there.” His tone didn’t match the surety of his words. “I feel that all the time out here. Get your snowshoes on. Let’s go look. You carrying?” Jim placed a palm on his side.

Alex nodded, imitated the gesture, and grabbed his homemade snowshoes from just inside the plane. He awkwardly wrapped the bungee cords around his boots. Jim grinned at Thomas’s work. “That boy knows snow.”

“How long’s he been in Oregon?” Alex stamped his feet, checking the cords. Jim was right. Thomas had whipped up some solid snowshoes.

“About three years, maybe four.”

“And he’s originally from Alaska?”

Jim nodded. “Was a cop and in the reserves. Did several tours in Iraq. Wife divorced him while he was over there.”

“No shit. What a bitch.” Immediate sympathy flooded Alex. And he’d thought
his
wife was unsupportive.

“I don’t think Thomas was the same guy when he came back. He’d seen a lot of action and spent some time in hot situations. He and two others were held hostage for two weeks.”

“Shit.” Alex couldn’t think of anything else to say. Nothing was adequate.

“Yeah. He’s had a lot of treatment for PTSD.”

“I don’t think anyone fully gets over that,” Alex said quietly. He knew two agents who struggled daily with post-traumatic stress disorder. Some days were better than others.

“You notice his parka doesn’t have a hood?”

Alex nodded. Thomas wore a high, thick neck cover under his jacket, but Alex had always wondered how the guy could stand the cold, wet weather on the exposed areas below his cap.

“They had their heads covered with hoods nearly the entire time he was held captive. Even to eat they only lifted the hood enough to expose their mouths.” “Shit.”

Jim led the way down the hill, Alex trudging behind. Both men had slipped off their gloves and held their guns in a pocket out of the snow.

“He only started wearing caps about a year ago. He says he doesn’t truly get cold. Says he’s experienced the coldest a person can be and everything else is just annoying.”

“So this is nothing to him.”

“Yep.”

The men plodded through the snow. Jim was right. Alex kept hearing the soft, floaty thumps of clumps of snow falling out of the trees. Each time he’d turn his head in that direction, expecting to see Besand. His gun was out of his pocket now and his fingers were getting frozen. He transferred the gun from hand to hand, wiggling his fingers back into warmth.

“What’s going on with Brynn?” Jim sliced him with the surprise question, and Alex stumbled. He’d been so focused on Besand and Thomas he’d nearly forgotten his pleasant surprise upon waking that morning.

“Nothing.” Truth.

Jim stopped and turned to face him; his brows were together and the lines around his mouth creased deeper. He carefully pondered his next words. “She’s seeing someone. They live together.”

“I know that.”

“Leave her alone.”

“I haven’t touched her. What’s it to you?”

“She’s practically my wife’s little sister.”

“So you’re the overprotective big brother. Can’t she think for herself?”

“Yeah. But I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She admires you for some stupid reason and was beside herself with grief when we couldn’t find you yesterday.”

“She would’ve been like that for any of you.”

Jim nodded, then angrily shook his head. “No. It’s different. She doesn’t know who or what you are. Maybe I should say what you
aren’t.”

“You mean I’m lying to her. You don’t think I deserve her sympathy.”

“Just don’t be twisting her sympathy around into something else.”

“I can’t make her do anything. She’s a big girl, Jim, and I think she’s got her head on pretty straight.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Jim clamped his mouth shut, and a guilty flush touched his cheeks. Alex’s eyebrows rose.

“What the hell does that mean? She’s as sharp a woman as I’ve ever met.”

Jim started to speak, paused, and started again. “She comes from a messed-up family situation. Her parents completely ignored her. They didn’t even protest when the state placed her in foster care due to neglect.”

“When she was sixteen, she was placed with my wife’s parents for foster care. These are good people. She’d been bounced from home to home before that. Me and Anna had been married
about five years at that time, and Anna adored Brynn. Even though Anna no longer lived at home, Brynn was like the little sister Anna always wanted. I think Anna was easier for Brynn to bond with at first. It took her awhile to warm up to Anna’s parents.”

“That’s understandable. So her childhood pretty much sucked?”

Jim snorted. “What childhood? Brynn was the adult in her real family. Her mom was like a spoiled little kid, and both parents were alcoholics. Anna says Brynn told her she was packing her lunch and getting herself to school in the morning as far back as she can remember, because her mom was always still sleeping off her drunk. Brynn would ask the neighbors for bread to make sandwiches for her lunch or she’d ask if she could pick apples from their tree. Some weeks she lived off what she scavenged from the next-door neighbor’s garden. Do you think the neighbors knew that girl wasn’t getting fed?”

“No other relatives she could’ve gone to?” Alex asked slowly. He was feeling sick to his stomach. He’d lost his parents in his midtwenties, but before they’d died there’d been lots of happy times.

“None. No one wanted a thirteen-year-old. I don’t know if any of them tried to get to know her. They probably worried that she was a rebellious, out-of-control kid. But they were so wrong. She was the adult in that family. She paid the bills and went to the grocery store on her bike. They never bothered to take her to get her driver’s license. Her foster parents did that. They told me she was a perfect driver from day one.”

“She probably wasn’t using just her bike to go grocery shopping,” Alex said dryly. His brain was trying to absorb Jim’s story.

His mental hard drive was struggling to process all the data. How could someone do that to their kid?

“She had perfect grades in high school. Valedictorian. Full ride to college. Could have picked any school, but wanted to stay in Oregon and do nursing. Said she didn’t want to be too far from Anna’s parents. By the end of high school, she was a true member of that family. Anna has three brothers and one sister, all older. They gave Brynn the big family she’d always wanted.

“But Brynn’s got a pretty bad track record when it comes to men. I think her upbringing gave her a slightly distorted view of marriage. Most men she dates have walked all over her, and they’ve all been older than her. She seems to lean toward older men.” Jim looked at him sideways.

A touch of relief went through his head. Maybe he wasn’t too old in her eyes. But he didn’t want to be a father figure. Alex scowled.

“Liam is closer to her age and treats her like a queen.”

“I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

“Liam says it’s just a matter of time. They’re already talking about getting pregnant.”

“She might be pregnant?” Alex’s toe caught in the snow and he tripped again, barely catching his balance.

“She says she’s not.”

“Jesus, you asked her? You outright asked her if she’s pregnant? When?”

Jim looked uncomfortable. “Day before yesterday. I wasn’t going to let her come on this mission if she was pregnant.”

Alex studied his face. “I bet that conversation went well.”

“I think she was about to skin me. I’m glad she doesn’t carry a gun.”

They were walking just inside the tree line, moving quietly from tree to tree as they talked. Jim cut off the conversation as they drew within a hundred feet of the cockpit. Alex continuously scanned the area, seeking any movement. He didn’t like the constant prickle in his spine. He couldn’t see a reason for it. The avalanche had slammed the cockpit against a bank of firs and covered two-thirds of the metal. Alex couldn’t make out where Jim and Thomas had dug their way in yesterday. The men had hoped to find some extra supplies. Flashlights or tarps or even something to eat, but they found nothing.

Had someone beaten them to it?

The snow turned everything an innocent white. But tension hung in the air around the cockpit. Maybe it was simply from knowing there were two dead men still sitting in their seats and a third laid out on the floor. They’d argued about putting the men in better positions. Courtesy to the remains of a fellow human. But the pilot’s legs were horribly mangled in with the wreckage. Getting him loose would have been a messy chore. They’d reluctantly decided to leave them as they were.

Jim motioned Alex behind him and took the lead as they neared the plane. Alex wanted to argue, but he let him lead. He was part of Jim’s team, and Jim had impressed him several times with his leadership skills. And Jim was a cop. Not unemployed,
former
law enforcement like Alex.

The path Jim and Thomas had made yesterday was gone, buried in the fresh snow. Alex strained his eyes trying to see a new path made by different feet that had entered or left the plane. Blue shadows were everywhere in the snow, making him see footprints where there were none. His breathing seemed too loud in the quiet Christmas card setting; inside his head he sounded like a train struggling to make it up a long, steep hill.