Chilled (A Bone Secrets Novel) (23 page)

“Liam was out of town,” Jim added.

“Did he come to your home?” Alex’s voice was tight. He looked ready to kick the man’s ass. Brynn tried not to smile at the sight.

“No. I don’t think he was able to figure out where I lived.”

“If someone had given out your home number, he could’ve easily found you.”

Brynn nodded. That fact had haunted her. “I persuaded the examiner to do a partial autopsy a week after the death and all his findings supported suicide. The dad went back to Tennessee, and I got a new cell number.” And she removed her home number from every source at the ME’s office except her boss’s phone contacts.

“I was just waiting for that guy to show up. I wished he had.” Jim automatically moved his right hand to his waist where he usually kept his service semiautomatic.

“Sorry, Brynn,” Ryan muttered again. She met his gaze and smiled to let him know he was forgiven. Sometimes she felt twenty years older than him instead of two.

“You carry enough weight to say when an autopsy should be done?” Alex was still watching her intently.

“I can make recommendations. The final decision is up to the ME.”

“You don’t do the autopsies though.”

She shook her head. “I try to go and watch if it’s my case.”

“I’ve seen enough of them.” Jim’s nostrils widened a fraction as if he smelled something bad.

Both Thomas and Ryan agreed. Brynn knew the two younger men hadn’t been to more than a few. It wasn’t for everyone.

“Attended any?” Ryan asked Alex.

“Just one. I left. Couldn’t make it through.” Alex’s face was suddenly strangely blank, like he’d exited his body and left a shell.

“After the first one I saw, I was off mac and cheese for months. It looks just like adipose tissue.” Brynn watched the men react to her comment. Ryan looked ready to vomit again, and Thomas had developed the same blank look as Alex.

“Exactly like mac and cheese,” Jim chortled.

“Stop it, Jim. Ryan’s gonna lose the tiny piece of protein bar he finally ate.” Brynn bit her lip.

“How can you eat after watching something like that?” Alex muttered.

She shrugged. “I don’t. I always seemed to lose a pound or two after each autopsy. I usually don’t feel like eating for a while.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Ryan pleaded.

Brynn glanced at the windows of the plane. It was full dark outside. The plane was downright cozy with the hot bodies of the four men and Kiana.

Her heart sank as she remembered the cold corpses in the cockpit. “Should we…I don’t know. Take the men out of the cockpit or take in some snow to pack around them? Are they going to attract animals?”

“What if we buried them several feet deep? Could a cougar or bear smell through that?” Ryan looked to Thomas, the wildlife expert. Thomas lifted a hand in an “I don’t know” gesture and finished his bar.

“I know a good hole,” Alex managed to say before he broke into gasping laughs.

Brynn’s eyebrows shot up as her jaw dropped. Incredulously, she scanned the men. They all had the same shocked expression. Ryan laughed first, breaking the astonishment. Then the other three joined, even Thomas.

A big portion of the stress of the day evaporated with their laughter.

Alex jerked awake, his shoulder immobile and his feet freezing.

For a moment he was back underground and terror rocketed through his nerves. Then he realized the weight on his shoulder was Brynn’s head as she slept next to him on the floor of the cargo area. He blew out a frazzled breath and commanded his limbs to relax. Heat spread from where she touched him, making him feel secure and safe. The plane rumbled with the snores of sleeping men, not the silence of his snowy grave. He closed his eyes and waited for his heart to slow as he enjoyed the sound. The sounds of the living.

He drank in the sight of Brynn in the indirect light from a headlamp. Last he remembered she’d been sitting in one of the comfy chairs talking quietly to Jim. Alex craned his neck and saw that Jim was stretched out on the other side of Brynn.

Thomas and Ryan were sleeping upright in two of the chairs, heads leaning against the walls of the plane.

Alex wished he’d been awake when she moved next to him. Her mouth was open the slightest bit, breath softly puffing. He felt it touch his neck. Her eyelashes lay still against her cheeks. He could see the faintest movement of her eyes behind her lids.

He’d nearly kissed her last night. When she’d first touched his leg it had been a shock. He hadn’t lied. It’d been a shock that raced up his thigh, stunned his groin, and then nailed him in the chest. And all she’d done was lay her hand on him.

In the gold light from the tiny camp stove, with her kneeling beside him, and the unstable, emotional set of his mind, he’d ached to touch her. The light had bronzed the skin on her face, and her pupils had dilated. He’d felt that if he didn’t touch her he’d explode. And he was damned certain she’d felt it too. He’d been about to tell her that she’d spoken to him underground when Thomas and Jim had walked in and the moment had vanished. He’d never gotten it back.

His hand reached over and traced her cheekbone. He wanted to touch the dense lashes or soft lips, but was afraid he’d tickle her and she’d wake. Then his moment would be gone again. He slid two fingers through the hair that’d come loose from her ponytail. Silky. Just like he’d known it would be.

He silently swore and pulled his hand away.

I have no right.
He squeezed his eyes shut.

She was living with someone. But she hadn’t pulled away last night, and behind the initial confusion in her eyes when he reached for her he’d seen…something. And it wasn’t rejection. It was warm.

He wanted her. In a bad way.

Maybe he was just overreacting after nearly dying. Seeking the ultimate affirmation of life, wanting to mark it with a female, show that he was alive. And Brynn was simply the closest woman. Showing up in his death dream didn’t mean squat. Simply because he’d felt something in his dreams didn’t mean it existed in real life.

He gazed back at her face and felt his heart speed up.

Who am I trying to fool?

In forty-eight hours he’d fallen head over frozen heels for Brynn. She was smart and strong and feisty. Life radiated from her and had touched the part of him that had felt dead for so long, slowly bringing him back to life. It was like that allergy drug commercial where the scene is fuzzy until the person pops a pill and suddenly everything is crystal clear. She’d shaken something awake inside him. No wonder he’d fallen hard.

Shit. The first woman to catch his eye and his heart, and she was already taken.

Or was she? She hadn’t uttered a single word about her boyfriend. Don’t most women mention them every other sentence? She hadn’t said she couldn’t wait until she got back home, or talked about what the two of them would do, or said she hoped her boyfriend wasn’t worrying about her. If Alex’s girlfriend was out in this hell, he’d be worried. The only mention he’d heard of her boyfriend was from Ryan. And there’d been an odd tone when Ryan talked about—what was his name?—Liam.

Liam.
Alex mouthed the name. He didn’t like the feel of it.

Felt foreign on his tongue.

His jaw tightened. There could be an age issue in Brynn’s mind.

Well, maybe for her. He doubted she’d hit thirty yet and he’d passed forty a few years ago. It didn’t bother him, but she
might see him in a more…fatherly light. He cringed, his chest tightening. Ugh. She looked at Jim like that. There was true friendship and caring there, but there was also a respect from Brynn that one gave to their elders.

Did she see Alex like that?

Ryan coughed, paused, and resumed snoring. Startled out of his thoughts of Brynn, Alex studied the sleeping man. Would Ryan be strong enough to hike out? He’d looked like hell the night before. At least Alex felt nearly fully recovered. He’d be able to hike out fine.

His body jerked as he remembered the purpose of his mission. Every muscle tensed. How could he have gone for hours without thinking of the killer?

Darrin Besand. After the avalanche, he had nearly been wiped out of Alex’s mind. Alex had been distracted by Brynn and his newfound interest in doing something with his life. Besand couldn’t wait. He had to find the asshole now. He had to know.

Alex closed his eyes and thought. If he’d been a convicted murderer hurt in a plane crash who didn’t want to go back to prison and saw a rescue crew come in, what would he do?

Hide.

But then what?

Wait and follow them out.

He knew Besand would choose death over going back to prison. That was one fact he’d learned about him. Even if he were bleeding to death, Besand wouldn’t make himself known to the group. So was he close by? Or had he already tried to hike out before they arrived? That was the theory he and Jim had arrived at yesterday, but now Alex wasn’t so sure.

The only place Besand could have survived the nights would have been in the other piece of the plane. Alex shifted on the floor, forcing himself to not dash out and check the cockpit. His mind raced. There were no other possibilities. This little plane wouldn’t have carried a tent, so Besand was either dead in the woods or taking cover from the elements in the cockpit while they slept.

The bloodstains on the plane seat across from Linus’s weren’t that big. Besand probably hadn’t been hurt too badly. Internal injuries were a possibility. Alex felt a hot rage stir in his belly.

I hope you died in the snow, you fucker, with icy pellets hammering your face as your body shut down. And I hope you were awake for every minute of it.

Next to Brynn, Jim sat up abruptly, scanning his surroundings, his eyes clearing as he remembered where he was. He took in Brynn with her head still on Alex’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed as he met Alex’s stare.

Go ahead, Jim. Say something. Anything.

Jim quietly cleared his throat as his gaze slid away and he peered toward the window. Light was dim. Alex estimated the time to be around six o’clock.

“What’s your plan?” Alex whispered.

Jim turned back to him, deliberately not looking at Brynn. “We need to talk.”

Alex nodded. “Not now.”

“Later. Alone.” Jim’s voice was hard.

“I want to go take another look at the cockpit,” Alex said. He also needed to take a piss, but couldn’t bear to move Brynn’s head just yet.

“The cockpit? Why—” Jim stopped speaking, and understanding crossed his face. “You think Besand is still here?”

Alex shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. “Either he’s dead under a layer of snow or he decided to hike out, and I doubt he would have survived the night without a tent or tarp. He’s dead or he slept in that cockpit last night.” He took a breath. “Until I see his dead body I have to believe he’s alive.”

Her eyes still closed, Brynn lifted her head, turned it, and curled her body away from him.

Alex’s shoulder was suddenly cold. And very empty.

He watched her, silently begging her to move back. She slept.

Jim’s eyes showed an odd mix of sympathy and annoyance. Alex wondered how much his own face revealed of his feelings for the woman. Judging by Jim’s reaction, just about everything.

Jim jerked his head toward the cargo door, opened it, and stepped out of the plane. Alex heard Jim’s knee pop as he walked. Sitting up, Alex’s spine creaked and his head ached like hell. He’d talk to Jim, then get some ibuprofen before checking out the cockpit.

He wasn’t aware of his hand instinctively checking his gun at his side.

Sheriff Patrick Collins stepped out of his four-wheel drive and surveyed the base camp in the morning light. He’d sped home, showered, changed, kissed his wife, hit Starbucks, and returned in under two hours. The number of media vehicles had increased again as word had spread that Darrin Besand was on the plane. CNN had arrived overnight. At first CNN had used the feed of a local network, but when the time frame of the missing plane lengthened and Besand’s name came to light, they’d sent in their own people.

Patrick had dealt with national media before. Twice, missing mountain climbers had caught the rapt attention of the nation. And then there were the two middle school girls who vanished as they walked to school. On different days. In the same neighborhood. Again the national media came calling and camped on his doorstep. The girls turned up buried in the backyard of their friend’s father’s house. The same man who’d given interviews to the media, sobbing about his daughter’s missing friends.

That case had nearly driven Patrick to retire.

RVs clogged the small clearing at the trailhead. The only local hotel was booked solid, so the media was making do with whatever sleeping arrangements they could find. He’d seen Regan Simmons arrive from the motel all perky and ready to sling some mud. She’d pissed him off yesterday by complaining on air about the lack of information from the sheriff’s department. Claimed they weren’t sharing with the media and were withholding information from the public and families.

Bullshit.

The families of both pilots and the missing marshal had been in constant contact with him. He’d assigned a deputy to do nothing else but see to their needs and make sure they could reach him whenever they needed to. None of the three families were willing to go on the air. With Patrick’s encouragement they’d asked the media to respect their privacy, and that had got Regan Simmons’s goat. She didn’t have a single tearful spouse to put on the air.