Allison Brennan - Love Is Murder

Twenty-four-year-old Lucy Kincaid had certainly needed a break, but snow skiing hadn’t turned out to be quite as much fun as her brother Patrick had promised. In fact, Lucy had spent more time in the snow than on the snow. Snowsuit notwithstanding, she was cold, wet, and miserable.

“I told you I didn’t know how to ski.” Lucy shivered in the passenger seat of Patrick’s truck. She put her hands directly in front of the heater vent.

“You just need more practice. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Wimp.”

“Is it wimpy to not want to freeze my ass off?”

For just a second, Patrick took his eyes off the curvy mountain road. “Since when have you been a quitter?”

“It happened the thousandth time I hit the snow.”

Patrick laughed. “You weren’t all that bad.”

“It’s no fun to fail.”

“You’re just cranky because everything usually comes so easy to you.”

“Not true,” Lucy protested, knowing her brother was right.

Patrick grinned.

“You think this is funny?” she asked.

“I think you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Are too.”

“God, you’re a brat.”

Lucy stared out the passenger window as they carefully made their way back down to the lodge where they were staying for the four-day weekend. The winding mountain road was treacherous in parts, and the increasing wind coupled with the falling snow didn’t help. She found it strange that less than two hours ago, they were skiing under bright blue skies dotted with white clouds, but during the thirty minutes they’d sat at the coffee shop at the base of the ski lifts, the sky had darkened, as if a gray, fluffy blanket had been laid over the mountains. The snow flurries had begun blowing almost as soon as Patrick started the ignition.

“I’m glad we didn’t take the snowmobiles this morning,” Lucy said. “We’d be coming back in this.”

“We’re almost there.” Patrick’s expression had grown from light to concerned as he slowed. He’d already kicked the SUV into four-wheel drive.

The drive to the Delarosa Mountain Retreat yesterday afternoon had been lovely, with striking scenery and crisp fresh air. Lucy loved the outdoors, though she preferred it at least forty degrees warmer. Now, unfamiliar with the treacherous road, she was as tense as Patrick, and wondering why the weather report had told them a “mild” storm system would be passing overnight, when it was four in the afternoon and this was no “mild” storm. With every passing minute, the snow increased and Lucy suspected a blizzard would be in full force before sundown.

She trusted Patrick to get them safely back to the lodge and hoped that though fierce right now, the storm would quickly pass.

She closed her eyes, considering Patrick’s comments about how she didn’t take failure well. Maybe he was half-right. She was more than a little irritated that she’d failed her first day skiing because anything athletic usually came easy to her. In fact, most things came easier to her than others. She studied in school, but never as much as her peers. She’d been an honors student, received two bachelor’s degrees and a master’s from Georgetown, and spoke four languages fluently. And because her mother had nearly drowned when she escaped Cuba, Rosa Kincaid made sure every one of her seven children could swim. Lucy ended up being on the swim team in high school and college and had been scouted for the Olympics, but she couldn’t commit the time and energy such an opportunity required. After she’d been attacked on the day of her high school graduation, her priorities had changed dramatically.

Lucy came from a military and law enforcement family. Her father was a retired colonel; her oldest brother Jack, retired army. She had a cop for a sister, a private investigator brother, and another brother who was a forensic psychiatrist. They’d all married into law enforcement in one way or another. Patrick was a former e-crimes cop, and now worked for a private security company with Jack. Joining the FBI seemed not only natural, but what Lucy was supposed to do. She had everything planned-she would submit her application this summer. It could take up to a year to go through the testing and review process. In the meantime, she had plenty of work with her new DC medical examiner’s internship and volunteering at a victim’s rights group.

While she was in great shape from running and swimming, being fit didn’t seem to matter when she couldn’t find her balance on those damn skies. She opened her eyes to see if the landscape had changed. The snow continued to stream down at a forty-five degree angle, the wind rocking the sturdy truck.

It didn’t look like they’d get another opportunity to ski this weekend. Secretly she was pleased. She didn’t like being so cold her teeth chattered, though at the same time she wanted a second chance. She didn’t want to return home a failure at the one new thing she tried and didn’t get immediately.

A bright green flash to her right, up the mountainside, caught Lucy’s eye. She leaned forward and immediately recognized that a person was rolling rapidly down the steep, tree-dotted slope. As she said, “Patrick! Someone’s in trouble!” she saw the tumbling figure smash into one of the trunks. The person grabbed the tree and tried to stand, but that only sent him falling again, a streak of pink behind him.

“I see him.” Patrick stopped the truck as quickly as he dared on the icy road. Turning on his emergency lights, they both got out of the car. The icy, damp air hit Lucy’s lungs before it registered on her skin. She trudged to the back of the SUV and grabbed the first aid kit, then followed her brother, fighting the wind-driven snow.

Above them, the man grabbed at a sapling, caught it, and stopped. He was still twenty feet from the road.

“That’s Steve,” Lucy said, recognizing the lodge owner’s twenty-year-old son now that they were closer. It seemed to be getting darker by the second, the blinking lights in the front and rear of the car turning the snow alternately red and yellow.

Patrick called out, “Lie on your back and slide!”

At first Lucy didn’t think Steve had heard, but then he turned around and laid back. The snow was stained red where his head had rested. She couldn’t see an injury, but as she watched, blood seeped from his scalp.

“Let go!” Patrick commanded.

Steve complied and slid down the snow, hitting the harder slush on the roadside. He tried to stand, but stumbled and fell, unmoving.

Patrick reached him first. “Lucy, get the first aid kit-it’s in the back.”

“Got it.” She knelt next to Steve and unlatched the red emergency kit.

“What happened?” Patrick asked Steve, brushing the snow from his face.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“We saw you hit your head on that tree up there. Lie still a minute.” Patrick began inspecting the young man’s body for breaks. “Tell me if it hurts anywhere.”

The cold could send him into shock, especially if he had internal damage. Lucy wanted to get Steve inside as quickly as possible, but they had to make sure moving him wouldn’t make any injuries worse.

“I’m fine,” Steve repeated.

“Can you move your legs and arms?”

“It’s just my head.”

Lucy had the gauze and tape out. She handed a thick bandage to Patrick, who pressed it on Steve’s still-bleeding wound. “Head injuries can be serious,” Patrick said. “You need to lie still for a moment. I’ll tape this up, then we’ll get you in the truck.”

Lucy handed Patrick pieces of tape and he affixed the bandage. Steve didn’t protest. Other than the gash on his head from hitting the tree, he only had a couple minor scratches on his face. His body was well protected with a GORE-TEX jacket and pants over layers of clothing.