Tess Gerritsen - Ice Cold

“It’s so hard to believe,” Jane said. “You wake up in the morning, thinking it’ll just be another day. You get in a car with some friends. And suddenly it’s over. Everything you knew and thought and felt, in an instant, it’s all gone.”

He drew her close beside him. “That’s why we have to enjoy every minute.”

She brushed snow off the vehicle, revealing a streak of blackened metal. “You never know, do you? Which little decision will end up changing your life. If she hadn’t come to this conference, she wouldn’t have met Doug Comley. She wouldn’t have climbed into his truck.” Abruptly she lifted her hand from the Suburban, as though the touch of it burned her. Staring at the ruined truck, she imagined the last days in Maura’s life. They now knew it was Comley whom they’d seen with Maura on the surveillance tape. They’d viewed his photograph on the staff physician website of the San Diego hospital where he’d worked as a pathologist. Forty-two years old, a divorced single father, he’d been an attendee at the same medical conference. Attractive man spots equally attractive woman, and nature takes its course. Dinner, conversation, all sorts of possibilities swirling in their heads. Any woman would be tempted, even a woman as levelheaded as Maura. What kind of future, after all, could Daniel Brophy promise her, except a lifetime of furtive meetings and disappointments and regrets? If Daniel had given her what she needed, Maura wouldn’t have strayed. She wouldn’t have joined Douglas Comley on his doomed excursion.

She would be alive.

Daniel was no doubt tormented by those same thoughts. They had left him at the hotel without telling him where they were going. This was not a visit he should make. Now, standing in the gently falling snow, she was not sure that she should have come, either. What purpose did it serve, to see this blackened hulk, to visualize the vehicle’s plunge through the air, the flying glass, the explosion of flames? But now I’ve seen it, she thought. And I can go home.

She and Gabriel turned and headed back up the trail. The wind had picked up, and fine snow swirled into her face, stinging her eyes. She sneezed, and when she opened her eyes again, something blue fluttered past. She picked it up and saw that it was a torn airline ticket envelope, the edges blackened by fire. A scrap of the boarding pass was still inside, but only the five last letters of the name were visible.

inger.

She looked at Gabriel. “What was the name of the other man in the car?” she asked.

“Zielinski.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He frowned at the scrap of boarding pass. “They identified all four bodies. Comley and his daughter, Zielinski, and Maura.”

“So who does this ticket belong to?” she asked.

“Maybe it’s leftover litter from an earlier rental car customer.”

“It’s one more thing that doesn’t fit. This and the seat belt.”

“It could be totally unrelated.”

“Why isn’t this bothering you, Gabriel? I can’t believe you’re just accepting it!”

He sighed. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

“I need you to support me on this.”

“I’m trying to.”

“By ignoring what I’m saying?”

“Oh, Jane.” He wrapped his arms around her, but she remained stiff and unresponsive in his embrace. “We’ve done what we could. Now we need to go home. We need to get on with our lives.”

While Maura can’t. She was suddenly, achingly aware of all the sensations that Maura would never again experience. The cold air rushing in and out of her lungs. The warmth of a man’s arms around her. I may be ready to go home, she thought. But I’m not finished asking questions.

“Hey!” a voice shouted from above. “What are you people doing down there?”

They both looked up to see a man standing on the road above.

Gabriel waved and called back: “We’re coming up!”

The climb was far harder than the descent. The new accumulation of powder masked treacherous ice, and the wind kept puffing snow into their faces. Gabriel was first to reach the road and Jane scrambled up after him, breathing hard.

A battered pickup truck was parked at the side of the road. Beside it stood a silver-haired man holding a rifle, the barrel pointed to the ground. His face was deeply weathered, as though he’d spent a lifetime in the harsh outdoors, and his boots and ranch coat looked equally well worn. Although he appeared to be in his seventies, he stood as straight and unyielding as a pine tree.

“That’s an accident scene down there,” the man said. “Not a place for tourists.”

“We’re aware of that, sir,” said Gabriel.

“It’s also private property. My property.” The man’s grip tightened around the rifle. Although he kept it pointed at the ground, his stance made it clear that he was prepared to bring it up at an instant’s notice. “I’ve called the police.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Jane. “This is ridiculous.”

The man turned his unsmiling gaze on her. “You’ve got no business scavenging down there.”

“We weren’t scavenging.”

“Chased a buncha teenagers out of that ravine last night. They were hunting for souvenirs.”

“We’re law enforcement,” said Jane.

The man shot a dubious glance at their rental car. “From out of town?”

“One of the victims was our friend. She died in that ravine.”

That seemed to take him aback. He stared at her for a long time, as though trying to decide whether to believe her. He kept his gaze on them, even as a Sublette County Sheriff’s Department vehicle rounded the curve and pulled to a stop behind the pickup truck.

A familiar police officer stepped out of the vehicle. It was Deputy Martineau, whom they’d met at the double homicide a few nights earlier. “Hey, Monty,” he called out. “So what’s going on here?”

“Caught these people trespassing, Bobby. They claim they’re law enforcement.”

Martineau glanced at Jane and Gabriel. “Uh, actually, they are.”

“What?”

He gave a polite nod to Jane and Gabriel. “It’s Agent Dean, right? And hello, ma’am. Sorry about the misunderstanding, but Mr. Loftus here’s been a little jumpy about trespassers. Especially after those kids came by last night.”

“How do you know these people?” Loftus demanded, clearly not convinced.

“Monty, they’re okay. I saw them over at the Circle B, when they came by to talk to Fahey.” He turned to Jane and Gabriel, and his voice softened. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your friend.”

“Thank you, Deputy,” said Gabriel.

Loftus gave a conciliatory grunt. “Then I guess I owe you folks an apology.” He extended his hand.

Gabriel shook it. “No apologies needed, sir.”

“It’s just that I spotted your car and thought we had more of those souvenir hunters down there. Crazy kids, all into that death and vampire nonsense.” Loftus looked down at the charred Suburban in the ravine. “Not like it used to be when I was growing up here. When folks respected property rights. Now anyone thinks they can come hunting on my land. Leave my gates wide open.”

Jane could read the look that flickered across Martineau’s face: I’ve heard him say this a thousand times before.

“And you never show up in time to do anything, Bobby,” Loftus added.

“I’m here now, ain’t I?” protested Martineau.

“You come by my place later, and I’ll show you what they did to my gates. Something has to be done.”

“Okay.”

“I mean today, Bobby.” Loftus climbed into his pickup truck, and the engine rattled to life. With a gruff wave, he called out, grudgingly, “Sorry again, folks,” and drove away.