Tess Gerritsen - Ice Cold

She heard an anguished cry and turned in alarm. Rat dropped to his knees beside one of the burned houses. As she moved toward him, she saw that he was clutching something in both hands, like a rosary.

“She wouldn’t have left this!”

“What is it, Rat?”

“Carrie’s. Grandpa gave it to her and she never took it off.” Slowly he opened his hands and revealed a heart-shaped pendant, still attached to a strand of broken gold chain.

“This is your sister’s?”

“Something’s wrong. It’s all wrong.” He rose to his feet, agitated, and began digging into the charred remains of the house.

“What are you doing?” asked Maura.

“This was our house. Mom’s and Carrie’s.” He pawed through the ashes, and his gloves were soon black with soot.

“This pendant doesn’t look like it was in the fire, Rat.”

“I found it on the road. Like she dropped it there.” He pulled up a burned timber and with a desperate grunt heaved it aside, scattering ashes.

She looked at the ground, which was now down to bare mud after the heat of the fire had melted the snow cover. The pendant might have been lying here for days, she thought. What else had the snow hidden from them? As the boy continued to attack the ruins of his family’s house, tearing at charred boards, searching for scraps of his lost mother and sister, Maura stared at Carrie’s pendant, trying to understand how something that was cherished could end up abandoned under the snow. She remembered what they’d found inside these houses. The untouched meals, the dead canary.

And the blood. The pool of it at the bottom of the stairs, left to congeal and freeze on the floorboards after the body had been removed. These families didn’t just walk away, she thought. They were forced from their homes with such haste that meals were left behind and a child could not pause to retrieve a treasured necklace. This is why the fires were set, she thought. To hide what happened to the families of Kingdom Come.

Bear gave a soft growl. She looked down at him and saw that he was crouched with teeth bared, his ears laid back. He was looking up toward the valley road.

“Rat,” she said.

The boy wasn’t listening. His attention was focused on digging into the remains of the house where his mother and Carrie had lived.

The dog gave another growl, deeper, more insistent, and the scruff of his neck stood up. Something was coming down that road. Something that scared him.

“Rat.”

At last the boy looked up, filthy with soot. He saw the dog, and his gaze snapped up toward the road. Only then did they hear the faint growl of an approaching vehicle, making its way into the valley.

“They’re coming back,” he said. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the cover of trees.

“Wait.” She yanked free. “What if it’s the police, looking for me?”

“You don’t want to be found here. Run, lady!”

He turned and sprang away, moving faster than she thought possible on snowshoes. The approaching vehicle had cut off their easiest route out of Kingdom Come, and any trail up the slope would leave them fully exposed to view. The boy was fleeing in the only direction left to them, into the woods.

For a moment she hesitated; so did the dog. Nervously, Bear glanced at his departing master, then looked at Maura as if to say What are you waiting for? If I follow the boy, she thought, I could be running away from my own rescuers. Am I so thoroughly brainwashed that I’d willingly stick with my kidnapper?

What if the boy is right? What if Death is coming down that road for me?

Bear suddenly took off running after his master.

That was what made her finally choose. When even a dog had the sense to flee, she knew it was time to follow.

She chased after them, her snowshoes clacking across the frozen mud. Beyond the last burned house, the mud gave way to deep snow again. Rat was far ahead and moving into the woods. She labored to catch up, already out of breath as she frantically kicked up powder. Just as she reached the trees, she heard the sound of a dog barking. A different dog, not Bear. She ducked behind a pine and looked back at Kingdom Come.

A black SUV pulled to a stop among the ruins, and a large dog jumped out. Two men emerged, carrying rifles, and they stood scanning the burned village. Although they were too far away for Maura to make out their faces, they clearly seemed to be searching for something.

A paw suddenly landed on her back. With a gasp, she turned and came face-to-face with Bear, his pink tongue lolling out.

“Now do you believe me?” whispered Rat, who was crouched right behind her.

“They could be hunters.”

“I know dogs. That’s a bloodhound they got there.”

One of the men reached into the SUV and pulled out a satchel. Crouching beside the hound, he let it sniff the contents.

“He’s giving it the scent,” said Rat.

“Who are they tracking?”

The hound was moving now, wandering among the ruins, nose to the ground. But the smell of the fire seemed to confuse it, and it paused beside the blackened timbers where Maura and Julian had earlier lingered. As the men waited, the dog circled, trying to catch a whiff of its quarry while the two men fanned out, searching the area.

“Hey,” one man yelled, and pointed to the ground. “Snowshoe prints!”

“They’ve spotted our tracks,” said Rat. “Don’t need a dog to find us now.” He backed away. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

He was already moving deeper into the woods, not looking back to see whether she was behind him, not caring that his snowshoes were clattering through underbrush. The hound began baying, pulling in their direction.

Maura chased after the boy. He moved like a panicked deer, shoving through branches, scattering snow in his wake. She could hear the men in pursuit behind them, shouting to each other, and the bloodhound’s excited howling. But even as she scrambled through the woods, the debate still raged in her head. Am I running from my own rescuers?

The rifle shot answered her question. A chunk of wood exploded off the tree near her head, and she heard the bloodhound baying closer. Terror blasted new energy into her bloodstream. Suddenly her muscles were pumping wildly, legs thrashing ahead through the woods.

Another rifle shot exploded. Another chunk of bark splintered off a tree. Then she heard a curse, and the next shot went wild.

“Fucking snow!” one of the men yelled. Without snowshoes, they were sinking, mired in the drifts.

“Let the dog loose! He’ll bring her down!”

“Go, boy. Get her.”

Fresh panic sent Maura plunging ahead, but she could hear the bloodhound gaining on her. On snowshoes, she could outpace her human pursuers, but she could not outrun a dog. In desperation, she scanned the trees for a glimpse of Rat. How had he gotten so far ahead? She was on her own now, isolated prey, and the hound was closing in. The snowshoes made her clumsy, and the undergrowth was too thick here, clawing at the frames.

Ahead, she saw a break in the trees.

She burst through a tangle of branches, into a broad clearing. In a glance she took in the skeletal beams of three new houses, frozen in mid-construction. At the far edge of the clearing, an excavator was parked, its cab almost buried beneath snow. Beside it stood Rat, frantically waving at her.

She started toward him. But halfway across, she knew she would not outrun the bloodhound. She heard it crash through the underbrush behind her. It landed like an anvil against her shoulders and she pitched forward. She put out her hands to break her fall and her arms sank in elbow-deep snow. As she landed, she heard a strangely metallic clunk beneath her, felt something slice right through her glove and into her hand. Sputtering, her face coated in icy powder, she struggled to push herself up, but debris shifted away beneath her weight, and she floundered, as helpless as if trapped in quicksand.