Hannah Alexander - A Killing Frost

“Not that I can tell. If she was following them, she could have stepped back here to hide.” But he still couldn’t understand why his niece would follow her abductors. It made no sense. Did she have some kind of superhero complex? He knew Renee had a way of making people believe they were stronger, wiser, smarter than they actually were, but what on earth could his sister have taught Doriann that would make the girl think she was capable of taking on two criminals?

He searched for more tracks, and finally found a partial at the far edge of the little copse of cedars. The girl still seemed to be following her abductors.

Jama was staring off into the forest, to the other side of the track, her flashlight aimed in that direction. “Over here,” he called to her in a whisper.

Jama hesitated, then joined him, stepping carefully in an obvious effort to avoid making her own tracks.

“I don’t get it,” Jama said.

“We don’t have to get it, we just need to get Doriann.”

“And fast, from the looks of it.”

“We can’t rush this or we may lose her trail. Just keep your light steady and keep trying not to disturb any evidence.”

The larger tracks were straightforward, following an old lane that led to a field up ahead. Tyrell knew this place. It belonged to a friendly neighbor of Andy Griswold’s. The field ahead was Andy’s.

The smaller prints did not follow a straight path, but darted behind bushes and trees along the way. The mud was soft, and that path wasn’t hard to follow.

He glanced at Jama in the dim glow of their flashlights. So many mysteries hovered around her, even though they had known each other for most of their lives.

“You never let anyone know where you went after Amy died.” Tyrell kept his voice gentle.

Jama’s steps faltered briefly. “No.”

“Why?”

She didn’t reply. It was the first time he’d ever asked her this question. He’d steered clear of the subject after Amy’s death, but now, in this crisis, the time seemed appropriate to raise such a touchy topic.

“I called Monty and Fran from time to time and let them know I was okay.”

“But you never told them where you were.”

“That’s because I was an adult, and they respected my privacy too much to press the issue.”

“Are you saying I’m not respecting your privacy?”

“Well?” Her voice let him know he’d hit the mark. “Had you or your brother and sisters known where I was, you might have come barreling across country to find me and drag me back.”

“Is that a problem?”

No answer.

“Really? You went across country?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. I might want to disappear there again someday.” There was a teasing note in her voice.

Tyrell was not amused. “Even after you returned, you hardly ever visited.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Twice a year?”

“I came more than that. Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I didn’t come. You weren’t exactly a permanent fixture around here back then. You were living your own life in another town.”

They paused at a barbed-wire fence. The tracks led through it. Another little fluff of purple showed them Doriann did not emerge on the other side unscathed.

Tyrell held the wires apart for Jama, and she stepped through. They were entering Andy’s property again.

“You disappeared for six months after Amy died.” Tyrell joined Jama on the other side. “Then you avoided us afterward. I know you were hurting, dealing with survivor’s guilt, whatever, but families stick together. You didn’t have to withdraw like that.”

“You don’t know what I had to do, Tyrell. You may not know me as well as you think you do.” Still looking at him, she stepped into mud. “Oops. I’ve left a track.”

“It’s hard not to in this open field.”

She turned off her flashlight, and Tyrell immediately knew why. She was feeling exposed.

“Tyrell, after all this time, why are you suddenly blasting me like this?”

“I’m not blasting you, I’m just trying to figure out why you did what you did.”

“Perhaps you could trust me to be mature enough to know what I needed to do for myself and not pull the big brother act.” She turned on her flashlight again.

“Count on it, Jama, being your big brother is about the furthest thing from my mind.” For a few moments, they searched side by side in the dark, their beams skimming, stopping, focusing, then passing on while he smarted at her words.

“I never wanted to hurt Monty and Fran,” she said at last. “I never meant to. I think I made that clear to them. We all deal with grief in our own ways. Don’t castigate me for mine.”

Her voice echoed too loudly from the trees that surrounded this field. He shushed her. Her movements stilled for several seconds.

“Okay,” he soothed. “You’re right. I’m an interfering lummox.”

“I didn’t mean that, Tyrell. I just-”

“I’ve known you for most of your life, and though I realize it’s impossible for one person to truly know another, I did think I was pretty tuned in to everything about you. You’re a puzzle to me, but I used to think I at least had all the pieces. I’ve discovered lately that I don’t.”

She stopped then, and raised her flashlight to illuminate their faces. “What if you find those pieces and they don’t fit into the picture you have in your mind for me? What will you do then?”

“There will always be room for me to make new discoveries about you, Jama. That’s how it should be.”

Why did he see such doubt in her eyes?

Jama felt herself melting again. Tyrell’s words touched her, even though he’d spoken them without the knowledge of what he could learn about her-and what it could mean. The truth…the missing piece of that puzzle could destroy them. It could destroy everything, her whole life. How selfish was she for withholding it? Didn’t all the Mercers deserve to know? And didn’t she deserve whatever happened after they discovered the truth?

“Where did you go?” Once again, he stepped forward slowly, cautiously.

“Utah.”

He said nothing, but she could sense his surprise. She studied the sizable perimeter of his flashlight beam, took a step, waited for him to join her, and studied the next patch of well-lit ground. Renee was right. The tracking skills had come back easily.

“What did you do in Utah?” Tyrell asked.

She took another step, and waited again for him to follow. She saw a small indentation in the grass, some bruised blades. Perhaps the result of a child’s footprint? Jama shook her flashlight, frustrated that it didn’t have the power of Tyrell’s.

She pointed. “Do you see-”

“Yes, I do. Look for more prints.”

They bent over and searched, slowly and methodically, and Jama wondered if Tyrell was as aware of her warmth beside him as she was of his warmth, his presence, his scent, the very feel of his movements, almost in tandem with hers.

“It’s amazing how cheaply a person can live if they have to,” she said.

“I know. I learned that when I was doing mission work abroad. How did you live in Utah? You couldn’t have practiced medicine there.”

“I could have gotten a license if I’d wanted to.”

“You’re saying you didn’t want to practice? As a fourth-year surgical resident, you must have qualified for some kind of work in the medical field.”

She had no answer for him, because she didn’t really know, herself. It probably had to do with not feeling worthy of the profession she had worked so hard to join. She followed the pattern of Doriann’s steps. It was slower going here in the grass.