Cherise Sinclair - Edge of the Enforcer

His face was strained with worry. Soon after they’d started the search for Lindsey, Logan had called, asking if anyone had seen Becca and Ansel.

An officer had found Becca’s car abandoned in town. Children building a snowman had noticed an unfamiliar car on the road toward the lodge. Becca had been crying and in the backseat next to a strange man.

Masterson said there were hunting cabins scattered all over and had stayed in town to question the rental management firms about recent activity.

DeVries and Stanfeld had hoped to locate any recently used dirt drives. It sucked that they could barely spot any roads through the thickly falling snow.

“I need someone to watch for me,” deVries protested as he slid into the Jeep.

“That’s my job,” Dixon said from the backseat.

“And mine,” Kallie said from the passenger side.

DeVries stared at Kallie. Bundled in a thick parka, she looked like a child, dammit. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I know where the cabins are and the roads and what fresh tracks look like even when they’re half-covered with snow.” She gave him a scowl. “Now drive. Slow.”

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and put the car into gear. Wasn’t she supposed to be at the Masterson’s place with her husband? “How’d you get here?”

She rolled down the glass and hung out the window like a dog. Her answer came back to him distorted by the snow. “Rona and I took Jake up to the lodge so Logan could search. But my Jeep’s better on icy surfaces than Logan’s truck, and I figured I’d better help.”

“Jake okay with this?”

“Hell, no. He cursed up a blue streak. He doesn’t want me here and thought he should come himself.”

DeVries heard her snort and had a moment’s sympathy for her husband.

In the sedan, Logan had taken the backseat behind Stanfeld.

“He wants you to make a U-turn and go in front. They’ll bring up the rear,” Kallie said.

“Got it.” DeVries turned the Jeep around and took the lead. He understood the arrangement when the sedan followed on the wrong side of the road, giving Logan a closer look at the left bank.

Foot by foot, they moved forward. Once the sedan slid back behind deVries’s to let a car pass. A couple of miles later, a truck came from the other direction, and the driver reduced speed long enough to exchange waves.

“That’s the vet,” Kallie commented. “Probably making a house call. He sure cut it close. The roads are going to be impassable soon.”

“Fuck,” deVries muttered. Where are you, Lindsey? Worry and fury roiled inside his chest. He’d kill them when he found them. If they hurt her, hurt Becca. Jesus, the baby was out in this shit somewhere.

“Why isn’t Virgil here?” Kallie asked.

“Masterson and Ware stayed in town to make calls. They’re looking for new rentals.”

“Got it.” She leaned out so far he grabbed the back of her coat to ensure she didn’t fall out. “Slow down. There’s a road around here.”

“There.” Dixon pointed, and deVries braked.

Kallie jumped out.

Before he could get out, she’d popped back in. “Hasn’t been used today.”

Seeing her shiver, he turned the heater to high and drove on.

Mile after mile. Stop after stop. How many damned cabins were in these mountains? Fucking hunters. He growled under his breath, stared at the side of the road until his eyes burned, and forced his impatience down. Hang on, Lindsey.

“Stop.” Kallie got out to check another tiny road. She knelt and ran her hands over the lumpy snow. From where he was, deVries saw no difference in the blanket of white.

She waved him in.

After flashing his brakes to get Stanfeld’s attention, he shut his lights off and turned onto the small single-lane road.

Stanfeld drove in behind him.

Logan jogged past and crouched down beside Kallie, sweeping snow away with his gloved hand.

As deVries stood by the car, Stanfeld and Dixon joined him.

“What do you see?” Stanfeld asked Kallie.

She looked up. “Older ruts are iced over from the melt and freeze we had a couple of days ago.”

Logan patted the uncovered tire tracks. “This track was made on top of fresh powder today.”

“Know who lives here?” Stanfeld asked.

“It’s a rental. One-room log cabin.” Logan continued to brush at the snow. “Two different cars came through. One more recently.”

“Means at least two perps,” Stanfeld said. “What do we do with our vehicles and…?” He motioned to Kallie.

Her chin lifted in defiance for a second before she gave in. “I’ll flag the road and take my Jeep back to the lodge. From there, I can phone Virgil and give him your location.”

“Thanks, sugar,” Logan said.

After deVries tossed her the Jeep keys, she trotted away.

Stanfeld removed his coat and opened the sedan’s trunk. He took out two bulletproof vests and handed one to deVries before donning the other. “Sorry, Logan. I only carry two.”

Logan jerked up his chin in acknowledgment.

Stanfeld glanced at Dixon. “You go with Kallie. This isn’t—”

“Stuff it, sweet cheeks.” Dixon braced himself. “I have paramedic training.”

“Don’t have time for this.” DeVries saw the red lettering on a small pack and slapped it against Dixon’s chest. “First aid stuff. Stay in the rear.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Stanfeld frowned and nodded, falling in after Logan, who’d already headed down the snow-covered road.

DeVries followed. Be strong, Tex. We’re coming.

***

Lindsey’s lungs felt seared from the bite of the icy air. She’d fallen so many times her jeans were soaked from her knees to her ankles, and the wet skin burned. Her fingers, face, and ears were growing numb.

The road had disappeared.

Lost . Hopelessly lost. The snow was falling so thickly, she couldn’t see anything past a few feet. She tripped and fell again, barely catching herself. Her arms shook with weariness as she pushed upright.

After turning in a circle, seeing only the shadowy darkness of tree trunks —I really hate snow— she put her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. Sweat trickled down her back. Hot inside the parka, freezing outside.

“Here!” The shout came from nowhere and everywhere, bouncing off the trees. Morales.

Shit, they’d found where she left the road. They could follow her tracks now.

She ran.

And ran.

They were closing on her. Both of them, the bastards. Her knife was in her right hand. With her left, she snatched up a fallen branch. Too big to swing. The next was a better size and as thick as her wrist.

She stepped behind a tree, forcing her mind away from the memory of hitting Ricks. Of the blood. She strained to tighten her grip on the knife, but her fingers were agonizingly cold.

“She can’t be very far ahead.” Parnell’s voice was low and out of breath.

“Gonna break her neck.” Morales sounded closer. His footsteps neared. Almost on her.

She jumped out and swung the branch into his face as hard as she could.

“Fuck!” He staggered back, nose streaming blood. She hit him again alongside his forehead, and the wood broke.

He dropped to his knees.

“Bitch.” With a sweep of his arm, Parnell knocked her off her feet and onto her back. “Fucking cunt.” He lifted her by the front of her coat and drew his fist back.

Screaming between gritted teeth, she thrust the knife at him.

He jerked aside so the blade barely cut him and backhanded her into the snow again. As she landed with a grunt, he kicked her in the side so hard even the coat didn’t shield her. The brutal pain tore through her ribs. She couldn’t breathe, could only curl around herself.