Frozen (Detective Ellie MacIntosh) (26 page)

There wasn’t a reason not to tell him. “It belonged to my father.”

“I see.”

“He died a year ago. Heart attack. We didn’t expect it. My mother moved to Florida, which is what she’s always wanted to do anyway. She likes the sun. But, no thanks. Too many people.”

“Even on a night like tonight?”

“You have a point.” She glanced at the window. “It really is ugly out there.”

“Brothers? Sisters?”

“One sister, no brothers.”

“Are you close?”

The interest seemed sincere. “Actually, we are, but she’s the respectable married one with three little girls, and I’m the police officer.” She shrugged. “We’re different, but maybe that is why we get along. She lives close by so we get together fairly often, especially now since my mother moved. It’s nice that she’s busy, and I’m busy, but we do make time for each other. I have friends, but truthfully, most of them move away to warmer climates and better job opportunities, so I suppose she’s my best friend.”

Maybe she should tell Jody that someday. It hadn’t occurred to her she’d never said it. Her choice of career wasn’t conducive to warm, fuzzy emotions.

“My family is pretty tight-knit too. Sounds like we are both lucky. Not everyone has that in their life.”

“I didn’t feel lucky at all when my father died … but you’re right. It seemed like we were all so autonomous until we needed each other.”

“I think it works that way. That until you lose something, you don’t appreciate what you have.” His smile was wry. “I can’t say I’ve felt very lucky this past week, but at least I have you.”

He seemed at once to realize how that sounded, for he added quickly, “What I mean is that my impression is you are determined to find the truth. My confidence in that has made this all bearable. Or at least partially bearable.”

“That’s my job.”

“I doubt everyone is quite so dedicated.” He smiled again.

A part of her wished he hadn’t.

Ellie pondered the dark red liquid in her glass and wondered if she had made some kind of inner decision when she’d taken the turnoff instead of driving into the nearest town with a motel. Not that her reasons weren’t valid because they were logical. According to the reports the freeway was a mess, power out everywhere, and dumping him off at some motel probably not actually an option. Maybe the sheriff would give her points for baby-sitting their only tie to the killer.

Rationalization? Could be. It was her habit to be honest with herself but at the moment, soothed with alcohol, food, and warmth against the ferocious temper of the north woods, she wasn’t in the mood for rational.

How long had it been since she’d had a romantic relationship? Two years, at least, since she and Brian had parted ways and he’d transferred to the Twin Cities.

And what the hell did that have to do with anything?

Crime scenes were not a good way to meet men, she reminded herself wryly.
Maybe you should lay off the wine and just go to bed
.
By yourself
.

“This isn’t the most hospitable time of the year to visit the area.” She shifted a little in her chair. Just a very little, but she saw him notice. Just a glimmer in his dark eyes and something about his posture.

They were very aware of each other, but they had been almost since that first moment when they met outside the cabin where Melissa Simmons had been abducted.

And now they were alone.

Very alone in an icebound county with impassable roads and no power. The attraction was a problem. He wasn’t a suspect really, but he was
involved
. Not directly. By accident, but still …

“I have to agree. Inhospitable neatly sums up my visit this time.” Bryce had been nursing his wine but he finally finished it. Candlelight did nice things to the planes of his face. “I love it here in the summer but don’t usually come up in the late fall like this. I was just looking for a little solitude.”

“Not exactly how it worked out.” Ellie realized her pulse had started to quicken and she tried to quell the response with a casual laugh. “You’re stuck here with me.”

“Stuck is definitely
not
how I’d put it.” His response was rueful. “More like you are stuck with me.”

“That’s not how I’d put it either.”

She shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t the words so much as it was the soft tone of her voice. He caught it too, and it made her get hastily to her feet. “I should probably wash the dishes by hand. It doesn’t look like we’re going to get power tonight.”

“I’ll wash, you dry.” He stood also, in an easy movement. “You know where the dishes go.”

Considering the extent of the mess was one saucepan, a nonstick skillet, two plates, two bowls and two spoons, cleanup was not a matter of more than a few minutes. They stood next to each other at the sink, and when their fingers brushed as he handed her a wet bowl, Ellie felt it all the way to the tips of her toes like some oversexed adolescent.

Damn. Time to get the hell away from him and into bed. She was having some pretty impure thoughts about their main link to a murder investigation. Unprofessional, to say the least.

“You’ve been the only good thing about any of this,” he said quietly after he switched the water off. “This is kind of a tired line, but I wish we’d met under different circumstances.”

“Pretty tired,” she agreed in an even voice. He was tall enough she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.

But even though they stood close still, she didn’t step back.

It was charming—in a time when few men were charming any longer—to watch him convince himself to misunderstand her body language. “Speaking of tired, I’m going to guess we both are,” he said after a telling moment, his arms hanging at his sides, his hands still wet. “Like I said, I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Unassuming. He wasn’t smooth, didn’t immediately make a move. She liked that. Working with cops provided enough testosterone blasts to last a lifetime. But she really wasn’t thinking about sleep at this moment.

You shouldn’t do this
.

And though the case still hung there in her mind, 5 percent doubt had shrunk to 2 percent during the course of the evening.

“This way.” She walked through the living room to the hallway, and went into her bedroom. It was dark without the power on, but earlier she had lit one candle on the dresser and it flickered, sending shadows along the wall.

For a moment the doorway was empty and she wasn’t sure he was going to follow her, but then his silhouette appeared, tall in the wavering light. He’d taken off his boots after getting the wood and moved into the room silently.

It took a minute, but he seemed to get it was her bedroom, and though a brief look of surprise crossed his face, it was just as quickly replaced with something else.

Neither of them spoke, which was fine with her. They’d been talking for hours already, about anything and everything. He’d been born in Sun Prairie and moved to Milwaukee with his parents and one sister when he was five. He wasn’t a football fan, but had run track instead in high school and walked onto the team as a freshman in college. He liked classical music but didn’t care for jazz …

He knew how to kiss, she discovered a moment later. Not too fast and furious, not too slow or sloppy, but with enough pressure of lips and tongue she could feel his sexual hunger, and his damp hands spanned her waist, drawing her in close. He smelled good, like wood smoke mingled with a little designer cologne, and when she slid her arms around his neck, his thick hair softly brushed her fingers.

They undressed each other, her fingers busy on the buttons of his denim shirt, then dropping to his fly, slipping the button free. He kissed the side of her neck as she pressed her palm against the hard length of his arousal through the material of his briefs, and he gave a low, telling exhale.

“You sure?” He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“It’s a little cold in here. Feel free to wait for me in the bed,” she murmured against his mouth as they kissed again, her blouse now on the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

She’d also lit a candle in the bathroom off her bedroom, and she squinted as she opened the bottom drawer of the vanity and took out a box. Did condoms expire? She guessed they might, but surely they lasted longer than two years and Brian had helpfully left a new box. Their sex life had been the first thing to go as the relationship started to splinter apart. Ellie extracted a couple of foil pouches, brushed her teeth, and undressed completely in the muted light. Outside, the wind moaned and caressed the house in unsubtle blasts of snow. It wasn’t late, but it was dark and cold and bed sounded like the perfect place to be.

Naked and prepared, she went back into the bedroom.

The next hour passed in a blur of half whispers, exploring fingers, and sensual pleasure. Bryce made love with same restraint as he kissed, unhurried with no adolescent rush, no urgency, his mouth warm and experienced as he tasted and touched. His body was lean and well muscled, hard under the questing investigation of her hands,

She liked, especially in that blinding moment of pleasure, that he wasn’t a selfish lover but knew how to give as well take.

Then … quiet breathing in the dark. His damp skin against hers, their bodies nestled together in the aftermath, his fingers carefully smoothing her tangled hair away from her face. Bryce said in a thick voice, “I think someone with a doctorate in literature should be more eloquent, but holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Ellie confirmed, liking the solid feel of him, the cocoon of warmth.

She could swear it wasn’t five seconds before he slid into sleep. Not a normal sleep either, but the dead sleep of the truly exhausted, his body still, his face peaceful in repose. One lax hand cradled her bare breast and she left it there, tired and replete herself, listening to the assault of the storm.

No living soul would be out in it was her last coherent thought before she drifted off.

*   *   *

The woods were
impassable with deep drifts, the snow cold and sticky, his eyes stinging. The trail was lost, the lake now just a flat snowy surface. He stumbled, trying to keep his balance as he ran, and the icy air dragged at his lungs, drowning him.

The first spots of blood were there, crimson shocking against the pristine white, then spots became splotches, and finally there was crimson everywhere, in huge piles of soaked snow and the wind keening above it all, like some shrill phantom voice
 …

Bryce came awake with a start from the dream, sweating, heart pounding, disoriented in the dark. It took a moment but he registered the softness of the bed, the scent of sex that lingered, and of course, most telling, the curve of a naked female body next to him. Soft blond hair spilled across the pillow.

Detective MacIntosh.

No. Ellie. The woman he’d held in his arms and touched and felt respond to him wasn’t the cool blonde with a notepad and a calculating gaze. She’d been unself-consciously passionate and right now was curled against him in deep slumber.

Just a damned dream, he told himself as his heart rate began to slow, and no wonder, with everything that had been going on. Even now the sweat on his body made him cold as he sank into the reality of the present.

Ellie slept, her breathing easy, slender body relaxed. If he cast back over the evidence, he didn’t blame the police for their conclusions, so the trust involved in the current situation was a pivotal point in their relationship.

He eased away, relinquishing the warmth of her body with reluctance, and went into the bathroom. The candle she had in there was practically gutted, the flame more of just a glow. Bryce flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and gratefully found a freshly wrapped toothbrush in one of the drawers. He brushed his teeth, still trying to shake off the dream, and then padded back to climb into the bed again. She mumbled something as his cold hands brought her back against him.

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

She said drowsily, “That’s okay. What time is it?”

“Power is still out. I have no idea.” He lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck.

“The wind is supposed to die out by dawn.”

“Then it isn’t dawn. Listen.”

“I hear it.” She rolled over, into him, and touched his face with her fingertips. “Are you a dream?”

“Let’s not talk about dreams.” His lips brushed her eyebrows, her cheekbones, and then the dip of her mouth.

“That’s nice.” She kissed his bare shoulder and leaned into him, her eyes half closed.

“Go back to sleep.” He knew she was still tired—they both were, and as ironic as it might be, the storm was like a gift, a buffer against the real world.

An illusion, but a welcome one. He was warm, drifting, safe.

But tomorrow, he had a feeling it would be damned cold again.

Chapter 21

Hibernation was for animals, and he was up a level on the food chain.

The Hunter loved this kind of weather, but tonight he was tired, pleasantly so, and there was no need to leave, to brave the howl of the wind. It vaguely reminded him of wolves he’d once heard on a camping trip with his dad.

Lonely, but he doubted the animals were. They lived in dens together, but in other ways they were very alike.

Hungry.

Always hungry.

Maybe he was an animal after all, but for the moment, he was satisfied.

*   *   *

The front had
rolled over the northern counties like a bulldozer, and so at first, he hadn’t worried too much about it. Jane wasn’t home. He’d expected her to be late.

Not
this
late.

Rick sat straight up on the couch, realized he’d fallen asleep a little after midnight, and rubbed his gritty eyes. He’d worked a sixteen-hour shift and was due to go back on duty in four hours.

Jane had stayed at the hospital, he told himself. The early shifts couldn’t get home, the later shift couldn’t get in, and the hospital still needed staff no matter what the weather was like. It had happened before.