Black Ice Page 11

  Calvin pulled into my driveway. "We should do this more often," he told me as I climbed out.

  I smiled back, unsure. "Yeah. That would be nice."

  I was about to shut the door when he said, "Hey, you forgot this," and he offered me a folded scrap of paper.

  It wasn't until he'd backed onto the street that I thought to open the paper. If I'd ever wondered what his handwriting looked like, now I knew.

  Call me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A loud bang at the patrol cabin door jolted me fully alert.

  Mason was kneeling beside me in an instant, muffling my cry of surprise with his hand. He raised his finger to his lips, signaling me not to make another sound.

  Shaun moved swiftly into the room, gun drawn, aiming it at the shadowy silhouette showing through the cafe curtain over the window in the front door.

  Another, harder rap sounded. "Anybody home?" a man's voice called out.

  I wanted to scream, Help! I'm here! Oh, God, please help! The words were right there, exploding inside me.

  "Answer it," Shaun ordered in a gruff whisper. "Tell him you're fine. Tell him you're waiting out the storm. Get him out of here. One false move, Britt, and you're dead, both of you are." He clicked off the gun's safety for emphasis, the sound echoing in my ears as loud as the toll of a bell.

  I walked to the door, each step stiff and weighted. I wiped my hands on my thighs. My face was bathed in sweat. Shaun crept along the outer kitchen wall, keeping the gun trained on me. At my sideways glance, he nodded, but it wasn't a sign of encouragement. He was reminding me that he meant every word.

  I unlocked the door and cracked it enough to see out. "Hello?"

  The man wore a brown parka and cowboy hat, and seemed startled at the sight of me. He collected himself and said, "I'm Deputy Game Warden Jay Philliber. What are you doing here, miss?"

  "Waiting out the storm."

  "This is a park ranger patrol cabin. You don't have permission to be here. How did you get in?"

  "I--the door was unlocked."

  "Unlocked?" He sounded doubtful and tried to peer behind me. "Everything okay in there?"

  "Yes," I said in a dry, papery voice.

  He shifted to see around me. "I need you to fully open the door."

  In my head, I could hear myself saying, They have a gun, they're going to kill me.

  "Miss?"

  A strange buzzing filled my ears. I was light-headed; his voice rolled through me like a slurred rumble, but I couldn't make out the words. I squinted at his mouth, trying to read them.

  ". . . get here?"

  I licked my lips. "I'm waiting out the storm." Had I said that already? Out the corner of my eye, I saw Shaun wave the gun impatiently. It rattled my nerves further. I couldn't remember what I was supposed to say next.

  ". . . transportation?" the game warden asked.

  I felt an overpowering urge to run. I pictured myself through the door, in the woods. I was so disoriented that for one moment, I thought I'd really done it.

  "How did you get here?" he asked again, his eyes watching me carefully.

  "I hiked."

  "By yourself?"

  Absurdly, I wondered if Calvin was thinking about me right now. Had he slept last night? Had he found the Wrangler and set off into the forest, searching for Korbie and me? Was he worried about me? Of course he was. "Yes, by myself."

  The game warden held up a grainy, enlarged black-and-white photograph. It was taken from a security video, and showed the inside of a Subway sandwich shop. There were two men in the photo. The cashier stood behind the counter, his palms raised to shoulder level. The man facing him, the man aiming the gun, was Shaun.

  "Have you seen this man?" the game warden asked, tapping his finger against Shaun's blurry, two-dimensional profile.

  "I--" Red lights popped behind my eyes. "No. He doesn't look familiar."

  "Miss, you're not all right. I can see that plainly." He was taking off his hat. He was going to step inside. The hum in my ears rose to a deafening whine.

  "I'm fine," I blurted. I looked around desperately. Shaun's eyes blazed into mine, hot with rage.

  "Please stay outside," I said, panicking. I kneaded the heel of my hand into my forehead. I'd said the wrong thing.

  The game warden brushed past me. At the same time, there was movement in the corner and Shaun was out in the open, gun drawn.

  The game warden's face went white with fear.

  "Kneel down." Shaun barked the order. "Hands on your head."

  The game warden obeyed, murmuring that Shaun should rethink, he was an officer of the law, they could talk this out, Shaun should hand over his weapon.

  "Shut up," Shaun spat. "If you want to live, you'll do exactly as I say. How did you find us?"

  The game warden tilted his head, giving Shaun a long, challenging look. At last he said, "I'm not out here alone, son. We've got the whole damn US Forest Service looking for you boys. Sure, we're slowed down by the storm, but so are you. And there's more of us. You aren't getting off this mountain. If you want to come out of this alive, you need to lower your weapon right now."

  "Give me the gun, Shaun. Take Britt and start packing our things."

  Mason's icily calm voice cut through the tension like a whip. He stepped up to Shaun's shoulder and extended his hand expectantly.

  "Stay out of this," Shaun growled, visibly tightening his grip on the gun. "If you want to make yourself useful, go to the window and figure out what he drove here in. I didn't hear a truck approach."

  "Give me the gun," Mason repeated, so softly his voice barely carried. Despite his quiet tone, it was laced with authority.

  Clearly not wanting to give them the chance to plot secretly, the game warden spoke up. "You boys robbed a Subway sandwich shop and shot a police officer while trying to get away. You put a teenage girl in the hospital after you hit her and ran. You're lucky she's alive. You're lucky the officer you shot is also alive, but nobody in the criminal justice system is going to look kindly on it. Things aren't looking good for you, but they're gonna be a helluva lot worse if you don't lower your weapon immediately."

  "I said shut up," Shaun barked.

  "Who are you?" the game warden asked me. "How do you know these boys?"

  "I'm Britt Pheiffer," I said in a rush before Shaun could prevent me. "They're holding me hostage and forcing me to guide them to the highway." Finally! Law enforcement would know I was in trouble. They'd send a search party. Someone would tell my dad what had happened. I was so overcome with relief I nearly cried. And then my heart sank. This was possible only if the game warden got away. If Shaun didn't shoot him.

  Shaun gave me a rake of his cold blue eyes. "You shouldn't have done that."

  "If we tie him up, he won't be found for a day or two," Mason reasoned with Shaun. "He'll live, but it will buy us time to get off the mountain."

  "And if he escapes?" Shaun challenged, plowing a hand through his hair. His eyes were wide and wild, showing bloodshot whites around blue orbs. He squeezed his eyes shut, reopening them and blinking hard, like he was struggling to focus.

  "Killing him isn't going to help," Mason repeated in that same steely, authoritative tone.

  Shaun squeezed the bridge of his nose. He wiped his free arm across his damp forehead. "You gotta stop ordering me around, Ace. I'm in charge. I make the decisions. I brought you along to do one job; stay focused on that."

  "We've been working together for almost a year," said Mason. "Think of everything I've done for you. I want what's best for you--for us. Now lower the gun. There's rope in the storage trunk on the back porch. If we tie him up, it buys us a day at least."

  "We've already shot one cop. There's no turning back. We have to see this through, do whatever it takes." There was something irrational and frantic in the way Shaun's eyes darted back and forth, unfocused. After saying the words, he swallowed and nodded, like he was trying to convince himself this was his best option.

 
; Mason said more sternly, "We're going to leave him here and keep pushing toward the bottom of the mountain."

  "Stop yelling at me, I can't think!" Shaun roared, rounding on Mason and aiming the gun briefly at him before swerving back to point it at the game warden. More beads of sweat sprang onto Shaun's brow.

  "No one's yelling," Mason said quietly. "Lower the gun."

  "This is my call," Shaun growled. "I'm calling the shots. And I say we cut loose ends."

  A spark that was equal parts fear and understanding flared in Mason's eyes. In one convulsive movement, he lunged for the gun. Shaun didn't appear to notice; his eyes were fixed on the game warden's kneeling form. Before Mason was able to stop Shaun, a blast of noise exploded in my ears. The game warden's body sagged to the ground.

  I was screaming. I heard the sound splitting my head, filling the room.

  "How could you?" I cried. There was blood everywhere. I'd never seen so much blood. I turned away dizzily, afraid I'd pass out if I looked at it any longer. My whole body vibrated with shock. Shaun had shot him. Killed him. I had to get out. I couldn't worry about the storm--I had to run.

  "What was that for?" Mason's heated voice erupted at Shaun. Mason looked shocked and sickened, and immediately crouched over the game warden's body, feeling his neck for a pulse. "He's dead."

  "What was I supposed to do?" Shaun yelled back. "Britt didn't sell the story, and he was onto us. We did what we had to. We had to kill him."

  "We?" Mason repeated. "Are you hearing yourself? We didn't kill him. You killed him." His eyes burned with hot wrath and seemed to reflect his thoughts--I didn't sign up for this. He stared at Shaun with guarded, watchful disgust, and from that single searing look, I realized something. At one point, they had been two criminals with a common predicament and goal. Not anymore. As Shaun grew increasingly unstable and unpredictable, I felt Mason peeling away. His desire to break from Shaun was written plainly on his face.

  Shaun snatched the photograph of himself at the Subway shop and ripped it multiple times. He flung the pieces against the wall. Then he rifled through the game warden's pockets, taking out a small, curious-looking key and slipping it into his own coat pocket.

  "They're onto us. We have to keep moving," he said, suddenly speaking far more rationally, like shooting the game warden had released the tightly wound coil inside him. "They're gonna be crawling all over the mountain soon. Looks like he got here on a snowmobile. The wind is so loud, we didn't hear the engine. He almost got us. But now we've got the snowmobile, and good thing--it will help us get over this damn snow faster. Grab one of his arms, Ace. We gotta hide the body."

  "Give me the gun." Mason held out his hand, his tone uncompromising.

  Shaun shook his head. "Grab an arm. Hurry up. We gotta move."

  "You're not thinking clearly anymore. Hand over the gun," Mason repeated.

  "I just saved your butt. I'm thinking straight; you're the one who's letting the heat get to you. We gotta do what we gotta do. We never should've come to the outpost. We should've done what I said and kept walking toward the highway. From now on, I call the shots. Grab an arm."

  Mason glowered at him, but grabbed one of the game warden's limp arms. They dragged him out the front door, and before I knew what I was doing, I walked into the kitchen, took my coat off the back of the chair, and put it on. I opened the cupboard beneath the sink. My mind was in a fog, but the rest of my body acted with controlled deliberation, as if a switch had flipped and it had taken over. I ripped open the plastic bag and stuffed the pocketknife into my coat pocket.

  I had to be ready to run. My chance was coming, I could feel it. I would find Calvin in the forest. Even if I failed, I would rather freeze out there than stay here with Shaun.

  When I straightened, Mason and Shaun had rounded the outside corner of the cabin and were crossing in front of the window. At that moment, Mason caught my eye. His gaze fell on my pocketed hand. He watched me for several thick beats, his sharp brown eyes assessing.

  Mason spoke to Shaun, and they set the body down. Right away, I knew Mason was coming back. I walked to the far end of the kitchen, out of the view of the window, and fumbled the knife out of my pocket. I stuffed it the only safe place I could think of--down my pants.

  Mason crossed the threshold. "Take off your coat."

  "What?"

  He yanked on the zipper and wrenched the coat off himself. He searched through the pockets, both inside and out.

  "What did you put in your pocket?"

  "You're crazy," I stammered.

  "I saw you hide something in your pocket."

  "I'm cold. My hands are cold." If he felt them, he'd see it was the truth. My whole body felt frozen with fear.

  He patted my arms, across the back of my torso, down my legs, and dug inside the elastic of my socks. "What are you hiding, Britt?"

  "Nothing."

  He glared down at me, his eyes shifting momentarily, suspiciously to my chest. My bra was one of only two places he hadn't checked. Immediately, he looked uncomfortable that he'd even had the thought, and averted his eyes.

  "In the bathroom," he ordered. "Strip down and wrap a towel around yourself. You've got one minute. Then I'm coming in to search your clothes. Don't bother trying to stash anything in the vanity, the toilet, or down the drain--I'll search them too. I'll search the whole room."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  "I'm not hiding anything." My throat was dry with terror. If he searched me, he'd not only find the pocketknife; he'd discover Calvin's map too. If they had the map, they wouldn't need me. They'd kill me.

  "Damn weather!" Shaun cursed loudly, his voice carrying through the patrol cabin's open front door. "It's snowing again. Get out here, Ace, and help me dump the body!"

  More snow? I looked to the window to confirm it. Large, wet flakes flurried down. How was I going to escape if the weather worsened?

  "I can't believe you're going to dump his body in the woods," I told Mason. I said it in hopes of pricking his conscience, but also to shift his focus away from searching me. "Think of his family. He deserves better. What Shaun did was awful."

  If Mason planned on defending himself, he didn't get his chance. A gale of bitterly cold wind rushed into the cabin, slamming the front door back against the wall, jarring us out of the conversation.

  With one final torn look between me and the snowflakes flying through the doorway, Mason made his choice. He marched outside, banging the door closed behind him.

  I went to the window. Shaun pointed at the game warden's body, then at the snowdrifts at the edge of the trees. They were going to shovel snow on the body and hope no one stumbled across it until they were out of the mountains.

  I closed my eyes, calming the dizziness creeping in from the corners of my brain. I had the knife and the map. I would run. Tonight, while they slept. If I stayed with them to the highway, Shaun would kill me. I knew it as surely as I knew that snow was cold and fire was hot.

  I would have one chance. If they caught me trying to escape, Shaun would either kill me on the spot, or let me live just long enough to wish he had.

  I sat on the sofa, rocking back and forth, partly to keep warm and partly to steady my nerves. As cold and unfeeling as it was to do so, I had to push the game warden's death from my mind and rationally plan my next move. He was dead, I was alive. There was hope for me, but I could do nothing to change his fate.

  I thought these words, but the image of his body pitching forward eclipsed everything. For the first time, I looked down through my splayed hands at my jeans. They were splattered with his blood. A dreamlike sensation floated inside me. It was like standing in the ocean's tide as it pushed and pulled; that strange, tipsy realization of being powerless against a much stronger force.

  The cabin door slammed. Mason and Shaun peeled off their wet coats, hanging them to dry on the backs of the kitchen chairs. The fingers of their gloves bore sleeves of ice from digging in the snow.

  "What are you looking a
t?" Shaun sneered at me on his way to the fireplace. He shoved a log into the flames, sending angry sparks flying from the grate. "Maybe the snow isn't such a bad thing," he said to Mason. "It will cover our tracks. It'll clog the main roads again, and it'll take time for them to plow. If we can't travel, they can't either. It buys us time. For now, we hang out here and wait for the snow to stop."

  In the evening, Mason heated three cans of corn on the stove. He and Shaun ate at the kitchen table and I sat by the fire, soaking up heat before I braved the forest alone tonight. I ate the food but hardly tasted it. I chewed slower and slower. I tried to shut out their voices in the background and lose myself in another memory of Calvin, a new one, one I hadn't already played over and over in my mind to keep from going crazy here in this awful place.

  Calvin had hurt me, and I hadn't forgotten that he'd kissed Rachel behind my back, but during the trauma of the past twenty-four hours, I'd curiously forgiven him. I couldn't focus on the negative right now. I had to stay positive and hopeful, even if that meant clinging to the good memories and blocking everything else. I needed a beacon to fix my sights steadfastly on. Right now, that beacon was Calvin. He was all I had.

  When Mason came to collect my bowl, I saw a shadow of sympathy in his eyes. I looked away, purposefully rejecting his compassion. I would not ease his conscience. I would not let him think any of this was okay. It made me feel better to treat him with frigid hostility. I wanted to hurt him more than I wanted to hurt Shaun. Despite his protests, he was the better of the two, and that made me expect more from him.

  Icy snow pelted the ranger patrol cabin throughout the evening. Even though the fire had warmed the three small rooms, I stayed bundled in my coat, boots, gloves, and scarf. It would save time later, when I would have to run at a moment's notice. I also had the knife stowed in my pocket. I hoped I'd know when it was the right time to use it.

  I figured that when Mason and Shaun discovered I had escaped, they would expect me to head straight for Korbie, which ruled out going back for her. It wasn't an easy decision to come to, but if I wanted to keep us alive, I had to go for outside help. I wished there were some way to let Korbie know I was coming, that she just had to be patient. I could only imagine how isolated and terrified she must feel.