Page 89 of The House of Cross

“We can hear you breathing, Dr. Cross. And there’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.”

There was a pause before the sweetest and most familiar voice came to me over the headset. “Alex? Are you there?”

My heart soared. “Bree?”

“Right here,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s time to put the guns down. They have too many men. Even if you knew the way out of this place, they’d catch you.”

I said nothing, wondering at her level of duress.

“Alex,” Bree said. “It’s going to be fifty below zero out there tonight.”

“What do they want me to do?”

The other woman’s voice came on the headset. “Leave your weapons. Follow the snowmobile and driver when they cross in front of you.”

I said nothing for several moments. Finally, the woman said, “Do you wish to see your wife and Mr. Sampson again? Or do we hunt you all night?”

The situation was no-win, and I knew it. “Putting my weapons down.”

“You’ve made your wife happy, Dr. Cross.”

But I was not happy as I got out the hunting rifle and hung it by its sling on the nearest tree. I tossed the submachine gun in the snow below it, unzipped my coverall and my down parka, and dug for my shoulder harness and the Glock, which was right above the avalanche beacon Fagan had made me wear.

As I did, I felt something brush my knuckles, something small and oblong in the pocket of my parka. I got the Glock and the backup ammo out and regretfully dropped them as well.

“Dr. Cross?”

“Almost,” I said, digging again. “I’m not good with coveralls and cold.”

My fingers closed on that little oblong object in my chest pocket. I’d forgotten Willow’s Jiobit fob was with me.

I squeezed the sides of it for several seconds, praying Sampson was right, that its GPS signal could be picked up anywhere. I debated taking it with me but decided not to; I hung it low, near the trunk, and zipped up the coverall.

I shrugged off the pack and tossed it by the machine gun. Some instinct told me I needed to remember this place. The same instinct told me to empty the sled’s under-storage compartment, take out the tent, sleeping bag, and emergency gear.

If I can save Bree and just get back here, I—

“Dr. Cross?”

“Okay,” I said, putting my mitts back on. “I am officially without weapons.”

“Good,” the woman said.

A moment later, I heard a snowmobile start up off to my left. Aheadlight cut the gathering gloom, slashed, and wavered like a fighting sword.

The light became the snowmobile and the final driver, who did not look over at me before accelerating toward the abandoned mine.

I looked at the cache of weapons and emergency gear in the glow of my sled’s headlights. I remembered Bree’s voice, knew she was captive, and knew I might not see her or John or my kids or my grandmother again. And if we all did survive, our lives might never be the same.

I understood all that and yet I followed the red taillight of the gunman’s sled into the gathering storm and the night.

CHAPTER 67

THE DRIVER TOOK ANold trail off the southern meadow that led through dense forest and a wetland. It took all my strength to keep the machine from bogging down before it reached the other side and a cleared trail that ran in switchbacks up the north flank of the butte and the old mine.

I imagined cresting and seeing some kind of structure to the north. But even after we passed the hulking shadow of the abandoned building, there was nothing on the flat top but snow in my headlights, blackness all around, and that red light on the back of the sled in front of me.

On the far southwest side of the plateau, we took another switchback trail down into a maelstrom of wind and snow. I could sense a very big drop-off to my right, and I kept trying to keep the machine hard left.

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