Page 29 of A Killing Cold

“What are you doing out here with the kid?” he asks, restrained suspicion in his voice. Not an accusation—yet.

“He must have wandered off on his own. I’m not sure who was watching him, so I came to check the cabin, but…” I turn slightly in a full-body gesture toward the door.

He looks at me for a beat, like he’s trying to decide if I’m lying.

“I’m cold,” Sebastian says faintly, and Nick’s expression tenses.

“Let’s get him inside. Come on, my cabin’s closest,” he says, and takes his hand out of his pocket to beckon me. I scurry down the steps as best I can, following him. My arms are starting to feel the strain of holding the kid, but Nick doesn’t offer to take him from me, and I don’t ask. He walks staring straight ahead, his expression dark.

“Any idea where his moms are?” he asks.

“Skiing. I think Olena was supposed to watch him,” I say. Then hastily add, “But I’m not sure.” I don’t want to get her in trouble if I’m wrong.

He grunts a response. “Up here.”

This cabin is smaller than ours. The ornament on the door is a bumblebee, and I’m faintly amused at the thought of the glowering man being stuck with a cabin with such a cutesy name. He ushers us inside.

“Put him on the couch. Grab another blanket from the bedroom, I’ll get a fire going,” he says, and disappears outside again.

I set Sebastian on the couch. I have to prize his hands from around my neck, but then he nestles against the cushions, shivering. I pull his shoes off, and his socks, which have soaked through. His feet are bluish, and I rub them between my hands, giving him an encouraging smile.

“All safe and warm,” I tell him.

“I didn’t find the foxes,” he says mournfully.

“I’ll help you look later,” I promise, maybe foolishly. I hurry to the bedroom to grab the comforter. There’s a suitcase sitting out on it, unzipped and flung open. The clothes inside are folded neatly. Shirts I now know enough to recognize are expensive, a pair of dress shoes, a maroon sweater that probably takes five years of education to clean correctly. There’s a pair of simple silver cuff links on top of the sweater, as if discarded there absentmindedly.

Once upon a time, I might have palmed one. Just one. Take two, and it’s obvious they’ve been pilfered. Take one, and the owner will assume it fell somewhere, got lost between cushions or down a vent.

I glance toward the door before shutting the suitcase and moving it to the floor. I pull the comforter off the bed and pretend I wasn’t tempted.

A minute or two after I get Sebastian properly burritoed in blankets, Nick reappears with a load of firewood. Without so much as glancing our way, he kneels by the woodstove and begins constructing a careful fire.

I remember Joseph making a fire at our campsite with that same concentration, explaining to me about airflow and trapping the heat and natural sources of tinder. He always explained things to me. Told me the proper names of things. “You can use moss,” he’d tell me. “I like Spanish moss the best, but it doesn’t grow up here. Though you know, it’s not actually a moss?Tillandsia usneoides. Related to pineapples, if you can believe it.”

Joseph had a degree in biology with a focus on botany. He worked installing air-conditioning units for Beth’s uncle, but he delighted in sharing what he remembered with me. I mistakenly believed his delight was about me, not simply about having an audience.

Nick Dalton uses a stick of pressed material meant to catch fire quickly and reliably. He strikes a long match andwhoosh, crackling flames. He shuts the stove door. “Should warm up pretty quick,” he says. “How’s he doing?”

I look down at where Sebastian has tipped over to nestle into my side. His eyes are closed, those long lashes sweeping against his cheeks. “I think he’s asleep,” I say.

“Must’ve worn himself out with all the excitement,” Nick says. He pushes to his feet, hands back in his pockets. “You just found him out there?”

“More like he found me,” I say. “I heard him calling.”

“He’s lucky. Could have frozen to death,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Olena was watching him?”

“She must be frantic.”

“Well, we can wait for him to warm up and bring him to the lodge. See if we run into her along the way,” Nick decides. I nod, glad someone else has a plan.

“Hopefully before Alexis and Paloma get back,” I say. “I’d rather they heard he was safe before they find out he was missing.”

A grunt, this one in agreement. He’s still just standing there, looking at Sebastian in a way like he’s really looking at both of us, but trying not to be too obvious about it. “I remember one of the kids going missing once. Connor, or maybe Trevor. Rose was just about out of her mind. At least that was summer, though. Mostly worried about the lake, then.” He lets out a breath. “Having kids makes you crazy. First because it’s your job to protect them from every little thing and they’re completely helpless, and then because it’s not your job anymore, and you’ve gotta let them be out in the world without you.”

“You have kids?” I ask, trying to remember the family tree Connor briefed me on.

“Two girls. Madison and Paige,” he says. “They’re with their mom this Christmas.” He’s still looking at Sebastian instead of me, but now his eyes flick up to my face. They linger there, the way they did when I introduced myself. “How about you? You and Connor planning on having kids?” he asks. It has the air of a question used to fill the space, to silence another thought he isn’t ready to voice.

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