Page 106 of Cold as Hell

“It’s perfect.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

It’s been a week since Rory was born, and Dalton and I are out on our first post-baby hike with Storm. We’ve already abandoned our child. She’s with April, who wanted to get in some auntie time.

I’ll admit that made me nervous. Our parents left me with April exactly once, when I was seven, and I ended up playing in the backyard until I fell asleep—at tenP.M.—because she’d gotten caught up in a book and “Casey likes being outside.” Growing up, I’d seen that as a sign of how much my sister disliked me. Forced to babysit, she’d left me outside. Now I know she really did get caught up in her book, and since I did like playing outside, it seemed reasonable, especially considering she’d have only been twelve at the time.

April and I didn’t grow up around babies, so I was nervous until Kenny volunteered to help. He has a passel of nieces and nephews, and with a few instructions, I could confidently leave Rory in their care. It helps that she’ll just sleep. That’s mostly all she does, and yes, I was worried until Nicole assured me thatit’s normal for these first few weeks. They sleep a lot, and once that ends, you’ll start wishing for those early days again.

Feeding is going okay. Still not perfect, but it’s getting better every time. Dalton also takes his turn with pumped milk and bottles, which is what he wants.

At this point, with a sleeping baby and tons of help, it feels easy. I know that’s an illusion, but while it’s lasting, I should take advantage and do things like going on walks with my husband and my dog.

Today’s hike actually serves another purpose. We’re searching for a place to bury Grant and Lynn, once the ground is thawed enough. That makes it a quiet walk. We’d done this many times in Rockton, but we’d hoped to avoid it here. While we have had one death—a construction accident—that body could be sent home for family. This is different. Lynn and Grant are both gone, and they will both stay gone, buried in a place neither of them wanted to be.

“I know he really liked fishing,” Dalton says as we walk. “But this should be more about her, and I don’t really know what she liked.”

“None of us did, and not because she wouldn’t have happily told us, if we’d taken an interest.” I exhale a long breath. “It was complicated. With both of them.” I squint out over the sun-dappled snow. “She did enjoy the hikes. Oh, I remember her saying there’s a spot where she could see the lake in the distance, and she liked it when they paused there. That would work for both.”

“We’ll do that then.” He reaches for my hand. “What happened to them was terrible. Especially Lynn. We didn’t screw up, though. Jerome exploited a flaw in our system, and Rockton had the same one. The only difference is that, in Rockton,he wouldn’t have needed to exploit it. Not if he had enough money to buy his way in.”

I nod, knowing he’s saying this as much for himself as for me. Whatever complaints we had about Rockton, we’ll both admit it was a whole lot easier when we could blame someone else for letting in a dangerous resident… and then pat ourselves on the back for catching them.

“On a much happier subject,” I say, “that is an awesome new sled Kenny built for Rory. I know she’s too young to appreciate walks in the woods, but do you think, if she’s bundled up enough, we can take her with us that way? Or should we stick with the baby pouch?”

“The sled would work. We have plenty of skins to line it with, and it’s not as if we’re going to just drag her along behind and forget she’s…” He trails off, looking to the left and frowning.

“Eric?” I say when he keeps looking.

He pauses and tilts his head to look into the forest. “Slight detour,” he says. “I’m not sure what I’m seeing. It might be more of Lynn’s clothing. Or Yolanda’s.”

“Or my sweatpants, which you guys abandoned back at the lake.”

“You really wanted your pregnancy pants back?”

I pluck at the sweats I’m wearing. “Until this belly goes down, the looser the waistband, the better.”

We’ve veered off the trail into the forest. It’s been a quiet week, weatherwise. Warmer than usual, with bright sun that makes it feel downright balmy. In open areas, the snow glistens as it melts. Here, deeper in the trees, it’s still solid but getting crusty, and each footfall pauses before breaking through with a crunch.

Dalton takes the lead. Storm follows behind me. She’s been quiet, still getting used to our new addition, and a little out ofsorts. I’m making sure she gets plenty of attention and playtime. When she makes a noise behind me, I turn and see her sniffing the air. She gives an uncertain whine and looks at me.

“Eric?” I say. “Storm’s picking up something.”

“Yeah, I can see why,” he says from two steps ahead of us. “There’s a campsite. Must be one of the damn miners.”

He means the mining company, who are absolutely not supposed to be on this side of our boundary line.

Dalton strides toward the small clearing. Ahead are the remains of a campfire and a makeshift shelter. One of the miners or guards looking for a little winter camping experience? Whatever the reason, having them this close to Haven’s Rock makes me very nervous.

“We’ll need to take this up with Rogers,” I say. “It’s a clear violation—”

Dalton stops short.

“Eric?”

“This isn’t the miners,” he says.

I start forward, and his hands shoot out as if to stop me. Then he settles for taking out his gun. I do the same, and we move into the campsite. He’s busy scanning the perimeter, as I draw closer to the site, where clothing has been hung above the fire to dry.

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