Page 84 of Cold as Hell

Then I glance over at Dalton. His attention is on the sky, but it’s clear today.

“You okay to talk?” I ask through the microphone.

“I am.” It’s hard to make out tone through the connection, but his voice sounds tight, as if he’s dreading hearing what I have to say. “You found something.”

“Possibilities. Deaths in areas where Jerome lived. Girls and then women, all around the age he’d have been at the time. He went to school with the first victim, but otherwise, there are no connections to him.”

“No connections tohim.But connections to Lynn. How she died.”

“Yes. I started looking at unsolved murders, but then I thought more about Lynn. What if Will hadn’t noticed the abrasions? Would we have chalked it up to death by misadventure? A tragic accident?”

He grunts, letting me continue.

“Removing Lynn’s clothing was risky,” I say. “After Kendra had been dosed, it would automatically have us thinking sexual assault. But maybe that was part of the game. We’d jump to that conclusion but be confused by the lack of any signs of assault. Then someone would mention paradoxical undressing or April would find it in her textbooks or, if all else failed, Marlon could mention he’d once heard something weird about victims of hypothermia undressing.”

“Which he would be able to do because he knows everyone involved in the investigation. Classic sign of a serial killer, isn’t it? Interest in law enforcement? Even inveigling their way into the investigation?”

I nod, remember he can’t see that, and say, “Yes. The people he befriended the most were Will, you, and me, along with our inner circle. His supposed military background made himperfect for our militia. That fits. Not everything does. Serial killers are usually white, but there have been serial killers of all races. He was raised by a stepfather who made a career out of hunting. Jerome dropped out of high school and left his family behind, suggesting issues there. He’s older than the average serial killer, but he seems to have the ability to pace himself. He started as a teen and only takes one victim every five years or so.”

“You found more?”

“A few possibilities. His MO seems to be what we saw with Lynn. Not hypothermia per se, but deaths that were ruled accidents or suicides, the circumstances of which were…” I swallow. “Horrible. The girl from his high school died of dehydration after getting locked in a windowless and waterless bathroom during the summer break. A college student who drowned of apparent suicide, weighed down by a cinder block that didn’t submerge her enough to die quickly. Just before I lost service, I found a case from five years ago, a woman who died while hiking, after falling into a crevice and breaking her leg.” I pause and then add, “Her cell phone was on a ledge just out of her reach. She could see it, tried to get to it, but couldn’t. That’s what caught my attention. That cell phone.”

Dalton doesn’t curse. He doesn’t say anything. He’s silent. We both are. Silent with the horror of these deaths.

“I’ll keep trying to call our sat phones,” I say. “Émilie is, too. She thinks it might be a service failure.”

“I hope so.”

“If so, then we’ll get there, quietly take Marlon into custody, and get him out of Haven’s Rock. Then we can push on to Whitehorse.”

Dalton glances over. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick that this guy got into Haven’s Rock. But you’ll noticethat I didn’t saywebrought him in. I didn’t even say Émilie let him in. He took advantage of a loophole no one saw. We’ve had them, and we’re going to keep having them until we plug every one.” I take a deep breath. “In this case, the outcome was… as bad as it can get. But no one in the process made an unforgivable mistake. We just need more checks and balances.”

“Agreed. However, I was actually asking how you’re feeling physically—you and the baby.”

I manage a weak smile when he glances over. “We’re fine. Just regular punches and kicks and movement. I even think they may have gotten turned the right way—I was sure I felt kicks up top this morning.”

“Good.”

“At least one thing is.”

We share a brief, worried smile, and reach out for a quick hand squeeze before Dalton focuses on getting us home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I was telling the truth about how I feel. There really hasn’t been more than normal movement since our scare. And I definitely felt kicking near the top, which suggests the baby is moving into the correct position. Yet no sooner do we spot Haven’s Rock below than a cramp nearly doubles me over. Luckily, Dalton is too busy landing the plane to notice. I hold my breath as I stare at my watch, waiting for the next one.

The “next” one doesn’t come, thankfully. We’re landing when I feel another cramp, but it’s much lighter, and it feels more like regular intestinal distress. That is not unexpected, given the way my stomach is twisting with worry over why no one is answering those phones.

I want to land and see Anders standing there, having heard the plane and come to the hangar to meet us. He’ll be there, arms crossed, giving us shit for coming back, teasing that we couldn’t stay away.

What? The sat phones aren’t working? Huh. I never even noticed. Been too busy… running this investigation, which I can totally handle.

Marlon? I just passed him. He was heading for the café. Coffee break time. I’ve been keeping an eye on him.

Anders is not at the hangar. No one is, and my heart seizes at that, and I climb from the plane even as Dalton growls for me to wait and let him help me down.

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