Page 91 of Cold as Hell

I creep until I can see past the other side of the bush. She takes two steps in that direction.

“Wait,” I say.

She looks back and huffs, frustration pouring off her.

They’ve gone in the wrong direction. Yes, Jacob saw tracks, but Jerome and Yolanda must have circled back this way.

And, if they have, the guys will be on it. I just need to be patient.

A call comes. It’s not Dalton’s usual birdcall, but I know it’s him letting me know he’s okay. Except the call comes from even farther off than I expected him to head.

Jerome has a two-hour head start on us. Just because he may have circled back my way doesn’t mean he didn’t leave a winding trail first.

Storm lets out a low whine. She thinks I’m not understanding what she’s telling me. Her target is over there, and I’m just crouching here, doing nothing.

Her whine sharpens, and she nudges me. I take a closer look at her eyes and her body language.

Not frustration. Anxiety. She isn’t annoyed that I’m ignoring her. She’s worried, because something is wrong.

A little voice whispers that I’m overreacting. Willfully assigning emotions to my dog that suit my purpose, because I’m concerned that the men are heading in the wrong direction and I’m so conscious of that ticking clock and—

I clench my fists against a fresh contraction.

The voice whispers that maybe this is what Storm is stressed about. Me. Because I may very well be in active labor and Dalton is gone.

But while she presses against me and licks my face during the contraction, once I’m breathing normally, she’s focused to our left again, whining.

I have a gun. A gun and a very big dog, and Dalton isn’tthatfar away.

Move toward whatever Storm senses. If it’s Jerome, stop and assess. If he’s sitting on a log watching Yolanda die, then it only takes one shot to end it. Otherwise, I can get Dalton.

I will only go as far as I need to. I’m not being reckless. I know my limitations right now, where I could get into a showdown with Jerome only to be doubled over by a contraction.

I creep forward with Storm at my side. When I veer to a section with larger trees, she doesn’t like moving from our trajectory, but she accepts it. That lets me straighten and continue forward a little faster. I get past that line of trees to see windswept rock to the right. It’s a big open area, and I can easily scan it and see nothing more than scrubby bushes. Patches of snow are all unbroken by footprints.

I look down at Storm. She’s focused on one cluster of those bushes. It’s not big enough to hide Jerome and Yolanda, though. It’s barely big enough to hide one—

There’s a foot protruding from the bushes. A slender, bare brown foot.

CHAPTER THIRTY

My heart stops. A contraction hits, and I grit my teeth through it. Then I squint at that foot.

It’s not moving. There’s a bare foot just visible through a cluster of bushes, and it isn’t moving.

I look each way across the open landscape. I can see one large bush to my left and a small cluster to my right. Is either big enough to conceal Jerome? That cluster is too low to the ground—if he’s there, he’d be on his stomach, unable to leap up quickly. The single bush to my left is a possibility, though.

But if this were a trap, would he set it up so I can just barely make out Yolanda’s foot?

I don’t know. I just know that I can’t stay here and hope Dalton gets back before Yolanda…

Before she what? Freezes to death?

I look at that bare foot, completely still, and my chest clenches and my eyes fill and I want to scream.

If Jerome left her there, it’s already too late. He chose a spot on these rocks, where he could pick his way across withoutleaving a trail, and he dumped her naked body in a cluster of bushes, where we won’t find her until we return with Storm to sniff out whatever remains after—

Another contraction, and I embrace this one. It snaps the doom spiral and forces me to focus on nothing but breathing for a few moments. Then I peer at that single bush, adjust my gun, and move out into the open. I walk with Storm at my side, and all my attention is on that bush. After a few steps, I can see through the snow-laden branches. There’s nothing on the other side.

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