Beneath Copper Falls

“Only two,” Bree said softly. “Where’s the third?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  The drifts back here were enormous, and he struggled to keep his balance. He followed the tracks to the back door and stopped when he saw a hand sticking out from under a snowdrift on the back deck. Brushing away the snow, he flinched when he saw Garret’s white, lifeless face.

  Behind him, Bree gasped. “What happened to him?”

  Boone brushed away more of the snow and saw the red stain on the snow. “Looks like he was shot.”

  He straightened and went to the back door, but the morning’s muffin congealed in his stomach at the thought of what he might find inside. The knob turned easily in his hand, and the door opened. The scent of burning wood curled out the door. He nearly sagged against the door in relief when he found the space empty.

  Bree shut the door behind them. “At least he didn’t kill her too. She must be with him on the snow machine.” She looked around. “Where’s Phantom? I don’t think they would have taken him with them.” She called to the dog, but he wasn’t in the small cabin.

  “Tell Mason we’ll text him coordinates along the way as we track them. The FBI will have the equipment to get the job done.” He glanced at her dog. “You think it would be faster to let Samson track them instead of following the trail?”

  She shook her head. “He’s going to follow the skin rafts so he’ll be taking the same path they took. The snow is too deep for him to move very fast. We’ll be better off to have him on the machine with us.” She pulled out her phone and shot off a text to Mason, then read an answering chime a few seconds later. “He’s about half an hour behind us.”

  Boone yanked open the door and rushed for the snow machine. He lifted Samson onto Bree’s lap. “Any idea where he might be taking her?”

  She tied the hood on her bright-red parka more tightly and shook her head. “The property is the only one Mason found in his name.”

  Some memory danced just out of his reach. What was it? “We know his favorite method of meting out death is by drowning.” Then it struck him. “Her parents and brother died in a boating accident. Drowning again.”

  Bree’s green eyes grew troubled. “What about their boat, Boone? That perfectly round hole that popped free. Dana said the Corks told her Chris often borrowed the boat. What if he meddled with it? Maybe her parents were his first victims.”

  His gut clenched. “Copper Falls is where they died, and it’s that direction. Call Mason and have him meet us there.” He leaped on the snow machine and started it, then raced for the falls.

  CHAPTER 39

  The edges of the lake were frozen and snow-covered, but the interior reflected the sunlight with an eye-piercing brilliance. Copper Falls, beautiful in its iced-over condition, rose twenty feet in the air. Dana hadn’t been here since her family’s bodies had been pulled from the water, and the memory of that day brought acid surging up her throat.

  Chris had chained her to the snow machine, so she’d been unable to leap off and make a break for freedom and safety. He cut the engine on the machine, then dismounted and unfastened her shackles. “Beautiful, isn’t it? A fitting place to end everything for us both.” His voice held a feverish intensity.

  She dismounted and rubbed at her sore ankle a moment. “Chris, this is wrong. You say you love me, but if you do, you won’t go through with this.”

  She vaguely remembered the path they’d taken here after her family’s bodies were found, but she had no idea how to get back to the road. A bright cardinal, its red feathers brilliant against the snow, seemed to look at her in commiseration.

  Chris grabbed her arm and dragged her toward a snowdrift. He kicked at the snow, and it slid off the hull of a rowboat. “Turn it over.”

  She knelt and pushed more snow off of it until it was light enough to flip over. The paddles were attached to the inside with Velcro strips. There were no life jackets, but the boat looked sound enough.

  “Put it in the water and get inside.”

  What were her choices? Her gaze went to the icy lake and the barely trickling waterfall beyond it. If she darted for the forest, he’d shoot her in the back. She was a strong swimmer. Even if he threw her overboard, she might make it to shore. She bent over and shoved the boat toward the water. Her boots broke through the thin ice and freezing water soaked her leg and ran down into her boot. She waded farther out and climbed in.

  He put his gun back into his waistband, and she took that second when his attention was diverted to yank an oar from its home and whack him upside the head with it. He went down, and she dug the oar into the ground, shoving the boat farther out into the water. If she hurried, she could get out into the water and paddle for the other shore. A burst of elation fueled her strength, and she grabbed the other oar and began to row.

  She spared a look back at Chris. He got to his feet and shook his head as if to clear it. He started for the water, then paused as he took in the distance to reach her. He’d have to swim and the water was glacial. She was going to make it! She paddled harder.

  A gunshot rang through the trees, and something zinged off the aluminum hull. She glanced back and saw him taking aim for another shot. It thunked into the side of the boat.

  He wasn’t trying to hit her. He was trying to sink the boat.

  She put her back into rowing, thrusting the oars deep into the water for the most movement. It took several seconds before she realized the sound she heard was water running into the boat. He’d damaged it.

  She paused and looked around for something to plug the hole, but there was nothing. Another shot rang out, and a hole spewing water sprouted at the bow. Then another. Water poured into the boat through three holes, and it quickly held three inches.

  “It’s better this way,” he called across the water. “I was never really sure if I had the courage to throw you overboard. And I wasn’t sure if you might take me with you, which might have been a better option anyway. You’ll join your parents right where they died.”

  He was right. This was the spot where their capsized and damaged boat had been found. She struggled with the oars, but the boat was heavy in the water and sluggish. It wanted to go in circles rather than head for the opposite shore. Water was already halfway up the sides. It was going to sink.

  She paused and evaluated her options. If she could get even a little closer to the other side it would help her, but she might be trapped in the boat with her coat weighing her down. If she went in now, she could shuck her coat and boots so they didn’t weigh her down and swim for all her might for the shore.

  Chris watched avidly from shore with that eerie grin. “I wish I were closer. I’d like to watch the life go out of your eyes. It’s a powerful feeling.”

  She shivered and looked away. The water beckoned and seemed her safest choice. She quickly shed her coat and boots. Everything in her shuddered at the thought of getting in that water, but she had no choice. With a deep breath, she stood and dove over the side.

  The hum of the snow machine engine echoed off the pine tops and bounced off the snow. The falls weren’t far ahead, but were they in time? Boone hunched over the bars of the machine and urged it faster. They crested a hill, and he spied the blue of the lake below.

  Was that a gunshot? He tensed and headed the machine toward the sound. A flash of movement caught his eye, a bright-blue parka.

  Bree shouted into his ear, “It’s Chris, but I don’t see Dana.”

  Boone didn’t see her either. Chris turned toward them as the snow machine roared his direction. His mouth dropped open when his gaze met Boone’s, and he shouted something. Maybe “no” or “not yet.” Boone couldn’t hear over the noise of the engine.

  Chris ran for his own snow machine, parked at the edge of the water, but Boone drove his machine in front of it and blocked him in just as Chris reached it.

  Chris reversed direction away from Boone and ran toward the hill, but Bree yelled, “Samson, attack!” The dog leaped from her lap and
sank his teeth into the back of Chris’s parka. The man jerked backward into the snow, and the dog leaped on top of his chest.

  Boone shut off the snow machine and leaped off. He spared a glance toward the water as Bree ran toward Samson and Chris, who was struggling to stand. Boone turned and squinted toward the lake. Wait, was that a boat out there? It rode low in the water, the top of it barely visible above the waves.

  “Secure Chris! I’m going to look for Dana.” He rushed to the water. “Dana!” The light was so bright off the water it was hard to see. He heard a splash and saw a figure about ten feet from the opposite shore.

  A boat! He needed a boat. But there was nothing. He’d have to go in by himself. Shucking his coat and boots, he waded out into the water and plunged in. Every cold water swim he’d taken had built up some stamina. Was it enough to reach her?

  The cold numbed every inch of his skin as he swam. He reached the boat in the middle and grabbed an oar that was floating nearby. He might need it to save Dana. She hadn’t made much progress since he’d jumped in and was still eight feet from shore. She was floating on her back, and her eyes were rolling back in her head. She would drown if he didn’t get there in time. He kicked with new determination and ignored the way the cold pulled at his muscles and slowed his thoughts. He had to reach her.

  “Dana, fight!”

  She rallied a bit at his call, and her face turned toward him. Her lips moved but no sound came out. Nearly there. He smacked the paddle down in front of her face. “Grab hold!”

  Her eyes fluttered again, and she flopped one arm toward the paddle. There was no strength in her movement though. She’d never be able to hang on. He cast away the oar and grabbed at her arm. At least she wore no parka to drag her under.

  “I’ve got you. Relax,” he said in her ear.

  He flipped her to her back and began to tow her inert body toward the shore. His movements were slow and awkward, and he needed to get out of the water too. Then what? They had to find a way to get warm over here. Bree was clear on the other side of the lake, and even if she brought the snow machine around, that would take a while. The cold air would chill them even more.

  He couldn’t let himself dwell on it. Just get out of the water. His bare foot hit a rock, and he reached for a better purchase. Both feet touched mud, and he pulled her to his chest. “We made it. Dana, we made it.”

  Her eyes opened, then closed again. He waded into shallower water, but his arms were too weak to carry her. He half dragged her into a snowbank and collapsed with her against his chest. The snow felt almost warm and oh-so soft as they plunged into it.

  His eyes started to drift shut, then popped back open again. They could burrow into the snow and create a haven with their body temperatures. It might not be enough to save them for long, but Bree would figure out a way to get to them. It was all they had.

  Using the last of his strength, he hollowed out a hole in the biggest snowbank, then dragged Dana into it. He got into a sitting position in the darkness of the shelter and pulled her onto his lap. Skin to skin would be best. He shucked his wet shirt and jeans, leaving his underwear, then did the same to her before pulling her cold, wet body against his.

  The difference was immediate, and a bit of heat began to generate between them, though they both still shuddered. He blew warm breath against her upper chest and neck.

  It was better maybe, but was it enough? He tucked her face into his shoulder and lowered his head protectively over her. His eyelids began to lower, then he snapped them open. Stay awake!

  Warmth stole into his limbs, but as he drifted off to sleep he feared it was the warmth of freezing to death. If he was going to die, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have in his arms.

  Samson had Chris pinned to the ground and stood over him with his teeth bared. Bree snatched up Chris’s gun that had flown from his hand when Samson attacked. “Samson, release!”

  Her dog gave a final snarl, then stepped off Chris’s chest. Chris sat up slowly and eyed the gun in Bree’s hand. “You won’t use that.”

  She kept the weapon aimed at his chest. “I doubt I’d have to. Samson can take you down again. Stay where you are.” In the distance she heard the choppers heading their way. Help would be here shortly.

  Chris tipped his head to one side, and the color drained from his face, leaving his eyes starkly blue against his white skin. “I can’t live in prison.”

  “After all you’ve done, you don’t deserve to live at all. You killed Allyson and Renee. Others too.” Sudden tears blurred her vision. “Allyson figured it out, didn’t she? She realized you were the Groom Reaper. How did she know?”

  He smiled but the lack of warmth in the gesture left it as more of a grimace. “She saw pictures of the engagement ring.” When he got up and took a step toward her, Samson bared his teeth and growled. Chris held up his hands. “Lay off, Samson.”

  The dog snarled again and didn’t back up. Bree put her gloved hand on his head, but his ruff stayed raised. Chris had something in his hand, and she only recognized it when he raised his arm and threw it in an arc over her head.

  The stick flying by distracted Samson for a moment, and in that brief pause, Chris leaped forward and wrested the gun from her hand.

  Samson lunged at him and tried to sink his teeth into his leg, but Chris kicked him away. “Call off your dog, or I’ll shoot him!”

  And he would. Bree grabbed Samson’s collar and dragged him back against her. “Easy, boy.” She’d trained her dog to recognize an “easy” command as one to stay on the alert for a chance to strike.

  She eyed Chris warily. The noise of the choppers grew louder, and he was going to be caught. Did he plan to commit suicide by cop? Some people thought sociopaths never committed suicide, but as part of her training, she’d learned differently. Many couldn’t take the contempt they received about their actions.

  She or Samson could be in the line of fire. Easing her grip on her dog’s collar a bit, she took a step closer to him.

  His eyes narrowed. “Stay where you are.”

  “How did Allyson know the ring was yours?”

  “She asked to see me, said she needed me to help her in her investigation.” He tapped his nose with a gloved hand. “I can always smell a lie. Her dad owns the jewelry store in town. The ring belonged to my mom. Dad was going to give it to her the night of the fire, on their anniversary. I thought no one had ever seen it, but Allyson was working in the shop the day my dad bought it. She recognized the picture, though it took her a few days.”

  She cast a glance to the sky but still didn’t see the helicopter, though the sound was getting closer. “She shouldn’t have gone alone.”

  “She didn’t. I followed her and grabbed her in the parking lot by the hiking trail.”

  Bree wanted to close her eyes and wipe out the image of his smirk. Had Allyson realized what was happening? Had she fought for her life? Oh dear friend, how I miss you.

  “She put up a better fight than you, but there wasn’t anyone out here but me.” His blue eyes went even colder. The bore of the gun moved to her head.

  He was going to shoot her. She didn’t dare tell Samson to attack because he’d shoot her dog first. A dark shadow moved behind him. She struggled to show no expression as Phantom crept into view. In spite of his size, he wasn’t much more than a puppy, and she didn’t think he could help. Unless she used him as a distraction maybe? She squinted and forced surprise into her face.

  Chris half turned, and she released her dog, then leaped toward him. A silent snarl lifting his muzzle, Samson moved with her. His teeth clamped down on Chris’s arm, and the gun went flying. Phantom barked and ran for the melee as well. Both dogs jumped on Chris, and he went sprawling onto his back. Samson put both of his front paws on the man’s chest and held him down.

  Bree grabbed a length of rope from her pack and trussed him up. He was going to jail after all. She turned toward the lake and prayed Boone had been able to save Dana.

>   CHAPTER 40

  Delicious warmth crept into Dana’s limbs. The soft bed enfolded her. Wait, she shouldn’t feel warm. Her eyes popped open, and she blinked as she focused on the room. Monitors beeped at her head, and she looked down to see an IV in her hand. She smelled antiseptic and floor wax and tasted something acrid from whatever was in her IV. She was in the hospital.

  She struggled to a seated position. “Boone!”

  A figure rose from a chair. “I’m here.” His thick black hair was unkempt and heavy whiskers darkened his jaw. His eyes were tired but alert. “You’re awake.”

  She shuddered as her full memory returned. Chris had tried to kill her. It was almost impossible to believe. “I was in the water. You came for me.”

  Bree stepped forward from the shadows too. “This is where you say I’ll always come for you. Just like Westley told Buttercup.”

  Boone’s grin broke out. “Corny.” His grin faded, and his gaze searched Dana’s. “If I could sing, I’d break into ‘All I Ask of You,’ from Phantom of the Opera, but that would probably be even cornier.”

  “I think I like corny right about now.” Dana reached for his hand. “What about Chris?”

  Boone raised the head of her bed and nudged her back against it. “In custody. Bree and Samson took him down and kept him in custody until Mason arrived with the FBI.”

  “It was more Samson than me. And Phantom showed up to help.”

  “You’ve got Phantom? He ran off, and I couldn’t find him.”

  “He trailed you and showed up in time to distract Chris so Samson could take him down. He’s home with a nice, juicy bone as a reward.” Bree went toward the door. “I’m going to get coffee. I’ll be right back.”

  Dana wanted to enjoy this moment of complete comfort and safety. The sheets were soft and clean, and she wasn’t soaking wet and freezing to death. “I don’t remember much past when you had me try to grab the oar.” She touched his arm, covered with a red-and-black flannel shirt that felt deliciously warm and soft.