A Cold White Fear (24 page)

I
didn't wait two minutes, let alone five. Freddie wasn't going anywhere. He was out cold. When he finally came to, he would barely be able to move, let alone break free. Given the extent of his nosebleed, I'd say the poison would also help to keep him immobile.

I had eleven minutes to get back to the house to save Jid. Though I had no idea how I was going to do this on my own, I couldn't sit here and wait for the cop's return, if he did return. The way my luck was going, he would end up getting killed along with the judge, and I'd find myself facing two very angry assassins intent on putting an end to their only witness.

I scrambled into their pickup, a much more luxurious model than mine. I didn't blink when I saw there was no key in the ignition. The time I'd lost my keys, Jid had shown me how to hotwire my truck.

Within minutes I had the ignition punched out with the help of a screwdriver found in the plough's glove compartment and the right wires connected to get the engine going. Unfortunately, with only one side of the road ploughed, it would be impossible to turn the truck around without getting stuck. I would have to back up the entire way to Migiskan Road.

Backing up wasn't my forte in the best of conditions. With this narrow, twisting road, it was going to be even more challenging, particularly with the pervasive whiteness blending everything into a featureless expanse. I slowly depressed the gas pedal and inched the vehicle backward, careful to keep the wheels from veering into the deeper snow. A couple of times they slid in, but I was able to stop before they dug in too deeply.

The seconds seemed to be ticking by faster than the truck was creeping backward. At this rate it would take more than eleven minutes just to cover the kilometre or so distance to the main road. So I picked up the pace.

The truck was handling well. I felt I had reversing under control. I passed the first of the five cottages. And the next one. But I got a little too cocky and a little too impatient. I lost my focus, applied too much pressure to the pedal and ended up grounding the back wheels in the snowbank.

I tried to move forward. Nothing but the sound of spinning tires. I stopped, put the gear into reverse, and slowly inched back then tried to move forward again, but without success. In frustration, I stomped on the gas and succeeded only in digging the truck in deeper.

I counted to ten and told myself to slow down. Getting stuck was far from a new experience, and I'd always managed to get unstuck, except for the one time the back tire had dropped into a ditch. It had needed Eric with his come-along and Grand Cherokee to rescue me. But that wasn't going to happen this time.

I jumped out of the truck. It didn't look as if the tire was caught in a ditch, but it did look as if I was turning the front wheels too much. So I climbed back in, positioned the tires straighter, and began a slow back-and-forth rocking motion by putting the gear into reverse than into first, and so on. After three or four times, the truck sprang free.

I continued the slow backward crawl, this time ensuring my mind remained fixed on the task at hand. Within minutes I'd passed the remaining cottages and was backing onto the main road. I had four minutes to get to Three Deer Point.

I rammed the truck into gear and sped down the road toward my lane. Going after the police was a non-starter. They were in the opposite direction and might no longer be there. Nor did I consider driving to the reserve to get Will Decontie and his constables. That would take at least twenty minutes. By then Jid could be dead.

The hydro truck was gone. They had been my last resort. I was going to ask them to go after the police. Not now. I would have to rescue my buddy on my own.

As I charged up my road, I tried to formulate a plan, but my mind was in too much of a whirl. At least I had the wherewithal not to drive right up to the house, but to stop short of it, behind a clump of spruce trees. I jumped down from the cab and quietly closed the door before remembering I'd left the gun lying on the passenger seat.

I hastily retrieved it and then remained by the truck, listening for sounds that would tell me what was happening in my house. But all I heard was the stirring of the pines and the whisper of snow sliding off a nearby tree. From farther down the lake came the faint whine of a Ski-Doo.

I walked along the drive until I could make out the house through the trees. I pulled branches aside to get a better view. The house seemed almost too dark and too quiet. Was I too late?

I tried to determine the best way to get inside without alerting Slobo. The back door was too risky. He was likely in the kitchen or the den. That left the only two remaining entrances, the front door or the dining room door.

The damage caused by the tree ruled out the front door, while the deep drifts would make accessing the dining room door slow and difficult, unless I used the verandah. But if the Serbian happened to be in the living room, he would see me. To complicate matters, the steps onto the verandah were blocked by the gnarled branches of the pine, so I would have to climb over the railing. Not an easy undertaking in this deep snow.

A face suddenly appeared in Eric's office window. I ducked. The height told me it wasn't Jid. Likely Slobo on the lookout for his girlfriend. The face vanished.

I could just make out the edge of the red blanket covering poor Gerry. His attempt to save us had ended in disaster. Why wouldn't my attempt end the same way? This monster was a hardcore killer. Did I really think I could outsmart him and spirit the boy away out from under his gun? But I had no choice. I had to save Jid.

If only I knew the boy was still alive. Even though Professor had placed him under his protection, I didn't trust the Serb. He hated the other man. I could see him killing the boy out of spite.

I had one more worry. If the undercover cop failed to stop the assassination, Jo and Professor would return to Three Deer Point. Then it would be three of them against me.

Enough dithering. I had to act now.

I
crept closer to the house and halted behind the white mound that was my truck. I could just make out where Slobo had started clearing the snow off the front of the vehicle. But if he were wanting to use it, he'd need a lot of muscle power to remove it from its icy prison, something I didn't see him expending any way other than in fighting.

It looked as if the wraparound verandah was relatively snow-free where it abutted the house. Although this would provide an easier passage to the dining room door, I would have to sneak past a wall of windows without being seen. Although I wasn't comfortable with the risk, I felt I had little choice. It was the easiest and quickest way to get into the house.

My first challenge was to cross unseen the open expanse to the path Jid and I had created in our aborted escape. Unfortunately, it would place me in full view of the windows in Eric's office and the den. Another risk I had to take.

I pulled the pistol from my pocket, although I wasn't certain I could actually use it. I waited another minute to ensure Slobo had left the office. It proved to be a smart move when a dark shadow appeared in the den window. My heart skipped. It could be Jid. The person was nowhere near the height of Slobo and seemed too short to be Larry. But maybe this was wishful thinking on my part. Still it was enough to spring me into action. Jid was alive.

Gripping the gun firmly, I sprinted along the snowmobile track to where we had broken through and scurried along our path to the side of the house. I was about to steal around to the front when the back door slammed, its sudden sound cutting through the muffled silence like a rifle shot.

I plastered myself against the stone foundation and waited, not daring to breathe. Because the back part of the house was recessed, they wouldn't be able to see me, unless they ventured onto the snowmobile track.

Boots echoed on the porch's wooden planking and then thudded down the stairs. I pressed further against the wall. When the Serbian came into view, I dropped down behind a hump of snow that was a global pine. I steeled myself for the man to appear along the snowmobile track. The most I could do would be to bury myself in the snow covering the pines and pray he wouldn't see me.

Wait a minute. I had the gun. What if I missed and he shot me instead? That would be the end of Jid. Could I chance it? I'd never fired a gun before. I'd flunked archery at summer camp because I couldn't hit the target. Still, I had to try.

I poked my head above the shrub. The man was standing with his back to me only a few feet from the bottom of the stairs. He was zipping up his jeans. I dropped my head the second he turned in my direction. It was easily fifteen metres away. Could I hit him?

I lifted the heavy pistol up with both hands, willing them to stop shaking. Just as I was about to stand up to fire, I heard the thud of his boots on the stairs. The back door closed with a resounding bang.

It took several long minutes for me to settle down before I could start moving. A conflicting mixture of disappointment and relief overwhelmed me. I had come that close to killing a man. Even though this monster was the most odious man I had ever encountered, I didn't think I had it in me to kill him.

I rounded the corner and started walking along the front of the house. Though Jid and I had left a deep trench, it was still hard going and slowing me down too much. I worried that at any moment I would hear the sound of Gerry's snowplough returning. I had no idea whether it would be the cop driving, or Jo. I only knew I didn't want to be standing in full view when it arrived.

When I reached the office windowsill, there wasn't much I could do other than duck my head, keep walking, and pray no one was inside. I stopped when I reached the snow-covered trunk of the downed tree. Though the verandah roof hadn't completely collapsed, I couldn't see an opening large enough for me to squeeze under it so I could climb onto the verandah. But there looked to be room on the other side of the tree.

As I clambered over the trunk, I noticed how firmly wedged it was against the house. I pushed on it a few times with my full weight. It didn't budge. Thick, sturdy branches ran up the trunk almost as if they were stairs. I decided to use this unexpected gift. I would climb onto the roof and get into the house the way Jid and I had escaped: through the window. The second floor would also be safer. The cold would keep the Serbian downstairs.

I used to be a master at tree-climbing, but that was when I was a tomboy intent on impressing the boy living next door. It came to a sudden end when I fell out of a particularly challenging maple and broke my arm. Fortunately, this pine was at about a forty-five-degree angle, so climbing it wouldn't be as difficult. Since it had fallen when the blizzard was almost at its end, there was only a modest amount of snow to deal with. Within minutes I reached the verandah roof and was testing it to ensure it would hold my weight. While several roof joists had broken and were detached from the wall on the other side of the broken tree, they looked to be still intact in the direction I wanted to go.

I tentatively crawled onto the roof. It held. I stood up and shuffled through the snow toward the side of the house overlooking the frozen expanse of Echo Lake. Thankfully, the snow muffled any sound my boots would make. From the direction of the Forgotten Bay Fishing and Hunting Camp, I could hear the Ski-Doo. Although it sounded louder, I didn't think it was coming my way.

I did, however, hear the faint whine of another motor some distance behind me. It was too close to be a vehicle on the main road. Gerry's snowplough was returning. It had better be the cop coming to my aid.

I hastened around the corner to my bedroom window.

T
he
window stuck before I'd managed to slide it up a third of the way. I might have lost weight, but squeezing through such a narrow gap wasn't going to happen. I jiggled and thumped it as quietly as I could, but it refused to budge. I couldn't even pull it down. I tried the window of the next room, and up it went, miraculously, as if the slider had been greased.

I was expecting to feel warmth, at least a warmer temperature than outside, so was taken aback when I felt air as cold if not colder coming from the room. Though the power had been out since yesterday afternoon, I was still surprised by how far the temperature had plunged.

But it was okay. This arctic chill was on my side. I could be assured that Slobo would be downstairs, along with Larry and Jid, in a room with a fire.

Fortunately, the door to the hall was closed, so I scrambled over the windowsill into the room without fear of discovery. I removed my boots, tiptoed to the door, and opened it a crack. It seemed safe enough, so I opened the door fully and listened. The house was quiet — almost too quiet as if it were empty. Yet I'd seen Jid very much alive less than five minutes ago … or had it been Larry instead?

I ran down the hall to the stairwell. If Jid were alive, he would be in the den or kitchen. I should be able to hear him from the top of the stairs. But before I was halfway there, footsteps rang out directly below me. I scurried into the first open doorway and brought the door almost to a close.

“Where the fuck Jo?” the biker muttered. “She late.”

He started up the stairs. “Fuckin' cold. I hate it. Hate fuckin' country. I go back to Serbia.”

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, I'd completely shut the door. I assumed he was coming upstairs to use the bathroom and then remembered his visit outside.

He knew I was in the house!

I searched the room for a place to hide.

He hobbled down the hall toward me.

The house was too old for closets, and the armoire too narrow and low for me to fold my frame into. That left the narrow brass bed I used to sleep in when a child. I jammed myself under it and prayed.

The footsteps continued past my door.

I heard him enter my bedroom and the sound of drawers opening. He was raiding the drawers, probably for warm clothes. I relaxed.

The footsteps came out of the bedroom and down the hall toward me. They stopped.

“Window is open,” he muttered.

Shit. I'd forgotten to close it.

“Snow on floor,” he mused.

Double shit.

I listened to him walk into the room where I'd come through the window.

I suddenly remembered my boots. I'd left them next to a chair. Maybe in the low light he wouldn't notice.

“Larry, is boy with you?” he shouted from the hall.

Thank God. Jid
was
still alive. So too Larry.

“Yeah, he's with me in the den,” Larry answered. “Why?”

I knew where they were.

“I have strange feeling,” Slobo answered.

The Serb's footsteps halted outside my door. Panic set in. The door opened. I knew I should move farther out of sight, farther against the wall, but I couldn't. I waited, expecting at any second to feel his vile touch as he dragged me out from under the bed.

Instead, the door clicked shut. I heard him padding, one foot lighter than the other, back down the hall to the stairs and down them.

I slowly let out my breath. Only then did I remember the gun.