Chilled by Death (12 page)

Instantly, several people hopped to their feet. She busied herself packing away the rest of the chili into a glass bowl. Chances were good it wouldn’t have a chance to get cool before someone would come looking for seconds. Boiling water splashed into the sink. Instantly, soapy bubbles formed.

“Thanks,” she said to Stevie.

“No problem. I was hoping there’d be hot water for showers, but it doesn’t look like it this time.”

She stopped to think about that. They’d had hot showers the last time they were here, but it had to do with the water outside coming in and the pipes being wrapped around the stovepipe to warm the water up. She turned on the tap and hot water gushed out. She laughed. “Old habits die hard. I could have just used this hot water.”

“Better you didn’t.” He interpreted the gaze. “There’s running water, but with this many people there’s no way we could keep the hot water for everyone to shower.”

He refilled the kettle and carried it out to the big heater stove. Not only was the steam needed for the air, which would dry out quickly, but this way there’d be hot water for the proverbial teapot. And speaking of hot drinks, she filled the coffeepot and carried it out to heat up as well. Coffee was another staple for her. She’d brought a pound herself just in case.

Only half listening to the conversation going on around her in the living room, Stacy quickly finished up the dishes. She couldn’t help but wonder at the undercurrents of hostility she’d caught earlier. She knew she’d been in a fog for much of the last few years as to what went on with the group, but she’d like to think that if it had been serious, then someone would have mentioned it to her. She’d definitely pulled the ostrich thing and buried her head in the sand since losing her friends. Like why them? She couldn’t help asking herself for the ten millionth time.

Both girls were fun-loving and people-loving. They weren’t mean or nasty or selfish or stingy. They were wonderful. Why did she deserve to live and not them? She was no better and no nicer than they were.

“Hey, Stacy, what are you thinking about so deeply?”

Startled, she pulled herself back to her surroundings. Now that Stevie had drawn the attention to her, everyone stared at her. She smiled and said, “I just realized that as I’ve been out of the loop a fair bit these last couple of years, I don’t know all of you as well as I’d like to. Some of you I’ve known for years, and yet others,” she brightened her smile, “I barely know at all.”

“Well, you’ve known me for years,” Geoffrey said, “So nothing there is a mystery.”

“But there is, what ever happened to…” Stacy frowned, trying to remember who his last girlfriend was. “Karla?” she hazarded a guess.

The group burst out laughing. Geoffrey gave her a mock solute. “Yeah, like that’s so important. My failed love life. She’s gone. As in gone years ago. Something about not liking my lifestyle.”

She winced. As she remembered, he’d been very much in love with her. “Sorry about that.”

He shrugged good-naturedly. “It wouldn’t be so bad except for the way she walked out. She just walked. Took her stuff and from one day to the next, she never answered my calls or contacted me again.”

“Ouch, that’s gotta hurt,” Mark said. “Don’t know why women do that. I had that with my last one – Becky.” He groaned. “She was the sweetest little thing with a wonderful chipmunk-cheek ass.”

That brought the room into gales of laughter. Stacy shook her head. “Somehow I don’t think she’d have appreciated that comparison.”

“Oh, I told her that a time or two,” he said with a big grin.

“And you wonder why she walked?” Kathleen hooted. “Maybe leave off the comparisons next time.”

“What next time? He’s been on a long dry run since.” Geoffrey said.

“Ha, no longer than yours.” Mark teased.

Geoffrey winced. “True enough. It was a rough enough exit; I didn’t exactly want to jump back into the relationship arena.” His grin widened. “Now I’m just waiting on Stacy here to get back in so I can scoop her up.”

“Like hell,” she said good-naturedly. “I’d bore you to death with my shop talk.”

“Considering you work on dead bodies all day, boring is not quite the right word I’d have used.” Kathleen gave a tiny shudder. “Thanks for being as sparing with the shop talk as you appear to be.”

“You learn early that it has a tendency to kill a dinner conversation.” Stacy had tried to be sensitive to other people’s feelings in regards to her profession.

“And why would a beautiful girl like you go into such an oddball career, I don’t know,” Stevie said, shaking his head, “Yet there are a lot of women choosing your career.”

“Why is that?” Geoffrey asked.

“I always figured because we already deal in the creation of life, it makes sense to want to be involved with the other end of the spectrum and learn about death.”

“But you’re an anthropologist, aren’t you? As in very old bones?” Kathleen asked.

“I’m the forensic pathologist for Seattle, however, I also have a degree in anthropology so I consult on a wide variety of cases.”

“Death. Murder. Suicide.” Kathleen shivered. “That’s a rough field to work in.”

“Comparatively, very few people end up on my table because they’ve been murdered.” She withheld saying that usually the worst ones did. She loved the challenge of the unusual. And to be honest, she loved outwitting the criminal mind. When she could find pivotal evidence in a murder case, she felt a huge sense of satisfaction. That she had an overlarge caseload of unsolved deaths in her files made her angry and sad at the same time. Still, most of her work was of the more normal variety.

“As we convinced Stacy to get out into nature and away from the death that she lives in, I suggest we change the subject,” Royce said.

George picked up his GPS and asked, “Anyone used one of these to chart maps on the mountain?” He held it up. “Mark, weren’t you the one showing this to me?”

The room erupted at the new topic.

Stacy sat back and let the group run with it. She knew she tended to make people uncomfortable. She didn’t always know how to handle that discomfort, but she seemed to have skirted past it tonight.

She waited a little longer, then excused herself.

She was cold, tired, and just a little sick of being around so many people. She could use a few moments to herself – and a good night’s sleep.

*

Royce watched as
Stacy made her way to the bathroom. When she came out, she looked tired. Her slow climb up the stairs looked as if it took more effort than he expected. Then the cold would have a huge effect on her. When she disappeared from sight, he turned back to the group and caught Geoffrey glaring at him. Royce lifted an eyebrow. What the hell was his problem? Geoffrey got up and went into the kitchen. Royce watched him, wishing he understood what the hell that had been all about. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of George studying him. He faced him and asked quietly, “Do you know what that was?”

George made a tiny motion of his head toward where Stacy had disappeared to.

Royce settled back into his seat. Damn it. Was Geoffrey sweet on Stacy? Not good. He contemplated the issue and realized it really didn’t matter. Anyone could be sweet on Stacy – they still wouldn’t get her.

She was his. She just refused to admit it.

*

Bitch. She was
his. She just didn’t know it. But she would soon. He glanced around the cabin, feeling the sense of connectedness within the group. The group she’d joined and shouldn’t have been allowed to.

She didn’t belong.

She shouldn’t have come this week.

It had been great without her all these years. Without the reminder of her rejection. But her stupid brother just had to bring her back into the fold.

His gaze switched to Royce and hardened. And so had Royce. Without her around, life would be different. It would be back to just them. The way it used to be. The way it was supposed to be.

He was starting to hate all women.

S
tacy woke several
times in the night, cold and achy. Not good. She needed to be careful, to stay warm and make sure she didn’t get sick again. It had been a long painful year, one she couldn’t repeat. She hadn’t thought to be out so long or so late yesterday. She still wasn’t so sure how that had happened.

Except when she got lost in her art, she got
lost
in her art.

Was it a coincidence that Royce was with her then, or had he been keeping an eye on her all afternoon? She rolled over and bit back a moan. Her shoulders and arms throbbed. Damn. She should have thought ahead and taken an anti-inflammatory. She’d likely have woken up loose and moving freely. Possibly still with mild pain, but not the feeling of having her muscles locked into place, every movement a hard tug to get them going. And it was cold. Damn cold. She snuggled deeper into her sleeping bag and closed her eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Time to get down here if you’re planning on getting any coffee,” Stevie called up to her.

She groaned loud enough for him to hear. “You could deliver,” she said without hope, knowing that would make her the butt of the jokes but not caring. They’d all gotten into the drinking heavily last night. She on the other hand had gone to bed early.

If she were home, she’d have made coffee and brought a tray back into bed with her. No such luxury here. Then she heard a welcome sound. The heavy thumps of footsteps. She smiled, “I hope that means coffee is coming.”

“It is coffee, but I also wanted to make sure you’re okay this morning,” Royce said in a quiet, no-nonsense voice.

She rolled over in surprise, the sudden movement causing the pain to flare up, and she barely held back the cry. But his knowing gaze said he’d seen it.

Hating the feeling like she wasn’t in as good a shape as the rest, she stuffed her feelings of insecurity down deep inside. There was no room for that out here. Good health was paramount for her – not self-esteem issues. Should she fail in keeping herself safe, then the others would be required to step in and rescue her. She wouldn’t be able to stand the guilt. Not again.

She hadn’t been responsible for her friends’ deaths, but she felt like she was. And that made all the difference. She couldn’t help but feel that she should have guessed what they were planning to do. That she should have done more to warn them about the snow conditions. Warn them about how their behavior had gotten them into trouble before and to play it safe this time.

And maybe she was just overwhelmed with survivor’s guilt. She hadn’t been able to sort through her feelings as she hadn’t been able to step back. Get closure on their deaths so she could analyze it better. She couldn’t help but feel they were around every corner on that damn mountain and if she’d just looked a little harder, she’d have found them.

Been able to bring them home.

Royce squatted down and placed the steaming mug of coffee beside her. He held his other hand out for her. She frowned at the two reddish brown pills in his palm.

“For your muscles.”

Her gaze flew up to his, seeing that knowing look in his eyes. She sighed and plucked them from his hand. She swallowed them quickly. Knowing she wasn’t acting gracious, she forced out, “Thank you.”