Cold Sweat (17 page)

“Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with your son?”

“The doctor sent him home. His mom is watching over him.” He stood up, straighter than an arrow. “I wanted to make sure I had reliable machines ready for you in case you needed them in the morning.”

The weight Amelia still carried had lifted from River’s shoulders, but it hadn’t stopped the man from reporting back for duty.

“Deputy Thompson and I need to check a fishing cabin sixty miles from here, and the road to get there makes a huge detour in the mountains. You think you could add enough fuel for a return trip, hook up a radio, and help us figure out a shorter route?”

“You mean now?” River looked at the coordinates then stretched his neck toward the window. “The storm is still raging and there’s less than two hours left of daylight. You may make it there, Colonel, but there’s no way you can come back before nightfall. Trust me when I say we don’t want to ride in these mountains at night.”

“There’s no
we
, River.” Two men were dead, more than likely at the hand of a deranged military doctor. Amelia wasn’t ready to risk the life of a civilian man. “Major Elliot is a dangerous officer who won’t care you’re not wearing a uniform. He’ll kill you on sight if it suits his purpose. You’re not coming. Thompson and I will take cover if darkness catches us.”

A deep frown toughened the chief’s features.

“With all due respect, ma’am, you and Thompson look like you haven’t slept in days.” River stared her in the eyes, daring her to argue with him. “I have no doubt you’re an experienced officer, but you’re agonizing over your daughter’s fate. I know how that feels. The excruciating pain. The invisible vice crushing your chest...I can’t let you go alone with Thompson. He’s a nice kid, but he’s just a rookie deputy worried about his sheriff. You need someone who’s able to keep things in perspective in case one of you stops thinking straight.”

“River...” Amelia sighed in silence. Few men had ever had the courage to spell the truth so bluntly in her face, and working with them had always been a privilege. “You better not make me regret this.”

His expression softened, and he offered a reassuring nod.

“Give me ten minutes, and we’ll be ready to go. Colonel...” He looked toward the back of the bay where Deputy Gil Thompson had gone to fetch a coffee. “Any chance you could forget I called him a rookie?”

***

The sound of a fire crackling into a fireplace and the fresh scent of pine trees brought back memories of Christmases long ago. He needed a tree for his living room...a real Christmas tree...

The images lingered, blending with reality. Rich slowly opened his eyes. A fire burned in the middle of a cavern casting yellow and orange highlights on translucent walls. It was almost as beautiful as the fluorescent cave he’d once visited with Amelia—before he lost the privilege of calling her Phoenix.

Slowly shifting his head, he took in his surroundings. Water trickled down his forehead. Unsure where it came from, he wiped it with the back of his glove.

Someone had dragged him onto a bed of fir and spruce branches. The fresh scent of evergreen tickled his nose and soothed his mind.

Quest sat nearby on more green branches with her legs crossed, studying him. Her abilities and resourcefulness extended far beyond her years.

Suspecting her amazing talent might include reading lips in dim light, he gave it a try. “Can you read me?”

“Of course I can.” She was truly as remarkable and witty as her mother. “How are you feeling?”

It was no surprise the young River fell for her. In a few years, men would line up at her door, and her grandfather would welcome them with a bazooka.

“My fever is down. What did you do?” At one point he vaguely remembered drinking water.

“Double dose of Advil. I also put snow in your hat to cool you down.”

That was where the water was coming from. From the feel of it, she’d drowned his fever in snow. “Where are we?”

“In Axe Peak’s tunnels.”

“We’re deep under the mountain?”

“Not that deep.” Her gleeful laughter echoed in the cavern. “We’re in a cave at the entrance of the main tunnel. From the cabin, I didn’t know my way back to the resort, but I’d noticed Axe Peak in the background the day I was kidnapped. I knew I could get us here. And from here, I know how to get back to the resort. Besides, Serpent won’t be looking for us here.”

“I’m amazed.” Flabbergasted might be a better term. “When are we leaving?”

“I was hoping before nightfall, but the fog isn’t lifting. We may have to wait till morning. Can I have a look at your shoulder?”

Fever didn’t lie. They both knew the wound was infected. It was only a matter of hours before he burned up again.

“Is there something else you could do for it?” As she shook her head, he saw regrets in her eyes. “Then you don’t need to see it. You did great, Quest. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But you came to rescue me.”

“Who rescued who is debatable, duckling.” The intensity of her gaze transfixed him, and he drew strength from it. “I’m the fortunate one.”

She picked up the duck that had been resting on her lap and cuddled it against her chest. “Do you like ducks, Sheriff?”

“Yes. I do.” The baby duckling he’d catapulted into Amelia’s hands probably never returned the favor. “What’s your duck’s name?”

“Him?” She waggled the duckling. “He’s my T-Duck, Tango. I train with Tango. I compete with my C-Duck, Charlie. I study with my S-Duck, Sierra.”

These were not common duck names. “I’m hearing a pattern here.”

“They’re my alphabet ducks.”

“Alphabet ducks?” He pictured a row of ducks with the letters of the alphabet stitched on them. “You have twenty six of them? One for each letter?”

As she nodded, that irresistible cheeky smile of hers floated on her lips. “I have Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliet, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec, Romeo—”

“—Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, X-ray, Yankee, and Zulu,” Rich finished in unison with her.

“Your mother taught you the NATO phonetic alphabet with ducks?” The teenage girl had been groomed for military life from a young age. “What happened to the alphabet song?”

She shrugged innocently. “I’m deaf. I’m not very good with songs. Sheriff, why did you take Tango from my bed? Did he remind you of Mom?”

The direct inquiry wasn’t as disconcerting as her piercing gaze. “The day I met your mother, I sent her a little duckling. He was a cute fuzzy thing. That was before your dad.”

“Sure.” She threw a few twigs into the fire. “Were you at West Point with her?”

“No.” That reminded him of the conversation he had with Eve not so long ago. “I was studying at Harvard. Every weekend, I drove three and half hours to see her.”

Flames leapt into the air, enflaming the nostalgia consuming him.

“Why did you break up?”

“I was a stupid idiot.” The retort slipped past his defenses before he could recall it. “It’s not what I meant...not exactly.”

“Really? Because stupid and idiot are kind of redundant, you know.” In the glow of the blazing fire, the unruly brown and blonde curls framing her delicate features added to her mischievous expression. “Did you love Mom?”

He did love her. He still loved her. He never stopped loving her. And a stupid idiot was exactly what he’d been.
Phoenix...

“I’m not sure your mom would appreciate me sharing the details of our relationship.”

“Please, Sheriff Morgan.” Her big blue eyes pleaded with him. “I need to know if you loved her?”

The little duckling looked too much like her mother for his own good. “Very much so, duckling.”

“She loved you too.” A soft smile illuminated her face. “Would you tell me why you really broke up with her?”

He wasn’t sure how Quest became privy of her mother’s feelings toward him, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

“Your mother is the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, but my family didn’t approve of our relationship. My father threatened to disown me if I didn’t stop seeing her. For weeks, I agonized over the decision.” A decision that had haunted him all his life. “At the end, I chose money over love, and lost the one precious thing money couldn’t buy. Your mother’s heart.”

“But your father didn’t give you a fair choice. It’d be like my mom asking me to choose between her and biathlon. She loves me. She would never do something like that to me.” Her indignation rose loud and clear. “Did you ever regret your decision?”

“It was the worst decision of my life.” No woman he met had ever measured up to Phoenix. It was no wonder he’d never settled down. “But your mother moved on and she got you. That’s a happy ending, duckling.”

Tears shined in her eyes. “Can I show you something, but you have to promise not to tell Mom. She has an aversion to tattoos.”

“A tattoo?” Amelia was going to kill her daughter for scarring her skin on purpose, right after hugging her to death. “Don’t you need parental permission to get a tattoo?”

“I had a good fake ID.”

To save her from her mother’s wrath, he was tempted to ask for that fake ID and throw it into the fire. “Tell me it’s tasteful, and not at a weird place.”

“Of course it is.” She rolled up the left leg of her pants. “It’s my guardian angel.”

Propped on his left elbow, he motioned for her to approach. She hesitantly presented him her leg.

An endearing duckling on skis stretched its wings, pointing the rifle strapped to its back toward the sky.

“This...” Any worthy description caught in his throat. “This is lovelier than an angel.”

A myriad of emotions crossed her face. “Ducks are my angels. Mom told me there would always be a ducky watching over me.”

Ducky.
It’d been his name. The endearing nickname her mother had given him. Could Quest be who he yearned for her to be?

Eve checked. The baby was too small...

“Quest, do you know the name of your father?”

“Course I do. It’s n-o-r-m-h-c-r-a-i-g.” To his regrets, she’d spelled the name of the man listed on her birth certificate, not the name he’d longed to hear. “I just didn’t know my mother had scrambled the letters.”

“Scrambled?” The letters danced in front of his eyes forming a different name. A familiar name. His name. “I’m...I’m your father?”

Strangled by emotion, he choked on the words he wanted to say. Quest was his daughter. The most precious gift Amelia could have given him.

His daughter recoiled by the fire. “Are you disappointed?”

“No...just overwhelmed...and happy...so very happy.” An avalanche of unconditional love flooded through his chest, branding his heart with his daughter’s name. “I love you, little duckling. I love you very much.”

And he opened his arms.

***

Dusk fell upon the lone cabin battered by the gusty snow.

Parked at the edge of the forest, Amelia pulled a pair of binoculars from her backpack. On each side of her, Thompson and River straddled their snowmobile, waiting.

“There’s a truck parked in front of the cabin. No snow on the hood.” Under the current weather conditions, Amelia didn’t need to specify that the truck hadn’t been sitting there for more than a few minutes. “The shed and the front door of the cabin are wide open. I can’t see any sign of life.”

“Do you detect any movement through the windows?” The wind gave an eerie intonation to Thompson’s voice.

“Nothing.” She disembarked and drew her gun. “Thompson, you take the back. I’ll take the front. You wait for my signal. River, you stay here.”

Without portable radios, they had to rely on visual contact.

While Thompson made a dash for a stack of firewood, Amelia took position behind the truck. Ready to strike, she held up three fingers, two—

A detonation echoed in the darkening sky.

Chapter Twenty

The gunshot sprang Gil into action. His gun drawn, he kicked his way in through the narrow back door shouting
Sheriff’s office
.

In another part of the house, Matheson barged in yelling
U.S. Army
.

No response. No other sound.

A small bathroom was on his left. Gil peeked inside. The smell of urine lingering in the air assaulted his sensitive nose.
I hate bathrooms.
Aside from a few bloody towels littering the floor, it was unoccupied.

He advanced through the kitchen and into a messy living room.

A man lay on the floor with part of his brain missing, his head drowning in a pool of blood.

“Bathroom and kitchen are clear. Is it Elliot?”

“Yes. Self-inflicted gunshot to the head.” Crouched by his side, Matheson removed a handgun from the dead doctor’s grip and pocketed it. “We were too late.”

A few minutes sooner, and they could have made the doctor cough up his crimes.

“Maybe he saw us...or heard us.” Anger and frustration oozed through Gil’s pores, and he marveled at Matheson’s abilities to keep her feelings at bay.

“The reason doesn’t matter.” The colonel moved away from the body and toward a huge gap in a wall near an open door.

Someone had smashed the wall and gutted the space between the studs, creating a large gap. Large enough for a child to squeeze through.

Reaching for the closest two by four, Matheson produced a yellow object pinched between her fingers. “This is a piece of fabric from Hope’s yellow suit. It was snagged on a nail. She...she slithered through the wall.” Something keen to admiration sizzled in her voice. “It’s quite possible she took advantage of Elliot’s absence and escaped during his morning killing spree.”

The military doctor had kidnapped the colonel’s daughter to seek revenge on the senator. Gil didn’t hold a degree in psychology, but it seemed logical to assume Elliot would have displayed the teenager’s body—had he killed her—and blamed the senator for her death. He wouldn’t have killed himself until
after
he witnessed the senator’s fall from grace.