Colder Than Ice (33 page)

“No.” He leaned closer and kissed the surgery scar, just as he had the entry wound scar. “You're not shallow. You're perfect.”

“I'm so far from perfect it's laughable, Josh. And I wouldn't want to be. But thanks for saying so.”

She was. She was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. And he really didn't think that observation was based on guilt, or on the situation, or on his buying into his own cover story. She'd been forged in fire, yeah. Hurt, brought down low, only to rise up again, stronger than before. To him, that was perfection.

The teapot whistled. Beth turned to get it, poured steaming water into the cup, stirred and brought it to the table. He tried again with the cookie, cool enough now to eat, but hot enough that the chocolate chips were still melty. And the marshmallows in the cocoa were gooey and soft.

She returned to her work then, standing at the counter, spooning cookie dough from a bowl onto the cookie sheet. “I made up a room for Dawn. That means almost every room is full,” she said softly. “The usable ones, anyway. It's almost like the inn is already up and running.”

“Except that none of them are paying guests,” he observed.

She shrugged. “I'm sure Arthur Stanton and his two cohorts would disagree. They'd say they're paying by risking their lives to protect me.”

“You sound like you don't buy into that,” Joshua said.

Beth shrugged. He couldn't see her face, her back was toward him as she worked. “I think Mordecai is the real reason they're all here. They want to catch him. Keeping me alive would be a bonus feather in their caps, but I don't think it's their priority. If they had to choose between capturing him or saving me, I think I'd be history.” She looked over her shoulder at him, as if waiting for him to comment on that. “What do you think?”

“I think…you're a little too insightful for your own good.”

“Then you agree with me.”

He shrugged. “A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have. But Arthur…he's not the man I thought he was. I'm not so sure about him anymore.”

She slid the cookie sheet into the oven, reset the timer. “That wasn't really an answer.”

He shrugged. “Doesn't matter if keeping you alive is their first priority, Beth. It's mine. And you can believe me when I tell you nobody will protect you the way I will.”

She smiled slowly, moved closer to him, bent low and kissed his ear. “My hero.”

“Hmm. Everyone gone to bed?” he asked.

“Everyone but Dawn. I'm sure she's still in with Bry.”

“She'll sleep like a log. They both will tonight.”

She lifted her brows. “What about Arthur and company?”

“I don't really care about them. Do you?”

“No.”

“So is that the last batch of cookies?”

She smiled slowly. “Yeah. But you've been run ragged, up all night on no sleep, half-frozen—”

“I still have a pulse.”

She leaned down, and he pressed his mouth to hers, tasted evidence that she'd been sampling her own cookies, thought about getting her upstairs to bed….

The doorbell rang.

Josh frowned, eyes popping open, mouth still on hers. She was frowning back at him. With a sigh, she pulled away. She looked tired, despite her cookie baking—which she was probably doing just to keep busy, he thought. To keep from thinking. To keep her fears at bay.

“Stay here and relax,” he said. “Drink some cocoa. I'll go see who it is.”

“You still have your gun with you?”

“Naturally.” He glanced worriedly at the back door, the darkness beyond the glass. “Never mind. Come with me.”

She shrugged but didn't argue. Instead she tossed her pot holders onto the counter and walked with him back through the house. He liked that she walked close to him, and that he didn't have to tell her not to line herself up with the door or a window. Then again, she'd been living under the looming threat of Mordecai Young for a long time. She probably knew more about caution than he ever would.

“Who's there?” he called.

“An old friend of Beth's. Sort of.”

It was a woman's voice. Josh sent Beth a questioning look. She frowned at him, then approached the door. Josh didn't like that, so he pulled a gun, and moved around to one side, behind the door, then peered out the window
there. “One woman. Blond. Alone.” He gave Beth a nod. “I think it's okay.”

Beth nodded, flipped the locks and pulled the door open just a little. Then she blinked and opened it wider. “Jax?”

The newcomer smiled, even while rubbing her arms. There was snow in her hair. “Long time no see. How are you, Elizabeth?”

“Fine. I mean…God, come in. What on earth are you doing here?”

The woman walked into the house and without glancing at Josh, said, “You can put it away. I'm no threat. Nice work, though.” And she pushed the door closed behind her.

Josh frowned, already tucking his gun back into its holster. He reached behind the woman to lock the door again, sizing her up as he did. She was pretty but didn't seem to know it, or maybe she just didn't care. No makeup, long blond hair gathered in a careless ponytail that hung down her back, shapeless trousers over a pair of suede boots, all topped by a stereotypical cop's trench coat, dark gray. If he was reading her right, and he thought he was, she was deciding whether to hug Beth hello or just settle for a handshake. She opted for the handshake. Apparently the two hadn't been the hugging sort of friends.

Josh cleared his throat, and Beth looked at him quickly. “I'm sorry. I'm just so surprised—Joshua, this is Lieutenant Cassandra Jackson.”

“Lieutenant?” He extended a hand.

She took it. “For now. Syracuse Police Department,” she told him. “But you can call me Jax.”

“You're bucking for a promotion,” Beth said, smiling.

“Yeah, have been since you left. I was standing close enough to you that day in Virginia that they decided to give me some
of the credit. I figure a bump up the ladder ought to come with it.”

“You deserve it.”

“I didn't do a damn thing.” Jax glanced at Josh again. “What department are you with?”

He blinked, unprepared to answer.

“Fed?” she asked. “You're definitely law enforcement.”

“No.”

“Former, then. You don't look old enough to be retired.”

“I've never been in law enforcement, Lieutenant Jackson.”

She blinked, met his eyes, and he read them without even trying. They said she knew better but wouldn't push it, in case he had legitimate reasons for lying. Meanwhile, Beth was looking curiously from one of them to the other.

“Josh is a bodyguard,” she explained.

“Private security consultant,” he clarified.

“Smart move, hiring your own,” Jax said with a nod. “You can't trust the Feds.”

“I agree, but I didn't hire him. The government did.”

Now Jax's frown was clearly disbelieving, and when she looked at him again, it was with suspicion in her eyes. She had to know the government had its own agencies and its own men, and rarely hired outsiders for this sort of thing.

“Jeez, take off your coat,” Beth said. “Come on in and sit. Did you drive all the way up here?”

Jax walked farther into the house with Beth, but Josh felt her eyes on him, probing. She knew something wasn't right with his story. He decided to make nice, see if he could win her over, even though he sensed it would be a wasted effort. His gut told him this one was a good cop. Not easily fooled nor, he thought, put off the scent.

“So what brings you to Blackberry, Lieutenant?” he asked.

“Jax,” she reminded him. “I had a call from Julie Jones. She filled me in, told me Dawn was up here.”

Beth said, “I knew she was going to call you, but I thought you'd phone us, not drive all the way up here.”

Jax shrugged. “Jewel sounded worried to death, but with the weather, she can't get up here for a couple of days, and she knows damn well the kid won't go home.”

Beth nodded. “She's right. I told Dawn I was sending her home, and she promised she'd head back here at the first opportunity. I figure it's better to keep her here, where I can at least watch out for her until Julie can come and get her.” She waved to the most comfortable chair in the living room, and Jax sat down.

“That's what Julie thought, too,” she said. “I was in the middle of my vacation week, so I thought I'd take a drive up here. See if I could be of any help.”

“That's incredibly generous of you,” Beth said.

“Not really.” Jax didn't relax in her chair. She sat upright, leaning slightly forward, feet evenly spaced and flat on the floor, elbows on her knees. “Julie said Young was up here. I've always wanted another shot at collaring the bastard.” She glanced at Josh. “It would be a major bust.”

“Are you looking to be the next chief?” Josh asked. “Or skipping straight to mayor?”

She shrugged. “My captain's retiring next year. I wouldn't mind that job. Who knows?”

He nodded. A good cop and an ambitious cop. Hell, it just got better and better, didn't it?

“Julie said you were turning this place into an inn,” Jax observed.

“Re-turning it,” Beth said. “It was an inn once, but it's been a while.”

“I'd love to be your first paying guest.”

Beth glanced at Josh, real regret in her eyes. “We aren't technically open for business yet,” she began, “and right now, all the rooms are—”

“A mess,” he interrupted. “But if you can give us twenty minutes, we can have a room ready for you.”

Beth frowned at him, but he sent her a reassuring look. Hell, he wasn't planning to sleep alone tonight, anyway. It wouldn't take any time at all to move Beth's stuff into his room and change the bedding.

A bell pinged, and Beth jumped up. “That's my timer,” she said. Then she smiled at Jax. “I'll be right back with warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven, and a cup of hot cocoa for you. Then you can relax while we get your room ready, all right?”

“Sounds great.”

Beth rushed off to the kitchen. Josh got up and started to follow, but the second Beth was out of earshot, Jax said, “So what is it you're keeping from her?”

He stopped, his back to the woman. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, I saw you take up position behind the door. The stance, the way you held your gun. I know a cop when I see one. You undercover?”

“Something like that.”

“You can't tell me, huh?”

Sighing, he turned slowly. “Look, this is…sensitive. Her life's at stake. I can't risk anything making her skittish right now.”

“Skittish?” She shook her head. “Young could single-hand
edly fill all ten slots in the Most Wanted list. She's way beyond skittish.”

“Of him. Not of me.”

She nodded, her eyes narrow and brimming with intelligence. “You need her to trust you.”

“There's not a reason in the world why she shouldn't trust me. I'm on her side.”

“So am I. Just so you know.”

It was a warning. He heard it loud and clear.

Saturday

“I
t's almost…anticlimactic, isn't it?”

Beth was standing near the front door, watching the unmarked sedan roll away over the bare ribbon of road, carrying two of her house guests with it. Three days had passed since Bryan and Dawn's encounter with Mordecai in the forest. Three days, and no sign of the man. The press had descended on the town when the wire services picked up her story. She'd been interviewed a dozen times, in between overseeing Will Ahearn's work on the house. And then the press had left again. And still not a sign of Mordecai.

Josh stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. God, she loved having him in her life. Close, reassuring, constant, dependable.

She trusted him, she realized. As much as she'd been determined to keep her guard up where he was concerned, he had
worked his way around it, through it, beneath it. He was inside her now. In her heart, in her home, in her bed. She'd been in love with him for a while now. But the trust—that was new.

And a little scary.

“Anticlimactic in a very good way,” he told her. “When you consider what the climax could have been.”

She lowered her head. “I've been waiting a long time to finally face him down. To end this once and for all. Damn him. Three days, and not a sign he's within a hundred miles.” The car carrying the two federal agents wound out of sight, and she turned as their boss, Arthur Stanton, came down the stairs.

Josh slipped an arm around her. Arthur stopped halfway across the room, set his suitcase on the floor and dropped a manila envelope on the coffee table.

“So you're leaving, too?” she asked. “I thought you were going to stay one more night?”

“I was, but we've just had a sighting of Young.”

Her heart jumped, and she caught her breath. “Where?”

“Raleigh, North Carolina. He was at a Youth for Christ rally. Some of the cops working security there recognized him from the photo we've been circulating.”

The photo. She shivered, because it was emblazoned into her mind. Arthur's people had taken an old photo of Mordecai, then used some sophisticated computer program to enhance it according to Bryan and Dawn's description of how he had looked when they'd seen him. She'd been devastated when one of her own students identified him as the same man who'd been substituting for her social studies teacher for a couple of days—a Mr. Abercrombie.

God, it gave Beth chills to think that Mordecai could so easily get close to innocent children.

There were several versions of the sketch floating around now, with various hairstyles, lengths and colors, with glasses and without them. Mordecai's piercing brown eyes, with their thick black lashes, never changed. Those eyes could look at once angelic and demon-possessed. They chilled her to the marrow, those eyes.

She sighed, blinking to clear the image from her mind. “What if it wasn't really him?” she asked.

Arthur smiled reassuringly. “This is the third sighting in the Raleigh-Durham area, Beth. And the witnesses are reliable.”

“Almost too reliable,” she muttered. “It's not like Mordecai to let himself be seen by police officers and county deputies,” she said. “Not unless he wants to be seen.”

“Don't think we haven't thought of that. But, Beth, we're leaving you in very good hands. And it's not as if you're going to be sitting here like a glowing neon target, after all.”

“It's not?” She saw the look Arthur exchanged with Josh, and she frowned. “What haven't you told me?” she asked, looking up at Joshua.

“You haven't told her?” Arthur asked. Then he snatched up the envelope he'd set down, brought it to her and thrust it into her hands.

“What's this?” Beth asked.

“It's your new identity. We've got a place all picked out for you.”

She lifted her brows. “Timbuktu?”

“Illinois. Right on Lake Michigan. You'll love it.” He clapped a hand to Joshua's shoulder. “I'll check in every couple of hours. If there's anything the least bit odd—”

“I'll call. Don't worry, we'll be fine.”

“Just get her settled in the new place, Josh. Don't waste any time.”

Josh thinned his lips as Arthur nodded to her, then dashed out the door. Then she stared up at Joshua and said simply, “I'm not going.”

“You have to go. Listen, it doesn't have to be permanent.”

“No.”

“We have a plan.”

“A plan you didn't even bother to discuss with me.”

“I told you we should have discussed it with her,” Jax said. She was in the kitchen, where she'd been making herself a sandwich from the leftover ham Beth had baked for dinner. She had half the sandwich left, clutched in one hand, and she took another bite before going on. While chewing, she said, “It's really a great plan, Liz.”

“I hate being called Liz.”

“So you keep telling me.” She nodded at Josh. “Tell her the plan.” Then she took another bite.

“What plan?” Bryan asked, coming down the stairs from his room, Dawn at his elbow, as always. She'd barely taken her eyes off him since that night in the woods, even though Bryan was mostly recovered now.

“The plan.” Josh drew a breath.

“Yes, Josh, the plan,” Beth said.

He cleared his throat. “The plan is that I put you, Bryan and Dawn on a flight out of here. You'll be on hopscotching flights, and at a couple of the stops, you'll be changing names, so it would be impossible for anyone to trail you. Eventually, you wind up at O'Hare, where a van will be waiting to drive you to the new place. You don't use the final new identity until you're settled in there.”

“And where will you be?”

“Julie Jones McKenzie and her husband Sean will meet you there, to take charge of Dawn.”

“And I ask again, where will you be?”

“I'll be here.”

“With me,” Jax said. “Only I won't be me, I'll be you.”

Beth blinked. “Come again?”

She moved closer, munching her sandwich and reached behind her to pull her long ponytail around with her free hand. She held it up.

Beth frowned. “It's darker. You changed your color—that's
my
color.”

“To. A. Tee.” Jax smiled. “I'm getting it cut this morning. Shoulder length, just like yours. And there's a bottle of peroxide upstairs waiting for you.”

“Right. I'm going to bleach my hair.”

“You're butterscotch. I'm platinum. When you leave here, honey, you are going to be platinum in a ponytail, wearing some of my clothes. And I'm gonna be a butterscotch babe.”

“You're going to pretend to be me.”

“Brilliant, isn't it?” Jax asked. “Josh came up with it.”

“It really is a great plan,” Bryan said.

Beth slid her eyes from his to Dawn's. Dawn rolled her eyes, shook her head. At least one person in the room got this.

“So I'm supposed to sneak off to safety and leave another woman to take my place on the receiving end of Mordecai's final vengeance.”

“Not another woman,” Jax said. “A cop. A trained police officer. This is my job.”

“It's not your job, Jax,” Beth told her. “It's no one's job. It's not a job at all, it's life.
My
life.” She slapped the envelope
against Joshua's chest and let go of it. He caught it as it slid toward the floor. “I'm not going anywhere. And if Mordecai is still in town and coming after me, then it's me who will be here waiting for him.”

She turned and started for the stairs. “And if you guys keep trying to interfere with that, then I'll be waiting for him alone.”

“Beth is right,” Dawn said. She'd been sitting on the bottom step, but she got to her feet now. “Besides, no one knows him like she and I do. No one else can hope to outsmart him the way we can.”

“There's no we in this, Dawny,” Beth told her. “The second Julie can get here, you are outta here.”

“But—”

“I almost died trying to save you from him—twice now. Do you really think I'm going to let you hang around here risking your neck? I'd have sent you home by now if I thought wild horses could keep you from rushing straight back here. But once your mom comes…”

Dawn flinched, maybe because it was so unusual for Beth to refer to Julie as her mother—but she was, Beth reminded herself: morally, ethically, even legally now. Not Beth, not anymore.

“Look, it doesn't really matter,” Bryan said, getting to his feet. He slid one hand over Dawn's shoulder, squeezing her there. “Mordecai's long gone anyway. The whole town knows it. They're all planning for Maude's memorial service now that things have settled down.”

Beth blinked, looking behind her to the bottom of the stairs, where the two teens stood. “But we decided to postpone that….”

Bryan nodded. “I know. Someone's supposed to call you about it tonight. Maude's friends and Reverend Baker all feel it should go on as scheduled.”

She sighed deeply, lowering her head. “That's an even bigger reason for me to stick around,” she said. “For Maude. I owe her this much.”

Then she turned and moved on up the stairs.

 

Leaving.

She'd told the press she was leaving. Taking on a new name, a new identity, going back into hiding. But Lizzie wasn't going anywhere.

Mordecai had given up on waiting for her to be alone in the house. She would never be alone in the house. And she would never relax or let her guard down. It was almost as if she could…feel him there.

She should. They were connected, he and Lizzie—their souls were bound. He felt her life, her breath, her blood, twining and mingling with his own as he sat in silent meditation in the garden shed, and he was overcome with longing.

Selfish, he told himself. He mustn't give in, mustn't risk revealing his presence. Especially now. The servants of the Beast had gone. Government men were so easily led. These had been no different. Highly placed men with secrets they preferred stayed hidden made excellent witnesses, he had found. And three such men had reported seeing him far away from here. Far away from Lizzie.

God, but he wanted to go to her.

Go, then. Sate your hunger for her this once.

Mordecai's eyes opened as he slowly rose from the trancelike state. He lifted his head and saw that it was dark outside again. Had he been still so long, then? It had been midafternoon when he'd sunk down on the cold wood floor, folded his legs beneath him, closed his eyes. He started to rise, but his legs
had been bent so long they didn't obey him, and he fell to his knees again, wincing in pain.

Damn, what he wouldn't give for a warm bed, a heated room for the night.

Soon.

Mordecai rose again, using a support beam to aid him. He'd grown hungry. Dinnertime had long since past. But now he had a greater hunger. And permission to assuage it. He wondered why his guides would allow him to risk discovery, but he had no doubt there were reasons. He moved to the shed's window, looked through it at the darkened house.

“She's not alone, though the government men have left.” He wiped impatiently at the dirt-streaked glass, then gave up and went to the door, pulled it open, stepped outside.

The house stood there. It was greatly improved now from its initial appearance. It had been repainted over the last three days. Missing shutters had been replaced and loose ones tightened. The porch no longer sagged in the middle. And the second-floor windows were shining clean and filled with clean curtains now, where before some of them had been streaked with dust and bare.

“The lady cop is there, still. The one from Syracuse,” he whispered.

She sleeps.

“And the boy, and that girl who is with him. Is there some reason I've never seen her face?”

She is unimportant.

“And the man.”

You hold the key to his demise. Go. Look upon your woman. We near the end of this journey, and time is short. And take your bag with you.

He blinked, looking back at the large black satchel inside the shed door, stored far from the kerosene heater. He could guess why they wanted him to take the bag with him, and he very nearly argued with them. Knowing he would be punished for that, he bit it back.

“The doors are locked,” he said instead.

Go to the back. Climb the tree there. And don't think about questioning your instructions, Mordecai. Spirit knows far more than you do. Humble yourself and obey.

Mordecai sighed, but he didn't question. He didn't doubt. He took heart in the fact that the guides were telling him this journey was nearly over. He no longer cared so much how it ended. Taking up the bag, he closed the shed door and walked through the dying grass to the rear of the house. He went up to the maple tree that stood there and climbed it, though doing so was a challenge with the bag in one hand. As he made his way higher, he saw the wisdom of the guides, as he always did. An attic window stood within reach of a long, gnarled limb. He climbed out upon that limb, paying no attention to the way it gave under his weight, the way the tree groaned and cracked—no more than he paid to the cold of the night. The guides must be obeyed. If the limb broke and sent him to his death below, then there was a reason.