Frankie's Back in Town (12 page)

“Help’s on the way.” His voice was a whisper in the shuddering silence. “Just hang on.”

“N-no.” Her hand fluttered against his chest as if trying to find the strength to brush him away. “I’m f-fine.”

Her voice was tremulous but coherent, not slurred, another sign of hypothermia. Laughter escaped from him, an absurd emotional reaction to the relief he felt, so strong he couldn’t make sense of the feeling beyond surprise he felt so deeply.

He hadn’t known, had no way to know, not until seeing her, the hair wisping out from his hastily wrapped scarf to
frame her pale face, that something had been happening ever since they’d met. Attraction, no question, but
this
was different, more.

This, whatever
this
was, had made coming to Greywacke Lodge today about more than dealing with the gossip mill, about more than the investigation, about more than even wanting to see Frankie again and understand why she kept shying away from him.

This
made holding her close, her body molded against his as if she’d been designed to fit, a feeling as natural and right as any he’d ever known.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, resting his cheek on the top of her head, staggered by the awareness he felt. “I don’t think you’re fine.”

No more than he was fine to learn
this
had changed everything.

“I am.” She tried to suppress her shivering. “What—what happened?”

Just hearing her voice was so welcome, the relief extreme. “I assume you slipped and fell.”

He glanced down into her face, watched as she visibly tried to make sense of the facts, her struggle so evident.

“Nonna,” she gasped aloud.

“Don’t worry. Yvette’s in your office tracking her down as we speak. She’ll be back by the time we get you out of here.”

Jack hoped. He didn’t want to be proven a liar. But there was nothing either of them could do at the moment. He’d alerted emergency services of a second missing person, so they’d be on the lookout, too. It was the best he could do.

Frankie frowned again. She glanced over his shoulder.

“Let me go. I can stand.”

He brushed strands of hair beneath the scarf, enjoyed the
simple freedom of touching her. “We’d literally have to crawl up that slope hanging on to tree branches, Francesca.”

She strained to see into the twilight. “You’re sure?”

“This ground is solid ice.”

“That much I know,” she said drily.

Again Jack was struck by that overwhelming sense of relief. Her humor was making an appearance, a sign that she was exactly what she said—fine.

“I don’t believe this.” She exhaled a shuddering breath. “I am s-so stupid.”

“I’ll buy worried. Or accident prone. Clumsy even. But not stupid, Francesca. Never stupid.”

She let out a weak laugh. “
Stupid.
And too tired to think straight. I—I should n-never have tackled this path in heels.”

He traced her foot with the toe of his shoe. “I passed one on the way down.”

She groaned. “I don’t need this right now. Northstar’s going to see this report and think they hired an idiot.”

“They’ll be grateful you discovered the possibility of liability before a resident did.”

She gave a weak laugh. “No resident would be stupid enough to be out here in this weather.”

He didn’t need to remind her that a resident might not recognize the danger of heading down this snowy path.

The silence swelled between them, filled with awareness of their closeness. Frankie trembled against him, her lithe form fitting in a way that was so much more than shared body heat.

But silence wasn’t allowed, not when her eyes drifted shut again.

“Francesca,” he said, sharper than he’d intended. “What’s this about missing lasagna?”

She groaned. “I’m freezing.”

Rolling onto his side, Jack unbuttoned her coat, shoving it open. Then he sank onto his back and lifted her on top of him, readjusting his coat until it became a cocoon and nothing more than their street clothing marked where he ended and she began.

“Better?” He needed to keep her talking, not only to distract her from slipping back into the lure of that slumber but also to divert him from the feel of her lush curves molded so close.

“My head is throbbing.”

Resting his cheek on the top of her head, he tucked her face against his throat to stop her teeth from chattering, the way he might have held her in bed, body pressed close, legs twined together, only with a lot more skin. “You might have hit your head when you fell. Help will be here soon. They know exactly where we are, so just hang on.”

Jack was relieved not to be proven a liar on this one score when the sound of an engine suddenly rent the quiet forest. “What did I tell you?”

“Bravo.”

He chuckled, the sound bursting as white mist over her head. Her arms tightened around him, a small, simple gesture, but one he felt straight through him with awareness entirely inappropriate to the situation. “My pleasure, Francesca.”

The engine humming on the path above them suddenly whirred to a low purr and a male voice called out urgently, “Ms. Raffa? Chief Sloan? You down there?”

“Otis,” she said.

“We’re here, Otis,” Jack called back.

“Emergency Services called,” came the reply. “They’re almost here. I brought blankets. I’m going to toss them down.”

Jack lifted his head and peered into the dimming light.
A head appeared, a black face crowned by cropped graying hair.

“Be careful,” Jack cautioned.

“Will do, Chief,” Otis shot back. “You okay, Ms. Raffa?”

“Glad to see you,” she said, her lips brushed his throat, a chill whisper that managed to spark heat inside him.

Getting a blanket down to them wasn’t as simple as tossing one down the mountain, not with winter-bare trees and low-lying limbs barring the path. Otis finally succeeded by working one down with the handle of a rake he carried on the golf cart.

Jack was forced to release Frankie and stretch the remaining distance to catch the blanket. Then he tucked it tightly around her bare legs. “Better?”

“Much.” He could feel her smile, feel the way her cold lips curved against his skin. “Thanks.”

He heard more than gratitude for a blanket in that one word. She was grateful he was here.

“Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” He meant it.

The Snow Rescue Task Force consisted of volunteers trained exclusively in emergency winter rescue. These dedicated folks often assisted emergency service personnel in Bluestone and neighboring hamlets in locating the occasional tourist who strayed from a ski run or ran into snowmobile trouble on the trails.

Jack could hear their approach long before their arrival, wasn’t surprised when they came to a stop in front of the pedestrian gate. The sirens quieted, but Jack could see the lights flashing in the twilight.

“We’ve got company,” he said.

“Sounds like the whole town.”

He heard the dread in her voice and didn’t mention that he’d dispatched emergency services, the fire department and the Snow Rescue Task Force. She’d find out soon enough.

Voices began shouting directions then heads were peering over the side of the slope.

“Well, hey, Jack,” Bob Wilkins, a battalion chief with Bluestone Fire Department, yelled down. “Good to see you.”

“You, too.” Jack smiled when Frankie buried her face in his neck as if she could hide.

Bob detailed the plan, and within minutes snow rescue patrols were harnessed and heading down the slope toward them. With the help of the patrols and harnesses, both Jack and Frankie made their way back up the mountain, where she was wrapped in thermal blankets. He refused medical attention but accepted a warm parka to replace his coat.

Emergency vehicles weren’t an unusual sight at Greywacke Lodge, but vehicles blocking the road in front of the pedestrian gate were. Since the gate opened in full view of the nursing center, avoiding notice wasn’t possible.

“Oh, God.” Frankie groaned when faced with the crowd they’d drawn. “This is a nightmare.”

Jack actually thought Emergency Services had done a good job at keeping onlookers away. He spotted Yvette in the small crowd, Susanna, too, and knew Frankie’s staff would show up to make sure she was okay. Not to mention the eight floors of residents who had the time to come lend support. And from the looks of it, those who could manage the trip did. The faces in the crowd were curious, and concerned.

Several called Frankie’s name through the gate and shouted encouragements as she was hoisted onto the path.

“I can walk,” she insisted, but the patrol, to his credit, didn’t budge in the face of her scowl. Instead he waited until she finally allowed him to guide her to the nearby stretcher.

“I’m fine. I can walk.” She glanced at Jack for help, but he pointed to her feet and said, “No shoes.”

She sat down heavily, but refused to lie back, and her
annoyed scowl melted as they emerged from the gate to face the waiting crowd.

“You okay, Ms. Raffa?” someone called out, starting a barrage of questions firing from every direction.

“What happened?”

“Did you break anything?”

“Are you going to be all right?”

Frankie faced the crowd with a wry smile. “I’m fine. But be careful. It’s slippery out there.”

Laughter erupted, and Jack could practically feel the relief that rippled through the crowd.

“You should have let me freeze to death,” she whispered, smile stubbornly fixed as the rescue patrol freed her from the harness beneath the watchful eyes of the crowd. “Less painful.”

Jack chuckled, waving off the patrol and releasing his own harness. “You didn’t die on a frozen mountain, so I don’t think a little embarrassment is going to kill you.”

“Like you’d know. You’re hero to my damsel in distress.”

Jack liked being her hero. And he liked that so many folks obviously cared, which said a lot about his damsel.

Just then he heard some commotion. Moving away from the stretcher, he peered between emergency vehicles to see a Greywacke Lodge bus in the roadblock of vehicles. The doors were wide-open and someone was arguing with the bus driver.

Jack glanced at Frankie, who said, “That would be the bus returning from Atlantic City.”

“I can get them to clear the road—”

“Oh, thank God.” She cut him off, and Jack followed her gaze to see a woman being helped off the bus by the driver.

Jack recognized the small woman with a head of white curls. The driver assisted her around the fire truck and Yvette emerged from the crowd, linking an arm through
Concetta’s and making some comment that brought a relieved expression to her face.

“Dolly, what happened?” Concetta asked as they approached.

“I slipped and fell on the ice, Nonna. No worries. They’re checking me out as a precaution.” Frankie’s eyes glinted with tears. “You went to Atlantic City? But you weren’t signed up with the group.”

“I didn’t plan to go, dolly, but I saw the bus…” She let her voice trail off, gave a shrug and a sheepish grin. “You can have lasagna for dinner.”

She held up a plastic bag from a local grocery with what appeared to be a food container inside. Jack noticed Yvette cast Frankie a sidelong glance, but Frankie just eyed the bag, and said, “It’ll be delicious.”

She made a move to hop off the stretcher, but the paramedic stopped her.

“Please stay seated until we get you inside, ma’am.”

Frankie stared as if he had three heads. “I’m not going in the ambulance. I’m fine. These people need to get inside.”

“Standard procedure, ma’am.” He looked to Jack for backup, but Jack didn’t get a chance to weigh in when Concetta said to the paramedic, “She’ll go. You’ll let me go with her?”

“Okay, okay,” Frankie said. “I’ll go peacefully. But, Nonna, I’d rather you didn’t come. I need your help with Gabrielle. She’s at the house alone, and I’m not sure what time I’ll be home. Would you mind if I send a car and have someone bring her here? She can spend the night with you, and you can keep her from worrying.”

“Of course, dolly.”

Frankie leaned forward and kissed the top of her grandmother’s head. “Thanks, Nonna. You don’t worry, either. I’m fine. I’ll call as soon as they spring me.” She turned to
Jack. “You said you can get this road cleared. Would you mind? These people really do need to get inside.”

“Done,” he said then extended his arm to Concetta. “I’ll see you back to the bus.”

Concetta took his outstretched arm and said, “I’ll wait for your call, dolly. Don’t worry about Gabrielle.”

“May I?” He reached for the bag Concetta carried. She relinquished it, and Jack led her away, whispering to the paramedic, “Get her in, then wait for me. I’ll make the trip.”

Concetta didn’t miss the exchange. “You’ll take good care of her, Jack?”

“You have my word.”

“She’ll fight you every step of the way. She’s used to doing all the caring.”

That said a lot about Frankie. “Appreciate the heads-up.”

“Appreciate you rescuing my granddaughter.”

“My pleasure.”

“Make her return your socks before your toes freeze,” she said as he handed her over to the driver for help into the bus.

Jack laughed. “I will.”

He didn’t know the details of the missing lasagna or the unexpected trip to Atlantic City, but whatever else was going on with this little lady, she was sharp about her granddaughter.

Jack made his way back to Bob, who immediately began directing traffic to clear the road. The small crowd of onlookers started to disperse, some of the lodge staff lingering to make sure their residents made it down the sidewalk and through the entrance. Susanna was one of them. He caught her gaze and waved, reconciling himself to wait a little longer to tell her that she and Frankie were the last two names on his suspect list. Maybe, with any luck, the entire investigation could turn and he wouldn’t have to have the conversation at all.

Hopping into the back of the ambulance, Jack rapped his palm against the hood and told the paramedics, “Let’s go.”

The paramedics had wrapped Frankie warmly in blankets, and while she still sat on the gurney, she looked nominally more resigned. She suffered through the paramedic’s ministrations as they checked for signs of exposure and concussion, answered questions politely, and appeared more tired than anything else.