Ice (6 page)

Lolly’s hair was brown, but had she lost forty pounds, and taken up with a loser? Gabriel surveyed the rest of the room, and his gaze fell on the paraphernalia that was spread across the coffee table.
Shit!
He knew what he was looking at, and his gut tightened. If that was her, she’d started using meth, as well. No wonder she was so painfully thin.

No way in hell. His dad would have noticed something like that, known if Lolly had gotten into meth. The drug was wreaking havoc all over the country, and even in the military he had to deal with the shit. It turned users into physical wrecks, rotted their teeth out, took over their lives, and a lot of time killed them.

The man reached out to grab the woman where her ass should be, and instead of being insulted by the move, she laughed. Gabriel heard her too-loud rough laugh, as she fell back and into her companion. A hand came up and he saw the pistol she carried; it was a revolver, a big one, a .357 or even a .44. Adrenaline spurted through his veins, drastically intensifying his alertness. He didn’t have a weapon with him; it hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d need to come here armed.

The armed woman turned, and he stepped back enough that she wouldn’t be able to see him through the window. A rush of relief filled him. The thin, wasted, angular face didn’t belong to anyone he knew. Maybe it had been years since he’d seen Lolly, but no one could change that much, even on meth. That wasn’t Lolly.

That didn’t mean she was in the clear. Were these friends of hers? Had Lolly Helton changed in other ways, maybe not physically, but in the type of person she was? If she’d become a dealer and was caught up in this shit, he would turn around and take his chances in the truck. What else could he do? Somehow he didn’t think the couple in the living room would take kindly to being interrupted. Meth users were violent, unpredictable. They’d probably shoot at him as soon as he knocked.

But where was Lolly? He couldn’t leave without seeing for himself if she was okay. The Mercedes left out in the storm made him uneasy. Had these two broken
in, killed her? With meth users, anything was possible, and none of it was good.

Remembering the reflected light from upstairs, he left the porch as silently as he’d stepped up, and moved back until he could see the windows. The curtains were drawn over the front window, so he circled to the side of the house. At least the curtains on that window were open. He had to move well out into the yard in order to see through the second-story window … and there she was.

Lolly was moving around the room, passing by the window now and then. Her face wasn’t thin and wasted, like the couple downstairs, and even from here he could see that she was intent on … something. She pulled on a sweatshirt, even though she already wore something that looked strangely misshapen and lumpy.

As if she’d put on every piece of clothing she could find.

As if she were preparing for escape.

Gabriel took a deep breath, ignoring the cold in his lungs and the chill that surrounded him. Shit, his dad had been right. Again. Lolly
did
need rescuing.

He looked toward the detached garage. Maybe he could find a ladder in there.

Every household needed a ladder, he thought, even if the house was used only a few times a year. Surely there was one around somewhere; his dad had always said Mr. Helton was a careful man, and a careful man would have a ladder. The most logical place where a careful man would put a ladder was in the garage, right? Cautiously he opened the side door into the garage, turning on the flashlight so he could see. The garage was fairly small, built in a time when most families owned only one car, and mostly empty. There were some odds and ends, some folding lawn chairs, and—
yes!
—a ladder.

He dragged it out from behind the lawn chairs, and his heart sank. This wasn’t much of a ladder. For one thing, it wouldn’t reach all the way to Lolly’s window.
For another, it was wooden, and it was old. The rungs weren’t in good shape; two were broken, and he wasn’t at all sure any of the others would hold his weight. But Lolly didn’t weigh as much as he did and she was the one who’d be on it, so maybe it would hold together long enough for her to climb down. If not … then he hoped she’d bounce. No, hell, he’d have to catch her, he thought sourly. The way his luck was running, if he didn’t catch her she’d probably fall on him and break his leg, or a few ribs.

Maybe Lolly had some other way of climbing down—the old sheets-tied-together rope, for instance. If she was making preparations to escape, then she definitely had something in mind. Maybe the ladder wouldn’t be needed. He sure as hell hoped not, because it was a half-rotten death trap.

But as he was hauling the ladder from the garage to the house, he looked up at the window again and saw Lolly tugging on the window frame with all her might, trying to wrest it open. She stopped, got another grip, and tried again. From what he could see the window hadn’t budged an inch.

Swearing again, but this time silently, he revised his plan. He’d have to go up and raise the damn window. No matter how she’d planned to get to the ground, she wasn’t going anywhere unless she could get out the window. He sent up a silent prayer. Maybe the ladder would hold together.

He had to look up to position the ladder and the icy rain felt directly on his face, in his eyes. A sudden
gust of wind caught the ladder, almost tearing it from his grip. Getting the ladder propped against the house without making any noise was going to be tricky. Just in case, he mentally ran through the operation: the objective was to get up the ladder without falling and breaking his neck, open the window, get down the ladder without falling and breaking his neck, and position himself beneath the ladder so he could catch Lolly if she fell, so she wouldn’t break
her
neck. Simple enough.

Oh, yeah: he had to do all that in something like five seconds flat without making any noise and alerting the two meth addicts in the living room.

No problem, he thought sarcastically. Piece of cake.

He stood the ladder up, holding it steady with both hands as he let it drop closer and closer to the house, until it settled below the window with a barely audible thunk. It must have sounded louder inside the house, though, because he saw Lolly jump back from the window as if someone had just smacked the glass. Damn it, the ladder ended a good three feet below the window casing, which meant he’d have to climb all the way to the top to have any leverage opening the window.

There was no point in delaying, so he firmly gripped the outside of the ladder and began climbing, placing his boots on the outside edges of the rungs, where they were nailed to the frame and less likely to crumble under his weight. In just a few seconds he was standing precariously on the top rung,
praying like hell, and staring through the glass at Lolly Helton, who stared at him as if she couldn’t decide whether to scream or faint.

She didn’t do either, thank God. Instead he saw her lips move, framing his name, then she closed her eyes for a brief second before gathering herself.

When she opened her eyes again, Gabriel held a finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. She nodded, an obvious and telling relief washing across her face.

She’d managed to raise the window a little, after all. He worked his gloved fingers into the gap and tried to lift upward, but there was only the slightest bit of movement. The window hadn’t been painted stuck, and it wasn’t locked, but the old wood had warped to the point where it might as well have been. Tensing his muscles, he tried again, putting everything he had into the effort and hoping that the howl of the wind would cover the noise he made. The ladder wobbled but he ignored the precariousness of his perch and wrenched at the window again. He had to get Lolly out of the house; if he fell, then he fell. He’d deal with that when it happened.

On the third try, the window popped free and slid upward with a creaking sound. He shoved and wiggled the frame, gaining another few inches of clearance. The window wasn’t all the way up, but maybe this was enough.

In a quick glance he took in the room behind her; the bed was stripped, and sure enough one end of a
sheet was knotted around the leg. Then he looked at her, and for the first time saw that one side of her face was bruised and swollen. Fury roared through him, swift and deep and startlingly savage. Some asshole abusing a woman pushed all his buttons, but somehow the fact that this was Lolly hit him particularly hard. He reined in his anger, because this wasn’t the time to lose control. He had to get her safely away from here; that was his primary goal. Much as he’d love to take on the jerks downstairs, they were armed and he wasn’t … and right now the weather was damn near as dangerous as two armed, high druggies. His only concern had to be getting Lolly and himself off the mountain. Everything else could wait.

Besides, he wasn’t going to recklessly put his life in danger when he had a little boy expecting his father to come home. They were probably already missing him, wondering what was taking so long.

“I saw two in the living room,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Are there more?”

She shook her head. “Just those two.” Her voice was as low as his.

He reached through the open window and cupped her bruised cheek in his hand; his glove was cold and wet, and it must have felt good on her face because she made a soft little moan and tilted her head against the leather. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, needing to know if she could make it down the ladder by herself. She’d been getting around okay, but adrenaline could be driving her; he’d seen people
do some amazing things when they were riding an adrenaline high.

“My shoulder and side are bruised, but I’m okay,” she replied in a whisper, squaring her shoulders. She added fiercely, “Let’s get out of here.”

She had covered as much skin as possible, he saw; even her head and her ears were lightly protected with some folded material, and a flannel shirt tied over that. She’d layered her clothing and judging by the length of sheet in her hand she was making a pretty well-planned escape. If the window hadn’t been stuck, she might’ve been on the ground and well on her way to town by the time he’d found her.

She dropped the rope of sheets and blankets and started to put one leg out the window. “Wait,” he said, thinking fast. If she tossed the rope out the window and left it hanging, and he put the ladder away after she was down, the assholes downstairs would believe she’d made it out on her own. That way if they were stupid enough to get out in the storm and come after her, they’d be caught by surprise if—or when—they discovered that she was not alone. Just as swiftly he disregarded the plan, because the bottom sheet would be flapping right in front of the dining room window, and might alert them sooner than necessary. He was holding his breath hoping they didn’t see the ladder through the window; at least the aged wood was dark, and not as easily made out as a white sheet would be.

He surveyed Lolly once more. She’d done the best
she could to dress warmly, but the rain would seep right through all those layers, and then she’d be in deep trouble.

Moving carefully, the rickety ladder wobbling under him, Gabriel removed his poncho and handed it through the window. Lolly took it, then gave him a sharp look. “What about you?”

“You need it more. At least my coat is weatherproof.” The poncho was covered with ice crystals, but provided much better protection against the rain than what she was wearing. His coat was heavy, he had gloves, and his feet were protected by warm, waterproof boots. The only problem was that the knit cap he wore wasn’t waterproof, like the cap he’d discarded in the truck, but he hadn’t known then he’d be giving the hooded poncho to Lolly. The knit would repel the rain for a while, but eventually his head was going to get wet, and that wasn’t good. When they got to the truck he’d retrieve his cap; he could make it that far without too much risk of hypothermia.

“I’m going back down,” he whispered. “This ladder is half rotten, and it won’t hold both of us at the same time.” He wasn’t certain it would stay together long enough for him to get down, but if it didn’t, they’d go back to plan A and the tied-together sheets. “There are two broken rungs. One is halfway down, the other is three below it. Put your feet on the outside of the rungs, not in the middle.”

Lolly nodded, and began pulling on the poncho over her layers of clothing. Gabriel carefully backed
down the ladder, not taking a deep breath until his boots were safely on the icy ground again. He turned up the collar of his jacket to protect his neck from the wind, and positioned himself so he could brace the ladder. She stuck her head out to make certain he was on the ground, then quickly drew it back in and stuck one leg out the window, feeling with her foot for the top rung. She couldn’t reach it, of course, because the ladder wasn’t tall enough. Finally she sat on the windowsill, put both legs out, and turned until she was on her stomach. She found the ladder, set both feet on it, and cautiously moved down the creaking wood. She was favoring her right side, he noticed, and wondered how she’d hold up for the long hike off the mountain.

The walk, which would be treacherous because of the ice, would take hours. In normal circumstances he wouldn’t even attempt it, but the circumstances weren’t normal and the only other choice they had was to simply hide and wait … but wait for what? The meth addicts in the living room were stuck, too; they weren’t going anywhere, and at least they were in a warm house. He and Lolly couldn’t wait for the ice to melt, because that could take a week or more. Their best bet, and it wasn’t a good one, but it was better than their other options, was to get off the mountain as fast as they could, before the weight of the ice started snapping tree limbs like toothpicks. They’d be warmer if they were moving, too.

“Watch for that missing rung,” he warned in an urgent
whisper just before she reached it, and her step faltered. She hesitated, then changed her rhythm and instead used her right foot to step past the missing rung, so she could bear most of her weight with her left shoulder instead of the bruised right one.