Sabotaged (6 page)

Kirra sat back, letting Darcy pull off her socks. She feared what she would find. Her toes were red with blue tips and swollen, indicative of at least second-degree frostbite. The digits felt hard and frozen.

Darcy swallowed. “Let's get these in some warm water.” She turned to the propane stove with water warming on it, and carried the kettle over to a large basin she had placed on
the floor beside Kirra. “You're lucky,” she said, slowly lowering Kirra's feet into the warm water. “It looks like it's only second degree. You should heal rather quickly.”

Kirra winced as her frosted skin made contact with the warm water—electric-like currents pulsating her feet as the heat engulfed them.

“I'd say you were minutes away from the next degree of frostbite.”

And possibly permanent damage
. Kirra swallowed. If Reef hadn't insisted on carrying her, on not leaving her behind, at best she would have lost some toes—at worst she could have lost her life. Now she'd be okay and it was all thanks to Reef. “How is he?” She looked toward the door where Reef was receiving treatment on the other side.

“Gage said he'll be fine. They are treating him with antibiotics just in case and gave him a tetanus shot.” She poured more water in the basin, fully submerging Kirra's feet, which were finally adjusting to the warmth of the water, the cold slowly fading away. “You did a great job taking care of him, Kirra.”

“He did the same for me.” Why was it so hard to simply acknowledge the emotions she'd felt while tending to Reef—the compassion that filled her at the sight of his wound and her overwhelming desire to help him? It was the first time in two years she'd felt compassion for a man, felt anything other than wariness.

“What happened out there?” Darcy asked, turning to the stove to bring Kirra a warm cup of broth.

Kirra swallowed, wondering what Reef was telling Gage. Or rather, how much he was telling Gage. She carefully weighed how much she could trust Darcy not to tell Landon or Jake,
and went the safe route. “My uncle Frank never made it to this checkpoint.”

Darcy handed her an owl mug—two wide eyes staring her down. The aroma of rich, buttery chicken broth swirled beneath her nose.

“We know that much,” Darcy said.

Kirra took a sip, buying time before she responded. The warm liquid coated her throat, spreading heat across her chest. So good.

“Kirra?” Darcy prodded when she'd finished her sip.

She swallowed, the motion less painful now. “I'd like to talk to Reef.”

Darcy eyed her appraisingly. “Okay.”

“Could you get him for me?”

“Right now?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.” Darcy disappeared through the doorway. Kirra heard murmuring and movement, and then Reef lumbered through the door, a blanket draped over his shoulders, a mug in his hand. No doubt filled with the same rich chicken broth.

He smiled, warming her more than the broth. “Hey there.”

She shifted her hair behind her ear, remembering the feel of his soft lips on hers and glanced down as heat rushed to her cheeks. “Hey.”

“What's up?” He sat down beside her. “Darcy said you wanted to talk?”

She looked past him at the open doorway, at Darcy standing beside Gage in the front room—Gage's arm wrapped about Darcy's slender waist, both of their eyes fixed on her and Reef. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth.”

Her heart plummeted. “How could you?”

“I couldn't lie to my brother.”

“And how long do you think it'll take him to call Landon?”

“He promised he wouldn't. Not unless we told him otherwise.”

She frowned. “What? Why would he do that?”

“Because I asked him to.”

He'd do that for her? “But I thought . . . ?”

“I know how much finding Meg means to you, and if you're not willing to let Landon and Jake in on it, I'm not going to force you.”

“But you think I should?” Frank had said no cops. Landon Grainger, Reef's brother-in-law, was sheriff of Yancey and Jake Cavanaugh his deputy. Both amazing cops, but Frank had said . . .

“I think they could be of great help, even if they are only involved as a resource.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean . . . as a resource?”

“Gage had a great idea. He said we could call them, and whichever one of them is available can—with one of my sisters in tow, no doubt—take over our responsibilities in the race. That way they could be close, could offer advice and assistance, but in a way that's not likely to draw a lot of attention.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘take over our responsibilities'?”

“Well, I assumed you wanted to get going on our search right away. That likely means we will be stepping away from our volunteer duties.”

Kirra closed her eyes and nodded. “I see what you mean.”

Reef put his hand on hers. “I'm thinking our first step is to track Meg by her last-known whereabouts, which means the race start, if she was there.”

“She wasn't, which I thought was odd. She's always there to wish Frank good luck, but now that she's transferred to U of A, Fairbanks, from the community college, her schedule is tighter and she's farther away, so I just assumed she wasn't able to make it down.”

“And we can't confirm that without talking to Frank.”

“Which means tracking him down . . .”

“Or talking to Meg's friends or roommate on campus.”

Campus?
Her stomach flipped. “I imagine her roommate, Ashley, would know if Meg had headed to the race start or not. They're pretty tight. I'll give her a call.”

“You'd probably get more information if you talk to her in person,” Darcy said from the doorway.

Gage stood behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder. How long had they been listening?

She bypassed that question for the more pertinent one. “Why in person?” Not that she'd do it, but she wondered why Darcy felt it would be better.

Darcy stepped into the room and Gage followed. “I've found that you get a lot more information in person. Besides, depending on what Ashley tells you, you may need to interview other people on campus.”

Kirra's stomach churned, acid rising in her throat. Could she do it? Go back to campus? Back to . . . “I appreciate your insight, and you may be right, but I can't go to Fairbanks.”

“Why not?” Reef asked.

She scanned the room, all their curious glances fixed on her.

“I need to find Frank.”

“No, Frank asked you to find Meg. Jake or Landon can help search for Frank when they arrive.”

“But . . .”

Reef clasped her knee. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Why?”

“Because you just got really pale.”

“It's just . . . I feel it would be better if I remained with the race.”

“Someone's got to determine Meg's last-known whereabouts,” Darcy said. “If you'd prefer, Gage and I can go.”

“No,” Kirra said, a little too forcefully.

Darcy cocked her head, curiosity dancing across her furrowed brow.

If they went, they might learn, might hear, might discover . . .

Darcy was too good a reporter.

No
, if anyone was going to go, it had to be her. At least that way, no one else would find out about her history in Fairbanks. “I just meant, if you really feel it's best, I should be the one to go. I know Ashley. She's much more likely to talk to me.”

Darcy nodded.

“Okay . . .” She took a deep breath, trying desperately not to think about what she'd just agreed to. “I guess I better see if one of the air force guys can give me a lift to Anchorage. I can catch a commuter flight from there to Fairbanks.”

“Great.” Reef stood. “So we'll go to Fairbanks while—”

“Whoa,” Kirra interrupted. “What do you mean
we
?”

Reef smiled. “I'm going with you, of course.”

“Of course? Why
of course
?”

“Because there were two men tracking us with guns. It's not safe for you to be on your own.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I'll be just fine on my own.” If Reef came . . . if they ran into someone from her time on campus . . . Horror filled her gut. If they ran into William . . .

“You sure you're all right?” he asked, concern cresting his brow.

“Fine.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic racing through her like a herd of thoroughbreds run wild.

“You're awfully pale.”

“Reef, she just spent the last day out in the elements—as you said, chased by two men with guns. It's no wonder she's pale,” Darcy said.

He nodded, though clearly suspecting there was something else.

Kirra smiled at Darcy, thankful for her support—though she wondered if Darcy really believed what she'd said or if she was just trying to help Kirra cover for the true turmoil cascading through her. Was Darcy that observant? Good thing she wasn't the one going to Fairbanks.

Kirra took a deep breath. “Look, Reef—”

“Again, you can argue until you're blue in the face, or . . . pale as Casper, as the case may be. Regardless of what argument you concoct, I'm going with you.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I'll follow you.”

Great.
“You're not leaving me any choice.”

“No, ma'am.”

“Then let's get this over with.” She lifted her feet from the water, which was now cold, dried them, and stood, willing her legs not to wobble as she moved toward the front room.

How could she possibly return to Fairbanks? She sighed. With Meg's life at stake, how could she not?

“Wait a minute.” She paused in the doorframe, using the doorpost for added support. “How will the men watching us react to our departure? What if they realize we're going to track Meg? We're supposed to be working SAR for the duration of the race.”

“Based on our little adventure in the woods, it would make sense that we pull out and defer to two fully healthy people,” Reef said.

“We're healthy.” Nothing but a little frostbite, and her sprained ankle was nothing more than a slight inconvenience. She wouldn't feel anything within a day or so.

“Yes, but no one but the four of us know that,” Gage said. “Believe me, if you pull out due to injuries, it'll probably make the men following you feel a whole lot better.”

“We'll just make a show of you two heading back to Yancey for treatment or something of the like,” Darcy added. “They'll think they got you two out of the way.”

Kirra frowned. “You really think they'll buy that?”

Reef smiled. “We can hope.”

Why didn't that make her feel better?

N
IKOLAI
, A
LASKA
M
ARCH
11, 11:30
A
.
M
.

While waiting for Jake and Kayden to arrive, Reef, Kirra, Gage, and Darcy had moved to the Rohn checkpoint and then on with the rest of the SAR team and Iditarod communications crew to the village at Nikolai. They were caught back up with the race, thanks to the air force pilot who'd flown them out early.

Once the storm ended, Jake and Kayden had flown from Yancey and were due to arrive any minute. Kayden would then transport Reef and Kirra back to Anchorage airport, where they could catch a flight to Fairbanks. If all went as planned, they would be in Fairbanks by nightfall.

The first of the mushers had left Nikolai in the early morning hours, a good portion having only taken a four-hour rest, while the slower mushers, running as far as twenty-five miles behind, according to the latest update, were still passing through.

Nikolai was large compared to Rainy Pass—the first Native
American village the mushers passed through on the Iditarod course. Houses and cabins lined the low, sloped hills, and the checkpoint building offered mushers a place to crash and enjoy a hot meal.

Kirra paced the metal building, her coat on, a chill permeating the trailer-like walls.
I'm heading to Fairbanks
.

Suffocating fear threatened to swallow her.

She needed to focus on Meg, on the terror her cousin surely was going through. Kirra couldn't imagine. She needed to step past her own fears and do this for Meg.

“Hey,” Jake said, entering the building, followed by Kayden. She'd be joining the Iditarod air force for the remainder of the race. It was the perfect cover for her to try and track Frank down. He'd missed the checkpoint at Rohn, which if he didn't pass through Nikolai would make three missed checkpoints. He was clearly out of the race but hadn't notified anyone he'd scratched. So far none of the other mushers they'd talked with had seen her uncle. It was as if he'd simply vanished.

Reef had suggested they ask the volunteers at the checkpoints where Frank had made food drops ahead of the race to check if any of his supplies had been touched. It was possible he'd snuck supplies when the volunteers were distracted. His dogs needed food, and so did he. He couldn't go the length of the race—nearly nine days, at bare minimum—without food and hydration. They were still waiting to hear back.

Assuming someone could be planted amongst the race personnel, they'd been very careful to watch their conversations, to speak of their true intentions and plans only when alone. Who knew how long the people responsible had this planned? They could have accomplices posing as communications helpers, checkers, or any number of volunteer positions.

It was hard to stop something they knew nothing about. If Kayden and Jake could locate Frank, maybe they'd be able to get more answers, discover what job the men had him doing, and figure out how people were going to get hurt if they didn't stop it.

Reef led the group into an unoccupied room and shut the door. It was small, the size of a storage closet, but it'd been turned into a bunkroom—every inch of space needed when the mushers came through.

Reef clasped Jake's hand. “Thanks for coming, man.”

“Of course.”

He stepped past Jake and hugged Kayden. “Hey, Kayd.”

“How you holding up? I heard you took a shot.”

“Just a graze. I'm fine.”

Her gaze shifted to Kirra. “Hey, Kirra, how are you?”

She shrugged. “I've been better, but I'm okay.” The frostbite seemed to be affecting only her feet—and even that was less painful than she'd expected. And her sprain was not a factor.

“As soon as you're ready to leave, I'm ready to head out.”

“Won't your leaving to fly us to Anchorage cause suspicion? You just arrived to help with the race.”

“Nah,” Jake said. “She's simply flying two wounded searchers back to race headquarters. Nothing suspicious in that.” He smiled. “In the meantime, I'll try and track your uncle. At the moment, he's the only musher missing from the race, so he gets concentrated SAR efforts. Hopefully, I'll be able to locate him and get some more answers.”

“I doubt he'll talk. He looked terrified on that ridge, and we are starting to understand why.”

Jake leaned against the windowsill beside Kayden. “I'll do my best to make sure I'm not followed.”

Darcy took a seat on the bottom bunk. “While Jake is tracking Frank, I'll be researching his background.”

Frank's
background?
“What for?”

“It seems the men who took Meg wanted Frank
specifically
. We need to know why. Unless you already know that, some digging will be required.”

“I have no idea what they'd want with Frank.”

“Well, you're in good hands.” Gage squeezed Darcy's shoulders. “Darcy can find anything, and I mean
anything
.”

Anything? She was definitely thankful Darcy wasn't going to Fairbanks. But she couldn't fathom what she could possibly find on Uncle Frank.

“What can you tell me about your uncle?” Darcy asked, flipping her notebook to a clean page.

Kirra sat in the chair opposite her, feeling awkward even having this conversation. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Darcy clicked her pen. “The more I know about him at the start, the quicker this'll go.”

Kirra shifted. It seemed weird talking about her uncle, her family, to others. It wasn't like Frank had done anything wrong. He was such a private man. Sharing the details of his life with people he barely knew seemed wrong somehow. “I'm sorry, but I don't understand how knowing about Frank is going to help us find Meg.” Meg was the one being held at gunpoint, not Frank.

Darcy leaned forward, her gaze sincere and direct. “The men who took Meg chose your cousin and your uncle for a particular reason.”

Jake pushed off from the windowsill. “You said Frank told you they wanted him to do a job. What job? And, more importantly, why do they need
him
to do it?”

That made sense. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Let's start with where Frank lives,” Darcy said.

“Anchorage.”

“How long has he lived there?”

“As long as I can remember. Twenty years, at least.”

She scribbled that down. “So your mom's family is from Anchorage?”

Kirra's brow pinched. “My mom's family?”

Darcy looked up. “Frank's last name is Weber, not Jacobs. I assumed he was your mother's brother.”

“Oh. I see the confusion. My uncle Frank was adopted. Sometime after he became an adult, he legally changed his last name to his biological surname.”

Darcy quickly glanced at Jake, then back at Kirra. “So Frank knows his biological parents?”

“I guess so.” She ran past conversations through her mind. “But I don't recall him ever mentioning them.”

“Interesting.” Darcy tapped the pen against her lip. “That could come in helpful.”

“Why?” What could Frank's biological parents have to do with any of this?

“Because that gives us two names to search under.”

“Then, good thing you asked, because I would have never thought to mention it.” It was just part of who Uncle Frank had always been.

“So, tracking back . . .” Darcy tapped her notebook, the purple pen bouncing up and down. “Your dad's family is from Anchorage?”

“No. Kodiak. I believe my dad said Uncle Frank moved to Anchorage sometime after high school.”

“For college, perhaps?”

“Yes. He graduated from U of A, Anchorage.”

“With a degree in . . . ?”

“Mechanical engineering.”

“Okay, so he's lived in Anchorage, probably since college, and has gone by Frank Weber since around that same time. He's married, I assume?”

“Was. Aunt Sarah died ten years back. Automobile accident.”

“I'm sorry.”

She missed Aunt Sarah, but not nearly as much as Meg did. Worry for her cousin swirled inside. She understood Darcy's reasoning for the questioning, but it was taking up time—time she should be using to look for Meg. “Look, I want to be helpful, but Meg's out there and—”

“You want to go.” Darcy smiled. “I understand. Just a couple more questions and we could be halfway to finding her.”

How could that be?
They hadn't even started truly searching. “How do you figure that?”

“Like I said, it's clear the men who took your cousin want something specific from your uncle. Determining what that is may lead us to the kidnappers.”

“All right, a couple more questions, but then I'd really like to go.” If she had to go to Fairbanks, she just wanted to get it over with. Finding Meg was what mattered, not a history lesson on Frank. Besides, they wouldn't find anything she didn't know about. Frank was as straightforward as they came. Private, but what you saw was what you got.

“Where does Frank work?”

“I don't know exactly. I think he does different consulting jobs.”

“Like a contractor or free agent?”

“I think so. I can ask my dad. He may know.” Though
the two had never been close. Her dad, for whatever reason, always looked down on Frank. Unfortunately she knew the feeling.

“Contacting your dad would be great, but remember to play it casual if you don't want him picking up on the fact that something's wrong,” Jake said.

“Good point. My dad would call the cops regardless of my pleas otherwise.” Which was ironic, considering that when she'd needed him to call the police for her—silently prayed he would—he'd let her down horribly.

A few more questions, and as promised, Darcy set her notebook aside. “That's a good enough start. I'll let you get on your way. But if you think of anything else that might be helpful or if your dad tells you anything that seems important, let me know.”

“Will do.” Kirra gathered her stuff. “And you'll do the same?” She hefted her duffel over her shoulder. “You'll keep me in the loop?”

“Absolutely,” Jake said, walking them to the shelter door.

“Ready?” Kayden asked, hand on the knob.

Kirra nodded, and Kayden opened the door—the bitter wind swirling in.

Jake leaned over and gave Kayden a slow, tender kiss. “Be careful in this mess.”

“Always.” She winked.

He smiled. “We both know better.”

Gage squeezed Darcy's shoulder as she typed away on the laptop. The thrill of the hunt was practically vibrating from her.

He leaned over her shoulder, his lips hovering by her delicate ear. “I know that look in your eyes. You're on to something.”

She shivered as his breath danced along her neck, then smiled, leaning into him.

Jake cleared his throat.

Gage glanced over at him reclining in the chair catty-corner to them and straightened. “Didn't see you there.”

An amused smirk twitched on Jake's lips. “I know—hence the cough. And for what it's worth, I agree, Darcy.” He kicked his socked feet up onto the stool. “You're clearly on to something and I'm betting it has to do with Kirra's earlier comment.”

Darcy smiled. “You got it.”

“Yeah. Red flag went up straightaway.”

Over what? Gage glanced between Darcy and Jake, curious which red flag he was apparently missing. When those two caught a scent . . . found a breadcrumb . . . they were like bloodhounds. “I hate to interrupt this cryptic interchange, but would either of you care to share your revelation with this mere mortal?”

Amusement danced across Darcy's lips.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing.” Her smile widened as he spun her chair around so she faced him. “That was just the most humble description I've ever heard you use about yourself.”

“What?
Mortal
?
” He leaned over, bracing a hand on either side of her chair, effectively boxing her in. “The fact that I'm just mortal should make all this”—he dipped his chin, and her gaze followed his physique—“all the more impressive.” He gave a playful wink.

She attempted to smother her laughter, but it bubbled out. “You're ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously handsome—I know.” He swooped in for a kiss.

“Please.” Jake groaned. “Of course I would get stuck with you two lovebirds.”

Gage lifted a brow. “I've been stuck with you and Kayden a time or two, and trust me, that's way worse.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Dude, she's my
sister
.”

Jake lifted a hand in surrender. “Point taken.”

“All right, boys,” Darcy said. “Let's get back on topic.”

Jake nodded. “Right.”

“So . . . where were we?” Gage snagged a biscotti from the glass cookie jar on the weathered plank counter and flopped sideways over the battered gray sofa.