Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
B rock jumped off his sled before it stopped at the sheriff’s station. He paused at seeing blood pooling near the doorway. Shit. His gut clenched, and he barreled inside the sheriff’s office with Christian on his heels. “Ophelia,” he bellowed, clearing the building room by room, his gun in hand.
Nothing. No sound, no movement, no Olly.
He reached the door to the basement and pounded on it. “Amos? Is she down there with you?”
Amos gingerly pushed open the door, his cloudy eyes wide behind his large spectacles. “Heard a gun, Brock. A gun. A loud gun.”
“Okay.” Brock forced himself to speak calmly. “Did you see who shot the gun?”
Amos tugged on his striped bow tie and straightened his perfectly pressed cuffs. “No. I didn’t hear voices, either. Just a gunshot, and I called you.” He rocked back, his gray hair feathering. “Was it Ophelia? I heard her voice earlier but then nothing. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.” Brock scrubbed a rough hand through his hair.
“I’m texting Ace and Damian.” Christian pulled his phone from his jacket pocket.
Brock nodded, trying to concentrate. Where was Ophelia? Who had her? “All right.” He had to think, damn it. “Have Ace search the river road coming in from his place, and tell Damian to search coming from EVE. You take this side of the road toward the river, and I’ll take the opposite one. Talk to everyone who’s out today. If you don’t find people, go looking.” He blinked and settled. “Ophelia’s Jeep isn’t here. Ask anybody if they’ve seen it.”
“On it,” Christian said, texting quickly. “She’ll be okay, Brock. She’s smart, and she’s trained.”
“There’s blood on the stairs,” Brock said grimly.
Amos coughed. “I’ll start a phone tree to see if anybody has seen the Jeep.”
“Good. Thanks.” Brock nodded. “Whoever took her and the Jeep had to get here somehow. Have people look for trucks, snowmobiles, UTVs, and so on. Nobody just walked into town with this storm going on.” How badly had Ophelia been hurt? She must have been the one shot, or she would’ve called for help.
“Let’s go, Brock.” Christian turned and strode out of the office.
Brock followed, and the smell of strawberries haunted him. The scent threaded throughout the entire office. Why had he let her work alone? What had he been thinking? He paused outside the door and took in the puddle of blood. Squinting through the billowing snow, he could make out droplets leading to the curb, along with scuff marks across the ice. “Somebody dragged her.”
Christian dropped to his haunches to better see the blood. “Looks like.” He glanced up. “I would’ve tossed her over my shoulder.”
“Me, too.” Brock looked around at the silent day and the vacant street. Only the snow looked back. “So, either she hurt the person who kidnapped her, or he lacked the strength to carry her?”
“Olly is pretty tall,” Christian said. “Might’ve been easier just to drag her, even for someone healthy. We’re taller than most.”
Rage filled Brock until his fingers curled into fists. He took a deep breath, then went stone-calm. “Check out first and second streets. That leaves Main Street—I’ll meet you on the river drive at the end. Keep in touch.” He jumped onto his snowmobile, driving down the street and pausing at each business to see if anybody had seen or heard anything. Most places had closed down for the stormy day. Finally, he reached Sam’s and hustled inside to find Amka wiping down the bar.
“Hey. You want a late lunch?” She didn’t look up.
“No. I think Ophelia has been taken. Have you seen her?” He looked around the bar, but the place looked empty.
Amka straightened, her gaze sharpening. “No. Haven’t seen her all day.”
Damn it. “What about anybody else? Anybody been in here drinking or acting off?”
“No.” She tossed the towel behind the bar. “I’ll come help you look for her. I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary today, except Jarod disappeared again. Probably hanging out at Lefty’s still.” Shaking her head, she leaned down and grabbed her coat, already moving around the bar. “Where do you want me?”
“Go to the diner and then over to the hospital and Doc’s office.” Brock wanted Amka safe and covered, just in case. “Call me if they know anything.”
“You’ve got it.” She hustled toward the back door. “Lock up the front, would you?” Then she headed outside.
He hurriedly locked the front door and then ran back outside to hop on his snowmobile, heading toward the river. His phone buzzed, and he answered it, having to yell over the blasting snow. “Osprey.”
“Hey, it’s Damian. I’m in the helicopter and will scout from the air. If anybody has any sort of lead, let me know. I’ll canvas for the Jeep and call you.” His brother’s voice came through along with the din of the copter’s blades.
Brock’s chest heated. “Thanks, D. Call me when you find that Jeep.”
“Roger that.” The line went dead.
His brothers had jumped into action the second he called. No matter what had happened with Hank, he never should have let them become so distant. It wouldn’t do. If Ace had helped Hank to die, they’d figure it out. It’s what they did. He drove toward the river road as the snow and wind pierced his jacket, freezing his skin.
Where was she?
He couldn’t breathe as his mind tried to wander to what could be happening to her. No. Focus. He went cold again, letting his mind rule. He’d already figured out that he’d fallen for her, and he was going to keep her. But first, he had to find her.
Alive.
He reached the end of Main Street and turned right on the river road, headed west. Holding his breath, he scouted the forest on his right looking for any signs of a vehicle.
His phone buzzed, and he slowed the sled to glance at the screen. “Hi, Ace. Did you find anything?”
“I think so.” Ace’s voice came through strong. “I’m down at the cross back near the river. There’s a vehicle here with footprints not quite obliterated by the snow yet. So, they’re fresh within a couple of hours.”
Brock flipped the sled around. “Whose rig is it?”
“I don’t know yet. Give me a second as I wipe if off.” Ace grunted and then paused. “Oh.”
Brock waved at Christian before he could turn east on the river road. “Whose truck?”
“Crap, Brock. It’s David Laurence’s SUV. What the hell, man?”
“David?” How did that make any sense? Did he have something to do with Tammy’s death? He didn’t have any connection to Hank or the dead EVE guy. Or did he? Fuck.
Ace sighed. “He’s nowhere around here, and the prints go toward Main Street. If nothing else, he might’ve seen who took Ophelia.”
Brock’s gut rolled over. “There’s no reason David hid his SUV down there and walked into town, Ace. You know it, and I know it.”
Ace grunted. “But why? Tammy?”
“Maybe? I don’t know.”
Ace coughed. “Any chance he found out about the night you and Monica spent together? Wants some crazy revenge?”
Brock opened the throttle, holding the freezing phone to his ear with one hand. “That’s crazy. Maybe he killed Tammy for some reason and Ophelia figured it out.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you’d better hurry, Brock. David has lived in Knife’s Edge long enough to know how to hide a body in a snowstorm.”
Brock’s lungs seized. He had to get to her in time.
Ophelia woke as Monica dragged her from the Jeep. A piercing cold burrowed through her clothing, freezing her skin. “What are you doing?” Her left arm had gone numb. What was happening?
Monica shoved her against a tree, and Ophelia fell into a foot of snow.
Her mind snapped awake. “Monica?”
“Yeah.” The woman slid on the snow-covered road with the river iced over behind her. Flakes fell into her dark hair, and red bloomed across her face. “You shouldn’t have gotten in that plane, Olly.”
“I’m getting that.” Ophelia pressed a hand to her bleeding bicep. The cold at least slowed her blood flow, but she didn’t feel the wound, and that should concern her. She bit her lip to keep from passing out. “What’s your plan here?”
Monica clumsily pulled her gun from her coat pocket. “I’m going to shoot you, drag your body into the woods, and let the animals have you. They’re hungry this time of year.” She eyed the Jeep in the middle of the road. “I like that car, but guess I’ll have to drive it over one of the cliffs near the edge of town. It’s too bad. They’ll never find it.” She cocked her head. “I guess I could leave you in it.”
The woman was crazy. Ophelia pulled her legs toward her chest. Her entire body shook from the cold, and her thoughts were slowing. “Why, Monica?” There was no traffic on the road. How far out were they? The only sound around them was the wind cracking through the snow-laden trees. “Did David sleep with Tammy Randsom? Did you kill her for it?”
Monica kicked snow at her. “You are so stupid. Seriously. How can Brock look twice at you?”
Brock? Wait a minute. “This can’t be about Brock. You had a one-night stand.”
Monica glowered. “Brock is mine. He’s been mine for years, and we were so close. I got him so drunk that night, and in the morning, I knew he was the one. Just knew it. Then we found Hank and Brock turned away from everybody. Even me.”
What the heck? Seriously? “It was one night.”
“A special night,” Monica shrieked. “It has been almost a year, and he’s healing. He’s ready to love again. To love me.” She shook her head. “I got back together with David for the time being, thinking Brock would eventually get jealous. It has been such a pain acting like I love the guy. All he wants to do is drive a fucking snowplow around.” She gestured with the weapon. “David is nothing compared to Brock. I had the perfect plan. Until you fucking came to town.”
Ophelia tilted to the side and groaned, clutching her wounded arm and sliding one boot beneath her butt. “What was your plan?”
Monica wiped spittle off her mouth. “You can draw this out as long as you want. We’re way north on the river road, and it’s closed. I had to open the gate to get past.” She kicked a chunk of ice toward Ophelia.
Ophelia snorted. “You didn’t have a plan. In fact, I think you know Brock never would’ve been serious about you.”
Monica reared up, her eyes wild. “Not true. Brock Osprey is a protector to his very soul. I’d already hinted that David was abusive. Soon, Brock would’ve saved me from a bad situation. Of course, I would’ve killed David in self-defense first. I would’ve been so haunted and helpless afterward. Brock wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from helping me.” She smiled, her expression softening.
What a nut job. “You were going for pity?”
Monica hissed. “I shot at you twice. Why won’t you die?” She kicked out again. “Of course, I had to be careful not to shoot Brock. Otherwise I would’ve nailed you.”
Ophelia acted like she was ducking the clumps of ice and angled to the side, pulling her other foot beneath her butt. She dug her toes into the snow. “Pity doesn’t last, Monica.”
“No, but passion does. Our night together meant everything.” Monica steadied the gun with the barrel aimed at Ophelia’s head. “I’m done talking.”
Ophelia bunched her legs. The woman stood only a few feet away. Snow fell from the tree and landed on her shoulders, freezing her ears. “Wait a minute. You shot at me when I rode with Brock looking for Wyatt. We hadn’t started seeing each other yet. Why did you do that?”
Monica spat out snow. “Oh, I saw the way you two flirted. And you rode on the back of his sled. Behind him. Holding him. Don’t you know what that means? It’s just as serious as when a woman rides on the back of some club member’s motorcycle. You had to go.”
Whoa. The woman had lost touch with reality. Ophelia switched tactics. “Are you sure you’re a killer? You know that kind of thing follows you to the grave, right? If you kill, that blood will be on your soul forever.”
Monica faltered. “Then it’s too late for me anyway.”
Ophelia jerked. “Did you kill David?”
Monica frowned. “No. Of course, not. That happens later. It’ll take Brock some time to get over you. I have to admit, I’ve never seen him act like he has with you. He was always up for a good time but he never got serious. He has never looked at anybody like he does you.” She tilted her head. “That’s why you have to die.”
Ophelia rocked forward. “If not David, then who?” Man, her hands had gone full numb. If she could get the gun, could she get her fingers to work enough to pull the trigger? She tried to concentrate and not pass out. How much blood had she lost? She thought through the recent cases. “Did you kill Tammy for some reason?” It was a shot in the dark, but she had nothing else going for her.
Monica sniffed loudly. “Accidentally. Shouldn’t count.”
Ophelia couldn’t feel her face. “What are you talking about?”
Monica shrugged, red infusing her face. “I heard Tammy slept with an Osprey one night, and I didn’t know Brock had already left town for walkabout…”
“She slept with Ace,” Ophelia snapped.
“I know. I was wrong. That’s what real love does to a person.” Monica shrugged. “If it helps, I left her up in the warming hut so her kids would know someday what happened to her.”
Nausea rolled through Ophelia’s stomach. “That does not help. You’re a real bitch, Monica.”
Monica glared. “You’re about to be a dead bitch.”
Ophelia’s head swam. “Why did you take out Tammy’s eyes?”
Monica wrinkled her nose. “Gross. I didn’t. If a person did it, that was after I left. You sure scavengers didn’t take the soft tissue?”
“No,” Ophelia whispered, even her legs going numb. “Wait. What about Hank? Did you kill him?”
“Of course not.” Monica snorted. “I do think a hunter accidentally shot the old guy. It happens. Brock and I found him dead together. We share that moment. It’s ours. Sometimes death is just a mistake.”
She obviously didn’t know about Hank’s illness. “You need help,” Ophelia said weakly. “Let me get you help, Monica.” That kind of obsession required serious intervention, and murder required jail time. “Put down the gun.”
A helicopter pierced the silence above, and oncoming snowmobiles vibrated enough that more snow fell from the tree branches. Help was coming. Brock was coming.
Monica gasped and steadied her aim.
Ophelia tightened her legs and sprang off her frozen feet, lunging for the woman and hitting her center mass. They flew across the icy snow and smashed into the Jeep’s tire. Pain flared through every inch of her body, but she pulled back her good arm and planted her fist in Monica’s face.
The gun fired, the shot shrieking through the forest.