Chapter Eighteen
Liam glided past the first building before his brain registered it as such—four walls with a window and a door, but no roof.
Just beyond was the leaning remnant of a second cabin, a rusting iron stove squatting in front.
He slowly turned, taking in the rest of his surroundings—rusted ore cars and cable, the remnants of stone foundations and piles of timbers, and twisted railroad track curling up to the air like reaching fingers.
This must be an old mining settlement. He’d seen plenty of photos of similar ruins in the area.
Then he spotted the snowmobile. It was parked in front of a cabin set apart from the rest. Unlike most of the other ruins, this cabin was relatively intact, with a rusting metal roof and cardboard blocking the single front window.
A faint, flickering light showed through cracks where the chinking between the logs had fallen away.
A lantern? Or a fire. A fire, he decided.
Now that he was closer, he definitely smelled woodsmoke.
For a moment he forgot the cold or fatigue. This was where Nicholson had taken Nina. She was either in that cabin or very nearby. She had to be. And Liam wasn’t going to leave until he found her.
Suddenly aware of how vulnerable he was here in the open in the brilliant moonlight, he skied to the shadow of one of the other cabins and studied the occupied building more closely.
The only window was blocked, the single door closed tightly.
But gaps of several inches in some places between the logs should make it possible to look inside.
Moving stealthily, trying to always keep other structures or objects between himself and the line of sight of anyone inside the cabin, Liam moved closer.
Now that he was traveling at a slower pace, the cold was seeping in, but he forced his mind away from his own discomfort. He had to save Nina.
Finally he was right at the cabin wall, one hand braced on the rough surface of the weathered logs.
He bent and put one eye to a gap between the logs.
Two stumps sat on a dirt floor, inches from a small fire that burned in a stone fireplace.
A pile of blankets or maybe sleeping bags were heaped between the stumps, but he saw no people.
He shifted position to look in another direction and spotted a black trunk, a ski helmet and a half a dozen split logs in a neat pile against the wall.
There was no sign of either Nina or Nicholson.
“Nina! Nina Marie!”
Liam flinched at the man’s voice screaming the name. Heart pounding, he looked around. He didn’t see anyone, but the cry came again, from somewhere behind the cabin. “Nina Marie, you can’t hide from me!”
Liam moved along the side of the cabin. A light, as if from a lantern or a headlamp, bobbed along in the trees bordering the camp.
“Nina Marie!” That wasn’t her name, was it? No, Liam was sure her middle name was Camille.
The light was moving toward Liam now. He moved deeper into the shadows at the side of the cabin as Nicholson, red-faced and breathing hard, jogged toward him, sinking into the snow with each step.
Liam braced himself, prepared to tackle the other man, but his timing was off and Nicholson chugged past him to the front of the cabin.
By the time Liam followed, the snowmobile roared to life, and Nicholson took off, headed for the woods.
Liam set a parallel course across the snow, skiing fast, but avoiding the cabin and heading into the trees. Nina must have run away and Nicholson was going after her.
The snowmobile roared across the clearing and into the woods. Nicholson wove the machine through the trees, swerving wildly until, with one attempt to avoid a collision with a leaning trunk, the snowmobile flipped onto its side and landed in deeper snow, the engine sputtering to a halt.
Liam was sure the man had been pinned beneath the wrecked machine, but Nina’s kidnapper emerged quickly and fought to right the vehicle.
With a grunt and a mighty heave, he got it up onto its skis.
He climbed on once more and restarted the engine, but the trees and undergrowth were too thick here to maneuver the big machine.
Even Liam, on skis, had a difficult time negotiating some of the narrow passages.
Only someone on foot, as Nina presumably was, could safely proceed.
Liam clicked out of his own skis and leaned them up against a tree.
Then, poles in hand, he continued on foot, sinking almost to his knees as he floundered through the snow.
Nicholson had stopped shouting. Maybe he had realized that would only drive Nina farther away from him.
But that made it more difficult for Liam to keep track of him.
He didn’t want the other man to sneak up on him, or to have another chance to attack Nina.
Liam didn’t know what kind of weapon Nicholson might have, but he was sure he was armed.
Liam had only his ski poles and his fists to defend himself and Nina.
Snow sifted down from a clump of trees ahead, landing with a soft sigh.
Liam tensed and stared into the darkness.
Was that movement in the shadows, or only his imagination?
Was it a wild animal moving through the woods, or a panicked person?
He headed in the direction of the snowfall, aware of Nicholson not far behind him.
Liam moved from tree to tree, pausing at each new location to stare into the darkness and listen for anything out of place. Nicholson wasn’t so stealthy. His panting, stumbling exertions echoed through the otherwise silent night.
Another flash of movement amid the trees—a lighter shadow and a glow of white—Nina’s blond hair?
Liam picked up the pace, until he was almost on her.
Nina was crouched behind a fallen aspen, like a rabbit, frozen in the snow, her back to Liam, all her attention fixed on Nicholson’s slow progress toward her.
“Nina!” Liam hissed.
She looked around. “It’s me, Liam!” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.
She stared away from him, not seeing him. He moved closer, and she rose as if to flee. “It’s me, Liam,” he said again.
She sank back down and let out a small gasp. He hurried to close the gap between them.
“I was afraid you were dead,” she said, as he reached for her.
He pulled her close. She was trembling, though whether from cold or fear he couldn’t say. “He tried to kill me but he didn’t succeed.”
She pulled away and looked toward Nicholson. “We need to get out of here.”
“We need to get to where he left the snowmobile,” he said. “You won’t get too far without skis.”
She looked down at his feet. “Where are your skis?”
“I left them by a tree back there.” He gestured in the direction he had come. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” He shoved one of his ski poles into her hand. Nicholson was getting closer, thrashing through the woods. Any second now, he would see them.
“Where’s the snowmobile?” she asked.
“It’s not far from my skis.” He took her arm, but she pulled free. “We’ll never both get past him,” she said. “You go get the snowmobile and I’ll distract him.”
“I won’t leave you again,” he said. The idea paralyzed him.
“I’ve kept away from him so far.” She shoved at him. “Go. Hurry. I’ll move toward the clearing, and you can pick me up.”
He had only a split second to decide. He wanted to stay with her, or to persuade her to come with him. But she was asking him to trust her judgment. “As soon as you hear that snowmobile, run toward me,” he said.
Then he headed back in the direction of skis and snowmobile, leaving her to deal with the man she probably feared most. He didn’t know if he would ever have that kind of courage.
* * *
Nina was freezing, her body sluggish, every movement an effort.
But she focused on the idea that escape was almost here.
All she had to do was hold off Nicholson long enough for Liam to retrieve the snowmobile and ride it back to her.
From her hiding place in the trees, she could see her captor moving toward her now, post-holing through deep snow, huffing like an engine, face pale in the moonlight.
She moved out of the trees, leaning heavily on the ski pole Liam had given her, making her way toward the clearing and slightly away from Nicholson.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Stop! Stop right there!”
She didn’t stop, but she didn’t run, either. She would conserve her flagging energy and only flee when she had to.
He stomped closer to her. “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted.
She said nothing but turned to look at him. “You stupid woman,” he said. “You’re only going to freeze to death out here. Come back to the cabin, where you’ll be warm.”
“Make me,” she said, a sneer in her voice.
He gaped, then charged forward, moving faster than she would have thought him capable of.
She had to leap to the side, then lurch forward again.
When he lunged for her, she swung the ski pole and caught him on the ear.
He howled and flailed at her, then tried to grab the pole, but she pulled it back and stumbled away.
Nicholson shouted, a mixture of obscenities and incomprehensible grunts. His fury was terrifying. He looked capable of tearing her apart with his bare hands as he churned through the snow toward her.
She swung the ski pole again, but this time he caught it and refused to let go.
She tugged, and he tugged harder, dragging her toward him.
Then she shoved forward, sending him onto his back in the snow.
At the same time, she caught the distant roar of the snowmobile.
She turned her back on Nicholson and raced toward the sound.