Chapter 16 #2
“They triggered the avalanche?”
A beat, then, “No, no, that was my brilliance. I thought they were going to shoot me and leave me in the mine for all eternity, so I might have panicked and threw out an avalanche grenade. It brought down the mountain.” He glanced at her. “Don’t say it.”
“You mean the part about being impulsive and getting yourself killed? Okay, I won’t.”
He squeezed her hand.
“So, Mars and Sloan are out there, and they’re running drugs in spackle buckets?” Sully asked.
“Seems like it. My guess is that they’re using construction sites to ship the product. And then hiding it in mining tunnels nearby.”
They reached the larger cavern and Sully shined his light around. “Where did Orlando go?”
“Please don’t tell me . . .” Jericho started.
Voices, and suddenly lights pricked the darkness of one of the tunnels. Malachi and then—
“Hey!” Hudson’s voice echoed down the tunnel. “Anyone alive down here?”
Orlando emerged as flashlight beams bounced off the walls.
Hudson burst out of the tunnel, nearly running.
He stopped in the cavern, stared hard at Jericho. “Seriously. Scared us to death.”
Then he walked up and gave him a hug.
Jericho hugged him back. “Okay, party’s over,” he said. “We need to get out of here, because this isn’t finished. Have you ever heard of a guy named Wilder?”
SOMETHING FELT different about Harley. Jericho couldn’t put his finger on it, but maybe . . . maybe the hard edge had just . . . vanished? And in its place, a sort of calm.
Although determination still laced her beautiful golden-brown eyes.
He had nothing for the reaction that Harley gave him as he emerged from the cool belly of the mine to the warmth of the lodge.
Harley had stilled at his question in the tunnel, the one about Wilder, then she’d turned to him, her eyes barely illuminated in the darkness, her voice tight.
“Yes, actually, I do. Wilder Frost is a key witness in a case against the Sorros family, and he went missing in that plane crash a couple weeks ago.”
And that tidbit of information had Sully launching into a story about Dawson Mulligan finding pop singer Bliss in the woods—a story Sully had recapped before but now went into full detail after they escaped the mine and as Kennedy made them hot cocoa.
Meanwhile, Hudson called Deke Starr and called off the search.
“Conan Sorros called himself Thornwood, got on the plane with Cade Maverick from Maverick Air, and stabbed him mid-flight. Wilder apparently tried to land the plane, and it cartwheeled. At least, according to Bliss,” Sully said.
About then, Deke had shown up to take Jericho’s statement about the mine explosion, and he filled in the gaps. “Wilder disappeared into the woods—hasn’t been seen since. Conan and Mars went after Bliss in Anchorage. Conan was arrested.”
“Which is where we came in,” Jericho said, pointing between himself and Harley. And yes, he meant we. As in Jericho and Harley.
Them. Together.
He still couldn’t believe she’d found him—or that Orlando had somehow trekked to the mine door, as if the dog had known she was there . . .
Maybe he had.
Maybe in fact, Orlando, like Jericho, couldn’t resist this pull to her, like she might be a star in a dark world.
She now sat on the arm of the chesterfield sofa, sipping a cup of cocoa, glancing at him now and again, wearing that expression that said her brain was churning over facts.
“So Mars is still after Wilder now that his brother is out of the picture,” Hudson said. He’d built a fire in the hearth, and it sparked, glowed.
Jericho so wanted to take Harley’s hand, to pull her down and into his arms. Because for a long time, in the darkness . . .
Well, he’d let memories find him.
He and Harley, sitting by a fire in the Bowie lodge, playing a game of backgammon.
Or together on his family’s snow machine, flying over the snow.
Just friends. Yeah, um, never.
About time he let that sink in, take hold. No wonder he’d felt torn asunder when he’d walked away. Memories of her threaded the fabric of his life.
Harley set down her cocoa. “Like I said, Wilder witnessed an execution-style murder of a DEA agent by Conan Sorros. Wilder was tasked to testify against them, but he didn’t want to.
I wasn’t involved then, but apparently my brother had been undercover and gave testimony against Brand and Jago and put them away.
Then, my boss, Lydia, offered a plea deal to Jago in exchange for testimony against his dad and brothers, which meant Wilder could walk away.
They finally tracked down Conan and arrested him a couple years ago, but a few months ago, Jago was killed in prison, right before Conan’s case was docketed to trial.
Conan escaped during a prison transfer and .
. . well, that’s when Lydia reached out to Wilder to ask him to come to Juneau to give video testimony. That’s why he was on that plane.”
“With Conan disguised as Thornwood,” Deke added.
“He didn’t recognize Conan?” This from Malachi. “That’s hard to believe.”
“He was wearing a beard that covered up his scar,” Sully said. “At least, according to Bliss’s description of him.”
“So, Wilder is the key to putting Mars away again.”
“Not just Wilder,” Deke said. “Gabe. He was in on the original arrest warrant years ago, after the sting. He gave the testimony that sent Brand Sorros away. He could still testify against Mars for his years of drug running.”
Silence hit the room then and Jericho glanced at Harley. Something wasn’t . . . didn’t . . . “I don’t understand,” he said. “How did Wilder see the execution?”
“I don’t know,” Harley said.
Jericho glanced up at her, words stirring . . . “You know who might know . . .”
Her mouth opened. Closed. She nodded, her mouth pinched.
“Who?” said Sully.
Harley got up, walked to the kitchen, and set her cocoa mug in the sink. Returned to stand by the sofa. “What are we waiting for?”
He smiled and she met it.
We.
“Who!” Sully shouted.
Deke had put his hands into his pockets, his mouth a grim line. “They’re out at my parents’ place,” he said quietly. “It was the safest place to house them. I’ll get a BOLO out on that pickup you saw, Jericho. Let me know what you find out.”
Jericho had gotten up. “We’ll call if there’s trouble.”
Orlando followed him to the door.
“For the love. Who are you talking about?” Sully asked, now on his feet.
“Adam Waters, Sul.”
He followed Harley out to her Jeep and got in. Orlando jumped into the back seat and settled down.
The sky scattered stars across the blackness, and they twinkled down like magic as they pulled out of the Eagle’s Nest.
Honestly, the last place he wanted to go was some tucked-away “safe” house—aka, one of the traveler cabins on the Starr Air Service compound—so he could pry information out of Gabriel Tatum.
Harley looked over at him. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Hard to tell. I was nearly shot by the Sorros brothers, buried in an avalanche and frozen to death in the dark. And now . . . I’m sitting next to . . .”
He took a breath, swallowed, then, why not? The woman I love—
She beat him to it. “The woman you can’t get rid of?”
He laughed and she grinned.
“Just try and get away from me, HT. I have an SAR dog. I’ll find you.”
She laughed, and it found his soul and he breathed it in, let it soak through his heart.
Funny, but it no longer held the broken nooks and crannies of rejection.
He even put a hand to his chest, waiting for the pinch of regret.
Nothing.
She hit the highway and headed back to the town of Copper Mountain, then past it, north.
A couple miles from the airport, her lights carved out a trail through the snow, then through the woods until they finally pulled up to the open meadow of the Starr Air Service HQ.
Three small cabins huddled in the shadow of the larger log home that overlooked the Copper Mountain Range.
Harley pulled into the lot in front of the house, parking next to a pickup with Starr Air Service imprinted on the side.
Jericho got out and opened the door for Orlando.
Smoke spiraled from the stone chimney of the lodge, a two-story log home built by Sheldon Starr at the turn of the last century. Lights blazed from the windows, and the door opened.
Winter walked out onto the front porch. “Hey, guys.” She wore a white cap and was pulling on a puffer jacket. “Saw you on the cameras. You gave us all a scare, Jer.”
Orlando ran up to her, wagging his tail, and she bent to rub behind his ears.
“We need to talk to Gabe,” Harley said, not climbing the stairs.
“Cabin three,” she said and indicated one of the cozy cabins.
“How’s Gregg doing?” Harley asked.
“He’s good. He and Winnie are in cabin two. But they’re itching to go home. Any luck on finding Mars?”
“Some,” Jericho said. He caught Harley’s hand.
“We’re close,” Harley said.
“Not close enough.” He pulled her away, toward the cabin, and glanced at her. Wanted to say something stupid like, I’m not letting you out of my sight until we find him.
Instead, he tightened his grip on her mittened hand.
She knocked on the door, and Gabe opened it. “Hey, sis.”
Harley drew in a breath, as if the shock of seeing him alive hadn’t worn off. Probably not.
“I need to talk to you about a guy named Wilder Frost.”
Gabe raised an eyebrow, then sighed and opened the door.
Jericho had been so wrapped up in the shock of Gabe’s resurrection back at the Tatums’ cabin that, now, it felt like he was staring at Gabe for the first time.
He wore a pair of faded jeans and a thermal shirt, and indeed, Jericho might not have recognized him if he passed him on the streets of Copper Mountain.
Dark blond hair, beard, built, the man looked like he could handle himself.
Gabe walked over to where Sunni sat on the sofa, a boot on her foot to secure her ankle, little Daniel on her lap, dressed in his pajamas. She was reading him a book.