Chilled (Bone Secrets, #2)(16)

He was quiet for a second. “I write software in my spare time. Some computer games. Some security programs. I have a knack for it, and it’s a good side business.”

She waited for him to continue, but he said nothing else.

“That appeals to me about as much as cross-country skiing probably would to you.”

He gave her a half smile. “Cross-country skiing? You mean jogging on skis? I’ll pass. I like to downhill ski. I don’t mind a little snow for that, the rush and speed is totally worth it. And I like to run, but not in the rain or snow.”

“And you live in Oregon?”

“My gym has an indoor track.”

“Running around in circles, staring at the same plain walls. Joy,” she teased. She liked the light banter with him. It lightened his cheerless eyes.

“Gives me time to think. Develop game programs in my head.”

She rolled her eyes. “Dear Lord. You’re lucky you ended up out here. This adventure is going to show you how much is missing in your life.”

His eyes almost twinkled. “Adventure is Pirates of the Caribbean. This is more like watching an endless documentary on making concrete while I’m tied to the chair.”

Ryan and Jim looked back as her laugh rang through the snow.

“Alex Kinton.”

“Alex Kinton? He’s out with your team? And he told you I sent him?”

At Whittenhall’s shout, Patrick worried about the marshal’s blood pressure again.

Stewart, the younger agent, whipped his head in their direction, his cell conversation arrested at Kinton’s name. Whittenhall glanced at Stewart and roughly gestured for him to wrap up the call. Stewart nodded and refocused on the cell. Patrick saw Stewart swallow hard as his eyes darted from the media to the perimeter of sheriff’s deputies.

“If you didn’t send him, then who is he?” he asked Whittenhall.

Whittenhall was dialing his own phone. He wiped at a drip of sweat on his forehead; Patrick blinked at seeing the marshal sweat in the near-freezing temps.

“Who’s Kinton?” he repeated louder. His stomach was starting to churn. Who’d he sent out with his team?

“Former marshal,” Whittenhall muttered as he concentrated on his phone. “I don’t know how the f*ck he heard about that plane.” Patrick caught a glimpse of widening eyes and dilating pupils as Whittenhall glanced at the reporters and lifted his phone to his ear.

Former marshal?

“Hey.” Patrick grabbed at Whittenhall’s phone arm. “Is my team in danger? Why isn’t he a marshal anymore?” His voice rose as Whittenhall ignored him. “Why would he go out in this shitty weather to get to that plane?”

Whittenhall shook off Patrick’s grip and stepped away, his gaze on the ground. Temper expanded in Patrick’s chest. He wanted some damned answers. Now. He stepped into the marshal’s view and fought the urge to knock the damned phone from his ear.

“Who’s on that f*cking plane?”





Brynn leaned against a fir, watching the curtain of white fall from the sky. From under the boughs the view was utterly gorgeous.

“Remember the dude with the glasses?” Ryan took a long swallow from his water bottle during their brief break. He squatted on his haunches with his pack in the snow beside him. The group huddled under a group of firs, hiding out from the snow while grabbing a bite to eat and catching their breath.

Jim shook his head in exasperation at Ryan’s question, and Brynn saw Thomas crack the smallest smile. Oh, yeah. How could any of us forget?

Alex studied Ryan’s big grin, but directed his question at Brynn. “Bad story?”

“One of those rescues where everything is going against you.”

Alex gestured at the snow. “More than this?”

“This is just Mother Nature. Try working against human nature.”

“It wasn’t his fault. The guy couldn’t help what happened,” Jim argued.

Ryan hooted, and Thomas shook his head.

Ignoring them, Alex raised a patient eyebrow at Brynn. “Could this be one of those stories to help me stay sane?”

She grinned. “Could be.” His eyes begged for a distraction.

“Then get on with it.”

She took a deep breath, enjoying the shock of cool air in her lungs as she thought back to that search. She closed her eyes and could almost see the blue sky. “It was almost two years ago. Summertime. Gorgeous weather. Must have been in the nineties that day.” She heard Alex grumble, and she hid a smile. “It was real hot that day. Wasn’t it, Ryan?”

“I don’t remember it being hot.”

She rolled her eyes. Ryan had totally missed her gibe at Alex. Spoilsport.

“Well, it wasn’t raining. Or snowing.” She watched Alex’s lips twist. He knew the heat remarks were meant to harass him. “Anyway, we were called out for a hiker who got separated from his group, and we had a huge area to cover. There were about thirty of us looking on foot. Thankfully we had helicopter help.”

Everyone glanced up at the low clouds. They knew the weather was supposed to clear sometime in the next forty-eight hours, but it wasn’t showing any sign of it. Until then there was no chance of support. It was simply too stormy.

“Two of the search groups had found single human tracks, but they were over a mile apart. Each group followed a set.”