Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(29)

Reed kept the Yukon to a crawl. His head throbbed from squinting at the road through the storm, and he was filled with a sense of failure.

They hadn’t found Jayne. Hugh had called off the search until the storm passed. The chief wouldn’t risk any more lives to find a woman who was probably dead. Jayne’s long odds were in the eyes of every volunteer.

The intensity of the sadness that welled up inside Reed stunned him. He’d barely known her, yet her death rocked him with a wave of crippling grief. He was drowning in sorrow and couldn’t draw a deep breath.

The wipers slapped back and forth, swiping melted flakes from the windshield. Packed slush accumulated on the blade, leaving a blurry arc in its wake. Equipped with chains and a plow mounted on the front, the big four-wheel drive chugged steadily.

Scott stirred in the passenger seat. He’d been silent since the chief had sent them home for the duration. “How long is this supposed to last?”

Reed cleared his throat. His voice felt scratchy, his throat raw. “Don’t know. Depends if the storm goes straight or veers out toward the coast.” He flipped the defrosters to high. The sound of rushing air competed with the grinding of tires on snow.

Scott leaned his head on the window. “Think she’s still alive?”

Reed couldn’t answer. Scott didn’t repeat the question.

The Yukon slipped sideways. Millions of tiny flakes danced lightly across the windshield, obscuring visibility to the headlights’ reach. The truck shifted, and Reed tugged it back into line. Crystals were hitting the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it. And the little pinging noises on the glass sounded more like ice than flakes. “See if you can get the weather report on the radio.”

Anything was better than contemplating Jayne’s fate.

Scott reached for the knob and fine-tuned into a news report. The on-air meteorologist didn’t mention sleet or freezing rain, but he officially upgraded the storm to a blizzard.

Scott snorted. “Duh.”

Exactly, thought Reed as he switched the wipers to their highest speed. Didn’t help much. The blurry arcs just moved faster.

A gust of wind pushed against the truck. Reed shifted into low gear to maximize traction. At this rate, it would take them another half hour to travel the last few miles. Hugh had wanted them to stay in town, but the thought of sharing his grief was more than Reed could handle.

Through the swirl of white, Reed caught a glimpse of blue in the middle of the road.

What was that?

He blinked to clear his dry eyes. A figure turned toward them and then slid to the ground in a boneless heap. Reed pressed his foot hard on the brakes, praying his antilock technology was enough to stop the heavy vehicle. He turned the wheel to the side, but the truck continued its forward slide. The brake vibrated under his foot. Tires slid, gripped, and slid again. With a shuddering groan, the truck ground to a halt less than ten feet in front of the blue lump in the road.

Reed exhaled the breath he’d been holding. Relief and hope sent his heart into a sloppy jog.

Could it be?

“That was close.” Scott leaned forward, then reached for his door handle. “Holy cow. It’s a person.” Excitement tinted his voice. “Think it’s her?”

Reed was already climbing out of the SUV, the possibility racing through his mind. “Stay here and lock the doors.” He tugged his hood up and ignored Scott’s scowl. A dozen years in homicide put suspicion front and center of Reed’s mind in any unusual situation.

The force of the storm struck him before his boots touched the ground. Wind-driven ice pellets scratched and clawed their way across his exposed face and deep into his lungs.

He hesitated, almost afraid to look.

Ten feet in front of the yellow plow attachment on Reed’s Yukon, a tall woman sprawled facedown in the snow. There was no mistaking the long hair that trailed through the snow in a matted rope. Even wet, he could tell it was red.

Jayne.

His initial excitement passed in one heartbeat as he approached her. What condition was she in?

She was still dressed in the jeans, boots, and bulky sweater she’d worn at the bookstore, but no coat, hat, or gloves. He dropped to one knee. A prickling on the back of his neck warned his internal cop of danger. “Jayne? Can you hear me?”

Reed grasped her shoulders and turned her over slowly, then felt at the base of her exposed throat for her pulse. Her milky white skin was cold and wet. Her pulse fluttered against his fingers.

“Jayne?”

Her eyes, pale blue as a clear winter sky and glazed with terror, opened wide.

“It’s OK.” Reed held his hands out, palms forward. “I’m going to help you.”

She didn’t meet his gaze. Her head swiveled, her eyes darting over his shoulder.

“Oh, God! Oh, God! We don’t have time for this.” She grabbed his forearm. Reed gasped. Her wrists were bloody all the way around.

Ligature wounds? A lump of tension balled up in his gut.

“Please. We have to get away! Before he catches us.” She scooted on her backside toward the truck.

Reed jolted into action. Whoever had hurt her might be close by. He scooped her off the ground. Jayne slipped in his arms. Her hands clutched the front of his parka. Blood smeared on the nylon.

“Take it easy. I’ve got you.” Reed hiked her up. His thighs burned as he straightened, but he welcomed the weight of her. He scanned the trees for any sign of a pursuer, but he could neither see nor hear anything in the forest. Between gusts of angry wind, the naked woods were as silent as they can only be during a heavy snowfall. All the sensible creatures had taken shelter.