Midnight Exposure (13 page)

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.

Scott stared over the back of the seat as Reed pulled open the rear door and climbed into the back with Jayne on his lap.

“Drive, Scott. Keep it in low gear. Lock the doors and keep a sharp eye out.”

Scott nodded, slid over the bench seat, and turned his attention to the road. At the click of the door locks, Jayne went limp.

Reed’s heart lurched.
She trusted him to keep her safe
. He pulled her closer. The solid weight of her against his body reassured him that she was really there. It wasn’t a cruel dream.

She was alive.

But whoever had kidnapped her couldn’t be far away.

The Druid stood at the edge of the road. A set of taillights faded into the whiteout. He blinked snowflakes from his eyelashes.

She’s gone.

Someone had picked her up in the road.

Anger warred with relief. She was alive and safe. His goddess had fought well. He was the one who had failed. He should have expected her to fight. The fault was entirely his own.

No doubt the gods were disappointed in him.

He’d find her, though. The minute the storm passed. There weren’t that many places for her to hide out here.

He retuned to his snowmobile, parked behind a stand of evergreens, and marked his location on his handheld GPS. Even an experienced woodsman benefited from technology. When he returned home, he’d pinpoint all the homes in the area.

She was his last hope. He’d find her if he had to search each and every one.

Reed twisted and reached over the backseat into the cargo area for a blanket. After unzipping his coat, he pulled her against his chest, then covered them both. Water from her clothing seeped into his sweater.

Sheba jumped over the back of the front seat and sat next to them, giving the stranger a few sniffs and a halfhearted wag.

“Here, girl. Down.” Reed patted his thigh. Instinct kicked in and the dog settled across Jayne’s legs. The Husky’s thick coat would help warm Jayne.

“Should I turn around? Head for the hospital?” Scott’s gaze caught Reed’s in the rearview mirror.

Good question. How badly was she hurt?

His gut quivered as he made the decision. Her life depended on it. “No. We’re only a few miles from home. She needs to get warm now. It would take us hours to get to the hospital in this mess—if we got there at all.” With the emergency supplies he kept in the truck, he and Scott would be able to survive being stranded overnight. Jayne might not.

Reed glanced down at the face resting against his chest. Her skin was so pale it had taken on a bluish hue. Her cheeks were chapped pink from windburn and cold, but he didn’t see any of the telltale blotches that would indicate frostbite. Her scar stood out crimson against her skin, reminding him that she’d been hurt
before. One of her hands, bloody and raw-looking, slipped out from under his coat. He tucked it back inside, resting it over his heart.

“She gonna be OK?” Scott asked in a low voice.

A shiver seized Jayne, indicating her body was still trying to generate heat. Reed hugged her tighter. “I don’t think she’s been out here for very long. She was still on her feet a few minutes ago.”

“Where do you think she came from? She’s not even wearing a coat, and we haven’t passed any abandoned vehicles.”

Reed hesitated, tempted to shield his son from the unpleasant details, but Scott needed to know the truth. He wasn’t a child anymore. He’d be leaving for college next fall. “Her wrists have ligature wounds. She must have been tied up somewhere around here.”

“What?” Reed caught Scott’s surprise in the rearview mirror. “Someone kidnapped—”

The Yukon lurched and Reed cut him off. “Keep your eyes on the road, please. Just get us home for now. We’re not going to get any answers until she wakes up.”

It took them thirty minutes to navigate the remaining few miles to their house. Jayne remained unconscious, her body slack except for short periods of intense shivering that wracked her lean frame. Reed could only hope she didn’t have any serious injuries as he carried her inside the chilled living room.

Scott flicked a light switch. Nothing. “I’ll get the fire going.”

He stoked glowing embers in the woodstove and added logs. Flames leaped in the iron box as the fire licked dry wood. Preferring the cold, Sheba headed for her bed in the opposite corner.

Reed set Jayne down on the floor in front of the burning stove and began to remove her boots. “Scott, get me some towels and a
sleeping bag, please.” He remembered the wounds that circled her wrists and her bloody hands. “I’ll need the first aid kit too.”

Scott moved off toward the kitchen. Reed switched on a camp lantern, then tossed Jayne’s boots aside and tugged on her sodden jeans. He peeled the soggy material over her hips, which were covered in fitted, moisture-wicking long johns. She’d been more prepared for the weather than he’d thought. The sopping wool sweater came off next, then a T-shirt, leaving Jayne in a tank made from the same synthetic fabric as the long johns. He tugged off her wool socks. No sign of frostbite on her feet or toes. Both a miracle and affirmation that she hadn’t been outside for long.

Reed examined her hands. No frostbite there either, but broken, bloody blisters tipped her fingers. Her nails were jagged and torn. A shallow cut crossed her palm. Respect swelled Reed’s chest. These hands had fought for their freedom and won.

Scott returned with the supplies, draping the open sleeping bag over Jayne. He clasped her cold hands between his own to warm them while Reed cleaned the ligature wounds and other cuts, then applied a thick coating of antibacterial ointment and bandages.

Reed felt a warm rush of pride at the gentleness in Scott’s touch. Scott’s chronic procrastination didn’t seem as important as it had this morning.

Scott poked the fire in the woodstove and added another log. “I’ll go outside and start the generator.” He bent to pick up Jayne’s clothes.

“Wait. The chief’ll want them for evidence. Lay her clothes out on a clean sheet in the washroom. When they’re dry, we’ll put them and the sheet in a paper grocery bag. Try to touch them as little as possible.”

Scott followed instructions, lifting her jeans with one finger under a belt loop.

“Guess the phone’s out?” Reed asked.

“Yep. No satellite reception either.”

“Of course.” The landline was unreliable, but satellite TV and Internet would return as soon as the sky cleared. As far as cell service was concerned, the area north of town was a giant dead zone. They had no way to call for help until the storm passed.

Scott grabbed his coat on his way to the door. After he’d left, Reed slipped his hand under the sleeping bag to feel the skin on her chest. It rose and fell with steady breaths, but she was still ice-cold. Damn. Apprehension gnawed at his gut. She wasn’t warming up fast enough.

He stripped off his sweater and T-shirt, then lifted the quilted flap of the sleeping bag. Stretching out next to the unconscious woman, he pulled her body against his bare chest and pulled the covers over them both. His skin protested with a wave of goose bumps. It was like hugging a refrigerated side of beef.

But he prayed Jayne didn’t freak out when she woke up.

Someone had actually tied this woman up. Someone nearby. Someone he possibly knew. The faces of his neighbors began to flip through his head in a mental lineup of potential suspects, and for once he wished he were more social. There were more than a dozen small places around here; at least two or three were vacation homes, unoccupied most of the year. Who knew how many hunting cabins lurked out there in the surrounding forest?

Could be a transient, holing up in someone else’s empty house.

Or the culprit could be one of them.

Any one of Huntsville’s normal-looking residents could harbor a dark side.

Reed shifted Jayne’s frozen body in his arms to a fresh patch of his chest that hadn’t yet been chilled by the contact. Her hair trailed across his skin and curled into ringlets as it dried to a bright shade of copper. He brushed a damp curl off her cheek. She stirred. Reed’s heart kicked.

How would she react to being squashed up against him?

She stiffened in his arms.

“It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m just trying to get you warm.”