Page 5

"I thought so, sure, or I wouldn't have done that.” He sat on the hemlock and moved his legs over it, careful of his ankle. Taking hold of her hand, he climbed down on the other side of the tree. “Okay, so what's the plan of action?"

She started trudging through the snow again.

"We get as close to the cabin as possible and then see if we can look inside.

We need to locate Denny and Helen. I'll do that.

You'll walk too slowly to reach the cabin if Denny is looking out the windows.

A small clearing surrounds the front of the cabin, and a long drive goes to another road, which is not the one we were on. "

"Have you been there before?"

"In the vicinity. I rented a cabin, about a quarter of a mile from there.

The place they're at is a one-story log cabin built in the '70s.

I looked at aerial photographs of it before I drove here, and it shows a woodpile a hundred feet from the cabin.

I'll head for that. One black pickup truck is sitting near the cabin's front door, but it’s probably half buried by snow now. The license plate showed it was Denny’s. "

"Is there a back door?"

"Yeah. But the cabin has windows all around it. I don't expect him to be watching out all the windows, but he might expect someone to realize where he is and be on the lookout."

"How did you know about the cabin?"

"Pierre said Helen told him that Denny had taken her to it several times.”

“So this is just speculation.”

“Yes, but you know how it is. Any tip needs to be investigated.”

"What if Denny threatens Helen in any way?" It was important to know how they handled a situation when working with a “partner” with whom Andy had never been on a mission.

"I won't hesitate to kill him."

"Or I'll have to shoot him."

She didn't respond. He figured she didn't like that she was handicapped now. Though he suspected that if push came to shove, she would fire her weapon even with an injured hand. He just worried her aim would be off.

“I have a body cam I can turn on when we get close to apprehending him. Do you believe he'll be violent toward her at the cabin?" Andy asked.

"Yeah. That's why she left him in the first place. She had a protective order restricting him from coming near her, but that didn't stop him. Did the police do anything about it?" She gave Andy a disgruntled look.

"Hey, if I had been there, I could have persuaded him to stop.

I would have taken him out into the wilderness and told him I'm friends with a polar bear I raised as a cub, then shown him one mean polar bear, scared him to pieces, and then returned him home.

Or left him out there to find his way back alone. "

Monica chuckled. He smiled then but took a spill in the deep snow and cried out.

Fearing the worst—that Andy had hurt his ankle to the point that he couldn’t make it any further—Monica whipped around and wrenched her back. Poor Andy was on his knees in the snow. She tried to hurry back to him but felt she was treading through the snow in slow motion.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. If I’d had a sprained ankle, I would have insisted you carry me.”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t have had to.” He dug his sturdy branch into the ground while she lifted him as much as she could in a bear hug. She was still hugging him when he got to his feet, their breaths fogging up their goggles, hearts wildly beating, their eyes colliding and lingering.

“Are you okay with continuing?” She didn’t want to let him go. He was warm and huggable.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Enjoying the moment of hugging him, warming herself and him, but reluctantly released him, and immediately missed his warmth.

“Good, because despite what I said earlier, I’m glad for your help with this.

And my boss will be grateful to you too.

At least between us, despite our injuries, we should be able to manage Denny. ”

She started forward again so that she could tramp down enough snow to make an easier path for Andy, so he wouldn’t fall again, but every step was harder; her legs were wearied, and her back and hand ached.

"So, what's the deal with your brakes?" Andy asked.

"Like I know?” She didn’t mean to snap at him.

But she was perturbed that her brakes had stopped working.

“Whenever I stopped at stop signs or signals in White Bear, they were fine.

Once I hit the country road, I didn't need to stop or slow down, at least not using the brakes.

I couldn't believe it when they wouldn't work.”

“You should have anti-lock brakes, and they shouldn’t have locked up on you.”

“No, they didn’t. It was like they were mush, and then I slid on the top layer of ice coating the snow. Of course, I tried to avoid hitting you and your car. Thankfully, you finally jumped out of the way."

"Then you knocked my vehicle on top of me."

"That wasn't planned, either. When you hurt your ankle, was it when you jumped out of the way of the collision or from your car landing on you?"

"My legs were the only parts of my body still located near where the car landed.

My impact with the snow created a deep imprint, which I was grateful for as it helped cushion my fall and prevent serious injuries.

I couldn't say for sure if it were the impact of the car or my jumping from the road and subsequently landing down the embankment that injured my ankle. "

"Sorry."

"If you hadn't had an emergency you were trying to get to, I would have ticketed you for speeding too fast for the weather conditions."

She chuckled under her breath. "Thanks. For not giving me a speeding ticket. It wouldn't look good on my blemish-free driving record."

"So, are you still in Anchorage? I would have noticed you if you had moved to White Bear."

“I’m still living in Anchorage.”

"I didn’t have a chance to tell you the last time that my parents own the White Bear Tavern, and my brother Ben works there. I have another brother, Craig, who flies a plane all over to deliver supplies."

"That's a much-needed job, though I imagine he's now grounded."

"Yeah, in this weather, for sure. I have two cousins, Edward and Rob, who have a tour guide business.”

“That’s great. I bet they’re grounded too for the moment.”

“They are. So what made you join the FBI?"

"My dad was an FBI agent. He's retired now. I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Mom is a real estate agent, and I'm glad she wasn't in our line of work. They worry about me, naturally, but I've done well so far. Except for the accident and injuring myself and you."

"I guess it couldn't be helped." Not if her brakes hadn't been working.

"Guess?"

"It couldn't have been," he amended. "Are you still dating that bear in Anchorage?”

She glanced back at him.

He smiled.

She faced forward again. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said under his breath, hoping she could stay in White Bear longer if she were off work due to her injuries.

“Are you sure we're headed in the right direction?

" He was ready to become a polar bear and get warmed up.

He feared his foot would end up with frostbite despite having extra socks.

"Yeah." She showed him the compass she was using. "It's due northwest." When he fell behind, she immediately returned to him. "How is your foot? Is it warm enough?" Now, she sounded worried.

"Cold." He hated to admit it to her. He wanted to be a source of strength for her.

She frowned. "I estimate we have another three-quarters of a mile to go. I don't want you to get frostbite. I should have thought of this before." She untied her wool scarf from around her neck.

"You need that." He didn’t want her to get cold.

"I don't need it. My collar is already keeping my neck warm. It's just an extra layer of warmth, but you could use it more than I. Once we deal with the kidnapper, we can sit by the fire and warm up."

That sounded nice as long as everything went according to plan.

She joined him, and he sat down in the snow.

Then she removed the plastic bag from his foot and massaged the socks-covered foot to get the circulation going.

She took her scarf, shook off the snow collected on it, and carefully wrapped the dry side around his foot and ankle.

Once done, she pulled the plastic bag over his foot again and secured it.

“Is that better?” she asked.

“Hell, yeah.”

“It’s wool. I should have thought of it before. Are you ready to go again?”

“I sure am.”

She helped him up, though they both groaned from their injuries.

As they stumbled through the snowy landscape, his thoughts began to race. Had he delayed her too much? Would the kidnapper have harmed the victim? Were they even at the cabin still? Or had they ever been there at all?

He had to get his mind off what-ifs. It never helped with a case. “Do you have any other family?”

“No. Just my parents in Anchorage. It must be nice having more family.”

“It is. We have lots of family functions and celebrations.” And he hoped this time she could meet them.

“That must be great.”

“So you have handled other kidnapping cases before.”

She didn’t say anything right away. “Yeah.”

“Successfully?” He was afraid when she didn’t respond right away that maybe some were failures.

“Four of the five cases, yes.” Her tone of voice revealed she still felt troubled about it.

He didn’t probe, figuring she’d tell him about the failed case if she wanted to. He’d had his own disastrous failures a few times when trying to rescue stranded motorists. It wasn’t something he liked talking about.

About half a mile out, he smelled smoke. “The cabin.”

The smoke gave him hope that the man and woman were still at the cabin. Though he did have the niggling worry that they might be at the wrong cabin. Then what? He could imagine someone readying a rifle at them, thinking they were going to break in and steal from them.

Monica glanced back at him, and though she didn’t need to whisper, she did. “You sound like you didn’t believe I knew where I was going.”

He smiled. He wouldn’t lie. It seemed to take forever to get that close. However, their injuries, the weather, and the deep snow made the trek extremely difficult. In the end, they had been going really slowly.

Finally, they reached the small cabin nestled in the trees just like Monica had described: a tiny clearing, a one-story log cabin, a woodpile, and a black truck mostly buried in snow in front of it.

She stopped behind a tree, and he caught up with her. Her breathing was as ragged as his, her heart beating just as rapidly.

Both were observing the windows, but then she glanced at the woodpile.

“I’m going to get my gun out of my holster.” He wanted to cover her because of the way she was poised; he knew she meant to dash for the woodpile.