Page 28

"Nothing." Sheila swept her flashlight beam across the snow-covered ground. "The storm's erased everything."

Tommy stood a few feet away, hands tucked into his coat pockets. "We can't stay out here much longer. Temperature's dropping fast."

She knew he was right, but the thought of returning without finding Mark made her sick to her stomach. Two people were already dead. She couldn't let there be a third.

"Maybe he circled back toward the tower," she suggested. "We could head there, see if we run into him." Even as she said the words, however, she knew the idea was no good. The snow was falling so heavily now that their own tracks had disappeared within minutes.

"Sheila." Tommy's voice was gentle. "We need to regroup. Get more people out here when the storm lets up."

"When the storm lets up?" she asked. "And if it snows all night?"

"Then we come back in the morning."

"He'll be dead by then."

"If he isn't already."

Sheila stared hard at Tommy. "I'm not just giving up on him."

Tommy shook his head in frustration. "So, what? Do you want to throw our lives away instead? What are the chances he's even alive?"

"Much better than they will be tomorrow morning."

"You think Mark would want us dying out here trying to save him?"

"I think he'd want a chance to live."

Tommy was silent for a few moments. "And what about Star?" he finally asked. "What happens to her if something happens to you?"

Sheila felt anger rise in her chest. "Don't bring her into this."

"Why not? Isn't she part of the equation? Or does your duty to save strangers outweigh your duty to her?"

"My duty," Sheila said, her voice hard, "is to protect everyone I can. That's what being a cop means. If you don't understand that—"

"Oh, I understand it. I just think there's a difference between being brave and being reckless."

"And I think there's a difference between being cautious and being a coward."

The words hung in the frigid air between them. Tommy's face darkened.

"That's what you think I am? A coward?"

"I think you're awfully quick to give up on someone who might still be alive out here."

"Because I don't want us to become the next victims?" Tommy threw up his hands. "Fine. You want to keep searching? Keep searching. But at least admit what this is really about."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not out here for Mark. You're out here because you can't stand the thought of failing. Because maybe if you save him, it'll make up for all the other people you couldn't save—like your sister, Natalie."

Sheila took a step toward him, her anger turning to fury. "You don't know a damn thing—"

Her radio crackled to life. "...ila... read me?"

She snatched up the radio, relieved at the sound of Finn's voice. "Finn? I can barely hear you."

"...research station... east of... Mark might..."

"You're breaking up. Say again?"

The static cleared slightly. "There's an old research facility east of your position. Abandoned in the eighties. Mark might have gone to it."

Sheila looked at Tommy, who was staring off into the swirling snow, stone-faced.

"It's the perfect place to take shelter," Finn continued. "If he's there… he might still be alive."

"How far?" Sheila asked.

"Depends... where are you?"

Sheila described their location relative to the tower. She had to repeat herself twice before Finn understood.

"Okay," he said finally. "Listen carefully. Head east until you hit an old service road—probably completely covered in snow by now, but you'll see the power line poles. Follow those about half a mile. The facility's built into the mountainside, concrete entrance. Can't miss it."

"Got it." Sheila checked her compass. "East to the service road, follow the poles."

"Be careful," Finn said, his voice growing fainter. "If Mark's there... might not be alone..."

The radio dissolved into static.

Sheila put the radio back on her belt and cleared her throat. "I'm heading to that research station," she said. "If you want to turn back, go ahead."

Tommy sighed and shook his head as if to clear it. "No, you're right—we can't give up on him now. I don't know what I was thinking—just ready to kick back by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate, I guess." He grinned sheepishly, an expression Sheila would have found endearing before their argument.

Before his mention of Natalie.

"We'd better get going, then," she said, adjusting her coat against the deepening cold. The wind had picked up again, driving snow horizontally through the trees. Even with flashlights, visibility was down to a few feet.

They moved east, fighting through drifts that sometimes reached their thighs. Sheila kept one eye on her compass and the other on the ground ahead, aware that in weather like this, one wrong step could mean a broken ankle.

"What kind of research did they do up here?" Tommy asked after several minutes of silent trudging.

"Finn didn't say." She paused to catch her breath. "Probably weather-related, given the location."

"Seems like an inconvenient place for it."

"Maybe that's why they abandoned it."

They walked on. Sheila's thoughts kept circling back to Mark Davidson. Was he really there? And if so, was he still alive? The killer had shown a pattern of taking his time with victims, posing them carefully. That might work in their favor.

"There," Tommy said suddenly, pointing ahead. "Power poles."

Sheila squinted through the snow. Dark shapes rose against the white backdrop—old utility poles, their lines long since fallen.

"Finn said follow them half a mile," she said, checking her compass again.

They turned to follow the line of poles, the wind now at their backs. Somewhere ahead in the darkness, an old research facility waited.

And maybe, if they were lucky, they'd find Mark Davidson alive.