Edge of Survival (20 page)

Her stomach heaved. How could she have been such a fool? Falling for a guy who was a compulsive womanizer? He didn’t do relationships and had never pretended he did. Dammit. She would not admit to caring for him or let him see how much he’d hurt her. But she was damned if she was gonna roll over and make his life easy.

The light slanted over his features, making him look stark and vulnerable. “I don’t want to hurt you, Cam.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I want us to remain friends.” He tried to smile. “Turns out I need all the friends I can get.”

“No.” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be reasonable and civilized when he was ripping her to shreds. And even though she struggled for control, she couldn’t stop the tears that flooded her eyes and washed down her cheeks.

“I’m not going to be your friend, Daniel. You don’t trust me—you proved that this morning—so what’s our
friendship
worth? It’s just helping you out with a guilty conscience because you think I’m too fragile to survive the fact you’re dumping me. Well, fuck you, Daniel Fox—except, oh, I already did that, didn’t I?”

She angled around him and out the door. Then she ran and she didn’t stop until she was on the top deck, at the prow of the ship. She huddled beside a giant yellow crane, hidden from the world in an isolated corner.

The salt breeze washed over her and gulls squawked, but Cam sat there for a full hour without interruption and, finally, when she went back to her cabin, Daniel was gone.

Vikki rushed in. “Cam, Cam, Cam! They can get me on the next flight to Nain, but if I miss this one I might be stuck here for
days
as Joe says we have a cold front moving in, bringing bad weather.”

“Joe?” Cam crinkled her brow. She’d pushed her feelings for Daniel into a dark corner of her mind, determined to ignore the overwhelming sense of heartbreak.

“Joe. Joseph. Captain Crane.” Vikki flapped her hands at her. “It isn’t important. I’ve got my suitcase packed. You have two minutes to give me anything you want me to take back before I’m gone.” Vikki had somehow gotten a cabin on her own, which had suited Cam perfectly until now. Now she was going to miss her.

Despite their differences, Cam felt a gulf of loneliness rise up inside her. It wasn’t as if she’d be alone. She had Tommy, Katie and Tooly to work with, and Vikki had collected all the samples she needed. Cam would collect more later in the season and ship them south. But after breaking up with Daniel, she’d kind of hoped to have someone to lean on.

“Snap out of it, Cam!” Vikki clicked her fingers in front of her face, an impatient frown forming.

“Right.” Cam handed her an armful of consumables she didn’t need. “Let’s see what you can fit in.” She followed the other girl out.

When they got to Vikki’s room everything was neatly packed, not like Vikki’s usual post-apocalyptic living space. She noticed Cam’s surprise.

“Joe said I needed to relearn some basic discipline. Tidy home, tidy life, tidy mind.” Vikki gripped the lid of her case. “He said if I got into a program back home, he’d mentor me online.” She shrugged and her bellybutton stone blinked cerise. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

She looked sheepish admitting she had problems.

“Are you going to break it off with the boss?”

Vikki grinned. “I decided to wait until I got home and do it in person.” She looked apologetic. “That way he won’t have any cause to blame you.” Which he was inclined to do whenever his life went pear-shaped.

“I appreciate it.” And then they hugged each other, Vikki lifting her off her feet.

“And keep away from that crazy-assed sonofabitch once I’m gone,” Vikki said.

“We aren’t seeing each other anymore,” Cam admitted.

“I already figured that out or you wouldn’t look so miserable.” Vikki grabbed her suitcase and wheeled it out. “But tell him to go screw himself if he comes knocking on your door again, got it?”

“Got it.” That was never gonna happen, and the knot in Cam’s heart torqued into something hard and impenetrable as she followed Vikki to the helipad.

Daniel sat in the front of the chopper in his least favorite spot. The passenger seat. Anger still moved his blood along his veins at double pace. Bobby Riley, a competent pilot, was doing a rotation aboard the
Imaviaq
while Daniel took his leave. He hadn’t intended to go. At breakfast that morning he’d told June, the HR manager and first mate’s wife, that he’d work through his leave because he didn’t want Cam alone after he broke up with her. He’d wanted to show her that he meant what he said about being friends. He’d intended to be mature about the whole thing, which was ironic because Cam had rejected that idea without missing a beat.

He’d known from the start he shouldn’t get involved with her. Known from the bloody start.

“Who we waiting for?” He wanted to get off this boat as quickly as possible.

Bobby Riley turned his head as Vikki came onto the heli-deck wearing skintight everything. “Sex on legs.” Bobby whistled and looked at Daniel. “No wonder you’re taking leave.”

Daniel grunted, but his gaze moved beyond Vikki to Cam, who stood next to the first mate, waving off her friend. She couldn’t see him from where she stood. She tried to hold down those rampant curls but the downdraft was too fierce. And though she smiled and laughed, even at a distance he could tell she was sad. His fault. He’d messed up because he hadn’t followed his own rules.

“Although her friend’s pretty hot, too,” Bobby continued, his eyes moving over Cam like she was his for the taking.

Anger blistered through Daniel’s body, every muscle clenched and primed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. It was up to Cam who she played with from now on.

Vikki climbed in and, though she glared at Daniel, said nothing. As they took off, he watched Cam from the cockpit. The ship, bright red, yellow and white, glowed against the aquamarine of the shallow bay, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind a headland. And inside him, the great yawning gap that had hollowed him out two years ago was growing again. And this time he didn’t know how to make it stop.

***

The man used a stick to walk the familiar trail toward the half-fallen tree, the burning ache in his joints exacerbated by the oppressive atmosphere. The air was thick and dense, the iron-colored clouds gathering moisture and spitting rain. He didn’t like getting wet. He was too old to enjoy being soaked to the skin when the skies opened. His leather boots leaked as he sloshed through the mud, leaving a trail a blind man could follow. He didn’t care anymore.

He leaned heavily on the stick, his breath steaming the air, the atmosphere pressing down on him like God’s anger. Part of him wanted to close his eyes and just pretend he saw a dead wolverine hanging in the tree and turn around and let it rot. But he couldn’t.

His ribs rattled with the beat of his heart and he braced himself for disappointment as he looked up. His eyes widened, hardly able to believe what he saw. Joy, excitement, exhilaration fizzed through his body. Exhaustion disappeared. He threw down the stick and started dancing in the mud. He forgot his bad knee and ignored the rain that poured into his eyes and saluted the sky. Forgot the worry and sore muscles from climbing that damn tree over and over the last few weeks. He’d done it! He’d done it.

The critter was impaled on his blade, eyes dull and glazed, mouth opened, flies buzzing around the bulky corpse as it swung in the tree. Dirty patches of rust stained the pelt and dripped over the branches.

Hallelujah.

Feeling young and invincible, he jogged over to the tree and hauled himself up the trunk, happy again for the first time in weeks. The gods were with him and he’d never have to face another winter alone.

***

Grit flew as the helicopter whipped up mini-tornadoes in this out-of-the-way corner of Nain’s airport. Commercial planes landed on a short strip of manicured beach that looked like a Band-Aid from the sky. Choppers parked up at the far end of the runway on a series of cleared landing sites. It was small but well maintained. Dogs yapped from the other side of the chain-link fence, fireweed turning a swathe of hillside bright pink.

An ATV battered toward them. Daniel grabbed his kitbag out of the outer compartment, hauled it onto his back. He waited for Vikki to exit, a sneer twisting her face as she passed him. Then he dug under the backseat for his survival kit and shotgun, already in its case. He lifted Vikki’s pink suitcase out and rested it at her feet. Then he closed the door and moved away as Bobby prepared to head back to the ship.

“I need to thank you,” Vikki said. The helicopter was close so she had to shout. He shrugged and turned away. Whatever she had to say he didn’t want to hear. Bobby Riley was taking off, flying away to do Daniel’s job and very likely make a pass at Cam.

Daniel tried to shut down his emotions, something that should come easily after so many years of practice. He ground his teeth. The ATV was close now, coming to pick up the passengers.

“Without you being such a bastard, I would never have met Captain Crane and I’d never have found the strength to sort my life out.”

“Congratulations.” He hoisted his packs and started walking.

“Joe thinks you killed that hooker, by the way—”

The two guys on the ATV shot him wide-eyed looks.

“—and got your rocks off watching Cam find the body and then taking care of her.”

There was a stone in his boot but he didn’t stop walking to dig it out. Anger escalated inside his brain. He didn’t want to be around anything or anybody that reminded him of Cam and that included Vikki Salinger.

But everything from the blue-green water of the bay to the smell of fish on the breeze reminded him of Cameran Young. His throat felt raw, his emotions pummeled like fresh meat.

God, he needed a drink.

He was off duty. He was on leave. He’d been a good boy while working this job, and now he was going to sink himself in enough alcohol to make at least one day disappear. And then it was time to find another willing body to sink into, without the emotional complications of giving a damn. Time to get Cameran Young out of his mind and body, and move on.

***

Griff sat in the detachment building, eating a cheese roll McCoy had made for him, contemplating whether or not to go home. But they were so close to getting DNA results back from the sperm on Sylvie Watson, and to identifying the fingerprints lifted from the knife found next to her ATV, that he couldn’t just up and leave. Part of him wanted to be the one to make the arrest. Not because he needed the ego trip or the adrenaline rush of taking down a killer, but because of that damn vow he’d made to Charlie Watson. After all these years he should know better than to promise something he might not be able to deliver.

But there were things about this case that bothered him…

Like the knife. Unless the killer was incredibly stupid—always a possibility—wouldn’t he have gone back to the area and searched for his knife when he realized it was missing? Unless he’d already left the area?
Hmm.
He brushed crumbs off his shirt and then off the desk into the wastepaper basket. Maybe the murderer was long gone?

McCoy flicked him a glance while he stared at the phone. Even though he’d put a rush on the evidence from this case, he was still waiting. The forensics lab had been backed up this morning by a home invasion and triple-homicide of a prominent New Brunswick family. Griff’s own worst nightmare—no matter how state-of-the-art his home security system or how hairy his dog.

He checked his watch, tapping his index finger on McCoy’s desk. She sat across from him filling out paperwork. Her short black hair was clamped to the top of her head from wearing her cap. At least there were some advantages to being bald—he didn’t get hat hair. The desk phone rang at the same moment his cell phone buzzed.

McCoy reached over to pick up her phone. He checked his display. Marcia.

Shit. Perfect timing as always. He went outside, the air cooler than it had been earlier, sea mist clinging to the coast and drifting over the knuckles of land in great ghostly shrouds.

“I was just about to call you.” Sweat collected on his brow as he lied. Since when had he become afraid of his wife? Since she’d threatened to leave him and take their kids with her.

There was a short pause, like she was gearing herself up to say something, which couldn’t be good. “I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take you being constantly away when I’m trying to fix our marriage—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re
both
trying to fix our marriage.” He tried to calm her down but he could hear her breath catch on the other end of the line. The sound knotted his stomach. “You know you and the kids are the most important part of my life.”

She ignored the sentiment. “But I don’t know if I
want
to fix it anymore. I don’t know if it’s worth it. I don’t know if it was ever worth it.”

That stabbed. “Marcia, we’ve been over this. You know my job takes me away from home. I offered to quit…” And she hadn’t taken him up on it. Thank God.

He heard her take a steadying breath. “I know. And I’m thinking that maybe you should.”

His heart gave a funny little quiver.
Hell.
Could he do it? For a woman who couldn’t bear his touch? He scrubbed his hand over his face. He had a stack of ongoing investigations piled high on his desk. Could he just let it all slide? Let the killers possibly walk free?

Over on the bluff, high above the water, Griff thought he recognized Charlie Watson staring off into the horizon. As if Griff needed any reminders of how many different directions he was being pulled in. “I’ll need to talk to my boss.”

“Does that mean you’re going to quit or not?” she asked. God, she sounded like a defense attorney.

“Let me finish what I started up here, okay?” He blinked his eyes hard against the moisture that was forming. The wind was sharp.

“You’ve got until midnight to get home.”

“Midnight?” Christ, she was totally unreasonable. “I can’t do midnight—”

“You’ve forgotten the date, haven’t you?”