Snow (20 page)

And there would be hell to pay if she was harmed.

Benji turned the SUV onto a dark narrow road based on the GPS directions, the headlights shining over fresh tire tracks. Someone had driven through recently in a smaller car by the looks of it. They didn’t know what Jimmy was driving but that could be it.

Soon he glimpsed the lake through the trees to their left, then another vehicle parked, door open and interior light spilling across the snow. Farther in the distance was another car, a sleek sedan, with a figure sitting on the hood.

“Is that Liliana?” Benji leaned over the steering wheel, squinting.

The figure turned and by her movements, the lift of her head, Mike knew it wasn’t. “No. My guess is Elise Hartley.”

Benji hit the brakes near the empty sports car, headlights shining over pools of dark red in the snow and an unmoving body. The corpse was Jimmy’s, he had no doubt—male, at the very least, and not Liliana’s. But he was flying out of the SUV anyway to check the car’s interior, looking at the blood on the ground.

“Cut the car off!” Kristof was shouting, taking over cornering Elise Hartley as an engine revved in the distance, but Mike didn’t care. They had their assignment—stop Liliana’s assailants. He had his.

Find her.

He jogged through the snow with Benji at his heels, scanning the ground. More blood here and there—drag marks.

Elise pulled her body to the lake
.

No, not body. She wasn’t dead yet—couldn’t be dead. Fuck, he wouldn’t allow it.

Benji withdrew a flashlight, shone it on the ground ahead of them, highlighting what the moon did not. Mike scanned the snow. The drag marks changed to something else, no longer a body but something with a square edge. Footprints beside it, pushing deep into the snow—someone had shoved something heavy, right there at the edge of the lake.

Cracked ice spread ahead of them. Mike took the flashlight from Benji and started forward, carefully stepping from one chunk of ice to the next. The light caught another partial drag mark in the snow-covered broken ice—she’d pulled something out there.

Fuck.
Fuck
. Liliana was somewhere in the lake. Trapped.

“Get back to the car and bring rope,” he shouted. “Call an ambulance and get help over here!”

Benji did so without argument while Mike continued shuffling along the broken ice, casting the light around. What the hell did she put her in, a box? Christ, she could’ve stuffed her in a trunk. They had no evidence Liliana was dead but she could need medical attention and the dark depths of the water waited below with no sign of her.

But Elise wasn’t that strong. Jimmy was already dead. If she’d shoved the box out there, she couldn’t have gone far.

He located another drag mark but the ice was deeply split there, just dark water spreading about three feet wide. He’d bet money on it,
something
had gone down there.

“Mike!” Benji called, tossing him one end of the rope. “Emergency crew is on its way—just wait for help.”

She might not have time for help to arrive, though.

He jerked off his jacket, stepped out of his boots so he was lighter, and tied the rope around his waist. Benji was cursing over near the shore but kept a hold of the rope, didn’t stop him.

With the flashlight clutched in hand, Mike stepped off the ice.

He plunged into the icy water, the freezing temperature shocking his system. He wouldn’t have long, he knew, before the cold became dangerous. He twisted, swung the flashlight around. The yellow light barely permeated the darkness, but caught a rush of floating bubbles. Lower still, it shone on something else, something that wasn’t the organic shape he expected in the water.

Mike kicked his legs, which he could barely feel at this point, and swam upward until his face broke the surface. He took in a long, stinging breath of frigid air, barely heard Benji yelling at him, and then dove down again.

This time he knew where he was going, swimming down several feet until the long rectangular shape was clear.

A glass coffin.

With a body in it.

Her eyes were closed—despite the blur from the glass, the stirred dirt and silt from the lake’s floor, he could see she wasn’t awake. She lay still, untouched by the water.

Limited air, though. Fuck
.

He cast the light around, knowing he needed to go up for air soon but delaying it as long as possible. His lungs screamed for breath, exposed skin was beyond stinging but numb now.

A padlock hung from the lid. No key, no time to get something to pick it.

His feet hit the sandy bottom and he leaned over the coffin. Took the flashlight, twisted it, and slammed the end against the middle of the glass.

It didn’t break.

Goddamn
. Again, he hit. And again. Pounding against the glass and eventually a small crack snaked along the face of the coffin.

He needed air but he needed to get her out more. Once more he struck the glass with the flashlight and this time the torch itself broke, light going off, leaving them in the near darkness of the lake.

But he didn’t quit, feeling around with nearly numb fingers until he felt the cracked glass. He slammed his fist into it next, hammering at the weakened glass until he felt it give.

Water would be rushing in now. If glass was stabbing him as he cleared it away, he didn’t feel it, just pushed it aside and reached for her. His fingers wrapped around her arm, drew her up, out of the damn coffin, her body faintly outlined by the light above the surface.

Mike got his arms around her, his blood clouding the water around them. He pushed off the lake’s sandy bottom and fought to swim, but his body was weakening from the cold.

Then he was being tugged up, up, toward the surface at last, the pressure from the rope around his waist cutting into him. Seconds later his face broke the surface, lungs stung as he heaved in a breath.

Liliana was in his arms and he tipped her head back so her face was out of the water. His lips parted to ask for help but no sound came, no words formed.

But he didn’t need to. Benji was there, grasping under Liliana’s arms and hauling her onto the ice. Sirens sounded nearby, lights flashing, and the shouting of voices indicated emergency services were on their way.

Mike got his arms onto the icy shelf over the water, pulled himself up. His hands had gone blue, water dripped from him and froze. But he didn’t care, couldn’t think of anything else as he leaned over Liliana and felt around her neck for her pulse.

A slow thready beat met his fingertips.

Thank God
.

****

When the emergency crew pulled him aside so they could tend to her, he let them. Accepted the blanket thrown over his shoulders, the hands that helped him rise unsteadily and move toward the shore.

He might have hypothermia, but he didn’t care. He only half listened, his focus on Liliana the entire time until he saw her conscious at last and sitting up, responsive to the EMT’s questions. Only then did Mike acquiesce and allow himself to be settled in the back of an ambulance, his vitals checked and wounds inspected. He’d dripped a trail of blood everywhere, deep gashes on his right hand and arm requiring stitches once they got him to Midsummer general.

Benji stood near him for assistance while Kristof barked orders and dealt with the cops. Other members of their team were scattered about, assessing and evaluating the situation, seeing if there were any loose ends. But Jimmy was dead and Elise Hartley sat cuffed in the back of a police cruiser. The Huntsman was long gone, out of the equation. Mike doubted they’d ever see him again—he might even go on hiatus for a while with the money he’d cleaned from his account.

The EMTs wheeled over a stretcher with Liliana on it, wrapped in several layers of blankets. She reached for him and he accepted her outstretched hand with his left, as the right was being bandaged.

“You were stupid,” he mumbled.

“You like that about me.”

He snorted. She’d be lucky if he didn’t handcuff her in a padded room where she’d never be hurt again after that.

Liliana turned her dark eyes toward the glittering lake for a moment. “When she dumped me in there, when I was sinking in the water, I thought...I thought,
drag the lakes
.” She looked at him again, tears turning her eyes red. “For the bodies. Polly and that other girl they think Jimmy killed. Drag the lakes. If Elise hid the bodies...that’s where she’d put them.”

Those were the only moments they were allowed as the EMTs gave the order to load them up in separate ambulances again. Mike climbed up with assistance and onto the stretcher in his, then leaned back to rest as the doors closed and he was driven to safety at last.

Safety where Liliana would be as well.

Happily Ever After

Grigori’s Pizza didn’t have the tips The Palace had, but the clientele was much nicer, so Liliana didn’t complain. They didn’t have many hours for her either—she was on call, filling in now and then when someone called in sick, which was how she ended up there on a Friday night when she’d really rather be home relaxing.

Of course “home” wasn’t quite right either. She’d lost her apartment and didn’t have a steady income now, but lucked out renting a room from one of the guys who worked the kitchen at Grigori’s. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

That’s the thing no one ever warned about being a witness in a murder trial, having your life upended—landlord didn’t care why your rent money wasn’t there, just that you were late. Employers didn’t care that you left your last job after you caught your boss and her son covering up a murder, just that you had a sporadic previous employment history and few references.

So she took whatever she got and figured eventually her luck had to turn around again.

Liliana wiped down the recently emptied table and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers, gathered the handful of used napkins. She had a few hours left on the clock but thankfully the dinner rush was over.

“Sir!” the hostess was calling near the door behind her. “Sir, you have to wait!”

Assholes always stomping around, ignoring the “Please Wait To Be Seated” rules. Liliana sighed and turned around.

She stopped short at the sight of Mike O’Hara.

His dark peacot was dotted in freshly fallen snow, as was his auburn hair. He stood a few feet from the hostess’s podium, staring at her.

It had been weeks since she’d seen him. Elise Hartley pleaded out and after the initial rush of police interviews and re-interviews, statements and testifying, Liliana’s contact with everyone from that world had promptly been cut off, making her a normal woman trying to earn a living again.

Now here he was. Standing in the front tiled space of Grigori’s Pizza. Pissing off the hostess.

His head tilted, indicating he was speaking to the hostess, but he kept his eyes on Liliana’s. “Please get your manager. Quickly.”

The girl—whose name Liliana couldn’t remember—sputtered something incoherently, but rushed to do as he instructed.

Liliana blinked at him. “Hi.”

A small smile played on his lips. “Hi.”

Before they could say more, the hostess was there with the manager—who wasn’t actually named Grigori but Gary, a short white guy with big teeth and no hair—and neither of them looked pleased with O’Hara’s presence.

Mike turned to them calmly. “I’m going to need a table for six. Your best table, in fact. Two tables for four around it. Then I need to check the back exit of the restaurant for a moment. Liliana can show me the way. I will also need you to give her the rest of the night off.”

“Excuse me—” Gary started.

“In exchange, I am about to make your restaurant very, very popular. A new hotspot in the city that will get you a lot of attention.” He lifted the cell phone in his hand and spoke into it. “Front is secure. I’ll verify the back is fine but send them in.”

The doors opened, voices chattering, and Gary’s eyes got wide. Liliana frowned, trying to see past O’Hara, who gripped her upper arm and led her back through the restaurant as a cluster of people entered the building.

“Is that...?”

“Sean Philip Sawyer,” he confirmed. “Along with his girlfriend, Bryar. Gina’s there too, and her husband Brennen. You’ll meet them in a moment.”

Her feet were slow to follow him as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. “Wasn’t he in a pop band? Is he a client?”

“And a friend. The back door’s through the kitchen?”

“Um.” She blinked and returned her attention to the task at hand. “Beside it, yes.”

O’Hara found the door like he knew where he was going and led her through it. The winter air was cold but not bitter and snow slowly drifted down in the dark back lot. The only cars there were for employees, just a single light above highlighting the space.

He stopped and held the cell phone again. “Back’s secure. Send someone around to watch the space in case we need it for an exit but should be fine.” Then he hung up and stuffed the phone in his pocket, turning to face her.

Liliana stared up at him, snow clinging to her shoulders and curly blue-black hair. Soon she’d likely feel the cold on her bare arms but for now she was too stunned, staring up at O’Hara. “What are you doing here?”

“Sawyer wanted to go out for pizza.”

“There are a lot better pizza places.”

His grin told her he knew exactly why they’d chosen this one and she inwardly wished she worked at a nicer spot, if only for their sake.

“They also wanted to triple date. Which means
I
need a date. So now you have the night off.”

“I could lose my job over this.”

“I highly doubt that with the business Sawyer’s about to bring in. Photos of him in front of the place have already hit Instagram.”

She crossed her arms at her stomach. “This is a weird pitch for a happily-ever-after, you know. If you wanted a date, you could’ve just called.”

“I don’t get into the city often, which is why I was going to suggest you consider moving to Midsummer.”

She cocked a brow at him. “Is this the part where you sweep me off to your castle in your horse-drawn carriage?”