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Black Ice(73)
Author: Becca Fitzpatrick

The deeper into the forest Jude dragged me, the more crowded the trees became. It was hard to tell where one tree ended and the next began. The spotlight stuck to us, but with difficulty. Under the thick cover, Jude was able to dodge into the pilot's blind spots, behind boulders and under fallen trees, and each time we reappeared, it took longer for the helicopter to pick up our trail.

Jude yanked me against a large pine tree, crushing us into the shelter of its branches. I was pinned with my back to Jude's chest, feeling his breath pant in my ear. There was a startling amount of blood at our feet. Given his injuries, I knew he was on the verge of collapse. He wouldn't make it much farther before he either passed out from blood loss or went into shock from the excruciating demands he was placing on his weakened body. I was amazed he had the strength to drag me, let alone himself, over the rough terrain.

The white glare of the spotlight swept frantically over the ground, then darted off in the wrong direction.

"What are you doing?" I cried. "The gun isn't even loaded-I saw you empty it after we tied up Calvin. You told them you're holding me hostage. You're making things worse. We have to go out there and tell Deputy Keegan everything-how you saved my life, and that you were only with Shaun to find Lauren's killer."

"When I tell you to, I want you to run as fast as you can toward him. Run with your hands raised and visible, and scream your name over and over, do you understand?"

"Why?" I asked him, starting to cry. "Why are you doing this? They'll hunt you down. They'll take you into custody, if they don't shoot you first!"

"They were already going to take me into custody." Jude grabbed my arm, forcing me through the thick, knee-deep snow, behind another pine tree. "Do me one favor. Don't mention Jude Van Sant. Tell them my name is Mason. Korbie's story will match yours. You were taken hostage by two men named Shaun and Mason, tell them that."

"Because Mason doesn't exist anymore."

Jude brushed his hands over my wet cheeks, drying them. "Yes. I'm leaving Mason here in the mountains,” he said softly. "He finished what he came to do."

"Will I see you again?" I choked.

He pulled me to him. He ground a rough kiss to my mouth, making it last. I knew right away that it was a good-bye kiss. I was losing Jude. I didn't want to let him go. This wasn't Stockholm syndrome. I had fallen in love with him.

I peeled off my coat. "Take this at least." I slid it over his shivering shoulders. It fit comically tight, but I couldn't bring myself to laugh. Nothing about this was funny. There was so much I had to say, but there were no words for a moment like this. "I'll tell them you're headed to Canada. I'll tell them you're planning to hide there. will that help?"

Jude stared at me with stark gratitude. "You'd do that for me?"

"We're a team."

He gave me one final hug. "Now run,” he said, shoving me into the open.

I staggered forward into the deep snow, thrown off balance. As soon as I had my footing, I whirled around.

He was gone.

Not a moment later, the spotlight bathed me in a cone of blinding light. I could hear a man's voice speaking commands through an overhead PA. It was Mr. Versteeg. The two search and rescue volunteers rushed in from the trees with Deputy Keegan. I raised my arms and started running toward them.

I yelled, "My name is Britt Pheiffer. Don't shoot."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

A gentle rain drizzled on my bedroom window, falling slantwise under the streetlights outside. At least it wasn't snow.

Six days had passed since I'd been flown off the mountain in Mr. Versteeg's helicopter. I'd learned that a park ranger had found my Wrangler abandoned on the roadside and notified the county sheriff's department, who'd then notified my dad and Korbie's parents that we'd never made it to Idlewilde. Without waiting for the sheriff to organize a search, Mr. Versteeg had immediately hired two search and rescue volunteers, and had flown his helicopter up to look for us. I wondered if Mr. Versteeg would have been as anxious to get up to Idlewilde had he known what he'd find.

After I'd been treated at the hospital for hypothermia and dehydration, I'd given my full report to the police. I'd told them where they would find Calvin's map. I'd explained where they'd find Lauren Huntsman's remains. Mr. and Mrs. Huntsman had flown out to retrieve their daughter's body, and the event had been broadcast by every local news station. I did not watch it. I could not see the Huntsmans and not be reminded of . . . him.

I had not talked to Korbie since that night at Idlewilde. Her cell phone was turned off, and I wasn't even sure she and her parents were in town. The lights at the Versteeg home were turned off too. Or maybe that was to deter the news reporters camped on their lawn.

I did not know what I would say when I saw Korbie again. I had told the police about Calvin. She saw it as a betrayal, I knew. Her entire family did. Because of me, Calvin's secrets had flooded into the open.

As for Jude, I did not allow myself to wonder. He'd escaped into the forest bleeding and battered and without sufficient clothes. He faced exposure, starvation, and capture. His odds of survival were minimal. would a hiker stumble across his frozen body weeks from now, and then I'd hear about his death on the news? I shut my eyes hard and emptied my mind. It hurt too much to wonder.

I went downstairs for a bedtime snack, glad to find my brother, Ian, leaning against the kitchen counter chewing a peanut butter sandwich. Ian and I usually fought, but he'd been uncharacteristically sweet to me ever since I'd come home, and I was actually looking forward to his company tonight.

Ian lathered peanut butter on another slice of bread, folded it in half, and crammed the whole thing inside his mouth. "'Ont 'un?" he grunted.

I nodded, but took the jar and knife to make the sandwich myself. Ian eyed me with open astonishment as I spread peanut butter smoothly over the bread.

"You actually know how to make one?" he said. "Stop being melodramatic."

"Dad told me you did your own laundry today. Is it true?" he asked, widening his eyes in feigned wonder. "Who are you and what have you done with my sister?"

I rolled my eyes and boosted myself onto the counter. "In case I haven't said it lately, I'm glad you're my big brother." I patted him affectionately on the head. "Even when you do insult me."

"Want to watch a movie?"

"Only if you brush your teeth first. It's so gross when your breath smells like peanut butter and popcorn."

He sighed. "Just when I thought you'd changed."

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