by Lyn Gardner
It wasn’t until Alex’s fourth trip that Maggie began to shiver, and as her eyes opened, she weakly stuttered, “Pl…please…no…no…more.”
Hearing her voice, Alex grinned. “Hey there. How you feeling?”
“I’m cold,” Maggie whimpered, trying to get away from the icy water that surrounded her.
Touching Maggie’s arm to still her movements, Alex said, “Okay. Let me get some towels, and I’ll get you out of there.”
Retrieving three towels from one of the totes, Alex tossed two on the bed and hurried to the bathroom with the last in her hand. Up until that moment, the fact that the woman who Alex found incredibly attractive was wearing nothing but underwear hadn’t been an issue, but the white fabric of Maggie’s bra and knickers had become almost translucent because of the water. Swallowing hard, it was all she could do to keep her eyes off of Maggie’s finer features as she helped her from the tub. Wrapping her in the towel, Alex guided her slowly to the bedroom, and lowering her to the carpet in front of the fireplace, covered her with the remaining towels.
Taking a bottle of water from the nightstand, Alex placed it in Maggie’s hand. “Here, you should drink some of this.”
Seeing that the liquid in the bottle was cloudy, Maggie shook her head and pushed it away. “No, it’s dirty.”
Smiling, Alex put the bottle back into Maggie’s hand. “No, it’s not. I put some aspirin in it a while ago. I thought it would be easier than you trying to swallow pills. Now drink up, but remember to take it slow.”
“I will,” Maggie replied. Clear-headed for the first time in several hours, as she sipped the water, she looked around the room. Except for the wall which held the fireplace, all the others were covered in smooth, rounded logs stacked from floor to ceiling. High above her head, she could see large timbers running to and fro. Although she had no idea the amount of snow on the roof, by the girth of the lumber, it was obvious that the cabin was built to withstand the fiercest of winters.
Taking another drink, Maggie ran her tongue over her cracked lips, trying to replace the moisture that her fever had sucked away. Noticing what she was doing, Alex opened the first-aid kit and handed Maggie a small container.
“Here, try this. It should help.”
“What is it?”
“Balm for your lips.”
“Oh,” Maggie replied weakly.
When Maggie didn’t make a move to open the small jar, Alex asked, “Would you rather I do it?”
“Please,” Maggie said, placing the container back into Alex’s hand. “Can you?”
“Not a problem.”
Unscrewing the cap, Alex put some on her finger and then gently rubbed it across Maggie’s parted lips. Although Alex was trying to keep her eyes focused on the task at hand, when she glanced up and her eyes met Maggie’s, she felt her body react. Silently chastising herself for the thoughts which flashed through her mind, Alex put the jar aside and reached for the bandages. Lifting the corner of the towel, she removed the waterlogged dressing, and in silence, tended to the wound.
“You’re not who I thought you were,” Maggie said in a whisper as Alex pressed the adhesive tape in place.
“How so?”
“You seem so different. Not as…hard…coarse, as I remember.”
Alex couldn’t help but smile. It was rare that she had ever allowed any of her work colleagues to see her softer side, especially the colleague lying in front of her, but keeping up her stern and serious act twenty-four-seven was impossible.
Tossing the old bandage into the flames, Alex looked into Maggie’s eyes and when she spoke, her tone was soft. “I’m a passionate woman, Campbell. I’m passionate about putting men behind bars that kidnap little boys for reasons that make me lose my lunch. I’m passionate about catching the men who rape women, and do more damage to their souls than they ever could do to their bodies. And I’m passionate about wanting to hunt down every man and woman who bring drugs into our country, turning our youth into addicts before they’re old enough to vote. So yeah, I suppose I appear hard, but it’s the woman I need to be in order to do my job.”
“And what about when you’re not working?” Maggie asked. “What kind of woman are you then?”
Maggie watched in amazement as Alex’s entire persona seemed to change. In an instant, the intensity that had been etched into her forehead disappeared, and her eyes twinkled with amusement.
“I’m a woman who adores a five-pound Yorkshire terrier named Sandy, who, by now, has given birth to her puppies and is most likely driving my best friend crazy,” Alex said with a wide smile. “I’m a woman who loves her family and all that entails, and I’m a woman who’s content to sit in a darkened room at night and listen to the sounds of the street, thinking about the day that’s passed so I can clear away the cobwebs and focus on tomorrow.” A loud pop from the fireplace startled Alex, and blushing slightly, she said, “Sorry…got a little deep there.”
“No, not at all,” Maggie said. Shocked at how wrong she was about the woman sitting by her side, she asked, “So, you mentioned a dog and family, what about a boyfriend or a husband?”
“Not my flavor,” Alex said as she stood and walked to the trunk.
“What do you mean?”
Returning with a blue flannel shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, Alex sat on the floor and said, “I’m gay.”
“You’re gay?” Maggie repeated in shock.
The stunned look on Maggie’s face instantly ignited Alex’s temper, and setting her jaw, she growled back, “Is that a problem?”
Shaking her head, Maggie said, “No…no. I just didn’t think…I mean…you don’t look like—”
“A dyke?”
“That’s not…that’s not what I meant,” Maggie stammered, rubbing her forehead, “I guess I just assumed…I mean, you’re a beautiful woman, and I thought that you’d be…um…straight.”
Having had the same hesitant, fumbling response from so many other straight people in her life, Alex was about to unleash a torrent of angry words, but when she saw that Maggie was shivering, she reined in her anger.
“You need to get out of those wet things,” Alex stated, placing the clothes on the floor. “And now that you know I’m a lesbian, I’m sure you’d be more comfortable putting these on without my help.”
“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” Maggie argued weakly.
“Sure I do,” Alex said sadly as she stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to help you get into bed.”
Mumbling expletives under her breath until she reached the kitchen, Alex poured some scotch into a coffee cup, lit a cigarette and tried her best to calm down. She hated being judged because of her sexuality, and seeing the shocked look on Maggie’s face had cut her to the core. Waiting for the length of time it took to smoke two cigarettes, Alex returned to the bedroom with a scowl on her face.
“You ready?” she asked, walking to the bed to pull back the quilt. When Maggie didn’t answer, Alex looked in her direction and noticed she was still lying under the towels. “Why haven’t you changed?”
“I tried, but…but I couldn’t do it. I…I don’t have the strength,” Maggie said in a hoarse whisper.
Alex’s shoulders fell. In her anger, she had forgotten that Maggie was seriously ill, and she had left her on the floor covered in wet towels for over fifteen minutes.
“Christ, I’m sorry,” Alex said, rushing to her side. “I can be quite the stupid shit at times.”
“That’s okay, so can I.”
“Would you like me to help you?”
“Please,” Maggie said as another shiver ran through her body.
Trying her best to keep Maggie’s privacy intact, Alex reached under the towel, pulled the wet knickers down her legs and replaced them with a pair of boxers in a matter of seconds. Crawling to Maggie’s side, Alex leaned over her and said, “Put your arms around my neck, and I’ll pull you up.”
Doing as instructed, seconds later Maggie wa
s sitting up with her face buried in Alex’s shoulder, waiting for the pain in her side to subside. Without saying a word, Alex unclasped the damp bra, and tossing it aside, she quickly pulled the flannel shirt over Maggie’s cold skin. After fastening every button, Alex gently helped Maggie into bed.
Before she was able to cover her with the quilt, Maggie had already passed out. Alex quietly left the bedroom, and foregoing food or water, headed to the sofa and stretched out across the cushions. Taking a deep breath, before her lungs emptied, she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. She had no way of knowing that in less than four hours, she would once again wake to the sounds of unintelligible words muttered by a woman on the verge of death.
Chapter Nine
Standing in the library lost in his thoughts, John Harper looked up as the man came back into the room. Although they had only just met, it seemed to Harper that Alexandra Blake’s father had aged a decade in a matter of minutes.
“Is your wife all right?”
“Seeing that you just told her that her daughter is dead, do you really need to ask that question?” Gregory Blake said as he strode to the liquor cabinet. “I need a drink. Would you like one?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Gregory said sternly, forcing a glass in Harper’s hand. “I don’t like to drink alone. It’s much too easy to get drunk. Since I have to call my sons to tell them that their sister is…is gone, and then start making arrangements for…for Alexandra’s funeral, I prefer to remain sober. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes, sir,” John said, taking a sip of the whisky.
“Sit,” Blake said, motioning to a chair in the room as he sat behind his desk.
Taking a seat, Harper remained quiet and watched as Gregory Blake struggled to hold onto his emotions. It was clear that the man was trying to be strong, but the look in his eyes said it all. He was devastated.
A few minutes passed in silence until finally, John Harper rose to his feet. “Perhaps I should leave now.”
“I’ll need some information before you go,” Gregory said in a whisper. “The funeral home will need to know where to go…where to go to get my daughter.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Blake, but…but we haven’t found her yet.”
Looking up from his glass, Blake said, “Excuse me?”
Déjà vu. The feeling that occurs when you believe that you’ve witnessed or experienced the current situation once before, and it was the feeling now washing over John Harper. Taking a deep breath, he sat back down and looked over at Gregory Blake. “Your daughter and another officer were on an airplane that went down in a storm. We haven’t yet been able to make it to the crash site to retrieve their…to bring them home.”
“Then how do you know they’re dead?” Blake asked, studying the man across the way. “And what do you mean a storm? The UK has been clear all week.”
“They were assisting Interpol on a small mission, and their flight took them into Canada.”
Gregory Blake paled. He had watched the news just that morning, and terms like storm of the century and the blizzard to end all blizzards had been bandied about on almost every station. Weather maps flashed red as forecasters predicted temperatures well below freezing and winds well above gale force. At the time, it seemed unimportant. Although he had sympathized with those living thousands of miles away as he had sat sipping his coffee in his conservatory that morning, the tragic events unfolding on his television screen hadn’t been personal…until now.
Getting up, he walked over and picked up a silver-framed photograph of his daughter. Running his finger over the glass, a hundred memories flooded his mind. Her birth, her first steps, and her first day at school. Her enthusiasm when she had joined the Met and her excitement when she had solved her first case. But most of all, he remembered her strength. No task had ever been too tough for her, and he couldn’t remember Alex once admitting defeat. It wasn’t in her nature. It wasn’t in her genes…and it certainly wasn’t in his.
Carefully returning the frame to the bookcase, he turned around and stared at John Harper. “Pardon my impertinence, but I don’t believe you.”
Confused, Harper said, “Excuse me?”
“Unless you can give me absolute proof that Alexandra is dead, then she isn’t,” Blake stated firmly as he went back to his desk and sat down. “Now, when will you be able to get to them?”
“Um…I’m sorry to say that we won’t be able to get anywhere near the crash site for weeks.”
“Weeks!”
“The storm—”
“I know all about the bloody storm!” Blake shouted. “It’s all over the airwaves, for God’s sake, but that’s not an answer to my question. That’s an excuse!”
“Sir, you don’t understand. Until the weather breaks, we can’t risk sending someone—”
“You risked my daughter’s life by sending her there, you bloody buffoon!” Blake screamed, getting to his feet.
John Harper had always considered himself an even-tempered man, and when he had made the decision to tell the families of Maggie Campbell and Alexandra Blake about their deaths, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. However, he hadn’t anticipated being called incompetent, and his composure slipped a notch, or perhaps two.
Rising to his feet, he glared at Gregory Blake. “Do you honestly believe that I would have allowed them to make that trip if I had thought for one instant that they would be in danger? I know how to do my job!”
“Well, as long as your job includes putting people in harm’s way, then I’d say you’re doing a bang-up job of it!”
“I’m not the one that convinced an agent to go against direct orders!” Harper barked back.
Blake opened his mouth to reply and then shut it just as quickly. Confused by Harper’s outburst, he narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”
Harper’s shoulders fell as he realized his mistake, and letting out a long breath, he said, “I think I should leave.”
“What do you mean that I wasn’t the one that convinced an agent to go against orders?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it bloody well does. Now tell me the truth…please.”
With a heavy sigh, Harper sat back down and took a sip of his drink. Unable to raise his eyes to meet those of Alexandra Blake’s father, Harper stared at the floor as he began to talk.
“Due to the blizzard, communications with the rest of my people in Canada have been limited, but we’ve learned that the officer who was with your daughter was ill, and apparently her condition required a hospital. Your daughter convinced one of my most seasoned agents to go against orders and fly them out.”
The sound of Gregory Blake’s laughter filled the room, and stunned, Harper’s head snapped up. “Are you all right, sir?”
“The poor bastard didn’t stand a chance,” Blake said as he continued to chuckle.
“Excuse me?”
“You obviously don’t know my daughter very well.”
“You’re right, I don’t. We only met the other day when I gave her the assignment.”
Still wearing a wide smile, Blake got up and retrieved a book from a nearby shelf. Walking over, he dropped the dictionary in Harper’s lap.
“Look up the word pigheaded in there, and you’ll find a picture of my daughter,” Blake said. “Alex is as stubborn as the day is long. Coupled with the fact that she would never stand idly by and watch somebody suffer tells me that your agent, orders or not, didn’t have a choice.”
“She’s that hardheaded?”
“You have absolutely no idea,” Gregory replied. Pulling over a nearby chair, he sat down next to Harper, and pausing a moment to get his thoughts in order, he said, “I’m a wealthy man, and if money is one of the reasons that you can’t—”
“I assure you that it’s not,” John interrupted. “I promise you that as soon as the weather breaks, I’ll fly a team in.”
“Why can’t they try it on foot? Surely those trained in rescu
e—”
“Sending anyone in on foot would only put more people in peril. The storm is still raging, and even after the snow stops falling, which I’m told won’t be for another few days, we still have the wind to contend with, and the last radar forecast showed another smaller storm moving in. I’m afraid that we’re just going to have to wait until the weather clears before sending in a search party.”
“But by then it could be too late. I mean, they could manage to stay alive for a few days if the plane was intact. They’d be able to stay warm for a little while, but—” His words were cut off by the sound of a mobile phone ringing, and Gregory watched as Harper pulled one from his pocket.
Glancing at the screen, Harper rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this.”
“Of course,” Gregory said, emptying what was left in his glass in one swallow. “I’ll pour myself another scotch.”
Several minutes passed before John Harper walked back into the room, but when he did, the rather pensive look on the his face, caused Gregory Blake to sit up in his chair. “You’ve heard something, haven’t you?”
Without saying a word, Harper walked over and retrieved his drink from the end table. Taking a sip, he said, “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“It’s too late for that,” Gregory answered anxiously. “Now, what is it?”
“We know where the plane is because of the transmitter on board. I’ve had my entire department studying every map and satellite photo they can get their hands on so when the time comes, we’ll know what we’re up against.”
“And?”
“They’ve come across a map showing…showing a few cabins in the area where they crashed.”
“Cabins!”
Hearing the exuberance in the man’s voice, Harper said, “Please, I don’t want you to read more into this than there is. The cabins are nearly three miles away from where the plane went down, and they would have had to find them in the dark, after walking for hours through a forest in a snowstorm.”
