Cold Case Secrets. Maggie K. Black

to my pilot, Kevin, there’s a pretty bad storm coming that’s probably going to hit sooner than that.” Then, as she watched, his gaze rose to the clouds above. “Lord, help me do this. Help get Grace and myself out of here alive. And may somebody catch these killers before anyone gets hurt.”

      Hang on, had he really just prayed? In front of her? He had, hadn’t he?

      Jacob unholstered his weapon and slowly moved away from her. She watched as he paused and searched the world outside their hiding place. Then he stepped out and she lost sight of him.

      Maybe the fact Jacob had prayed didn’t mean anything. She’d heard plenty of people claim to be religious, including a whole lot of criminals just looking for a break at their trial. Yes, Jacob’s reputation was impeccable, and maybe there were a few really good people of integrity out there, but she wasn’t about to risk her life on Jacob being one.

      No, she couldn’t risk telling him about the cabin, her father or her real reason for being here. But if she could find the cabin, there was the tiniest possibility she could still retrieve whatever her father wanted her to find before being airlifted to safety.

      She cast one last glance through the crevice to the empty space where Jacob had gone and saw nothing but trees. Then she reached up, grabbed hold of a jagged and jutting piece of rock and started climbing.

      * * *

      Jacob stepped into the clearing and paused with his weapon at the ready. It was empty. Water roared far below him to his left. The helicopter whirred above him just out of view. Cutter was nowhere to be seen.

      “Hey, Warren, where was the heat signature again?” he asked, his eyes in the sky.

      “Ahead about a hundred paces to your left.” The detective’s voice was back in his headset. “I can track him, but it means losing eyes on the civilian.”

      Jacob frowned. “Do it.”

      “Are you sure the man the civilian saw was Barry Cutter?” Now it was Kevin’s voice that crackled in his ear.

      “Absolutely.” He started walking slowly, listening for the sounds of life. He had no doubt in his mind Grace had seen exactly who she’d said. As difficult as that woman was, from what he’d read of her articles, it seemed she was also fairly brilliant and knew her stuff. He took a deep breath and fought the urge to go back and talk to her. Something about the way they’d just left things felt awkward. But what else was there to say? He had an escaped convict to find, a helicopter to catch and an undercover detective to meet up with at midnight to collect new evidence, which would hopefully help him solve the one murder that had been tearing him up inside for over half his life.

      And here his brain was having trouble focusing.

       Okay, God. Help me do what needs to be done. Help me get my head in the game.

      He’d been completely knocked off-kilter, to the point of feeling all of his words fall from his head, the moment Grace had said her name and he’d realized just who he was holding against his chest. Of all the women in the world it could’ve been, why did it have to be her? Grace Finch was difficult, challenging, a pain in his neck, impossible...and impossibly beautiful with her long legs, bold and determined eyes, and full lips. He’d never known anyone capable of knocking his breath from his lungs by just walking onto a crime scene like her.

      Had she really had no idea that three lifers had escaped prison when she’d decided to come camping up here in the middle of nowhere? But how else would she have gotten here in time? The convicts had crashed in a secluded area north of the park, so it made sense they’d been able to travel as deep into the length of the woods as they had in four hours, which is why this was where they’d been searching. But if Grace really had parked at the entrance and hiked in that way, there was no way she could’ve heard of the prison escape and made it here by now. Not unless she was airlifted in.

      But could it really be a coincidence one of the country’s best crime reporters just happened to be in the woods in the exact location where notorious serial killers who’d just escaped prison happened to be? Of course not. Not that he could come up with a plausible alternative theory. Or take the time to figure one out now. So much of this didn’t make sense. Starting with the fact that his mouth hadn’t been able to summon so much as, “Yeah, I know who you are,” when she’d told him her name.

      He could still remember the first time he’d seen her walking toward him at the crime scene of a multiple homicide, striding right up to the yellow police tape. He’d hoped she was a detective, a colleague, someone he could grab a coffee and talk over cases with. Not that he’d ever considered looking for a romantic relationship with her or anything. He already had enough people who counted on him, what with two elderly parents, three younger brothers—one getting married on the weekend—three new sisters-in-law and two nephews. But he’d never been opposed to building a new professional and collegial friendship.

      He also remembered the first time Warren had spotted her at a crime scene. The fellow detective had just arrived back in Ontario earlier after spending over a decade putting away an impressive array of criminal lowlifes out east. And somehow, just a few weeks on the job, she’d already caught his eye.

      “That’s Grace Finch, the reporter, right?” Warren had nodded in her direction through the maze of flashing red and blue lights punctuating the night. “I heard she’s a force and a half.”

      Jacob couldn’t even remember what he’d said next. Maybe, “Yeah, she’s pretty tough,” or something like that.

      “I was thinking of asking her to a new show at the Art Gallery of Ontario,” Warren had started saying. Then he’d taken in the look on Jacob’s face and added, “Unless for some reason you’d rather I didn’t.”

      And Jacob had realized in that moment just how very much he’d rather Warren didn’t. Not that he had any right to ask him not to date Grace. Sure, Jacob had been quick to assure him he had no intention of ever pursuing a relationship with Grace. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d been kind of relieved that Warren hadn’t either.

      He paced a few lengths into the woods, slowly, carefully following the broken branches and disturbed ground that told him someone had gone this way. “Hey, Kevin, how are we doing on the fuel situation?”

      “I can give you fifteen minutes.” The pilot’s voice came back in his ear. “Twenty at the absolute max.”

      “You said that ten minutes ago.”

      “Yeah.” The sound of Kevin blowing out a hard breath filled his ear. “That was adding in a time cushion just to be safe in case we got delayed by the storm. Now, we’re all out of cushion.”

      “Got it. Warren, have you got eyes on me?”

      “Heat signature on your own, moving north?” Warren confirmed. “Yup. But I’ve momentarily lost the one you were tracking.”

      Jacob frowned. It happened. The camera’s range was not that broad. “How’s our civilian doing?”

      “Hang on. I’ve got to move the camera,” Warren said. Jacob waited. “I’ve got no heat signatures near the rock formation. Your civilian is gone. But I think I’ve got two figures on top of the rock ledge to the east of you.”

      Jacob turned on his heels. You have to be kidding me! Had she actually decided to ignore what he’d said and take off on her own? His strides turned into a full-out sprint. He reached the crevice. It was empty. No Grace. His jaw clenched. “She’s gone.”

       Lord, help me hold it together...

      A scream filled the air.

       THREE

      “Where are they?” Jacob shouted into his headpiece. He ran, pressing his body through the dense woods and keeping his weapon at the ready.