Now she would be nothing more than carbon.
It had to be a shallow grave. Hard as hell to dig through that dirt. He’d pickaxed and shoveled through about eighteen inches of frozen soil. Below that, the ground temperature must have been above freezing, because he saw no more ice crystals. His arms started to give out at four feet deep, so he’d stopped and placed her inside. She wasn’t going to be here for long. He’d make sure of that. Soon, snow would cover the broken dirt, and the grave would vanish. But he could find her again. He’d buried her in a small clearing near a single birch sapling that hadn’t quite reached ten feet tall.
He lifted the pickax, looked at it, wondered what it would be like to swing the point into Magnus Paglione’s head. Soon enough. He set it down and pulled on his parka. From the pocket, he pulled out a can of Dr Pepper.
“I’m sorry, Jian. I failed you.”
That was all the eulogy he could muster.
Colding gently set the can of Dr Pepper on the pile of loose dirt, shouldered the pickax and shovel, then started the walk back to the mansion.
NOVEMBER 30: A HOTSHOT LIKE YOU
SARA SAT IN the lounge, curled up on a leather chair with a blanket over her legs. She was halfway through the now beat-up printout of Hot Dusk. Without Colding to hang out with for the past few days, she’d spent her free time reading Gunther’s novel. Not really her thing, but it was fun to read a book by someone she knew. Clearly, though, written by a guy—ruby penises? Seriously?
She liked the book, but her eyes merely grazed over the words, marking the brief intervals between long looks out the window toward the angry water and the ice-covered rocks. The hazy afternoon sun hid behind clouds that blended from gray to a road-mud black at the horizon.
Colding walked into the lounge. Her face lit up, but she saw no return smile. He looked dirty, rumpled and chilled to the bone. His pants were soaked around the legs and streaked with dark, crumbly dirt. He walked straight toward her and stood, looking down. She’d never seen such an expression on his face: a look of anger and concentration and fear all mashed up into one.
“What are you reading?”
He knew exactly what she was reading. He had given it to her. “Um… Gunther’s book.”
“Yeah? Is it good?” He held out his hand. So odd. She handed him the manuscript. He took the pages, then they slipped out of his hands. He bent to pick them up, pushing the loose pages together again.
“Sorry,” he said. He handed her the manuscript. “Actually, I’ll have to check it out another time. I have some more work to do. Later.”
He turned and walked away without another word. She set the book in her lap, and her finger brushed a small piece of paper barely sticking out of the top of the stack. A piece of paper that hadn’t been there a second ago.
Sara casually flipped to that page and read the small note he’d slipped into the manuscript.
MAGNUS KILLED JIAN. I JUST BURIED HER. I THINK HE ALSO KILLED ERIKA. WE’RE IN A LOT OF TROUBLE. ACT NORMAL. WE MAY HAVE TO MAKE A MOVE VERY SOON. BE READY TO DO WHAT I TELL YOU WITHOUT HESITATION. YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. EAT THIS NOTE SO MAGNUS DOESN’T FIND IT.
Her eyes seemed to fall out of focus. She blinked, then read it again.
Jian… dead?
And Erika Hoel, murdered?
Peej wouldn’t joke about something like this. Not about murder. Holy shit.
As casually as she could, Sara crumpled the note. It was hard not to look up at the cameras, one mounted in each corner of the room. She brought her hand to her mouth and coughed. Mouth filled with the taste of paper, she coughed a few more times, the hand in front of her mouth hiding her furious chewing. She swallowed.
Sara felt a sudden urge to gather up her crew. Run a full check on the C-5 and make sure everything was shipshape. If she had to move quickly, she didn’t want any unexpected trouble from the plane. She put the book down and calmly started toward Alonzo’s room.
SARA, ALONZO, CAPPY and Miller trudged through the snow, walking the half mile from the mansion to the hangar. The heavy black clouds had closed the distance, pushing the gray aside like a broom slowly sweeping dust. The first flakes of snow swirled around in crazy spirals. More would be coming, and soon.
“You gonna tell us what’s up?” Alonzo said, his shoulders in their usual cold-weather position high up at his ears. “Do you really expect us to believe you want a surprise inspection?”
“Quit your bitching, ’Zo,” Sara said. “Just get it done.”
“You’re full of shit, boss,” Miller said.
“Yeah,” Cappy said. “Full of shit.”
She stopped. So did they. The snow swirled around them. She looked each of them in the eye. Her friends. Her family. “Do you guys trust me?”
All three nodded.
“Then do the inspection, and don’t ask any more questions.” She turned and walked toward the hangar. Her friends followed. The less the boys knew, the less chance of someone slipping up, tipping their hand to Magnus. If he had killed Jian, he wouldn’t think twice about whacking the C-5 crew.
They entered the plane, leaving the growing wind to howl outside. Once inside, Sara stopped to give everyone instructions.
“Miller, Cappy, do a status check on the flight harnesses for each cow.”
The Twins exchanged a glance.
“Just in case, right?” Miller said.
“Yeah,” Cappy said. “In case we had to hypothetically fly in bad weather?”
Sara nodded. The Twins nodded back, then quickly and quietly went about their duties. Sara walked down the aisle between the cows, Alonzo at her side.
“Know what?” he said. “I have this crazy urge to do the preflight checklist.”
“I’d start in the lab,” Sara said. “You know, make sure all the equipment is locked down. Just in case.”
“Just in case, right. Because far be it from me to tell you that storm coming in is going to be a high-toned son of a bitch.”
“No way we’d fly out in that,” Sara said. “But after the storm passes… anyway, doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
“Say no more, mon capitaine.” Alonzo walked to Tim’s lab area and got started.
Sara moved through the barn toward the fore ladder, walking past the cows, suddenly very annoyed with the ever-present smell of cattle and the stink of cow shit. Alonzo was right. That storm was a high-toned son of a bitch, and by the time they prepped the C-5 for flight it would be right on top of them. They couldn’t safely bust out until tomorrow, when the weather broke. That gave her one night to talk Colding into leaving.
She climbed the front ladder, reached the top and walked into the cockpit—
—to find Magnus Paglione sitting in the comm chair. He smiled at her. The cockpit lights played off his freshly shaved head. Sara’s heart beat double time. Adrenaline shivered through her body.
“Sara, are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“You scared the piss out of me, Mister Paglione. What the hell are you doing in here?”
Magnus shrugged. “Just checking out the plane, making sure everything was in good shape. You don’t mind if your boss checks up on you, do you, Sara?”
She forced a smile. “Of course not.”
“Is it still getting nasty outside?”
Sara felt sweat trickling down her armpits. Maybe he’d decided she knew too much. Maybe he was here to kill her, too. “Yes sir, still nasty. Wind is already picking up. That storm will be on top of us real fast.”