Northern Deception (Northern Rescue Book 2), page 20
“You still have her, Freya.”
She shook her head. “No, I really don’t. You saw her back at the park. She didn’t even know me.”
And now he knew why that hurt her. It would hurt anyone, but for Freya, the pain cut deeper. Almost like betrayal.
“If it was over before the cops arrived, how did the standoff headlines happen?” he asked. “I remember seeing news stories about it.”
She exhaled hard and swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “The first officer on scene was a state trooper named Hawkins. Doug Hawkins. One look at the scene, and he instantly knew what had happened. He took the rifle from me and told me what to say when the rest of the police arrived—that Judd Ashby killed two of his daughters, tried to kill his wife, and then offed himself. Everyone bought the story without question, even though the forensics didn’t match up. I’ve always felt guilty about that.”
“You shouldn’t.” He squeezed her hand. “When your mom thought I was Doug, she said she missed me. Did they ever…?”
“I don’t think so. They danced around it for a while, but Mamma… I think my father damaged her too much. She couldn’t ever bring herself to trust a man again.”
Which was why Freya also struggled with trust issues. It all made sense now. “What happened to Doug?”
“He smoked. A lot. Lung cancer got him ten years ago, but he lived long enough to see me graduate the trooper academy.”
“So he’s the reason you became a cop.”
“Yes. The day he covered for me, I promised myself I’d never break the law again. That I’d do everything in my power to uphold it.” She finally met his gaze. “I broke that promise last night for you.”
31
After a long night of waiting and doctors and testing and more waiting, Freya finally crashed on the couch in the hospital’s family waiting room. Nate stayed with her, dosing himself until a soft knock at the door jolted him awake. He glanced around, disorientated, and his neck protested the sharp movement.
“Ow.” He rubbed at the ache. “Fuck.”
“Sorry to startle you,” Tage said. He stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trooper parka. He nodded toward Freya. “How is she?”
“You know, trying to be tough, acting like she has it all together.” Nate stroked a protective hand over her hair. She lay stretched out beside him, her head pillowed on his lap, her arms pulled up into the sleeves of the hoodie he gave her last night. Xena was curled up on her feet.
“Typical.” Tage wandered over to the room’s wide span of windows and leaned against the sill. “What about her mom?”
“Hypothermia, but she should be okay. At least physically. They’re keeping her here until a suitable memory care facility has an opening.”
“Good. That’s good.” Tage studied her in silence for several moments. “I assume you tried to convince her to go home and rest?”
“She refused.”
“Of course she did. She’s stubborn, but she’s had to be to survive.”
“Yeah, she told me.” His heart still ached for her, but at least now he understood why she built her walls. “Her mom is a warrior. I can’t imagine what it’s like to watch the strongest person you know wither away.”
Tage nodded and straightened away from the window. “I gotta go. Just wanted to check in before I head back to work. Oh,” he said and stopped short in the doorway. He turned back. “You should know I don’t consider you a suspect anymore.”
“Awesome,” Nate said sarcastically. “What changed your mind?”
His gaze dropped to Freya again. “Besides the fact you risked your life to save her mom?”
Nate thought of Damian. “A killer isn’t a monster all the time.”
“True, but there was another murder tonight, and the killer wanted this one found. Victim wasn’t even cold yet, and cops surrounded you all night. You couldn’t have done it, though the killer really wants us to think you did.”
He supposed he should feel relieved that Tage no longer suspected him, but all the news did was twist his gut into knots. “Who was the victim this time?”
“We don’t have an ID yet, but the killer left him on the road leading out to Bree’s kennel.”
“Fuck.” Nate moved to get up, but remembered Freya still used him as a pillow, and sat back again. “You have to tell Ellis. If this has something to do with Dad’s disappearance, the killer could go for Bree again—”
“It’s already handled,” Tage said, but shook his head. He stepped back into the room, letting the door fall closed at his back. “Between you and me, I don’t think Bree has anything to worry about. The guy that came after her before was hired to get rid of her. This guy… he’s making too many mistakes. Maybe he was originally hired to fix what the first guy screwed up, but if he was, he’s gone rogue. He’s not working for anyone anymore, which would explain the pattern we’re seeing in the kills. Some victims—mainly the first few—were execution-style. The most recent, he… played with.” The disgust in his tone made it clear the scene had been gruesome.
It wasn’t Damian. It can’t be Damian.
Yes, Damian had anger issues. Yes, he was capable of violence, but not the sick, twisted kind of violence Tage described. Not that kid who wanted so badly to be Superman and protect his older brother.
He realized Tage watched his expression carefully. So this entire conversation was a test. Tage didn’t think he was a killer, but still thought he knew something vital to the case. Smart man, but Nate had hidden parts of himself all his life. He knew how to keep his thoughts off his face.
“I’ll tell Freya when she wakes up.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Tage walked toward the door but again paused before leaving. “We found uncut diamonds in the victim’s pocket. I’m thinking you’re right about Agent Coburn. He was on the take and purposely misled me in the mountains. I’ll be heading up there to look around for that mine myself.”
“Don’t go alone,” Nate warned.
“Don’t tell Freya unless you want her going with me,” Tage said, then walked out.
The bastard wouldn’t listen. He’d go alone and if he crossed paths with the Russians, he’d die up there, lost and forgotten like the John Does.
Nate stared at the closed door, his mind racing. Someone should go with him, but it damn well wouldn’t be Freya.
She stirred and drew his attention back to her. He stroked a hand over her head. “Hi, sweetheart.”
She yawned and sat up. “Hi.”
Xena groaned at the interruption and stretched before hopping down to continue her nap on the floor.
Freya laughed softly at the dog. “Did I hear Tage?”
“He stopped to check on you and your mom. You can probably catch him if you—”
“No, it’s okay.” She pushed her hair back from her face and looked at the clock on the wall in surprise. “Oh, shit. It’s late. Or I guess early? Sorry I passed out on you.”
“Don’t apologize. I enjoy holding you.” More like he’d needed to hold her. Craved it. “And you needed the sleep.”
“I could sleep for days.” She yawned again. “Did Tage say there was another murder or was I dreaming?”
Damn. He wished she hadn’t heard that. Had she also heard him say he was going to the mountains tomorrow? “Yeah, there was. A few hours ago. He didn’t say it, but I got the feeling it was a bad one.”
She swore and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have to stop this guy.”
He tried to soften the news with a crooked half-smile. “Hey, he doesn’t suspect me anymore.”
“Well, that’s a win.” She laughed softly and nudged his shoulder with hers. “Mr. Brightside.”
“I’ll take my wins where I can. We haven’t had many lately.”
Her smile faded. “No, we haven’t. I should go help him. Did he say where he was going?” Before he could answer, she waved a dismissive hand and pushed to her feet. “Never mind. Probably the medical examiner’s office if the victim was just found last night. He’d want to watch the autopsy.”
Nate wanted to tell her to take the day off. He wanted to take her home, tuck her into bed, and stand guard to make sure nobody bothered her while she slept until she no longer had those dark shadows under her eyes. But he knew better than to suggest it. The job was hard-wired into his woman, so he’d do what he could to make her life easier while she did it.
He also stood. “I’ll drive you there.”
She opened her mouth as if to protest, but then must have remembered her car was still at the park by the river. She nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She seemed about to say more, but hesitated.
What was going on inside of the mind of hers? He ached to know but didn’t dare pry. After a night of confessions more intimate than sex ever was for either of them, she was understandably skittish.
Hell, if he was honest with himself, so was he. They stood on unsteady ground, and he didn’t know where they were supposed to go from here to find something more solid.
She shook her head and moved to the door. “Uh, just let me check on Mom first.”
That had not been what she wanted to say.
Unsteady ground. And the longer they danced around each other, the more it would crumble away.
Nate stepped back, giving her space. “Absolutely. Take your time.”
32
Morning sun streamed into the hospital room in rivers of golden light that shifted every time the heater kicked on and disturbed the window blinds. It was loud, that clanking of the blinds, but it didn’t seem to bother the frail figure on the bed.
Even so, Freya stepped inside quietly, careful not to make any noise. It didn’t matter. Just like when she tried to sneak around as a kid, her mother caught her.
Ulla sat up. “Freya?”
Her heart squeezed so hard she lost her breath. “Yes, Mamma. It’s me. Sorry to wake you.”
Ulla lifted a skeletal hand to her temple. “I had the strangest dream about a redheaded man and a big black bear.” Frowning, she stared off into near space, as if searching through her jumbled memories. “I was lost,” she said in Swedish. “It wasn’t a dream.”
Freya hurried to her side and sat down on the bed, taking her cold hand to warm between hers. It seemed impossible such a tiny hand belonged to a woman as strong as Ulla Ashby, but that was what this disease did to people. Wasted away their brains and then started in on their bodies.
“It’s okay, Mamma,” she replied in her mother’s native language. “You’re okay now. We found you.”
“That dog found me. And the redhead,” she added in English with a sly smile. “He’s sexy. You should bed that man if you haven’t yet. He’s one of the few good men left in this world. I can tell. And your babies will be beautiful. All that red hair!”
A messy rush of emotion overwhelmed Freya and, for a moment, she couldn’t speak through her tears. This was the Ulla she loved. The devious smile, the sometimes-dirty sense of humor, and the constant, nudging hints for more grandkids. It had been so, so long since she last saw her mother—her actual mother—and this glimmer was both agonizing and magnificent.
“Mamma, don’t start.”
Ulla tsked. “I’m only saying, älskling. I want you to find happiness. I will not be here forever.” She stared into space again, then seemed to catch herself. “I’m already almost gone, aren’t I? I feel myself slipping further and further back into my memories. I wish it was only the best memories, but it’s everything. Every messy moment of my life. Even Judd.”
God, Freya hated that name. It always brought her blood to an instant boil. “He’s dead. He can’t hurt any of us ever again.”
“I know that.” Ulla nodded, though she seemed uncertain it was the truth. “I know. You made sure of that and I’m so proud of you for protecting me and your sisters. But I don’t always remember. My mind is all a jumble, and I can’t tell what’s real anymore…” She trailed off, drifted for a moment. Her gaze bounced around the room in confusion.
Freya squeezed her hand, hoping to keep her anchored to the here and now. “I’m going to take care of you, Mamma.”
And, like that, she snapped back. “No,” she said in her you-better-listen-to-me-or-else tone. “No matter what you do, I’ll get lost again. In my mind.” She tapped her temple. “I’ll wander away and, one day, I won’t come back. Not because I don’t want to, but because I won’t remember this.” She lifted Freya’s hand to her lips. “You don’t have to protect me any longer. Or your sisters. They’re all big girls now. Your only job is to live your life and return me to nature when this disease finally takes me. That’s all I want from you.”
“I don’t want to lock you away in a home. You’ll hate it.”
“Oh, min älskling, I won’t know any different. Just come visit me and remind me of the good times.” Her gaze drifted again, but this time she was looking at something specific over Freya’s shoulder.
She didn’t have to turn to know Nate stood in the doorway.
Ulla switched back to her native language. “And you bed that man.”
Heat crawled up the back of her neck and filled her cheeks. No doubt she was the color of a tomato. “Mamma!”
Ulla chuckled and kissed her hand again before settling back into the bed. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
Freya stood, but she wasn’t ready to face Nate yet with her cheeks on fire. “Get some rest.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s all I do. Rest.” She said the word like someone else might say cockroach. Then that devious smile made a quicksilver reappearance as she looked at Nate again and switched back to English. “You take my daughter to bed. Get her to loosen up.”
“Oh my God.” Freya grabbed Nate’s arm and dragged him from the room as her mother’s delighted laughter followed them out.
Nate’s face was also bright red under his beard. “Did… she just tell me to fuck you?”
“In her own way, yes.” She released a breath. “Sorry. I’d blame the dementia, but this is how she was before the disease. She’s so… clear tonight. I haven’t seen her like this in months.” And the realization that it might be the last time brought her to a stumbling halt in front of the elevator. “I should go back. I might never get this time with her again.”
Nate turned her toward him and dipped his head until she met his gaze. “Yes, you should. Murder can wait. Go be with your mom.”
Warmth spread through her chest as she stared up at him. It wasn’t the stinging heat of embarrassment or the intense inferno of lust. It was softer, unfamiliar yet comforting at the same time. Love? Was she falling in love with this strange, complicated man?
He bent to give her a gentle kiss. “Go be with your mom. I’ll wait until you’re done.”
She nodded and hurried back to her mom’s room.
Ulla still sat up in bed, staring blankly at the door. When she spotted Freya, her eyes lit up. “Gitta! Where have you been?”
God, no. She was too late. She should’ve stayed until the last of the clarity faded instead of running away in embarrassment. Except, knowing her mother, Ulla had planned it that way. She’d felt herself slipping and hadn’t wanted Freya to stay while she forgot her again.
She didn’t tell her mom that her sister was dead. She couldn’t break her heart like that yet again. Instead, she whispered some response—she didn’t know what, couldn’t hear herself over the roaring in her ears—but it pacified Ulla. Her mother settled down on the bed and once again looked like a frail old lady under the blanket.
Freya backtracked to the elevator, cold down to the marrow of her bones. Nate stood right where she left him. She swiped at her face so he wouldn’t see her fresh tears and jabbed the elevator button. “She forgot me again.”
“God, Freya.” He wrapped an arm around her. “I’m so sorry—”
She shrugged off his touch. “I have work to do.”
She didn’t want his comfort. Didn’t want his love. Or any love if it was just going to end in a haze of bad memories.
All she wanted was to find a killer.
33
The ten-minute drive to the medical examiner’s office passed in heavy silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Whatever happened in her mom’s room when she went back had torn out a piece of her soul, so Nate gave her the time to stitch it back together. He was learning she needed that time and space to process big emotions.
Freya didn’t speak until he parked in the roundabout at the front of the sprawling concrete and steel building. It was still early enough that the office workers hadn’t arrived for the day and the many windows were dark. No other cars sat the lot.
“Tage isn’t here,” she said.
“I can hang out until you’re done.”
“No. I’ve already monopolized enough of your time. Go home and get some rest.” She nodded toward the road as she opened the door. “My office is right across the street. Tage is probably already there. I’ll talk to the M.E. and then walk over.” She hesitated, then leaned over the center console and gave him a sexless kiss. “But thank you.”
When she moved to back away, he threaded his hand into her hair and held her still for another, deeper kiss. “I’m not going anywhere, Freya.”
She stared into his eyes, and her breath hitched. “I can walk. It’s fine.”
“I’m staying.” He meant forever. He’d decided last night while she slept on his lap. He was hers. Fully, completely hers. He didn’t want anyone else and, if he was honest with himself, he’d known it the moment she slid onto the stool next to him at that Fairbanks bar. He’d known she’d ruin him, and he’d followed her, anyway.
Freya jerked away from him and shoved open the door. “Well, if you want to be stubborn about it, then you might as well come in with me.” She whistled for her dog. Xena clambered over the seat and hopped out of the truck to follow her. “It’s too cold to sit out here.”
