Colder Than Ice Read online

  He hung up, and Josh snapped his telephone off, pocketed it and drove the car around to the hospital’s double doors.

  Bryan and Beth were there waiting.

  He felt a lump form in his throat when he looked at her, standing there beside his son in the hospital entrance. She didn’t want to walk out and leave her old friend behind, lying there unattended. It felt wrong, he knew that. He’d felt the same way when he’d had to fly out to California to identify the bodies of his ex-wife and her new husband. Leaving them there, after the fact, had felt like abandoning them.

  It wasn’t easy.

  He pulled the pickup truck to a stop, and Bryan opened the passenger side door and held it for Beth while she got inside. She slid across the seat until she was pressed to Josh’s side, so there was room for Bryan, who climbed in and closed the door.

  Josh drove and wished to God there was something he could do to ease her pain. He hated being in a position where he had to pretend his own grief even compared to hers, and he could tell by the looks he was getting from Bryan that his son hated it even more. He knew Bryan honestly mourned Maude’s passing. He did, too. But they’d only known her a few days and were playing the part of devoted family members. For Beth, the grief was deeper, far, far deeper.

  There was nothing to be done, though.

  Nothing.

  Josh drove Beth and his son back to Maude’s house. And even to him it felt wrong that everything there should be the same, that there was no sign of the tragedy, the loss. They went inside, and the house felt the same—as if Maude would pop in from the kitchen any second, with her bright smile and her mischievous eyes and her pearls of wisdom.

  “‘Everything in life happens for a reason,’” Beth said softly. “‘It’s all part of the great plan. You can accept it with grace, or you can fight it like a wildcat, but what’s meant to be is meant to be.’”

  Her inward-turned gaze shifted outward again. It was as if, for just a moment, she’d forgotten he and Bryan were there. She shrugged and said, “It was one of Maude’s favorite platitudes. The one she pulled out most often, at least. And the only one that never made a hell of a lot of sense to me.” She shook her head. “She said it was the key to the universe. The secret of happiness. But this wasn’t part of anyone’s plan. There’s no reason why Maude should have died. She wasn’t sick or suffering. She enjoyed life more than most people half her age. More than I do, that’s for sure.”

  Bryan came over to her, put a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just let his hand rest there for a moment. Then he turned and went upstairs to his room, telling his father with a look that he was done. Poor kid, he’d been through a lot today.

  “Beth, sit down. You look ready to drop.”

  She stood there, shaking her head slowly. “I…can’t sleep in Maude’s room, Joshua.”

  “Of course not. There must be ten bedrooms in this place.”

  She nodded. “But they’re not made up—”

  “Sure they are,” Josh said. “Maude kept them as clean as if she expected guests to show up at any time.”

  She closed her eyes, crossed the room slowly, sank onto the couch. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I only know it from being here,” he said. “Day to day, watching her routine.” He cleared his throat. “We’re here for you, Beth. Bryan and me. I know you don’t trust men as a rule, but—you can lean on me. I mean it. I want to help you through this.”

  She met his eyes and shook her head slowly. “Listen to you. I’m pathetic. You’re the one who just lost your grandmother.”

  “And you’re the one who just lost your best friend. Your only friend.”

  She averted her eyes fast, but not in time to hide the tears. Josh slid his arms around her and drew her close to him, and she let him. She relaxed against his chest, lowered her head to his shoulder and let him hold her. God, he wanted to make things all right for this woman. So much pain in her life—most of it because of him. He wanted to take it away, to make everything good for her. He wanted to make her smile.

  He drew back just a little and looked down at her tearstained cheeks, lifting her face with a forefinger when she tried to hide it from him. And then something moved in him, something irresistible, and he bent closer and slowly covered her lips with his own.

  It wasn’t a passionate kiss. It was a tender one, slow and lingering and gentle. When he lifted his head away, she didn’t look him in the eye. Instead she kept her gaze averted and said softly, “I’m exhausted. I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

  He nodded. “I’ll walk you up.” She looked at him, about to say something, but Josh held up a hand. “The heat isn’t on in all the bedrooms. And I want to know where you are, in case you need anything. And that’s all.”

  She nodded, her eyes expressing silent gratitude; then she turned and walked up the stairs as if her legs were made of lead. Josh walked behind her and tried to figure out what had just happened between them. The feelings that had been roiling inside him ever since he’d set eyes on her again were not real feelings. They were based on guilt, on the crushing responsibility that had been bearing down on him for nearly twenty years. He’d thought he’d killed her. He hadn’t. But having destroyed her life left him compelled to repair the damage. And that was a powerful motivator.

  He was going to have to be very careful, he realized, to keep his head on straight, and to keep his guilty feelings uninvolved in the job he had come here to do—and, more importantly, not to confuse them with anything else.

  Chapter Seven

  Sunday (wee hours)

  Maude was standing beside the bed, holding Beth’s hand and talking to her as if she were still alive.

  I know, Beth. I know what I always say; that when my time comes, I’ll be more than happy to go. That I’ve had a happy, full life in the best town in the whole wide world, and that I haven’t got a single regret. And all that holds true, Beth. Every last bit of it. And I’m fine. I really am. But I don’t think it was my time. Something…something went wrong. I’m worried about you, Beth.

  Beth opened her eyes, coming slowly awake. She smiled up at Maude, gave her hand a squeeze, then realized that there was no one there. Beth lay in the bed with her arm raised, hand closed around nothing but air, and the reality startled her so much that she sat up suddenly. God, it had been so real! She’d felt Maude’s hand in her own, heard her voice.

  She swallowed the dryness in her throat and looked around the strange bedroom. It wasn’t one she’d ever been in before.

  It was nice, though. Amazing that she hadn’t realized Maude kept the inn’s old guest rooms in a constant state of readiness, the beds made up, bedding fresh, the comforters smelling of the outdoors, as if she’d aired them on a regular basis. The room was free of dust, its furniture polished, its floor mopped and its bathroom sparkling. To save money, Maude had shut off the heat in most of the bedrooms simply by closing the valves on the old-fashioned radiators. Josh had ducked into his own room long enough to grab a T-shirt for her to wear to bed. Then he’d come into her room to bleed the air from the pipes and turn her heat on for her. He’d offered to bring her a glass of warm milk, but she’d turned it down. And then he’d left, without any hint he wanted anything more.

  The man was treating her like a fragile, wounded dove. She wasn’t. Far from it, she thought. But it was sweet, and he meant well. And maybe—maybe Josh was a man she could trust, one she could let herself care for. Maybe…

  She tugged back the paisley print spread and slid out of the bed. She didn’t have a robe or slippers here. She was wearing Josh’s T-shirt as a nightgown, but she didn’t think she would run into anyone downstairs. The clock on the nightstand told her it was 2:45 a.m. Bryan and his dad were sound asleep. Beth wasn’t even close.

  Not after that dream.

  It kept replaying in her mind. Was Maude trying to tell her something? That it hadn’t been her time?

  “It was just a dream,” she whispered. S
he padded out of the bedroom and down the stairs, not sure where she was going, just knowing she was too restless to sleep. Too lonely in this house without Maude. God, why did she have to die? It was selfish, Beth knew, to feel the way she did, but dammit, Maude was the only friend she had allowed herself to make here. She couldn’t imagine life without her.

  She crossed the dark living room, then paused as she heard the sound of an engine starting up. Frowning, she moved quickly to the front door and peered out into the night. Josh’s pickup had come to life. Not in the driveway, but on the side of the road, as if he’d rolled it out there first, before starting the engine.

  What in the world was he up to?

  Every shield she’d built sprang up around her soul, and Beth went icy cold. He was obviously doing something he didn’t want her to know about. It shook her. Up to now she’d accepted that Josh was exactly what he claimed to be, that he had no secrets. Now it seemed he had something to hide after all.

  She should have known. God, when had she met any man worth trusting? Hadn’t Mordecai taught her anything?

  Beth decided it wouldn’t be wise to just wait around to find out what Joshua Kendall was hiding. She held off until his pickup crept out of sight, then grabbed her coat and pulled it on over the T-shirt, shoved her feet into her sneakers and found Maude’s car keys right where she had always left them. She dashed out to Maude’s old station wagon, started it up and headed off in the same direction Josh had gone, driving slowly, headlights off. It didn’t take long at all to catch up to him, either. He drove into town, pulled over along the side of the road, and shut off his engine and headlights.

  She pulled over and shut Maude’s car off as well, three blocks behind him. She didn’t think he’d seen her. Carefully, she got out and walked quickly, quietly, ahead. It was cold. As she walked, she buttoned up her long coat, glad she’d had this one on today rather than the short jacket she’d worn on her last middle-of-the-night run. She could see her breath in the eerie silence of the night. A new chill raced up her spine when she realized Josh’s truck was parked right in front of the funeral home. And he wasn’t in it anymore.

  Oh, God. What was this?

  She looked toward the building. It stood there, tall and narrow, yellow clapboards, white shutters framing pitch-black windows, and a sign on the lawn that swung in the night breeze and creaked with every movement.

  She swallowed hard and crept along the sidewalk toward the front entrance, but she didn’t go up the steps. Instead she veered off the path and walked around to the rear. And there, from the seldom viewed back lawn of the town’s only funeral home, she saw a light on in one of the windows.

  She shivered and hugged her coat more tightly around her. Her bare legs were trembling with cold and with emotion. Still, she moved closer. The window was too high for her to see inside, but there was a water spigot mounted to the cinder block base of the house. She put one foot on that, dug her fingertips into the window frame and pulled herself up.

  Beyond the glass was a scene from a nightmare. Maude’s body, white as porcelain, and nude, lay on a table, and a woman in a white coat stood over it, a hypodermic in one hand.

  Beth jerked backward so hard and so fast that she stumbled from her perch. Her foot turned the water valve as she fell, and icy spray shot from the spigot onto her legs.

  From beyond the window she heard the woman’s voice say, “What the hell was that?”

  She scrambled to her feet and ran, splashing in the still-growing puddle as she did. She raced across back lawns, finally cutting between two houses and coming out near Maude’s car. Without looking back, she jumped into it and made a U-turn, heading back the way she had come.

  Dammit, she was freezing!

  And frightened. Who the hell was messing with Maude’s body in the dead of night, in secret? And how was Josh involved?

  She remembered him asking about an autopsy. Could he have brought in his own person to perform it? But how could he have the connections to do such a thing, and why the cloak-and-dagger nonsense? Why not just insist it be done? He was Maude’s next of kin, after all. He had every right. She wondered about Josh. He was hiding something, that much was clear. But what? He couldn’t be working for Mordecai—he seemed more interested in protecting her than doing her harm. Protecting her…God, could he be another one of Arthur Stanton’s goons? Sent to protect her whether she liked it or not? But how could Maude’s grandson be working for Stanton? That would be too much of a coincidence. What, then?

  She was no longer so sure about Joshua, and nowhere near comfortable spending the night under the same roof with him—assuming he even came back from his late-night excursion. She headed back to her own cottage.

  “What exactly did you observe after she collapsed?” Marcia Black, government-employed forensic pathologist, asked Josh the question even as she gathered various samples from Maude Bickham’s corpse.

  Arthur had phoned Josh on his cell to let him know things were underway. He’d sent Marcia Black to the funeral home and a recovery team to Beth’s cottage. Both missions would be accomplished under cover of darkness, in complete secrecy. Josh felt compelled to oversee the postmortem—to see to it that Maude’s body was treated with respect, that nothing was overlooked, and that no evidence was left behind. Black wouldn’t do an autopsy; that would be too obvious. She would have to settle for a visual exam, and some blood and tissue samples. He’d arrived at the funeral home shortly after Dr. Black had been scheduled to begin her work.

  “It seemed like she couldn’t breathe,” he said, in answer to Black’s question. “But she wasn’t struggling to breathe, either. It was strange. She was incredibly still.”

  Marcia lifted her brows. “How still? Was she speaking? Gasping?”

  “Utterly still. Her eyes were open but not moving. Her mouth wasn’t moving, either. Nothing on her was moving, but she wasn’t dead yet. I’m telling you, it was creepy.”

  “You’re saying she appeared…paralyzed?”

  Frowning, Josh sent her a look. “Yeah. Why, does that mean something to you?”

  She shrugged. “It might.”

  “Well?”

  She shrugged. “There are drugs that can have that effect. But it’s highly unlikely that’s what this is. They have to be injected.”

  Josh narrowed his eyes. “Injected,” he said. “Like insulin is injected.”

  “She injected insulin?” Marcia’s eyes told him they were on to something as he nodded. “How long before the collapse?”

  “She was making dinner, always took a shot before eating. It couldn’t have been more than five, ten minutes at the most.” He reached out to pull a sheet over Maude. “Keep her covered, will you?”

  “She’s dead, Kendall.”

  “Her dignity’s not. So will you be able to find this drug in her system?”

  “If it’s what I’m thinking, it’s going to be tough to find any trace of it. Even if we did, we couldn’t be sure. There’s no definitive test. Only indications. Do you have the syringe? The vial?” She pulled the sheet back down as she continued her work.

  “The team is going over Beth’s cottage now. I’ll make sure they—” He broke off at a sound from just outside the window.

  “What the hell was that?” Marcia said, looking up fast, a needle in her latex-covered hand.

  “I don’t know.” Josh moved across the room and looked out, just in time to see a flash of toned flesh and gray fabric darting around the corner. “Shit.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll be back. If I’m not, contact me in the morning. And make sure you don’t leave any evidence.”

  “It’s not like it’s my first clandestine postmortem, Mr. Kendall. I work for the government, same as you.”

  He didn’t work for the government—not anymore—but he didn’t take time to correct her. Instead, he raced to the front door, slipped out and ran down the steps to where his pickup waited—just in time to see Maude’s old
car, illuminated by moonlight, pulling a U-turn a few blocks away and taking off as if its tailpipe were on fire.

  Great. So Beth had seen something. Had she seen him? At the very least, she’d seen his pickup. How the hell was he supposed to fix this screwup?

  He must be losing his touch.

  He drove after her, lights off, keeping far enough back so she couldn’t see him. He rolled his eyes when he saw where she was heading: her place. Where a federal forensics team was, even now, searching for evidence. He yanked out his cell phone, glad Arthur had given him a contact number for the team. A male voice picked up immediately.

  “It’s Kendall. The client is on her way to the cottage. You’ve got one minute. Get out now.”

  “Got it.”

  He hung up the phone and hoped to God they got out in time.

  By the time he pulled the pickup to a stop outside her place, Joshua thought he had his story ready. At least, he hoped so. Best defense, as they always said, was a good offense. It would work.

  It had to work.

  Beth crouched outside her cottage, afraid to move, her eyes squinting in the darkness. She’d sworn there had been movement from her place. But there was nothing now. Just silence and darkness.

  And then she went utterly stiff when Josh’s voice came from behind her. “Beth? What are you doing out here?”

  She pressed her lips together, straightened slowly and turned to face him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I was looking for you.”

  “At the funeral home?”

  He blinked, seeming surprised. “How do you know I…ah, hell, it doesn’t matter. I went to see Maude. I…I guess I just needed to say goodbye. To make sure she was being taken care of. To see she was okay, as little sense as that makes.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “But when I got there…” He bit his lip, as if stopping himself from finishing.

  “I was there, too,” she whispered. “I heard you leaving the house and followed you.”