Now, he would have to start over. Melt down the remaining ice and begin again, with fresh water, sluicing and freezing before the actual sculpting could begin again.
All because of the damned dog.
Closing his eyes, he slowly counted to ten and reminded himself that he could do this, the animal was just one more distraction. He could deal with it, even if he’d thought at one time that one of his favorite Christmas carols should have been renamed to “Bark! The Herald Angels Sing.”
With effort, he calmed himself once more.
“Silent Night” was playing again ... and as he stared down at the woman beneath the fractured ice, seeing her dead eyes looking up at him, he began to hum again, the lyrics rolling through his brain.
Sleep in heavenly pe
ace ...
Chapter 26
They made love that night.
Desperately, as if they knew they might not get a chance again. Alvarez had been already home, in her pajamas, when she’d heard the knock on the door and O’Keefe had been on her doorstep, looking as bone weary as she’d felt. She’d nearly broken down at the sight of him, and when he’d held his arms open, she’d flung herself into them, seeking solace and comfort for her battered heart.
She’d known of her son all of her life, of course, but tucked away in that locked corner of her mind, she’d kept the loneliness and despair at bay. Balmed by the fact that she’d “done the right thing,” that “he was better off with a stable family who loved him,” she’d gone about her life without looking too closely at her own feelings, just bottled them up and turned her attention first to school and then to her work.
Until now.
Until she’d met the boy and found out that he wasn’t all right; that he was in trouble.
There was no need for explanations, no time for more conversation; she’d locked the door behind O’Keefe and walked up the stairs holding his hand, him one step behind her, even giving her rump a playful pat. When they’d reached the bedroom, they’d stripped each other of clothing and fallen into bed. There, Alvarez had taken out all of her frustration and pain, throwing herself into the lovemaking, closing her mind to what might have been and losing herself in the feel, smell and touch of this man.
Did she love him?
Who knew?
That thought had flitted through her mind as his mouth found hers, then trailed a hot path down the column of her throat, but all she really knew was that, with O’Keefe, she felt safe.
From the outside world.
From the inside demons.
She’d fallen asleep nestled in his arms and had awoken with a start and a crook in her neck. As her nightmare had receded and she was brought back to reality, she realized a night of lovemaking hadn’t changed the world. No, the earth was still spinning as it had been when she’d fallen asleep and the evil that had pervaded this part of Montana hadn’t disappeared in the night. In fact, it had followed her into the night.
Her dreams had been peppered with a faceless killer, a huge, swift monster, chasing her, his breath so cold it formed icicles on the back of her neck, his fingernails long, sharp talons dripping blood. She’d run and run and run, gasping for breath, her legs feeling leaden, her fear palpable. Gabe had been in the dreams, as well, and he’d always been in harm’s way, yelling at her that she wasn’t his real mother and catching the killer’s attention. “No!” she’d cried as the monster had turned his sights on her boy.
She’d woken up with a start and O’Keefe had muttered something from deep in slumberland before turning over, his hair dark against her pillow, his long body stretching the length of the bed.
She climbed out of bed, threw on a robe and slid into a pair of slippers before heading downstairs.
O’Keefe, dead to the world, didn’t move, nor did Jane, the turncoat who had curled into a tight ball near his head.
Downstairs, she didn’t bother with lights but walked to the sliding doors and looked out at the snowy morning. Daylight hadn’t broken and the night was thick, clouds hiding the stars, only the white landscape giving any illumination.
She thought about the victims that they’d located, and those still missing. In her mind’s eye, she saw the earring through Lissa Parsons’s nipple and the silver stud forced through Lara Sue’s tongue. Obviously, the killer was sending a message to her.
What, if anything, did it have to do with her son?
“Who are you, you bastard?” she whispered, her breath fogging on the inside of the glass door. Uneasily, she wondered if, even now, he was standing just outside of her line of vision, hiding in the shadows, watching her. There was some reason he was attached to her, and she thought of those suspects she’d arrested, the most violent of them sent to prison for a very long time.
Or was it someone more personal?
A man she’d spurned?