Free Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel by Tess Gerritsen Page A

clunk. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”
    “We all need some sleep,” said Doug. “I’ll stay awake for a whileand keep the fire going. We can’t let it go out, so we’ll need to take shifts.”
    “I’ll take the next shift,” Elaine volunteered. She curled up on the rug and pulled her blanket around herself. “Wake me up when it’s time.”
    The floor creaked as they all settled down, trying to get comfortable on the braided rug. Even with the fire burning in the hearth, the room was chilly. Beneath her blanket, Maura was still wearing her jacket. They had brought pillows down from the beds upstairs, and hers smelled like sweat and aftershave. The husband’s pillow.
    With his scent against her cheek she fell asleep and dreamed of a dark-haired man with stony eyes, a man who loomed over her and watched as she slept. She saw threat in his gaze, but she could not move, could not defend herself, her body paralyzed by sleep. With a gasp she woke up, eyes wide in terror, heart banging in her chest.
    No one stood above her. She stared up at empty shadows.
    Her blanket had slid off, and the room was freezing. She looked at the fireplace and saw that the flames had died down to only a few glowing coals. Arlo sat snoring with his back propped up against the hearth, his head lolling forward. He had let the fire die down.
    Shivering and stiff from the cold floor, Maura rose and placed another log on the hearth. The wood caught almost immediately, and flames soon crackled, throwing off delicious waves of heat. She looked in disgust at Arlo, who didn’t even stir. Useless, she thought. I can’t even count on them to keep a fire burning. What a mistake it had been to throw in her lot with these people. She was tired of Arlo’s wisecracks and Grace’s whining and Doug’s annoyingly unflagging optimism. And Elaine made her uneasy, though she didn’t know why. She remembered the way Elaine had stared when Doug had embraced Maura up on the road. I’m the interloper, the one who doesn’t belong with this happy quartet, she thought. And Elaine resents me.
    The fire was now burning hot and bright.
    Maura glanced at her watch and saw it was four AM. It was almosttime for her shift to watch the fire anyway, so she might as well stay awake until dawn. As she stood up to stretch, a reflected glimmer caught her eye on the periphery of the firelight. Moving closer, she saw that droplets of water had beaded on the wooden floor. Then she noticed, off in the shadows, a light dusting of white. Someone had opened the door, letting in a gust of snow.
    She crossed toward the door, where the snow had not yet melted, and stared down at the fine powder. Pressed into that powder was a single shoe print.
    She turned and quickly scanned the room, counting the sleeping forms. Everyone present and accounted for.
    The door was unlocked; no one had bothered to latch it last night, and why would they? Whom would they be trying to lock out?
    She slid the bolt shut and went to look out the window. Although the room was warming up again, she was shaking under her blanket. Wind moaned in the chimney, and she heard snow hiss across the glass. She could see nothing outside, only blackness. But anyone out there would be able to see
her
, backlit by the glow of firelight.
    She retreated from the window and sat on the rug, shivering. The snow near the door melted, taking with it the last remnants of the shoe print. Maybe the door blew open during the night, and one of them got up to shut it, leaving the print. Maybe someone stepped out to check the weather or pee in the snow. Wide awake now, she sat and watched as night slowly gave way to dawn, as the blackness outside lifted to gray.
    Her companions did not stir.
    When she rose to feed the fire again, she saw that they were down to their last few logs. There was plenty of wood outside in the shed, but it was probably damp. If she wanted it to dry out, someone would have to bring in an armload now. She