Willing to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Swallowing back the dread that inched its way up her throat, she stopped breathing for a second. Over the pounding of her heart, she heard nothing to indicate anyone was nearby. As far as she knew, her aunt was out, her uncle still doing some late-night chores, and suspicious Bianca tucked in her room since she’d put the baby to bed.

So no one should bother her.

The house was quiet. Even the damned dogs weren’t making any racket.

Good.

Heart pounding, Ivy punched out the numbers she’d been given and waited.

One ring.

She bit her lip.

Two rings.

Come on. Answer.

Three rings.

Panic began to rise. What if she had the wrong number? What if something had gone wrong? What if she’d been duped. She swallowed hard.

Four rings.

“No!” she whispered, holding her cell in a death grip.

Then a click and a recorded voice. “I’m sorry. The party you are trying to reach is no longer at this number. Good-bye.”

Click.

The connection was broken.

Ivy wouldn’t believe it. Punched out the numbers again. More carefully. “Answer,” she breathed into the phone as she walked to the window and stared into the darkness. Snow was falling, harder than it had been, drifting against the sides of the stable and barn, nearly covering Jeremy’s truck.

Jeremy’s truck . . .

She smiled.

He was back.

When the recorded message started to play in her ear, she disconnected. Plan B, she thought. What did one do when Plan A fell through? You fell back onto Plan B, which, in her case, was Jeremy Strand.

Chapter 27

“Becca Johnson?” Pescoli repeated as they walked toward the car where the people who had discovered the remains of Boxer and Stillwell now sat. “She’s one of the kids who found the bodies?”

“Right. She and Jeff Baylor, whose family owns this piece of property, or at least did until recently. Looks like there may have been a sale. I’ve got Ramsby working with Zoller on it.” Sage Zoller was one of the younger detectives who was into all things high tech.

So, she was going to finally meet Jeremy’s girlfriend, the one he’d been so crazy about for a few weeks according to Santana, before he’d come across Ivy Wilde. How odd that they’d meet this way, but then Grizzly Falls was a small town.

Alvarez stayed back to let Pescoli act as lead as they headed toward the idling SUV where the two teenagers were huddled in the backseat, a deputy with them. Pescoli felt a little buzz of excitement running through her veins, that feeling of expectation that always came with trying to unravel the strings surrounding a mystery, the part of the job she loved.

At the vehicle, they tapped on the foggy glass and the officer behind the wheel rolled down the windows. “I’m Detective Pescoli,” Regan said, peering in at two frightened teenagers. The boy was blond and fair, his eyes pale, reddish whiskers starting to show. Becca Johnson appeared as freaked-out as the boy, but she was darker-skinned, black curls escaping from a pink stocking cap, her eyes round and wide, a deep chocolate brown. “I’d like to ask a few questions.” Of course it wasn’t exactly kosher as she wasn’t active in the department, but no one argued with her.

“

You’re Jeremy’s mother,” the girl said once Pescoli had settled into the passenger seat, feeling the warmth from the heater, a nice change from the blistering cold.

Brown eyes regarded her warily. “Uh-huh. I take it you know him.”