Chosen To Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

He glowered out the window, watching as the snowflakes fell relentlessly from the obscured heaven.

“We had a fight on the phone. That’s no news flash. I thought she’d come barging in here ready for bear, but when she never showed I figured she’d decided to take some time to cool off. It’s almost Christmas. She was eyeball deep in all this crap about the serial killer, so I thought she’d just chilled. Believe it or not, that happens, too.”

A timer went off in the kitchen.

Michelle, as if she’d been sitting on coiled springs, shot out of her chair and hotfooted it past a crowded dining room table and through an archway. Bianca looked at her dad. “Mom’s okay, right?”

“ ’Course she is,” Lucky said, flashing a smile that radiated confidence.

Alvarez’s cell phone went off and she climbed to her feet and walked to the entryway, to give herself a little privacy. “Alvarez,” she said, grabbing another tissue from her pocket, and heard Undersheriff Cort Brewster’s voice on the other end.

“We got a signal off of Pescoli’s vehicle coming from up on Horsebrier Ridge.” Alvarez’s stomach dropped. She’d driven over the ridge on her way from Regan’s house to here. “Rule’s already on the scene and spotted the vehicle. Wrecked, buried in the snow. We’ve got another unit headed that way, the towing company alerted.”

Alvarez sneaked a glance over her s

houlder. Bianca was staring at her wide-eyed while Lucky was tuned in to the news. Oh, God, what a mess. 68

Lisa Jackson

“Anyone see the driver?” she asked, her voice low.

“Not yet.” His voice was grim. “Rule claims at least twelve inches of snow over the vehicle. He can’t tell how badly it’s wrecked or if anyone’s inside.”

“I’m on my way,” she said, digesting what the undersheriff had said as well as what he hadn’t. The temperature in that wrecked car would have been far below freezing last night and if Regan hadn’t gotten out . . .

She clicked off the phone and turned back to the living room where Bianca was still staring at her.

“I’ve got to go. If you think of anything else, call me.”

“That was about Mom,” Bianca guessed, her face ashen. “Wasn’t it?”

“We don’t know. We think we might have found her vehicle. Nothing’s certain yet.”

“Where?” Bianca demanded, getting up from her spot on the ottoman.

Now, finally, she had Lucky’s attention. He clicked off the television with the remote. Michelle, snowman hot pads covering her hands, had walked into the archway near the dining room and, too, was waiting.

“I don’t know anything, but I will soon,” Alvarez said. “I’ll call.”

“No . . . I want to come.” Bianca was already starting for the door, but Lucky reached out a long arm and stopped her, held his daughter fast. For the first time he seemed to really comprehend how dire the situation was.

“We can’t interfere with police business, pump-

CHOSEN TO DIE

69

kin. Detective Alvarez promised to call us and she will.”

Alvarez’s heart sank as she walked to the door and let herself out. Whatever had happened to Regan wasn’t good.

She knew it.

Lucky Pescoli knew it.

Only Bianca was holding out childish hope. Chapter Five

Alvarez stood on the icy road that cut across Horsebrier Ridge and watched nervously as the rescue workers ascended the face of the cliff using ropes. It was dark, the wind blowing through the canyon, but the blizzard had given it a rest, no new snow was falling from the dark heavens. At least for now. Tired, hungry, her stomach in knots, the cold medication wearing off, she, along with several deputies and members of the rescue teams from both the fire and sheriff’s departments, had responded to the scene. The road was blocked, flares lit and sizzling orange, adding to the eerie incandescence of beams from flashlights, headlights, taillights, and cigarette tips all reflecting against a deathly white panorama of wintry forest.