Afraid to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

She turned on the lights of the Christmas tree and then the gas fire, warming the place. She was lucky to be alive and she knew it. If she didn’t believe it herself, all she had to do was listen to everyone she met or reporters on newscasts, who all reminded her how close she’d come to death.

As it was, the Ice Mummy Killer hadn’t survived the ordeal. Johnna Phillips had become a local heroine, the officials at First Union bank taking every chance they could to gain some good, free press from her help in getting rid of the serial killer who had terrorized the town.

Trilby Van Droz had survived but tendered her resignation. The sheriff hadn’t accepted it and put her on a leave of absence, asking that she reconsider her decision after the new year. Gabe had been returned to his parents and Helena, where the DA was trying to work a deal with him as an accessory to the crime, and hopefully only probation; that was yet to be seen, but he was walking the straight and narrow for the time being and Aggie was opening up to the idea that he might be able to see Alvarez and have “some kind” of relationship with her.

Now, Alvarez remembered her last visit with him in the hospital where he’d held her hand for a couple of seconds under Aggie’s watchful eyes. “I’m glad I met you, Gabe,” she said, her throat catching when he released his fingers.

“Me, too.” His eyes glistened, but he didn’t cry. Aggie, though, turned away. “I’ll call you when I’m out of here,” he promised.

“You do that.” She was so incredibly grateful he was all right.

Aggie let out a little sob even though Alvarez had already assured her that she’d never intrude in Gabe’s life.

It was amazing that they’d ever connected, but Gabe was smart, had searched the Internet, joined chat rooms, had found a way to hack his way into the court documents meant to protect his identity.

“Stay in school,” she told him.

“I will. Maybe I’ll become a cop.”

Again a squeak from Aggie.

“Better walk the straight and narrow,” Alvarez advised and then, while Aggie’s back was turned, she brushed a kiss over his forehead. “Be good, Gabe, cuz if you aren’t, I’ll hear about it.”

A grin stretched across his face and she, after touching Gabe’s mother on the shoulder, had left the room. But his image—those dark eyes, that incredible smile, the shaggy hair and irreverent attitude—all of it had stayed with her. Always would.

Also, she had another connection to him. Through O’Keefe.

But not everything had ended well in the case.

The victim in the Oestergard house had indeed been Jon’s wife, Dorie. The prevailing theory, which originated with Johnna Phillips, was that the wife had started questioning Oestergard and hinted that she might want to come down to the barn.

The series of caves beneath the Oestergard property had become part of a folk legend, and once all the crime scene evidence had been secured, teenagers had snuck into the place as a form of initiation or as the ultimate risk in games akin to Tr

uth or Dare.

She walked up the stairs now, her leg paining a bit. She’d taken time off from work, but Pescoli was clamoring for her to return, as she was getting tired of working with Brett Gage. She’d admitted that Santana was pressuring her to move in again and even Pescoli had admitted that it was “time to fish or cut bait,” probably because of her ongoing problems with her kids.

Joelle had seen that Alvarez had gained five pounds on the goodies she’d dropped by, and O’Keefe had pretty much settled in, for now, or at least until she returned to work.

Now, she walked into the bedroom to find Dylan propped up by pillows, the cat beside him, the dog in his bed on the floor, curled into a ball. Roscoe raised his head when Alvarez walked into the room and thumped his tail.

“Traitor,” she said, bending down and patting his head, her heart welling. “Both of you.” But she wasn’t angry, just thankful the dog had so miraculously survived when all of them had been sure he was dead.

“Hey, I wondered what happened to you?” O’Keefe said as she settled back into her side of the bed.

“Just counting.”

“Silverware?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I get up and count silverware.”

“Well, not sheep or you’d still be in bed.”

“Maybe all the ways you irritate me.”

He laughed then, and she was glad she hadn’t said “blessings.” Theirs was a relationship still developing. She was rethinking some aspects of her life, even planning to reconnect with her family in the coming year, but, for now, she was content to let things happen.

O’Keefe was talking about moving to Grizzly Falls, but so far it was just talk.