Chill Factor

He flipped up the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Wise.”

“Mornin’, Hoot. Did I wake you up?”

It was Perkins. The connection crackled with static, but he could hear if he strained. “No,” he lied as he slid on his glasses. “I’m just surprised. Didn’t realize cell service had been restored until the phone rang.”

“Chopper . . . about . . . ago. Weather’s iffy . . . says . . .”

“Hold on. Perkins, you still there? Hold on.” Hoot bicycled his legs to push off the covers. He clambered out of bed and rushed over to a window, hoping to get a clearer signal. “Perkins?”

“You’re breaking up, Hoot.”

“Give me the basics.”

“Chopper. ETA in Cleary ten hundred hours. Three-member search-and-rescue team. One former sniper from HRT.” Hostage rescue.

“Good news. Anything else?”

“Yeah, on Tier . . . got . . . night. Get to it . . . away . . . something . . .”

Frustrated, Hoot turned his head about, trying to find the sweet spot in the atmosphere that would improve their connection. Then he realized that it had been broken altogether. He checked the readout. His service indicator was blank.

“Hoot?”

Begley was standing in the doorway to the guest room in which Hoot had slept. He was holding his Bible, his place marked with his finger. He was dressed and looking fresh as a daisy, making Hoot painfully aware that he was shivering in his drawers. “Morning, sir. That was Perkins. The helicopter will be here at ten o’clock.”

“Excellent.” Begley checked his watch. “As soon as you’re dressed . . .”

“Yes, sir.”

Begley backed out of the doorway and pulled it closed behind him.

Luckily Gus Elmer’s hot water heaters ran on propane, so Hoot showered again, even though that was the first thing he’d done last night after they’d checked in and were assigned cabin number seven. Begley wanted to be close to number eight, not trusting Dutch Burton to stay out of it.

Since there was no electricity, he’d been unable to turn on Tierney’s computer, which frustrated Begley. He was eager to get into Tierney’s files. Hoot was secretly grateful for the delay. He was cross-eyed with fatigue and doubted he’d have been able to concentrate enough to crack Tierney’s security codes.

Their cabin was the only other in the compound that had two bedrooms separated by a living area and small kitchen. They managed to function with light from the fireplace, candles, and a kerosene Coleman camp stove. After eating the canned chili Gus Elmer was happy to provide—for a price—Hoot had showered and practically sleepwalked from the bathroom to the bed.

Now, five minutes after being awakened, he joined Begley in the main room. “I boiled water for coffee, but I don’t recommend it. The police department’s coffee is better than this. Let’s go wait for the chopper there. I suppose we also owe Burton the courtesy of letting him know about the chopper’s ETA.”

“I agree, sir.” Hoot pulled on his coat and gloves.

“Where did Perkins say the chopper will set down?”

“He didn’t. We didn’t get that far before our service was interrupted.”

Begley checked his own phone and cursed when it registered no service. “It’s still going to be dodgy, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll call Perkins back as soon as we get to the police department.”

They rode in silence for a time, then Begley said, “Lilly Martin. Do you think she’s sti

ll alive, Hoot?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he knows she called Burton and told him they were together.”