CHAPTER 40
Caught off guard, Rick froze. His eyes widened. His breathing was still uneven, his heart pounding somewhere in his throat.
He stared at Aaron in shock. Aaron didn’t move, only running his tongue almost imperceptibly along the inside of his cheek.
“When did you manage to lock us in?” Rick whispered.
Aaron didn’t answer. He slowly straightened. The hand that was still resting on Rick’s thigh lingered there for another moment before he reluctantly withdrew it.
The space between them immediately felt colder.
Rick noticed his jaw tighten, the muscles in his cheeks flexing. The gaze that had been fixed on him was now locked on the door.
Rick knew that expression all too well.
Aaron was furious.
“Detective Kowalski!” A breathless, youthful voice sounded from beside the door. “You’re looking for Detective Lake, right?”
Hearing the familiar voice, Rick exhaled, relieved and somehow bitter at the same time.
The air between them still held the warmth. Aaron’s scent, the scent of his skin and body, hadn’t gone anywhere, as though it had remained on Rick’s skin, in his hair, in his mind.
“Yes,” came the male voice from behind the door.
Aaron immediately pulled himself together.
His long fingers slid down to the undone buttons. He fastened them quickly, almost sharply, one after another. He straightened the hair Rick had mussed, tightening the tie holding it back a little more.
His jaw remained tense, a vein visibly pulsing in his neck.
“He went out on a call!” Billy lied, his voice carrying its usual easy confidence.
Rick carefully slid off the desk. His legs felt like lead, and his breathing still wouldn’t settle. He bent down toward the scattered documents, but his fingers were treacherously trembling. The papers slipped back onto the floor, rustling louder than he wanted them to.
“Shit…” he whispered.
“Strange. His car’s still in the parking lot,” Kowalski persisted.
Aaron crouched beside him and silently helped gather the scattered documents. Rick reached for them too, and at one point their hands met.
Their fingers intertwined for a moment, and Rick froze. After everything that had happened only minutes ago, that brief touch felt completely different. Not like before.
He looked up at Aaron. Aaron looked back at him. His fingers tightened for a second before loosening, and they both returned to gathering the scattered papers.
Rick could hear his own pulse — in his temples, in his neck, where he had felt Aaron’s breath only moments ago.
“Uh, well, he went out…” The young man hesitated. “With Parker. In his car.”
Rick wanted to say something, but only then noticed that the stack of papers in his hands was trembling slightly. He tried to adjust his grip, but Aaron noticed and silently took the papers from him.
The movement was calm, almost routine. Only the way he straightened the pages was slightly sharper than usual before placing them on the desk.
His jaw was still tense.
Then he nodded toward his chair.
“All right, then. If you see him, ask him to bring my report back,” Kowalski finally relented.
“Yeah, sure!”
The weight seemed to lift slightly from Rick’s shoulders. He heard Kowalski’s footsteps receding down the hallway and only then allowed himself to breathe properly.
Aaron waited until Rick sat down in the chair, then turned toward the door.
The lock clicked.
The door swung open, and without a word, he pulled Billy into the office by the shoulder. The next second, he locked them in again.
“Uh…” the young man began uncertainly. “I finished making the calls.”
He rubbed the back of his head and looked first at Lake, then at Parker.
His gaze inevitably caught on Rick’s flushed cheeks.
Rick settled deeper into the chair, crossing one leg over the other. From behind the desk, Billy couldn’t see anything below the waist anyway. All Rick had to do was wait a few minutes for the arousal to subside and hope Billy noticed nothing.
Billy suddenly frowned.
“Oh…” he began.
Rick froze and immediately looked at Aaron. His shirt was still slightly rumpled across his chest, his breathing remained a little uneven, and the tension in his muscles was visible beneath the thin fabric.
“You really are sick, huh?” Billy asked.
Rick quietly exhaled.
“A little,” he shrugged.
Billy walked farther into the office.
“Bad. If you want, I can make you that tea from my grandmother’s recipe. I just don’t think we have any hot peppers at the station…”
Just hearing the mention of the drink made Rick uneasy. He remembered far too well how the last cup of that concoction had ended.
The young man patted his trouser pockets.
“I’ll call her now, find out what we can use instead, and…”
“No!” Rick interrupted him. “I’m already feeling better.”
“Really?” Hong narrowed his eyes.
Rick nodded, trying to look as calm as possible.
Billy studied his face carefully one more time before finally giving in.
“All right. Your call.”
He put his phone away and dropped onto the couch, sprawling out with a boyish lack of care.
“What have you got?” Lake asked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and folding his arms across his chest.
His voice sounded unusually low, with the faintest rasp to it, sending a shiver down Rick’s spine and stirring that familiar pulse somewhere low in his body.
But thankfully, Billy didn’t notice the change.
“I called everyone,” he began more quickly. “And guess what? I found something! Our van was seen at a garage on the outskirts. A month ago.”
Aaron frowned slightly.
“Who took it in?”
“A guy named Hayden. But…” Billy spread his hands. “He’s gone. Won’t be back until after Christmas.”
Disappointment flickered across Billy’s face.
“I’m thinking maybe he saw the driver. The one we’re looking for. Could be our lead, detective.”
Lake gave a short nod.
“Good work.”
He walked calmly around the office.
Rick watched him for a little longer, making little effort to hide his interest. His slightly mussed hair, his movements a little smoother and more deliberate than usual, his sharper gaze…
After everything that had happened, looking at him was especially enjoyable.
He shifted more comfortably in the chair and finally relaxed a little. The lingering ache was still there, but it no longer bothered him quite as much.
“What about you guys?” Billy asked, looking from one to the other.
“Nothing new,” Rick replied, running his fingers over the cooling laptop.
“Damn… all right,” he muttered, disappointed.
For several seconds, silence filled the office. Billy tapped his fingers against his knee, lost in thought, while Rick did his best to look as though he was simply sitting in the chair.
“Want to go have a smoke?” the young man suddenly suggested. “I haven’t seen you step outside in the last three hours.”
Rick tensed almost imperceptibly. Of course he desperately wanted a cigarette, but if he stood up now, Billy would understand everything. He would see.
“Smoke later,” Aaron said calmly.
Rick quietly exhaled in relief. At least until he remembered that Aaron knew perfectly well why Rick couldn’t stand up right now. There was no doubt about that. He felt heat rising into his face again and quickly looked away.
“Why?” Billy persisted.
“Kowalski hasn’t left yet,” Lake replied. “And we have somewhere to be.”
“Right…” Hong drawled. “Then what are we waiting for?”
He sprang to his feet and looked expectantly at Rick.
Rick only moved a little closer to the desk.
Lake took a couple of steps toward the cabinet.
“Don’t rush,” he said. His voice and expression became more serious.
He took hold of the small wooden handle and pulled it toward himself. The door creaked softly.
Rick watched him curiously, but when he saw what Aaron took out of the cabinet, he felt uneasy.
“Do you remember our plan, or do I need to repeat it?”
He turned toward them, holding two black bulletproof vests.
“We remember,” Billy answered, a little quieter than he intended.
Rick noticed him immediately shrink back. He didn’t feel particularly comfortable himself.
“I’ll repeat it anyway: our objective is to gather evidence and conduct surveillance. Nothing more.”
He slowly walked over to Billy and held out his vest.
“No direct contact. Am I making myself clear?”
Silence fell for a moment. Billy silently nodded as he took the vest.
Then Lake approached Rick and held out the second one.
“Why only two?” Rick asked, looking from the vest to Aaron.
“I don’t need one.”
Rick folded his arms across his chest.
“I’m not wearing this if you’re going without one.”
Aaron looked at him.
“You’re wearing it. That’s an order.”
There was nothing of his earlier softness left in his voice.
At Aaron’s tone, Billy simply lowered his eyes. Rick didn’t move.
“No.”
“If you want to be part of this case, you’ll wear it. Otherwise, we call it off.”
“But…”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say.”
Rick clenched his teeth. He stared at Aaron for several more seconds before reluctantly reaching across the desk and taking the vest, nearly dropping it: the bulletproof vest was much heavier than he had imagined.
Lake walked around the desk and the chair Rick was sitting in and reached for the papers lying on the desk. He took the top sheet — a printout of a file under the name “Austin MacLeod.” For a fraction of a second, his jaw tightened and his fingers squeezed the paper a little harder, but the next moment he set the sheet aside and said flatly:
“Ten minutes to get ready.”
He took a key from his pocket, leaned toward the desk, and unlocked the bottom drawer.
He took out his gun. He checked the weapon out of habit, pulled out the holster, and methodically fastened it around his waist. Not a single unnecessary movement. Not a word.
Rick felt something unpleasant tighten inside him.
Lake leaned toward the open drawer again and took out a second gun along with its holster. He checked the magazine and slid it back into place. The click that sounded in the ensuing silence was so distinct that Rick involuntarily flinched.
Aaron handed the weapon to Billy.
“And don’t forget yours. It’s time you started carrying a gun.”
“All right, detective.”
***
Dusk settled over Dumpfield.
A cold, clear night descended over the streets. The air was so frigid it felt sharp enough to cut.
Rick shivered and pulled his head deeper into his collar.
The frost stung his skin, seeped beneath his clothes, and every exhale turned into thick white vapor that almost immediately dissolved into the darkness.
They arrived well ahead of time. They hid the car farther away, in the shadows of rotting trees, and continued on foot. By the appointed time, they were already standing in front of the old sawmill — enormous, blackened by time, and almost lost among the dense forest.
A wire fence stretched around the perimeter, torn in places and wrapped with barbed wire here and there. Rusty signs reading
“Danger. No Entry” swayed in the wind, producing a faint creaking sound.
Beyond the fence, there was silence.
The kind of silence in which even the crunch of wood chips beneath their feet seemed too loud.
Rick shoved his hands beneath his armpits and rubbed them, trying to bring at least a little warmth back into his fingers, but the miserable cold showed no intention of letting up. The camera hung limply around his neck and seemed none too pleased about this outing either.
Rick still hadn’t gotten used to this kind of cold. And apparently, Dumpfield had no intention of making the task any easier.
He looked over the building carefully once more, but couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t alone here. There were too many shadows, too many dark windows, too many black gaps between the trees.
Suddenly, a pair of warm gloves appeared in front of him.
Rick blinked and looked first at them, then at Lake.
“Put them on,” he said shortly.
Rick immediately understood where this was going.
“I’ll manage,” he cut in at once.
“Rick.”
“I’m not cold.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow slightly.
Rick stubbornly turned away. After what had happened with the bulletproof vest, he really didn’t want to give in to him again.
“Interesting,” Lake said quietly. “I wonder what kind of pictures you’ll get when your hands go numb. Or are you planning to hold the camera with your teeth?”
“Very funny,” Rick snapped, though his fingers were already refusing to cooperate. The cold was biting all the way to the bone.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, but his fingers remained icy. Rick pulled one hand out and held it to his mouth, warming it with his breath, then did the same with the other.
Useless.
Aaron was still standing beside him, unmoving, those damn gloves in his hands. He said nothing else and made no move to leave. He simply waited.
Deep down, Rick knew it.
Of course Aaron was right.
ї
Again.
Rick held out for ten seconds. Then another five. He stubbornly refused to give in, but his fingers were almost completely numb now, and the cold had seeped all the way into his bones.
Finally, he hissed through his teeth in annoyance:
“Give them here…”
As soon as he pulled them onto his hands, he felt a pleasant warmth slowly returning to his frozen fingers.
The gloves still held the warmth of hands.
His hands.“See?” Aaron said quietly, almost smiling. “It wasn’t that hard.”
“Fuck off,” Rick muttered, stubbornly looking away.
For several seconds, they were silent. Rick warmed his hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers inside the warm fabric, and then finally looked at Aaron.
“What about you?”
“I’m not cold,” Lake said with the slightest shrug.
Rick frowned.
“You’re lying.”
This time, Aaron said nothing.
Somewhere in the distance, metal creaked in the wind, then silence returned.
Finally, quick footsteps sounded behind them in the snow — light and uneven.
Billy emerged from the darkness, red-faced and out of breath, vapor billowing from his mouth.
“I’m here!” he gasped, grabbing for air.
Lake slowly turned around.
The soft, almost domestic mood that had hung between him and Rick only minutes ago vanished instantly.
His gaze swept over Billy, paused on the holster, then returned to his face.
“Forget it one more time,” he said calmly, “and I’ll personally sign the report recommending your dismissal.”
Billy lowered his eyes. His breathing was still uneven.
Rick looked at Billy’s holster, then at Aaron’s. Both of their weapons were in place.
His gaze lingered for a second on the empty spot at his own hip.
“Are you going to give me something?”
Lake turned toward him.
“You get the camera.”
Rick looked down at the camera hanging from his chest.
“So if anything happens, I shoot them with the flash?”
This time, Aaron couldn’t help himself. A short laugh escaped before he could hide it.
Billy’s eyes immediately widened.
“Whoa… he’s laughing!”
“I’m shocked too,” Rick snorted. “Mission accomplished.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Billy said with a grin.
Aaron shook his head.
“Kindergarten. Both of you.”
But the corner of his mouth was still faintly raised.
He moved toward the sawmill first. The snow still betrayed them with every crunch beneath their boots, while the wind occasionally shook the dark branches, some of them still holding onto patches of snow.
A few minutes later, Aaron raised his hand, and all three stopped.
Up close, the sawmill seemed even larger. Monstrously huge, blackened by time, it almost disappeared among the trees, while the moon only occasionally illuminated the outline of the roof and the towering walls.
“Here,” Lake said quietly, raising a hand.
The rails that had once been used to transport logs disappeared into the darkness, glinting faintly beneath the frost. Nearby lay scattered pieces of lumber and twisted carts, frozen in place in the middle of the yard.
Lake surveyed the grounds once more and pointed ahead. They followed him, doing their best not to make a sound.
Once, this place had been alive with activity — shouting, the clang of metal, the smell of wood chips and resin. Now there was only the whistle of the wind and the thin, unpleasant squeaking of rats hiding somewhere deep inside the old buildings. Despite the frost, the air felt heavy and stale.
Lake crouched down and looked through a gap between the old stacks of logs.
“You sure?” Rick asked barely above a whisper.
Two men appeared around the corner. They passed very close by, exchanging a few brief words, then disappeared behind the building.
Aaron turned toward Rick.
“Got it,” Rick whispered. “So they’re here.”
He leaned forward slightly and peered out from behind the logs, looking toward the main building.
At first, he spotted two men standing near the concrete entrance. They were smoking, occasionally exchanging a few short phrases. Then his gaze caught on several more. They stood farther away, near the loading area, moving something from one place to another.
Rick looked more closely.
There were more and more people. Someone came out of the building, someone else went back inside. Altogether, there were at least ten people on the premises.
They weren’t moving with any particular urgency, but they were far too organized to be ordinary workers who happened to be at an abandoned sawmill in the middle of the night.
Rick was about to say something when he noticed the weapons. Assault rifles hung from the shoulders of several men, their dark barrels standing out clearly against the snow.
Several trucks and a van were parked near the loading area.
He froze.
There was no doubt anymore.
That was the one. Without taking his eyes off it, Rick placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and nodded toward the vehicle.
Lake leaned forward slightly and narrowed his eyes as he studied the van. A peeling logo reading “Dumpfield’s Triss” was visible on the rear panel. One of the mirrors had been covered with a strip of dark tape.
Suddenly, something moved inside.
Rick focused on it.Behind the driver’s-side window, he could just make out a hooded figure.
It moved slightly, then went still. Then the silhouette shifted again, barely perceptibly.
Parker slowly exhaled. They had found him.
At that exact moment, headlights flared at the far end of the grounds. A harsh white beam swept across the snow, pulling a rusty tractor, metal walls, and part of the yard out of the darkness.
For an instant, it illuminated Rick and Billy’s faces.
Lake abruptly pulled them toward him.
“Shit…” Hong whispered.
Rick felt his heart drop heavily somewhere deep inside him.
“Easy,” Lake said quietly. “It’s fine.”
The headlights continued sweeping over the snow, branches, and logs behind which they were hiding until, finally, the light moved away.
“Who is that?” Parker whispered. His breathing still hadn’t returned to normal.
