“Agreed.” The recovered remains were on the way to the ME’s office, but she wanted to get back to work. “How long is this storm predicted to last?”
“Through the day,” Huck said, ducking his head to peer into the snow. “That’s why Aeneas and I headed home earlier than I’d planned. Good thing, too.” He jerked the wheel to the right and the vehicle bounced over a clump of ice.
“We’ll need to go back out as soon as possible,” she said. How many bodies were being buried by snow and ice right now? She couldn’t think about that. “I want to believe that we found all the bodies, that they’re from a graveyard, and it’s a coincidence that at least one of them was obviously murdered by strangulation. But those don’t exist, right?”
“Coincidences?” he asked. “Dunno.”
She flexed her toes inside the boots to make sure they still functioned. “A coincidence is merely a forced structure created by our minds as we search for causal reality. People add separate facts together in an attempt to find reason where there is none.”
He rolled to a stop in front of a massive metal shop, cut the engine, and opened the truck door. “You don’t believe in evil?”
She’d seen too much to discount the idea. “If evil exists, it’s because we choose to allow it. I don’t believe it’s a force of its own.” She opened her door and hopped out. The moment her boots touched the icy ground, she realized her error. Her feet flew out from under her, and she gasped, trying to find purchase.
Gravity prevailed.
Her right ankle twisted, and she fell, landing with her leg beneath her. Pain flared up to her knee.
Huck was instantly at her side, crouched down. He brushed wet hair off her face. “Did you hit your head?” This close, he smelled like pine and male.
“No,” she said, gingerly moving her weight. “I may have twisted my ankle.”
He grunted, and without waiting for permission, lifted her off the ground. His body was solid and warm against her. “Aeneas, come.”
The dog scouted right outside the door, no doubt taking care of business. He barked twice as if in agreement.
As they walked toward the cabin door, the world was a sheet of white with a keening wind. The cold blasted them, and she lost her breath. Huck ducked his large body over her and hustled through the freezing storm and up the stairs of his porch.
“I’m fine,” Laurel protested, her ears heating.
Huck held her securely, snow coating the shadow along his jaw. “Right.”
She didn’t have a choice. At least she’d slipped here and not in front of the techs and emergency personnel. Only Huck and Aeneas had witnessed her debilitating fall.
He kicked open his door and walked inside to put her on the sofa.
Laurel struggled out of the parka and stretched out her leg. “I think it’s okay.” Her ankle had twisted when she’d gone down, and now her entire foot felt numb.
Aeneas ran into the kitchen and slurped water noisily.
Huck shed his jacket and hat before crouching near the sofa. His hair was messier than before but still looked good on him. “Hold on a sec.” His hands were sure as he untied the boot and gently pulled it off. He then slid the lightweight sock off and carefully probed her ankle. “Does this hurt?” The man really did have a protector complex, although awareness dawned in his eyes, and he retreated immediately.
The feeling of his warm hand on her skin was the opposite of painful. “No.” Her voice came out a little breathless. What in the world was wrong with her? She must be sleep deprived. Yes, he was appealing, but she had a job to do.
His gaze rose to her face, his expression appraising and then withdrawing. “Swollen. Not broken. I’ll get ice and Advil.” He stood and moved toward the kitchen.
She gently turned her foot, which protested with a twinge of pain. Advil would take care of the problem.
Huck returned with pain killers, a glass of water, and a bag of frozen peas to place on the ankle. He handed them over silently and then moved to start a wood fire in the fireplace across from the leather sofa. Soon the crackle of logs and heat filled the room. He tossed a blanket at her. “I’ll get your carry-on and laptop bag from the truck.”
Silence descended when he jogged outside and then returned, placing both by the sofa.
“Thanks,” she said, her temples aching.
He gracefully moved back to the kitchen.
Her stomach growled. “I can help cook something.”
He grunted.
