Snow rose to mid-calf, dragging at her jean-clad legs, but adrenaline pushed her forward. The cold bit at her face and wrists, sneaking under the sleeves of the snowflake sweater she’d forced herself to wear so she could look festive.
As she and Jason drew closer, the dark shape resolved itself.
Not a log.
Not lawn equipment.
A person.
CHAPTER
TWO
Olive’s breath caught.
A man lay crumpled at the base of the shed steps, one arm extended as if he’d been reaching for the doorknob but couldn’t quite make it. Snow had begun to cover him, a dusting of white across a navy parka and knit cap. The only spot of real color was his face—too pale against the dark of his hair, lips tinged an unnatural blue.
Her knees hit the snow as she knelt beside him.
Young. Early twenties, at most.
The freckles across his nose struck her first. Then the angle of his jaw, the little scar on his chin, and . . . the Aegis-issued tactical watch on his wrist.
Realization stole the breath from her lungs.
No . . .
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
JJ Price.
Jason crouched on the other side of the body, muttering his sorrows beneath his breath.
“JJ.” She reached out, fingers brushing his shoulder. The fabric was stiff with cold. “JJ, can you hear me?”
He didn’t move.
Olive leaned closer, searching for the rise and fall of his chest.
Nothing.
She pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, praying she’d find a pulse.
Nothing. No steady thump of life.
Only stillness.
Her throat tightened. “He’s cold.”
“Cold doesn’t always mean?—”
“Not surface cold,” she said, voice low. “Deep cold, if you know what I mean.”
Understanding filled Jason’s eyes.Dead cold.
Her gaze swept JJ’s body. There were no obvious gunshot or stab wounds, no pools of blood staining the snow. The parka’s zipper was halfway undone, the knit cap crooked on his head—almost as if he’d just run out to grab something and then . . .
