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Nate snorted. “Does he strike you as the type to have a lot of friends?”
“This coming from the most anti-social guy I know.” Ellis swung off his snowmachine and headed to the side door of the hangar. “C’mon.”
“Wait.” Nate caught up, grabbed his arm, and pointed toward the front of the building. “That’s Damian’s SUV.”
They looked at each other, then pushed through the door together. Inside the hangar smelled of oil, fuel, and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. Damian crouched on the floor over a body, blood coating his hands.
“What the fuck?” Ellis said.
Damian jolted and gazed up at them, his face white. In that moment, all Ellis saw was the terrified kid who wore a Superman cape to feel strong.
“Ellis. Nate.” He looked back down at the body of Harold Cooper and then at his shaking hands. “I— I—”
“Day,” Ellis said carefully, crouching down next to his youngest brother. “What did you do?”
“I— I—” Damian shook his head hard and that seemed to bring him back to himself. “I tried to help him.”
“You found him like this?” Nate asked.
“What were you doing here?” Ellis asked at the same time.
Damian sucked in a deep breath. Let it out slowly. His hands still trembled. “I was going to see if Coop knew anything about the Otter pilot who brought Happy in. Hap wasn’t shot by accident. There’s a muzzle burn around the wound. Someone pressed a gun right against him and pulled the trigger. I figure anyone who could do that to a sweet dog—” His voice broke.
“Could do it to a woman without a second thought,” Ellis finished for him, dread tightening his chest.
He nodded and stared down at the body. “When I got here, I heard him arguing with someone. They were arguing about dad, so I stayed back and listened…”
When he didn’t continue, Nate prompted, “What were they saying?”
“I— I didn’t hear it all. Coop said something about it getting too dangerous and the other guy said something like, ‘We all knew the risks.’ And Coop said he wanted out before he ended up like Will. They started yelling at each other and throwing punches, and next thing I hear is this crunching sound…” He shuddered. “I shouldn’t have stayed hidden. I should have—”
“If you’d made yourself known, you’d be the one lying here with a dent in your skull.” Ellis studied the body of Harold Cooper. The side of the man’s head had caved in, distorting his shocked face in gruesome ways. A hammer lay on the floor a few feet away with bits of hair and tissue still stuck to it.
Yeah, a wound like that would’ve made a horrible crunching noise.
“What did Dad get into?” Nate muttered. He dug his phone and a white business card out of his pocket.
“Wait.” Damian jumped to his feet. “Who are you calling?”
“Frey— uh, Lieutenant Ashby. We have to report this.”
“They’re going to think I did it. His blood is all over me. My fingerprints are on him—”
But Nate turned away, the phone already pressed to his ear. “Hi. Uh, this is Nate. Uh, Hunter,” he added after a beat.
Christ, he was so awkward.
Ellis snatched the phone from him. “Hey, this is Ellis. We have a situation here in Solitaire. We need you and Strickland back here. A man’s dead.”
Lieutenant Ashby said nothing for a heartbeat and then cursed a blue streak. “Who?”
“Harold Cooper. Damian found him at the airport with his head bashed in, and Bree—”
“911 received an S.O.S. message from Bree,” Freya interrupted. “I’m flying out to her now.”
The arctic blast of fear at her words was so much worse than falling through the ice. His breath stalled in his lungs. He held the phone so tightly, it creaked in his grip. “What? Where? Is she okay? How far away are you?”
“She’s out near Mount Farewell. I’m several hours out. Call 911 about Mr. Cooper and see if they have another trooper nearby who can respond. Ellis? Did you hear me? I’ll take care of Bree. Please don’t—”
