Alex and Monica had spent their last Christmas as a married couple at Linus’s home with his wife and two kids.

Aw, shit. Those cute kids.

Alex thought hard, hating himself because he couldn’t remember their names. A boy and a girl. They had to be about ten and twelve now. Alex vowed to be the person to inform Linus’s wife.

Bile threatened in the back of his throat, and he pulled his gaze away, letting it roam and rest on the sports jacket on the floor. He stared at the brown coat and then whipped his gaze up to Linus’s shirt, blinking at the blue button-down dress shirt.

Linus wasn’t wearing his holster.

Alex grabbed at the coat on the floor, felt its lack of weight and immediately dropped it, whipped out his gun, and spun to face the front of the plane. Silent snow greeted him.

For a full minute, he’d forgotten about the killer. Alex glanced at the seat across the aisle where Besand had most likely sat. There was blood on the armrests.

He had to warn Jim.

Alex started out of the plane, but halted with one hand on the ripped metal. He looked back and studied the person who’d once been a close friend. Linus was gone. All that was left now was a cold and empty shell with no resemblance to the warm and funny man he’d been.

Alex shuffled in his snowshoes down the slope to the cockpit, rubbing at the fresh dampness on his cheeks, his eyes constantly scanning the forests.

“He’s still fucking warm!” Jim bounced from one foot to the other and impatiently hovered over Brynn as she examined the body of the pilot.

Brynn nodded. “I wouldn’t call it warm, but he’s not icecold like the other pilot. Rigor’s just setting in. He’s been dead for at least twelve hours.”

She studied the mass of twisted metal that’d trapped and pierced the pilot’s legs, slowly bleeding him out to death. His bloody hands told the story of his struggle to free himself. It wouldn’t have helped. He would have probably died sooner from more rapid blood loss if he’d managed to extricate his legs.

Maybe that would have been better. She squeezed her eyes shut against the agony and mental terror the pilot must have gone through, knowing he was dying. This death would stick with her. This one she would see in her dreams at night. Along with the four-year-old boy hit by the Jeep. And the grandmother on the floor in her bathroom who no one had missed for a week.

“Brynn.”

She glanced at Jim, who stared back. “What?”

“I asked about the other guy.”

Brynn firmly put the others out of her mind and flexed one of the copilot’s arms. “Rigor’s come and gone. I’d guess he died on impact or was knocked unconscious and died soon after. He didn’t try to help his leg where he bled out.” She held up his clean, cold palm for Jim to see. Jim nodded.

“You think the other pilot suffered?” Thomas asked quietly.

She nodded and gestured at his bloody hands. Blood had soaked the pilot’s shirt up to the elbows. He’d fought hard for his life. Thomas abruptly turned and left the crowded cockpit.

“Let’s see if Alex found anything.” Jim gestured with his gun for her to follow Thomas.

“Don’t point that thing at me,” she snapped.

“Sorry.” Jim’s apology was clipped. She took a deep breath. Everyone was on edge. She couldn’t blame them. They’d worked so hard to get to this point only to be met with horror and disappointment. Why had she kept her hopes up against the odds?

Alex had arrived at the cockpit and was speaking with Thomas as she and Jim stepped out into the freshly falling snow. For once Brynn couldn’t appreciate its beauty. She couldn’t get the pilot’s lonely fight for life out of her mind. She turned a hopeful gaze to Alex, praying he’d had better luck. But his somber face told his story. Their gazes met and held.

“What’d you find?” Jim asked.

Alex split a glance between her and Jim. “One dead. The marshal.”

“Oh, Alex. I’m so sorry.” Her throat tightened.

“Darrin Besand is missing,” Thomas stated.

“You knew?” Brynn whirled on the big man. “You knew who was being transported in that plane?”

Thomas held up his hands in a surrender position. “Alex told me five seconds ago.”

“Darrin Besand. That’s the prisoner? You’ve known all along it was a dangerous, psychotic piece of shit like that and didn’t tell me?” Jim words got louder and his face grew black as he moved toward Alex. “Did Brynn know?”

“Alex told me just before you hollered me over to the cockpit, Jim.” Brynn subtly placed her body between Jim and Alex.

Alex met Jim’s stare directly. “I didn’t see the need to reveal the name before. But I think you need to know the type of person we’re dealing with now.”

“Dealing with? We’re not dealing with him. We’re getting out of here as fast as we can. There are no victims to help, and we don’t hang around to rescue serial killers who walk away from plane crashes.”

“He must have known the one pilot survived,” Brynn spoke.

“One lived?” Alex’s voice lifted, his dark eyes brightened.

Brynn touched his arm, shaking her head. Her heart cracked at the hope in his gaze. “He didn’t make it. He survived the crash and hung on for a long time, but he’s gone now.”

Alex stepped past them and ducked into the cockpit.

Jim eyed the hulk of metal. “I can’t believe Darrin Besand survived this crash. And I can’t believe Alex didn’t tell us until now. Anyone see any footprints?”