Paul shrugged. “Die Hard.”

Collins relaxed slightly. “I wouldn’t mind a little John McClane right now. Anything to get my mind off this shit.”

Paul nodded. The sheriff wanted to make small talk? He didn’t believe it for a second.

“I’ve just heard about that chopper that flew overhead yesterday. Remember?”

Paul’s spine tightened, and he nodded again.

“Was a pair of local boys. Both pilots. One’s from the air force rescue squadron up north. His brother flew the two of them out to look for that downed plane.”

Paul grew hot in the icy air. “Air force? You knew about that?”

“I know who Liam and his brother, Tyrone, are. We’ve used them before in rescues. I didn’t know that was them in that bird yesterday.” Collins’s eyes darted to the left and Paul knew he was lying. The sheriff had known exactly who’d flown overhead and why. “The rescue squadron didn’t sanction that flight. It was just two boys trying to help out on their own.”

“They find anything?”

Paul hadn’t thought it was possible, but Collins grew more grim. “They haven’t been heard from. They were supposed to return yesterday. No one can raise them.”

Paul stared. “So now you’ve got two aircraft down in those woods.”

Collins met the stare. “Yes, I do.”

“Any more aircraft going up today?” He deliberately drew out the words.

Collins shook his head. “Not in this weather. I don’t know what got into their heads to try to fly yesterday.” His eyes went to the left again and Paul wondered what he was holding back.

“Press know this?”

“No.” Collins looked like a beaten dog.

“Gonna mention it in your next conference?”

Collins winced. “Don’t know. Their families need to be told first. And those boys weren’t part of this process. They were acting on their own.”

“Looks like you’ve got another rescue to organize.”

Anger flashed in the sheriff’s eyes. “I don’t know that they went down for sure. I’ve got people on the phone trying to find them. They might be holed up in a hotel with a couple of pretty women, waiting out the storm.”

Paul almost missed the flicker of skepticism in the sheriff’s eyes. Collins was a lousy liar. That could be a good trait or a bad trait in a cop.

In Paul’s opinion it was usually bad.

“Let me know what you hear.”

“Will do.” Collins marched back to his RV.

Paul knew he was lying again. The sheriff wouldn’t tell him any information until it was absolutely necessary. He watched the retreating back of Collins’s parka, the big Madison County Search and Rescue name and logo clearly visible through the snowfall. Collins hadn’t mentioned Darrin Besand or either of the search groups. Everything was in a holding pattern. Until the damned snow and wind let up, no one was finding anything. He rubbed at his frozen nose, thinking of Kinton spending the night in the woods. He hoped he froze his balls off. Paul was still trying to accept the fact that Kinton had attached himself to the search group.

Kinton couldn’t have guessed his connection to Darrin. There was no way.

So why the fuck had he gone to such lengths?

Paul grabbed the broom he’d leaned against his truck and swept vigorously at his hood. Powdery snow flew. Kinton was out to get him. He could feel it. He’d heard the rumors. Kinton asking questions. Kinton nosing around, asking about Darrin and his transport coverage. If Darrin had left Kinton’s brother alone, they’d never be in this mess. Kinton wouldn’t have looked twice at Darrin, but Darrin killed the relative of the one guy who had the tenacity of a hungry dog staring at the last bone in the world.

Damn it.

This transport was supposed to have been Darrin’s last flight. But not in a plane crash sort of last flight. It was a last flight to get

Darrin off his back, give him what he needed to walk away and stay out of Paul’s life. If Darrin hadn’t survived, that was OK. It solved the problem. If Darrin had survived and crossed paths with Kinton…

Paul had warned Darrin, several times, to cool it. He’d known what Darrin was doing. He’d known his tastes and habits. He’d read about the cases in the paper, talked to the detectives. To Paul it was like Darrin had signed his name to his victims.

But Darrin had gotten away with it for so long.

And Darrin knew that he knew.

Paul hadn’t needed a reminder to keep his mouth shut.

He valued his wife and his expensive home. He valued his way of life.

Darrin could destroy it all with one sentence.

Alex Kinton could be the person to pull that sentence out of Darrin.

How had he missed that?

Alex and Jim hadn’t been looking up as they checked the men in the cockpit. And they especially hadn’t been looking at the ceiling, but both men stared at it now.

“Could the pilots reach…”

“There’s no way.” Jim’s voice was flat.

Alex already knew that. “Yesterday, did you look—”

“I can’t remember. I’ve been racking my brain since I saw it. I don’t know if I looked up there yesterday or not.”

“It’s gotta be new.” Alex reached out to touch the blood on the ceiling. Dry. But dry from twenty-four hours ago or last night? Or this morning?

His hand shook as he slowly lowered his arm.