As Holly sat on the ground and stared out at the snow, there were soft murmurs behind her as Cindy and Ty spoke. They were probably talking about how she shouldn’t have been here, and what a burden she had become.
No... I need to stop feeling sorry for myself, she chastised. I caused this man’s death. I just need to take responsibility and make amends.
How could she make amends, though. There was no bringing this man back or telling his family that time would heal all wounds. She knew all too well that such an old adage was nothing more than an attempt to mollify those who needed to feel more than anyone else. Besides, time did nothing more than add distance from the sharp pain of immediacy. It did nothing for the memories or the soul-crushing moments when the losses unexpectedly took over in full force.
She knew that feeling of all-encompassing loss too well. She’d lost both of her parents in a car accident on I-90 just five years ago. The thought of their deaths still haunted her. And in moments like this, where she was facing death, it brought all the memories of losing them rushing back.
She stared vacantly at the snow-encapsulated world around her as she thought about how much she missed her mother’s gregarious laugh—a laugh she would never have the chance to hear again. And her father, he used to love to drop dad jokes like they were going out of style. She loved to hate them when she was a teenager, but now she would have given anything to hear him make a crack.
The snow glistened in the moonlight, sparkling like her mother’s eyes when she had laughed at her father, and it made her heart ache.
The trees were covered in a layer of snow that made them appear exactly as their namesakes—snow ghosts. She stared vacantly at two stripes in the snow. They led off into the distance over the hill and disappeared into the darkness of the night. There was a snow sled track in the center of the ski marks, reminiscent of a tank track.
She followed the marks toward Moose’s body, expecting to find his machine at the end. However, instead there was a spot where the machine had been parked and someone had gotten off. The footprints in the snow headed toward the body, and in the snow was a well-packed area and then Moose’s sled ski.
The marks were strange. It almost looked as though two sleds had been in the area. Yet, she didn’t recall Ty saying Moose had been working with someone else.
The wind kicked up the cold, powdery snow, making it spin like someone had shaken a snow globe with her sitting at its center.
The only people who knew they were in the area were the people who had been looking for her. Did that mean that someone from this guy’s team had murdered him? Or, at the very least, played a role in his death?
The thought tormented her.
Her negligence had brought this man up here, which made her complicit in this man’s death.
She was never going to forgive herself.
She tried to shake off the feelings, though. Self-flagellation was only going to take this thing so far and none of it would be in the right direction.
Besides, there was no way one of his teammates would want him dead. So far as she knew, the Search and Rescue team was just a volunteer group. If someone hated someone else, then why would they stay and keep volunteering? And all of these people had to be the type who were selfless—they were donating their time, bodies and equipment to rescuing people like her for nothing more than a “thank you” and a “good job” at the end of the day. They hardly fit the profile of killers.
This had to be nothing more than a horrible accident. Nothing else made sense.
Ty walked over toward her, his footfalls crunching in the snow as he approached, and he cleared his throat like he was afraid of interrupting her thoughts. “Holly?” he asked.
She turned to face him. “Hmm?”
“You ready to head back to town?”
She frowned. Not long ago, he’d made it clear that he hadn’t wanted to leave the scene, but now he was ready to ship her out.
“If you want. We can go.” Though part of her wanted to stay and help, she wasn’t sure what she could do, and she was getting more tired by the minute.
“Actually, I’m going to send you out of here with Cindy. I can’t leave the scene unattended.” His face was barely visible in the thin moonlight, but she could see the tiredness in his eyes and hear it in his tone.
“I can wait. There’s no need to make Cindy pack me out. I’m fine.”
“I know you are okay, but I need to make sure you’re fed and that you stay safe. I’m sure you’re aware, but it gets cold out here at night. I bet your adrenaline from the day has worn off.” He knelt down next to her. “I can see you shivering.”
Until he’d said that, she’d not really thought anything of it. In fact, she’d barely noticed. She must have been going through an adrenaline dump. Though she had seen others go through them after especially painful or intense physical therapy sessions in her clinic, she’d never gone through something like it herself. She held a newfound appreciation for her patients—heck, maybe she’d go a little lighter on them the next time they came in for their appointment.
She looked over at Cindy, but as she did, Cindy looked her way and blinded her with her headlamp.
“If we go...you’ll be here alone.” She tried to control the quaking that was starting to intensify throughout her body.
He looked back in the direction of Moose’s remains. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But this is what I do, Holly.” There was a tenderness to his voice that she hadn’t heard come from him in many, many years and it tore at her.
He was hurting and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it—even if he’d wanted her to stay by his side. It only served as a reminder of how out of each other’s lives they had become and would likely continue to be.
She nodded. “I get it.”
There was an unexpected tightness in her chest, almost as if by leaving him on this hillside she was once again excising herself from his life.
Her feelings didn’t make sense—even to her. They had broken up. They weren’t anything. Yet here she was yearning to be by his side. What was she doing?
She glanced one more time out at the tracks as he helped her to standing. Her gloved hand fit perfectly in his and it only made the confusing feelings within her intensify.
“Did you see those?” she asked, nudging her chin in the direction of the tracks.
He looked over and his head moved to the side, reminding her of a cute puppy. The likeness of which didn’t help her mixed feelings about him.
“That’s strange...” He looked at the tracks that led over toward Moose’s machine. He pulled out his phone and started to take pictures of the scene like she had watched him do with the body.
“I’m surprised you didn’t notice them,” she said, not really thinking about what she was saying. “I mean you’re a detective. I thought you’d have noticed them right away.”
The cuteness in his demeanor shifted and a darkness that had nothing to do with the night filled his eyes. Instead of saying anything, he turned away.
Her stomach clenched. That had come out all wrong. That’s not what she’d wanted to say... It was just that she never thought he’d miss such a thing given his profession. She cringed at her thought. Of course, she’d meant what she’d said, but why did she have to be so tactless sometimes? Why couldn’t she have simply been helpful and left it at that. Instead she had to run a sliver under his fingernail.
She watched him walk away, but she didn’t call after him—there was nothing for her to say that could fix what she’d just fractured between them. It was really no wonder that he had broken up with her those many years ago. She’d never really had a way with words, but apparently time hadn’t changed that as much as she had hoped.
A few minutes later, Cindy came walking over and handed her what she knew, thanks to the red markings and “Terrell” stenciled on the back, to be Ty’s riding helmet. She thought about not taking it, or maybe refusing to ride back, but she accepted it and followed Cindy as she directed her to her sled and motioned for her to get on.
As Cindy started the engine, Holly looked back at Ty who was watching them. He gave her a stiff nod and she slipped on his helmet, fully aware that this was their last goodbye.