Viktoria rose and walked to the stove. Using a spatula, she lifted cookies from the tray and placed them on a plate. In the stillness, she suddenly heard an engine revving as it climbed the steep road several hundred yards away. She froze, not daring to breathe. She listened for the telltale sounds of a car approaching. The crunch of wheels on the cabin’s gravel driveway. The muffled music of a far-off radio or the near-silent shushing of windshield wipers as they cleared away a few stray snowflakes. A second passed and then another. There was nothing and yet she still held her breath.
She moved to the window and wiped the steam away. Outside she saw only the vast blackness of the winter night. As she exhaled, her breath collected on the glass, creating a barrier between her and the night once more.
They couldn’t have found her. No one in Colorado, much less Telluride, knew who she was. “They couldn’t have,” she said aloud.
“Who couldn’t have what?” Gregory asked.
Viktoria whirled around.
Face scrubbed, with a dab of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth, Viktoria’s son stood right behind her. She’d been so absorbed that she hadn’t heard him approach. The past several months had taken their toll on Viktoria and she was so weary that she imagined she could sleep for days.
On the eve of her final hearing, Viktoria had been desperate, convinced that Gregory could be taken from her. She’d packed up their things and left their Manhattan apartment in the middle of the night, driving almost nonstop across country. During the intervening four months her son had asked few questions. He had no idea why they’d been living in relative seclusion. Nor would he. Their situation was her burden, not Gregory’s.
“I thought I heard reindeer hooves on the roof,” she said. If Viktoria was going to tell a lie two days before Christmas she might as well make it a big, fat, juicy one. “Then I thought, They couldn’t have come early.”
“Or one of Santa’s elves might be checking on us right now,” he said.
With mock sternness, Viktoria nodded slowly. “I bet you’re right.”
Gregory’s eyes grew big and his mouth hung open. With a deliberate snap of his jaw, he gave her a salute. “Good night, Secret Agent Mommy.”
He scampered up the stairs to the loft, where they both had beds. “I’ll be up in a minute for prayers,” she called after him. Viktoria knew what she would pray for. It was the same thing every night. She needed a miracle that would clear her name and allow her to return to the life she had abandoned to protect and keep Gregory.
* * *
Cody Samuels lay on his stomach, a thermal blanket between his body and the snow-covered ground. He looked through a set of binoculars and peered at the cabin set deep in the woods. Not for the first time, he cursed his bad fortune that the affable Sheriff Raymond Benjamin had assured Cody that his guys had the Mateev arrest covered and didn’t need the extra help. The weather, the sheriff claimed, was about to change and he didn’t want anyone caught in the storm. Cody’s interest in the case was far more compelling than his worry over a little snow. Their tactics had ruined more lives than Cody’s and moreover, he refused to lose a chance to question Viktoria Mateev.
The call Cody placed had been hours ago. Since then, he’d seen neither the promised storm nor a deputy. Yet here he remained, perched on the side of the hill—like a wayward Christmas tree.
The temperature plummeted after the sun sank behind the mountains and Cody was thankful that he’d thought to dress in layers of fleece and Gore-Tex. Yet all the time he waited gave Cody a sense of Viktoria Mateev.
Tall and lithe, she looked more attractive in person than she had in her photos. She wore blue jeans along with a red plaid shirt over a light-colored Henley. More than her beauty, she was clearly a loving and attentive mother, spending time teaching her son how to measure, stir and bake. Laughing with him. Talking with him.
In fact, Cody couldn’t quite find any sign of the unhinged parent the paperwork described. Or one hint of any of the other ruthless people he knew her family to be. Meaning...she had to be here alone.
The kitchen light went out, leaving the cabin dark. Viktoria and Gregory had gone to bed for the night. Why the hell hadn’t local law enforcement or social workers shown up yet? Slipping his phone from his breast pocket, Cody hit the home button. This far into the mountains there was no cell service, but the time was still accurate—9:15 p.m.
On his last trip to RMJ headquarters in Denver, Cody had returned his satellite phone because of a promise for an upgraded model with tighter security software in the New Year. At the time, Cody had doubted he’d need much over the holiday weekend.
He’d never been more wrong in his life.
With a sat phone, he could call Sheriff Benjamin and find out what was amiss. Because there was one thing Cody knew for sure—something was wrong about this case.
Turning his field glasses to the east, Cody followed the road. In the moonless night, the asphalt coiled in and around the snowy terrain, like a large black snake. Nothing. No headlights. No taillights. It was as if the report he had filed with the sheriff’s office had been forgotten.
And then the black road undulated. Rummaging in the pack at his side, he withdrew a pair of binoculars with night vision capabilities. Looking through the ocular, the world turned an eerie and unworldly green. Glancing back to the road, he saw two black SUVs traveling without lights. They turned up the long drive to the cabin, their engines running whisper quiet. Clouds of exhaust billowed and rose in the cold mountain air. At the front door of the cabin, three men dressed all in black exited the two SUVs. They adjusted balaclavas over their faces and checked their sidearms.
These definitely weren’t the local sheriff’s guys.
Instantly, Cody was on his feet, slinging the pack over his back as he ran toward the cabin. He dodged trees and jumped over fallen logs. Frigid air burned Cody’s nose and lungs, as his cold, stiff muscles protested from the sudden exertion. His pulse thrummed and sweat covered his skin.
With less than one hundred yards to go, Cody watched as the lock on the cabin’s front door was picked and two men rushed inside. The third man ran to the back of the property. Mere seconds later, one man exited the cabin and made his way to one of the idling SUVs. When he opened its back door, the interior light clicked on. Cody could make out someone seated in the rear who reached for a bundle the other man had carried from the cabin.
Not a bundle. The kid.
Mateev, Gregory. Cody saw the case’s paperwork in his mind’s eye. Age 4.
During Cody’s time with the DEA he’d borne witness to heinous acts committed by lawless people. But still, he believed everyone deserved justice and protection by the law. At the same time, most of the victims he’d encountered were involved in the illegal drug trade, as well. In short, there was no denying that if you played with fire, you’d eventually get burned. As far as Cody was concerned, it was easy to assume that Viktoria Mateev was complicit in bringing these men to her door. Even so, he was morally obligated to help—regardless of his own investment in her capture.
But the kid? He was too young to be tangled up in any criminal enterprise and Cody pushed his legs faster, refusing to let someone so innocent become collateral damage.
The man in the back seat pulled the door shut while the other one slid into the driver’s seat. The car’s tires kicked
