Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

would have done it by now.”
    “What are you saying?”
    “This must be a seasonal road,” said Arlo. “That’s why it isn’t on the map. That damn GPS sent us on the shortest route, all right—straight over a mountain.”
    “Eventually someone’s going to come by here.”
    “Yeah. In the spring. You remember that story a few years ago, about the family in Oregon who got stuck in the snow? They thought they were on a major road and ended up in the middle of nowhere. No one went looking for
them
. A week later, the man decides to walk out to save his family. And he freezes to death.”
    “Shut up, Arlo,” said Doug. “You’re scaring Grace.”
    “He’s scaring
me,”
said Elaine.
    “Elaine, I’m just trying to impress upon you that this is not something Dougie here can just blithely fix for us,” said Arlo.
    “I know that,” said Elaine. “You think I don’t know that?”
    Wind gusted across the road, sending snowflakes whirling into their faces. Maura blinked against the sting. When she opened her eyes again, everyone was standing in exactly the same place, as though paralyzed by the cold, by despair. As a fresh gust blasted them, she turned to shield her face. Only then did she see the fleck of green, vivid against the relentless background of white.
    She started toward it, wading up the road through snow that sucked at her boots, miring her in its grip.
    “Maura, where are you going?” said Doug.
    She kept walking, even as Doug continued to call out to her. As she moved closer, she saw that the patch of green was a sign, its face half obscured by clinging snow. She brushed away the flakes.
    PRIVATE ROAD
RESIDENTS ONLY
AREA PATROLLED
    So much snow had fallen that she could not see any pavement, only a narrow alley that cut into the trees and twisted away through the heavy screen of woods. A chain was draped across the entrance, the metal links encrusted in white fluff. “There’s a road here!” she called out. As the others trudged toward her, she pointed at the sign. “It says
residents only
. That means there must be houses down this road.”
    “The chain’s up,” said Arlo. “I doubt anyone’s there.”
    “But there’ll be shelter. Right now, that’s all we need.”
    Doug gave a laugh and threw his arms around Maura, crushing her against his down jacket. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you along! Sharp eyes, Dr. Isles! We would have missed this road completely.”
    As he released her, Maura noticed Elaine staring at them, and it unsettled her because it was not a friendly look. Suddenly it was gone, and Elaine turned back to the Suburban. “Let’s get our things out of the car,” she said.
    They didn’t know how far they would have to carry their belongings, so Doug suggested they take only what they needed for the night. Maura left her suitcase behind and grabbed her purse and a tote bag, which she filled with toiletries and an extra sweater.
    “Elaine, you’re not really going to bring your suitcase,” said Arlo.
    “It’s just my carry-on. It has my jewelry and cosmetics.”
    “We’re in the frigging wilderness.”
    “It’s got other stuff, too.”
    “What stuff?”
    “Other.
Stuff.”
She started toward the private road, her roll-aboard plowing a trench in the snow behind her.
    “I guess I’ll have to carry that for you,” Arlo said with a sigh, and he took the suitcase from her.
    “Everyone got what they need?” called out Doug.
    “Wait,” said Maura. “We need to leave a note in case someone finds the Suburban.” She pulled a pen and notepad from her purseand wrote:
Stranded, please call for help. We’re down the private road
. She laid it in full view on the dashboard and shut the door. “Okay,” she said, pulling on her gloves. “I’m ready.”
    They clambered over the chain and started down the road, Arlo huffing and puffing as he dragged Elaine’s roll-aboard suitcase behind him.
    “When we get back home, Doug,” Arlo panted, “you owe me a major dinner. I’m talking
major
. Veuve Clicquot. Caviar. And a steak the size of Los Angeles.”
    “Stop it,” said Elaine. “You’re making us hungry.”
    “You’re not already hungry?”
    “It doesn’t help to talk about it.”
    “It doesn’t go away if we
don’t
talk about it.” Arlo trudged slowly, the suitcase scraping across the snow. “And now we’re going to miss dinner, too.”
    “There’s bound to be some food down there,” said Doug. “Even if you close up