in his stride vanishes. “I was framed, Blakely.”
I jog to catch up so we’re walking beside each other. “Holy shit, that’s terrible.”
“Wasn’t that in my file? Didn’t they tell you about my pathetic attempts to get a retrial? Fucking typical.” His voice drips with cutting sarcasm.
A tremble skitters along my chest from his confession. “I didn’t read your case notes. How did they do it?”
Halder glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m a convicted felon.”
“Wrongly accused,” I amend.
“I’ll admit that your amount of faith in me is surprising. Unless you’re just bullshitting with me. I wouldn’t blame you.” He bumps my shoulder with his shrug.
“That trust from yesterday still stands. Even more so now. What do you think my job is at Streebston?”
“Social worker.” He states that like a proven fact. I get a tiny thrill at knowing he pays attention.
“More specifically,” I prod.
“Provide community resources?”
“For those needing them, sure. Mostly I’m there to provide counseling and other mental health services. I also collaborate with lawyers and parole officers. Sometimes a person just needs someone to listen and offer support. There are countless lists of men who’ve been sentenced for crimes they didn’t commit. It sounds like you’re one of them. Did you ever get to plead your side?”
Halder shoves his fists deep into the pockets of his coat. “In court, sure. I told my lawyer at every opportunity. But the evidence was ironclad. I was at the wrong place at the worst possible time. The raid was planned, and they caught me at the scene. It was easy enough to pin me with several counts of drug and money laundering charges. Could’ve been worse since I’d actually been working for them and carried plenty of secrets. These people are criminals, and not the stupid kind. They have the means to make people disappear, caged behind bars or in a shallow grave.”
My stomach is a riot of twists and acidic clumps. The early assumption I had about him being a mobster is coming back to haunt me. “What jobs did you do for them?”
“It was all computer based. I ran some of their accounting and other books. Building security through technical devices. Software improvements. Totally innocent, right?” He scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“I’m sure you didn’t sign on to be employed by the bad guys. The Halder I’ve come to know sure doesn’t seem like the type.” I paste a smile on my lips for good measure.
“That blind trust you’re giving me is sexy as fuck, Blakely. I appreciate it. A lot.”
A shiver wreaks havoc on my entire body. The blanket of prickling goosebumps follows in its electric path. “Good, because I’ll keep giving it. I have no reason to quit.”
“And I won’t give you one. Why’d you think I was in prison?”
I kick at a rock in my direct trail. “I had no idea. A Ponzi scheme? Crooked stock trading? Embezzling money?”
“White collar? Too kind for what they stuck me with.”
A surge of air leaves me. His history is far more complicated than I gave him credit for. Another question waits on my tongue, but a distinct sound steals the show. Halder pauses, and I follow suit. We simultaneously turn toward the noise. The telltale flow can’t be mistaken.
I find myself asking for clarification regardless. “Is that—?”
“Running water,” Halder finishes for me.
Survival tip #12: The right tools can make or break a situation.
When the trickling notes first hit my ears, I figured it was just background static. Then the dripping gurgle turned into a constant stream and denying the obvious became more difficult. Out here, anything can be used against us. A mirage in the frigid tundra isn’t unheard of. Could we actually be catching a break?
Blakely’s broken exhale momentarily snags my focus. She’s my ultimate distraction. “Are you sure?”
“Almost positive, but the proof is that way.” I point toward the babbling rush of what must be a river. It damn well better be, after ratcheting our hopes to this level.
“This is surreal. Am I dreaming? Please say no.” Her baby blues have a shiny gleam.
I shake my head. “Should I pinch you?”
When she leans toward me, I grasp the puffy fabric of her jacket. She giggles and presses two fingers over her smiling lips. “I was almost convinced this was a deserted wasteland of snow and trees.”
“Don’t jinx us.”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “I didn’t. There’s water nearby.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What else is there to worry about at