Stone Cross (Arliss Cutter #2) - Marc Cameron Page 0,41

or they’d find him dead on their floor when they got back.

There was a good supply of kindling in a bucket beside the stove, along with a few brittle pieces of old spruce crown and some newspaper. Somebody here knew how to start a fire. The matches were in a small glass mayonnaise jar. He had to swing his arms for almost a full minute in order to get the blood flowing enough to twist off the lid and hold a match in his fingers. Even then, his hands were so wooden he dropped two matches before he could get the flame to the paper he’d crumpled inside the stove with his shaky hand. The small twigs in the spruce crown were filled with sap that went up like gasoline as soon as the burning paper ignited them. Vitus took his time, feeding the growing flames progressively larger pieces of kindling. He was still shivering like a jerky marionette by the time he could add actual logs. His hands were starting to ache, which was good. At least he could feel them again.

He wished he could crawl inside of the stove and warm up more quickly, but settled for squatting in front of the open door with his shirt open, letting the heat bounce off his exposed skin. It took five minutes for the shivering to abate enough for him to remember he was hungry. He was going to have to borrow some food before he returned home. The river had a lot of ice, but it was still flowing. Maybe he could borrow a boat too so he wouldn’t have to ride through the bog again to get back to Stone Cross. It wasn’t all that cold outside, so long as he wasn’t soaking wet.

Vitus hung his coat on the back of a chair in front of the stove, stood for a moment to watch the steam begin to rise off the fabric. He thought about taking off his pants too, but he was too afraid someone would walk in on him. That was probably a crime, he thought glumly—being naked in somebody else’s house—even if you were freezing to death. Instead, he decided to see what there was in the pantry and then bring something back to eat in front of the fire so his pants could dry.

The lodge kitchen was set up for feeding a dozen people, with long stainless-steel counters, a six-burner gas stove, and a walk-in pantry that contained an overwhelming amount of canned and dried food. He’d just finished making himself a peanut butter sandwich when he heard the hollow, dripping-water sounds of a raven outside the window. Blue-black against the snow, the tulukaruq squawked and squabbled, hopping back and forth to peck at something in the snow. Ravens were tricksters, but when they made a fuss, there was usually something worth investigating. Vitus leaned forward, craning his head over the sink to get a good look.

His mouth fell open at what he saw. A pale blue hand, fingers curled into a frozen claw, stuck out from beneath a snowdrift. The ravens ignored the hand. They were interested in something else. Something more gruesome, something bright and red against the snow.

CHAPTER 14

Cutter sat on the left side of the airplane, directly behind the pilot. The stopover in Bethel hadn’t taken long. The sun wouldn’t set until seven, which gave Cutter time to get settled and scout the village before nightfall. He had a feeling that when it got dark out here, it would be really dark, especially in this weather. A green David Clark headset protected his hearing and connected him via intercom to everyone else onboard, while he watched the tiny droplets of water skid by on his window, vibrating from turbulence and prop wash. The fog was getting worse. High wings, mounted on the top of the plane, gave passengers an unobstructed view when there was anything to see but clouds. The Caravan was a nice ride, fairly new, but it was more farm truck than company car.

Earl had isolated the intercom so only he and Markham’s law clerk in the right front seat were privy to their conversation. The two of them sat chatting away, while everyone else rode in silence for the first few minutes of the flight. Even Natalie Beck, who was surely used to the scenery after three years of teaching in the bush, appeared content to lean her forehead against the window and watch the wet and