Cold Shadow (Cold Country #2)
Author: Mercy Celeste
Chapter One
He'd forgotten how much he loved Tennessee in the summer. The deep green of the trees seemed so much greener here than in DC. He missed driving dirt roads that wound through overgrown fields and past rambling shacks that had once thrived with life. Abandoned farm equipment sat alongside the road, baking in the sun, vines sneaking over their mechanical skeletons for whatever nefarious reasons only the weeds knew.
This was home. Well, not quite; home was middle Tennessee, not east Tennessee, but hell, Tennessee was Tennessee no matter the location, right? When he was a kid, he ran through fields like this one, played in creeks until he was filthy and froggy and worn out. Now he ran through urban jungles. It just wasn't the same. Different kind of filth. No frogs.
He followed the curve of the road, feeling the tires of his SUV spin in the soft dirt. It hadn't rained here in a while. Everything was dry, not quite parched. He slowed when he saw the first cruiser, a sheriff's car, sitting over to the side of the road. Old memories wanted to curl inside his brain, but he wouldn't let them. An ambulance and a coroner's car passed him. Neither in a hurry. More Sheriff's Department vehicles.
He pulled off to the side of the road and parked. The dirt shifted beneath his feet, heat shimmered in waves over him. He breathed heavily of the sweet air and set out across the field where the bulk of the activity seemed to be centered. In the middle of it all stood a tall figure with broad shoulders. The long, straight black hair pulled back into a ponytail that touched the middle of his back between his shoulder blades was new.
He looked Native from the back. Drew's pulse ratcheted up the closer he got. The man was built like a brick shithouse-all hard muscle and impossibly wide shoulders. Unlike his fellow deputies, he wore jeans and a polo shirt. The gun at his side the only thing linking him to the investigation. And the fact that he seemed to be the one giving the orders.
He heard the warning of "feeb" before he was close enough to flash his badge. Uncanny how the LEOs could spot a fed a mile away. The big guy turned and nodded in his direction, and Drew was cast back in time for a moment. The silver eyes staring at him, even from across the distance, took him in. There was recognition in them. He smiled-sort of-in the way Nathan Truman had only ever smiled, sort of a cross between a growl and a grimace of gas pain.
"Special Agent Walker," he greeted Drew, his large hand extended in welcome. "The promotion looks good on you."
A shiver of something foreign passed through him when he took the hand. He shook it off. "Nathan. It's good to see you again."
A glint of shared memory flitted through those scary silver eyes before he became all business. "I was wondering when DC would send me someone. This is the fourth one."
"The fifth. The fourth was in another county. We didn't put that one together with what was going on down here until yesterday. Is this one mutilated?" He hated saying the word. He hated that Nathan flinched.
"Same as the other three here. Fingers missing. Tongue … well, we've never found the other poor bastards' tongues either." He stopped for a moment and Drew watched as he moved his shoulders as if he were stretching his spine. Nathan didn't have to say anything; Drew knew enough to keep his mouth shut.
"Carvings the same?" He had to ask. This had nothing to do with the past. It had nothing to do with what happened to Nathan.
"Close enough. Same details, some new ones too. I can't make out the meaning. Symbols and shit. No words." He hitched his shoulders again. Other than that, he betrayed no signs of distress. "They are all Truman Steel workers. All of them, even that one out of jurisdiction?"
Drew nodded. "That's why I'm here. I'm familiar with the company. I can blend in, I speak the language, and look like them enough to pass."
Nathan looked at him as if he'd never seen him before. He merely grunted. "Natalie won't like it. You going in undercover. Or is that not what you're doing?"
"That was the idea. See what the workers know."
"They are all legal. Nat and Dad run thorough background checks. But they don't like to talk. The locals don't trust them. They don't like them taking American jobs and all that crap." He paused, his lips pressed tight as he gazed off across the field. "Are you here alone?"
"For now," Drew said slowly. "How's Quinn?"
There was a slight smile, a real one that reached Nathan's eyes. "He's good. Getting ready to go on tour next month so he's spending too much time in Nashville. He'll be happy to see you."