If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [133]
“Why didn’t you take a snowmobile?” Patrick asked.
“They were all out when I left, and I can’t get to two of the cabins with my truck. I do this all the time,” he said defensively. “I just lost my balance. And my favorite skis.”
He didn’t open his eyes, and Lucy couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth.
She said, “I checked the weather report this morning. They said light snowfall overnight, clear tomorrow. I can’t believe they were so wrong.”
Steve laughed once. “Weather systems change often, especially in the winter. I’ve lived here my entire life and when I saw the report this morning, I knew the system was going to shift as soon as the wind shifted. Weather reports are more reliable now with satellites and historical data all computerized, but minor changes in one location can have a chain effect, especially in the mountains.”
“How long do you think it’ll last?” Patrick asked.
Steve looked out the window. “I think we’re in for the weekend.”
“What?” Lucy exclaimed.
“We can get you off the mountain if you want, but tonight is going to be a blizzard and I don’t advise it.”
“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” Lucy said.
Patrick grinned. “What did you do, Luce? Send a prayer up for a blizzard to get you out of learning to ski?”
“On the contrary, I decided that I was going to learn how to ski if it was the last thing I did—just to prove to you that I’m not scared of failure.”
“I shouldn’t have said scared. You’re not scared of failure, you’re just pissed off. You don’t like it when you can’t do something your first time out. And you just said learn how to ski, meaning you have no intention of failing.”
“Why would I try if I expected to fail?”
“Indeed. I rest my case.”
Lucy was confused and sighed heavily. “Brothers.”
Patrick drove across the pressed gravel road that was now covered with a thick layer of snow, but the lights lining the lodge’s entrance helped guide him to the barn, which had been converted into a large garage. Steve jumped out of the truck and opened the barn doors. Patrick drove in and parked where he had earlier, next to the Delarosa truck. He got out and helped Steve close the doors against the fierce wind.
“I need to gather up supplies and check the generators,” Steve said. “You should get inside before the storm gets worse.”
“With that bump on your head, you shouldn’t be out walking around,” Lucy said.
“I don’t have a choice. I’m not risking damage because I slacked off.”
“I’ll help you,” Patrick said.
“I don’t need any help.”
“Then I’ll tell your stepmother that you whacked your head. Based on her mother-hen attitude, I don’t think she’ll let you leave your room.”
“What do you care?” he asked petulantly.
“I’ve been the recipient of a nasty head injury,” Patrick said. “I know how unpredictable they are.”
Lucy didn’t say anything. Her brother had been in a coma, thanks to the man who had kidnapped her nearly six years ago. She still felt a pang of guilt that Patrick had been so severely injured while trying to rescue her. She thanked God every day that he was alive, breathing, and awake. Since his recovery, they’d grown much closer than they’d been growing up. Their ten-year age difference had been huge when she was ten and Patrick was twenty; now, at twenty-four and thirty-four, it didn’t matter much.
“Fine,” Steve said, “if you promise to not say anything to Grace. She’s a worrywart.”
“Promise.”
Lucy didn’t think that was a good idea, and she was surprised that Patrick agreed to it.
“It might be kind of hard to hide that bandage,” Lucy said.
“I’ll take care of it. We need to get this done before full dark.”
“I’m dressed for it,” Patrick said. He nodded to Lucy with a look that said he’d keep an eye on Steve, and she felt marginally better heading inside to the lodge.
“I have plenty of extra snowshoes,” Steve said. “Lucy, stick to the path—there is ground lighting that shouldn’t be buried by the snow yet. It’ll land you right at the porch.” He handed her a pair of