Scott Free Read Free Page A

She called him her assistant mostly because the world frowned on the notion of paid companions. Half of the professional publishing world assumed that they were lovers, and the other half assumed that they were both gay. Sherry honestly didn’t give a shit.
    â€œWell, it’d be one thing if you trumped Brandon in doing something you actually enjoyed, but as it is now, who’s laughing harder, know what I mean?”
    Sherry sighed. “I know exactly what you mean.” She took another sip of her drink, just as the White Russian arrived for Larry. “I’m not a total bitch, you know. I did actually hope that maybe Scotty and I could get to know each other a little better. But I never see him.”
    â€œThat’s because he’s skiing , Sherry. Ski resort. Skiing. Do you see the link?”
    Sherry laughed in spite of herself. “Well, during the day, sure. But I don’t even see him in the evenings. God knows what he’s been eating.”
    â€œHe’s sixteen. He hates the world.”
    Sherry thought about that. Adolescence was defined all over the world by rebellion. It was the same in every culture, every race, every religion. She’d heard some interesting theories that it was true in every species. Sometimes she wondered if teenagers didn’t in fact become a different species for a while.
    She checked her watch. “Tonight, for example,” she said. “The last thing we said to each other as he was on his way out to the slopes was, let’s meet for dinner. He was supposed to call me, or at least leave a message at the chalet, but no. Not a word.” She saw Larry’s eyes shift. “What?”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œYou know something.”
    He made a face like she was crazy, but he squirmed in his chair. “I know a lot of things.”
    Sherry wasn’t buying it. “You wear a guilty conscience like a badge, Larry. Let me hear it.”
    â€œI told Scott I wouldn’t say anything,” he hedged. Way to hold out till the end.
    â€œLarry.”
    He sighed. “He went to Salt Lake City.”
    Sherry’s jaw dropped. “He what?”
    Larry squirmed some more. “There’s a concert there. He went with some ski patrol guy he met. Nice guy. I did a couple of runs with both of them.”
    Sherry couldn’t believe she was hearing this. “Have you looked at the weather out there? How on earth are they going to drive to Salt Lake City?”
    More squirming. “They’re, um, not driving, actually. His friend is a private pilot. He owns his own plane.”
    This time, Sherry’s rage was real. “Jesus, Larry, how long have you known about this?”
    Her anger surprised him. “Since this morning.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t say anything?”
    â€œWhat was I going to say?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know, something like, ‘Hey, Sherry, your son has lost his mind.’ My God, they’re flying in this weather?”
    Larry dismissed her with a wave as he took another sip of his drink. “Will you relax? If it wasn’t safe, they wouldn’t let them take off in the first place.”

2
    T HE SENSATION OF PAIN was unlike anything that Scott had ever felt. His whole body seemed to vibrate with a sharp, bright-white agony that made him feel as if he were ready to explode. A full-body toothache. It was that sharp. That hot.
    It was so quiet. After the horrific noise of the crash, the grinding and twisting of metal and the screams that might have been his own, the silence terrified him.
    â€œCody?” He could barely hear himself. “Cody?” He said it louder this time, but the night still returned only silence.
    The feeling of disorientation was overwhelming—huge pressure in his head and his belly, yet the unmistakable sensation that he was floating. He had no idea how long he’d been here. His mind played an image of him climbing out of a hole