by Dinah McCall
Now, from the shift in the angle of the light and the shadows on the floor of the forest, she was guessing it was midafternoon. Most likely the crash site had been located earlier today. It was probably crawling with all sorts of people. If she knew which direction to go to get back there, she would take Johnny now. But she didn’t, and she had no way of knowing if the killer was following them. If she started back and ran into him before she found the plane, there was every chance that they wouldn’t live to see another day. While she was contemplating their options, Johnny O’Ryan opened his eyes and screamed.
Molly’s heart gave a hard thump as she tightened her hold.
“Easy, honey. It’s me. Molly. Remember?”
Johnny was shaking as he sat up, then tightened his arms around her.
“We fell out of the sky, didn’t we?” he asked.
Molly tightened her own arms around him and hugged him close.
“Yes, but we’re okay. It’s past noon. Are you hungry? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
He nodded yes to both, and the next few minutes were devoted to relieving themselves, then washing their hands in the snow. Under the circumstances, it was the best they could do.
Molly rummaged through the backpack for food while Johnny sat cross-legged on one of the blankets. She handed him a box of juice that she’d already opened, then a couple of packets of peanuts.
“It’s not exactly McDonald’s, but it’s food, right?”
He took it without comment, tore into the peanuts, then began to eat. Every now and then he would take a sip of the juice, then look up at her, judging her expression against the overwhelming sadness in the pit of his stomach.
Molly saw the tears in his eyes, but to his credit, they never fell. He was a tough little kid. If the truth were known, he was probably holding it together better than she was. She was scared half out of her mind, and if she ever started crying, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop.
When they’d eaten their peanuts and finished the juice, Molly left the trash in a pile under the trees where they’d been lying, then folded up the blankets. There was a bead of juice at the corner of Johnny’s mouth. She wiped it away with her thumb, then gently smoothed his hair from his forehead.
“So, Johnny…I think we’d better get moving, don’t you?”
He looked at her for a moment, then leaned forward as his arms slid around her neck.
Molly felt him trembling. She knew exactly how he felt.
“Are you scared?” she asked.
“Will the man kill us, too?”
She wrapped her arms around his little body and pulled him close.
“No, baby, he’s not going to kill us. I won’t let him, okay?”
He was silent for a few moments, then finally nodded. “Okay.”
“So let’s get moving,” Molly said.
They stood up, only to find that it was starting to snow again. Molly said a silent prayer as she took Johnny’s hand, reoriented her inner compass and set off downhill in what she thought was a southwesterly direction.
But the clouds soon hid the sun, and the snow fell fast and thick. Hours passed, and she lost her sense of direction. She knew they were in trouble when she realized that they’d passed the same split tree twice. She stopped, staring in disbelief and wondering what the odds might be of two lightning-struck trees that looked the same.
Oh, no. Oh, Lord help us…we’ve been going in circles.
She looked down at Johnny. He looked so cold and so small, but thankfully didn’t seem to realize what a predicament they were in.
“How about we rest for a while?” she asked.
He nodded wearily.
She could only imagine how tired his little legs were. He’d had to take two steps to her every one and yet had somehow managed to keep up. She leaned down and pulled the hood of his coat a little farther down on his head, although there was no way she could get them warmer.
She turned in a semicircle, scanning the area for a place to take shelter—at least until this latest snowstorm had passed. She thought of the cave they’d spent the night in, but had no idea where it was. The trees were thick, but the underbrush was sparse. Taking shelter there would be like standing in the open. Not enough limbs at their level to make a good windbreak. Still, she had to find something.
Johnny tugged at her hand, then pointed at the split tree.
“What, honey?” Molly asked.
“In there,” Johnny said. “We can make a house in there.”
Molly stared. At first she didn’t see what he was talking about, and then she realized he was pointing to the bare branches of the fallen tree. Using a little imagination, Molly could see how the network of branches had formed the skeletal shape of a roof. If it was covered, the small space beneath would be a good place to wait out the storm.
Molly dropped her backpack and began grabbing at the lower branches of the evergreens, pulling in fierce, frantic jerks until they peeled away from their trunks.
“Like this, Johnny. Help me put them like this.”
She began jabbing the pine branches through the framework of dead limbs, filling in spaces, then ran back to the trees, pulling off more small pliable limbs, which Johnny quickly poked through the holes until they had put a roof on their new shelter.
Molly’s gloves were sticky with sap and pine needles as she thrust the last armful of branches through some thinner places. Johnny was already underneath, brushing away the snow from under the new roof. By the time Molly dragged a big armful of pine boughs and their backpacks in with her, Johnny had cleaned the entire floor area.
“Hey, Johnny! Good job!” she said as she spread the boughs out at the back of the shelter.
Johnny almost smiled, then ducked his head and pulled his knees up beneath his chin.
Molly purposefully ignored his withdrawal and pulled the blankets out of her backpack.
“Here, honey…help me,” she said, then spread out the blankets over the boughs.
When they were finished, she pulled his backpack into her lap and dug through the contents, judging their meager food supply against how long it might take before they were found. There were several more packets of nuts, a couple of small bottles of water, four boxes of juice and a handful of granola bars.
“We need to eat. Think you could do that?”
Johnny nodded.
“How about a granola bar?” Molly asked, and then began peeling back the paper.
Johnny took the bar, then paused, looked at it, then up at Molly. She smiled, hoping he would be encouraged by her lack of panic, when in truth she had never been as afraid as she was right now. She was the adult here. She felt obligated to get them through this, but she didn’t have the first idea of how to make that happen. While she was going out of her mind, Johnny quietly broke the snack bar in half and handed part of it back to her. Molly was taken aback by his generosity and his understanding of their situation.
“Thank you, honey,” she said softly, and took a small bite. Johnny followed suit, then together they ate, sharing the juice box, as well.
When they were done, Molly laid the backpack aside. As she did, something fell out of a small side pocket.
“Hey, what’s this?” she said, as she pulled a small whistle and chain out of the leaves and snow.
“It’s my whistle,” Johnny said. “Daddy gave it to me when I was a little kid. I think I was three.”
Molly stifled a smile. Two years later and he no longer considered himself a little kid. She suspected he came from a long line of very macho men.
“It’s a cool whistle. What’s it for?”
“For if I get lost from him,” he said. “Like in the grocery store or at the mall or something.”
Molly’s estimation of the absent father rose a notch. Smart dad.
“That’s a really good idea,” she said. “Maybe you could wear this around your neck.”
Johnny put it over his head. “Yeah…’cause we’re lost, aren�
��t we?”
Molly tried not to cry. “Yes, I think we are.”
“It will be okay,” Johnny said. “I can blow my whistle until somebody finds us.”
Molly eyes filled with tears. This just wasn’t fair. They’d survived a plane crash, only to witness a murder. The worst thing they could have done was leave the scene of the crash, but they’d had no choice. Molly was convinced that they would have wound up like that man—what was his name? Patrick. His name had been Patrick. He’d survived, too, but not for long.
She glanced at Johnny. His little face was red and chapped from the cold, but he didn’t complain. She couldn’t bear to tell him that they might not be found at all, or that if they did take a chance and blow the whistle, it could lead the killer, not their rescuers, to them.
“Let’s roll up in the blankets, okay?”
Johnny readily agreed.
Molly shuffled some of the pine boughs around until she’d made them a nest; then she pulled the two blankets up over them, tucked in the edges all the way around and pulled Johnny up as close to her as she could. His head was right beneath her chin and his little backside rested in the curve of her lap. Molly wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze.
“You’re a pretty good sleeping buddy. Did you know that?”
“That’s what Daddy says.”
Molly was surprised.
“He does?”
“Yeah. It’s because I don’t kick in my sleep.”
Molly smiled to herself.
“Well, that’s good to know. Now…are you okay? Not lying on any rocks?”
“No,” Johnny said.
“Okay…well, we’ll just rest for a while and then see how it goes.”
“I’ll blow my whistle a couple times first,” he said, and matched the action to the words before she could stop him.
Molly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from bawling. She hoped their pursuer was too far away to hear, because there was no way they could keep going without a rest. So she said a quiet prayer for God to keep them safe and tried to keep her mind off her misery. As Johnny slowly relaxed and fell asleep in her arms, she kept watch, praying for rescue and listening for danger.
The snow continued to fall, slowly covering the pine boughs until, from outside, their shelter took on the appearance of a small snowdrift.
Darren Wilson was not just in trouble for gambling and murder, he was in serious pain. The best he could tell, he had a couple of cracked ribs and something wrong with his right knee—maybe a torn ligament. Whatever it was, it hurt like hell to walk.
But he couldn’t stay still. If he did, he would freeze. Besides, he was out here in these damned woods because of that woman and kid. He needed to find them even worse than he needed money to pay off his gambling debts.
As he stood within the silence of the snowfall, he realized he could barely see out of his right eye and only a bit more out of his left. He’d been following the tracks he’d found in the forest just fine up until about an hour ago. That was when it had started to snow again, filling up the tracks and blanketing the surrounding area.
At any other time he might have appreciated the pristine beauty of it, but not now. Once again he was losing track of where the woman and kid had gone, and once again it was getting dark. This would be the second night he’d spent out in this god-awful weather—and without food or water.
What had angered him most was the pile of juice boxes and snack food wrappers he’d found beneath a tree. Obviously the woman had taken food from the plane. If only he’d had as much foresight, he might not be quite as miserable.
“I would give a year of my life for a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol,” he muttered as he resumed his trek while he could still see.
He didn’t know how he was going to do the woman and kid in once he found them, but he did know it had to be done. There was no reason for them to have fled the scene of the crash unless they had witnessed him killing Patrick Finn.
He knew the crash site was most likely a beehive of activity today. He also knew that the FAA would soon figure out they were three bodies short compared to the names on the passenger list. The only positive thing about this whole mess was that an all-out search would be difficult to impossible in this snowstorm. That gave him extra time to find his quarry before the searchers did.
He pulled the collar of his heavy coat up over his ears, hunched his shoulders, zipped and unzipped his coat three times, then cursed himself for the need to do so before resuming the hunt.
6
The snow was almost a foot deep now and impeding their speed of travel. Even though James was in his sixties, he wasn’t having any problems with the depth, but Evan, still recovering from his wounds, was struggling, and it made Mike antsy. His son’s physical health and stamina were obviously not up to par. He wished there was a way he could have talked Evan into waiting back at the motel with Thorn, but there was no way he would have insulted his son with the suggestion. It was Evan’s son who was missing. He would never be able to stand back and let others look for the most important person in his life. Still, when Evan stumbled in the snow, it was all Mike could do to keep quiet. He started toward Evan, then stopped when he saw Deborah pause and speak to him.
Deborah sensed, rather than saw, Evan falter. She paused, then turned around, pretending she was winded.
“Evan?”
He nodded, too breathless to answer.
“Are you all right? We can slow down if you need to.”
“No.”
The fear in his eyes was obvious. There was no need to discuss the reason. He needed to find his child.
She glanced at Mike. He was glaring at her. Her first reaction was regret. She didn’t know why he was angry at her, when she’d done nothing to cause the situation that they were in, but she hated it, and she knew from experience that only time would help what they were all feeling.
Mike thought he saw her eyes tear up, which surprised him. He hadn’t expected that his reluctance to trust her might be painful. The way he looked at it, if she was so dead set in coming with them, then she should be able to put up with whatever was going on. Still, he had to admit that if she was conning them, she most likely would have spoken up in defense of herself before they set out.
Only she hadn’t.
He glanced at her again, then looked away. Damn it, he didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but surely she understood. Finding Johnny was a matter of life and death, and they were following a complete stranger who claimed to have psychic powers. It was the craziest thing he’d ever done.
He gritted his teeth, then looked up, refusing to feel guilty. To his surprise, she was still watching him.
“How do you know you’re going the right way?” Mike asked.
“Because I do,” Deborah answered, then glanced at Evan again. “Are you okay to go?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m fine,” he said.
“Okay, then,” Deborah said, and once again led the way.
Mike cursed beneath his breath. He was getting tired of following her orange backpack, as if it were some homing beacon. He would bet money she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. Unable to stay silent, he began arguing.
“We’ve been walking for three hours, and there is no way they could have walked so far away from the plane. They’re bound to have some injuries. No one can fall out of the sky and walk away without a scratch. Besides that, darkness would have caught them, and they would have had to stop.”
Evan interrupted. “But that was last night, Dad. This is the second day, and it’s almost dark again. They’re about to spend their second night in this weather, and they could be anywhere.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed angrily. Without thinking, he surged past Evan and didn’t slow down until he came even with Deborah.
“I’m talking to you,” he barked.
“Really? I’m sorry,” Deborah said.
“Oh, come on now,” Mike muttered. “Don’t tell me that you
’re hard of hearing?”
“No, of course not,” Deborah said. “I heard you talking, all right. You’ve done nothing but talk since we walked away from the crash site. However, I didn’t know you were talking to me. So what was the question again?”
Mike opened his mouth just as a limb full of snow suddenly unloaded down the back of his neck. They all stopped to help brush him off.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, all but pushing everyone away as he shook snow off his coat.
Deborah arched an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”
Guilt hit Mike like a blow to the chin. He wouldn’t look at his father or his son for fear he would see disgust on both their faces. Truth was, he was sort of disgusted with himself. He didn’t know why he was being so combative toward this woman. She’d obviously walked a long way in really bad weather on a mission to help them. Even if he didn’t believe her claim of being psychic was worth a damn, he had to give her credit for showing up.
“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “I’ve been acting like an ass, and there’s no excuse for it.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Everyone is under a lot of stress.” Then her voice softened. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I swear to God, I can help.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then Mike took a slow, shaky breath. This time he was the one with tears in his eyes.
“I need a break,” James suddenly said.
“Me, too,” Evan said, and sat down on a snow-covered log while his grandfather took to the bushes.
Deborah slid the backpack from her shoulders, then sat down and leaned back, resting her head against the trunk of one of the trees. Wearily, she thought of how long it had been since she climbed out of bed, and closed her eyes.
Mike started to look away, then didn’t. Instead, he found himself staring at her, noting the heart-shaped face and dark lashes that framed what he knew were a pair of very blue, very expressive, eyes. At first glance, the hair he could see peeking out from under the hood of her coat appeared to be gray or white, but the closer he looked, the more he thought it was a very light blond. His gaze slid to her mouth, eyeing the sensuous curve of her lips. As he watched, snowflakes fell on her skin and lashes. It took him a few moments to realize that they weren’t melting. That was when he realized how cold she must be. If her claim was to be believed, then just to get to them, she’d begun her journey down the mountain in the dark to reach the crash site when she had. Then she’d turned around and started out on the search without any real rest or warm-up. Dismayed by her strength of character compared to his own bad behavior, he walked over to her and crouched down until they were eye level.
