She started to shiver and he pressed tight against her. “I’ve got you, Cam. I’m not letting go. You come back to me now.”
He could feel her starting to stir, the sugar and the heat starting to kick in. The river tinkled past. Bald eagles flew overhead, and he spotted the wolverine peeking out of the old forest opposite.
Magic.
It felt like some ethereal glade. Like they were enchanted, and he could sit here forever with Cam wrapped in his arms just so long as she didn’t die.
“Daniel?” Cam said.
He froze. Not sure if he was imagining her voice. “I’ve got you.” He squeezed her tight, warmth beginning to seep back from her to him.
Her hand crept up to cover his. “Am I dreaming? How did you find me?” Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed a frog.
“You’re not dreaming. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He wanted to promise he’d never leave her again, but that wasn’t his promise to make. He was probably going to jail, and he didn’t have much time. But there were some things he could tell her, some secrets she deserved to know. “I was kicked out of the army because I killed a civilian cameraman. It was an understandable mistake, but his wife was a big-shot reporter and she didn’t see it that way.”
“That’s what the nightmares are about?”
“Yes.” His voice sounded rough. “On the same mission I killed a woman in front of her kid. Again, it was a justifiable hit, but…” How did you excuse murdering a mother in front of her child? “She shot one of my men and was about to shoot me, but I killed her first.” He’d had an unfair advantage. He’d never found out who she was or what she’d been doing there—victim or militant? He’d never know.
He held Cam tighter and closed his eyes because this next bit was the most difficult part. “And the main thing that keeps me awake at night is how close I came to shooting that cameraman’s wife—the reporter—just so she’d keep her mouth shut and I could carry on doing the job that meant everything to me.”
She turned her head and lifted her hand to try and wipe away the wetness on his cheeks.
“Ever since then, I’ve run from everything I cared about—except flying.” He smiled and looked up into the sky.
Would he ever get to fly again?
Right now, Cam was safe in his arms and he didn’t care. And, he realized as they sat with the sun beginning to form steam at the edges of the river, he wasn’t a good man because he’d been a good soldier. He’d been a good soldier because he was a good man. He’d known the price of doing the right thing and he’d done it anyway. Maybe he hadn’t lost his honor after all; he just needed to find a way to forgive himself for the mistakes he’d made.
He felt the change in atmosphere and knew they had company. He let go of Cam and placed his hands where the cops could see them. “You can come out, I don’t have a weapon and I did not kill Sylvie Watson,” he shouted.
The last thing he wanted was for Cam to get caught in the crossfire.
The cop from St. John’s, Staff Sergeant Kershaw, stepped out from further along the river. Deep lines cut around his mouth, and the expression on his face was beyond weary.
Cam swung to face Daniel. “Who thinks you killed Sylvie?” Her blue-green eyes were bright and full of indignation.
He swept the hair back from her face and kissed her one last time. “That’s why I couldn’t get to you sooner. They had me locked up.”
He recognized the tilt of her chin and had to steady her as she pushed to her feet.
“Be careful,” he warned when she staggered toward Kershaw. “You need to get to a hospital.”
As soon as Cam moved away from him, a couple of armed cops came out of the bushes and he put his hands further into the air.
“He saved my life!” Cam suddenly realized they were surrounded but Kershaw caught hold of her, gently, considering she was struggling like a wild animal. Not bad for a woman who an hour ago had been comatose. She screamed as they laid him out on the rock, patting him down, a little rough perhaps, but he understood. He’d tied up their CO and escaped custody in a stolen helicopter. He was lucky they hadn’t shot him on sight.
“Tooly Grant hit me in the face with a shovel,” Cam yelled and Daniel winced. Good job the man was already dead. “And then he tied me up on the back of the ATV and drove me out here. He injected me with insulin and left me to die.”
Daniel would have killed him if he’d known—and the old man knew it.
“I would have died without Daniel. You have to arrest Tooly Grant! Daniel’s innocent.”
Kershaw was holding onto Cam. “Where’s Tooly Grant now?” he asked Daniel. The RCMP must have stopped at Tooly’s cabin.
“I thought I’d persuaded him to help me find Cam.” It was hard to talk when you had a face full of rock. Daniel turned his head and spat out blood. “The old bastard decided to go for a walk at two thousand feet rather than face the consequences of his actions.” Daniel smiled at Cam and tears welled up in his eyes. Damn, she was beautiful, and so vibrantly alive. “Just as well because I would have killed him for hurting her. Get her to a hospital. She was in a coma when I got here, and just because she’s making a lot of noise doesn’t mean she’s stable, okay?”
They hauled him to his feet and started marching him through the bush, face first. They didn’t care if they hurt him and he couldn’t blame them. He hadn’t followed the rules. It was a weakness of his.
“Don’t worry about me,” he shouted to Cam, whose face had dissolved into tears, “and don’t forget your notebook.”
Cam broke free of the officer’s grip, but it was too late to catch up with Daniel. Her knee gave out and she tripped over the long pants she wore.
“We need to get you to the hospital like Fox said.”
An EMT took her hand to test her blood glucose.
She wiped her eyes, pissed she was crying when she should be rescuing him. “You’re arresting the wrong man!” She wanted to hit the officer and she wasn’t a violent person.
Kershaw smiled at her. “I know he didn’t kill Sylvie—”
“You do?” Relief rushed through her, but it was short-lived. She pulled herself up to lean on a boulder. The guy testing her blood sugar held out the meter. Fifty. He handed her a carton of juice.
“I got the full story about the knife from Arnie Winters and Dwight Wineberg.”
“Knife? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” What had they done? That sonofabitch—
“Dwight found Sylvie’s ATV in the bush and planted evidence with Fox’s fingerprints on it. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You say Tooly Grant admitted to murdering the Watson girl?”
Cam nodded. “He said she was trying to blackmail him.”
“We’ll examine his property for Sylvie’s blood and check his DNA. Why did he try to kill you?”
She looked across the river to where the wolverine had played. Or had she imagined them? She frowned. No. They’d been real. She gripped the policeman’s wrist. “Promise me Daniel’s going to be okay.”
Kershaw held her gaze. “He broke out of police custody and assaulted a police officer.” Cam covered her mouth. “He didn’t hurt the guy, just humiliated him. I already did Fox a favor by pulling rank and taking charge of the manhunt, otherwise…” The shrug of his shoulders was eloquent.
Dammit, this was all her fault for going off on her own yesterday.
Kershaw doused the fire. “Why did Tooly Grant try to murder you?” he asked again.
“Wolverine,” she muttered. “I found evidence there are wolverine in the area.” She gave the man a sad smile. “They’re protected by legislation, so they’ll probably have to move the location of the dam to somewhere else. Tooly would have lost all his money from the land deal if the government found out.”
“Sylvie must have seen them too.”
Cam nodded. And then she swayed. Kershaw caught her arm as her knee gave out again.
The female cop, McCoy, who’d turned up at the poaching inc
ident, pushed through the brush. “We’ve found a clearing for the chopper to land at the top of this ridge.” She raised her brows. “Fox found her in time then?”
Kershaw jerked his head in a nod.
“You were right about him all along.” They exchanged some unspoken communication. “Did you call your wife?”
“No.” The answer was sharp. McCoy opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “This isn’t up for discussion, Constable.”
The woman tried to catch her under the other arm but Cam shook her off. “I can manage, but you can help me carry Daniel’s gear, if that’s okay?” She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving any of his belongings behind. He’d need them.
She spotted her notebook and bent to pick it up, but Kershaw beat her to it and flipped through the pages.
“Hey, that’s personal.” Cam narrowed her eyes at him and held out her palm.
“Sorry.” He handed it back.
She wondered if Daniel had seen the note she’d written to him just before she’d passed out. She flipped to it and saw he’d written something on the next page. I love you, Cam. I have always loved you. Daniel.
Kershaw was looking over her shoulder and she tried to glare at him but her vision was clouded by too many tears. Daniel loved her. Not that she’d really doubted it since the moment she’d woken up in his arms.
“Let’s get you out of here.” Kershaw put his arm around her as McCoy struggled under the weight of Daniel’s survival kit.
“What happens now you’ve solved the case?” Her tone was bitter. “You get to go home and celebrate while Daniel rots in jail for saving my life?” She leaned heavily against him, barely able to move one foot in front of the other.
He exhaled a huff of breath she couldn’t interpret. “I didn’t solve this one. Actually, without Fox’s rather extreme intervention, I would have probably lost you too.” He stared at her as if she meant something to him, and she supposed she did. She’d almost been one of his victims.
She grabbed his arm, holding him tight, determined to fight for what she knew was right, the same way Daniel had fought for her. “You’ve got to help me get him released, Staff Sergeant. You know the facts. You believe in him. I know you do, else you wouldn’t have taken over the search.” He didn’t pull away even though she could feel his muscles flinch beneath her nails. “I’m begging you to help him.”
Kershaw and McCoy exchanged a glance, and his lips pulled back into a pained smile. “I’ll do what I can, ma’am.”
“Promise?”
He nodded. “I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I Spread My Wings and Keep My Promise 14 Squadron RAF
Daniel walked into Divisional headquarters of the RCMP in St. John’s, Newfoundland, and dropped his kitbag on the floor of the reception desk. “I’m here to see Staff Sergeant Griff Kershaw,” he told the officer behind the desk. It was six weeks since he’d seen Cam and he’d thought nothing would stop him from flying straight to her side. Yet here he was.
A minute later the Mountie was in the foyer shaking his hand. “Let’s go outside.”
They sat on a bench overlooking the Atlantic—a couple of old war vets. There was a fishing boat on the horizon, a tiny speck in the distance. They both stared at it.
“I needed to thank you—” Daniel began.
“Hey, you saved Dr. Young’s life. That’s payment enough for me.”
“Yeah, but without you I’d have been lucky to get out of Nain alive. Let alone back into Canada.”
“Sergeant-in-Charge Roblin let Charlie Watson into your cell when the poor guy was deranged with grief. Charlie could have murdered an innocent man, gone to prison for life, and Roblin would have lost his job and his pension. I figured greasing the wheels for your release was the closest I could get to justice.”
Daniel stared at his hands. “But I heard it cost you more than a few favors.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment—just looked out to sea.
“Do you believe in true love, Daniel?”
Daniel nodded.
Kershaw frowned. “Well, I didn’t. Not until about six weeks ago in the middle of nowhere when this lunatic broke out of custody to go save his lady.” He was staring at him pointedly.
Daniel laughed. “You’re wondering why I’m here and not there?”
“Yeah, pal. I’m wondering why you’re talking to an ugly bald coot like me rather than sweeping that woman of yours off her feet.”
That woman of yours. Daniel liked the sound of that, though nothing was certain. His humor died. “I just needed to look you in the eye and say I’m sorry about your marriage.”
Kershaw nodded and linked his fingers, pressing his thumbs together. A smile touched his lips. “Actually, it turned out pretty well.”
“Really?”
“My wife left me. But the kids stayed.” Kershaw blinked rapidly. “Hey.” He slapped Daniel’s shoulder, “I should be thanking you, or buying you a drink—”
“That is not going to happen.” Daniel amended quickly, “Well, I hope it’s never going to happen. I’m getting treatment for PTSD.”
“Which is where you’ve been for the last six weeks.” Kershaw nodded thoughtfully and pursed his lips together. “You been in touch with Dr. Young since the day you found her?”
Daniel’s mouth went dry as he shook his head. He didn’t know how she felt about him—or if her feelings had changed. There was only one way to find out.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, kid.”
“No, sir.”
“So.” Kershaw grinned. “Why the hell are you still here?”
Daniel smiled and climbed to his feet. He swung his kitbag over his shoulder and started to walk away.
“Don’t forget the ring.”
Daniel stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a jeweler’s box. “My mom gave me her mother’s ring.”
“Is it big?”
Daniel flipped the lid and frowned at the glittering square-cut emerald. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Maybe.” Kershaw nodded. “Near-death experience. Six weeks of silence. You’re gonna need a big fucking ring.” He grinned. “Good luck, son.”
So this was how her adventure would end—in triumph, heartbreak and loneliness. Cam stared out over Mitshishu Falls and wondered if she’d ever find the courage to return to this land, where she’d finally found the strength to live life to the fullest, and in the process managed to lose the one thing worth dying for.
The sun shone across the boulder-strewn valley. The water in the braided channels had frozen over, and it was now-or-never for the fish left in the pool at the base of the falls. Some had already turned tail and swum over to the next river system, which was better suited for overwintering. Some would stay in the pool below the falls and risk feeding the otter all winter long. Others might make the final leap and gain entrance to the pond above, but the temperature was falling, and the chances of making it were getting more and more remote.
She wondered what drove them and how they knew which direction to take because she sure as hell didn’t.
After Sylvie Watson’s killer had been identified, things had settled into an almost mundane monotony. Vikki was working hard, redeeming herself in the lab. Dwight Wineberg had been relocated to Alberta and was lucky not to have been charged with tampering with evidence. And the wolverine…well, the Department of Natural Resources could find no trace of wolverine living in the area. All they’d found was the pelt in Tooly’s workshop and some indistinct tracks. So they were going ahead with the proposed dam despite her protestations. It turned out that the local government was no keener to see the wolverine return to this valley than Tooly had been.
Ironic really.
The sound of a chopper cut through the air and brought with it a familiar pang. But hope had started to dull as if her body instinctively knew what her mind had refused to accept. Daniel wasn’t coming back.
Funny that all she�
��d ever wanted to do was prove herself independent. And yet independence, now she’d achieved it, wasn’t what she wanted at all.
Another of life’s wickedly cruel little jokes.
The chopper landed and she jumped down the rocks, careful of the rotors, having never forgotten the first warning Daniel had given her. She glanced at the pilot for instruction and fell to her knees.
She staggered to her feet, the bottom half of her jeans soaking wet.
Daniel.
He’d come back, but he wasn’t smiling. In fact he looked grim. Hopefully he’d assume she’d tripped from clumsiness, not shock. She needed to play this cool. She pushed her hair away from her face and straightened her jacket. She didn’t want to make even more of an ass of herself than she already had. He didn’t have to love her. It wasn’t compulsory just because he’d written it under extreme life-and-death circumstances. She had to thank him for saving her life—again. She wouldn’t hold him to false promises and she wouldn’t be bitter.
He was shutting the machine down, taking his time getting out while she stood on the opposite bank of the river, dying.
He jumped down, looking fit and healthy and gorgeous.
“Where have you been?” Her cry was desolate. Okay, so that wasn’t playing it cool but what was the point in pretending she hadn’t been destroyed by him leaving her? Why should she care about humiliation when her heart had been decimated?
He moved from patch of frosty grass to patch of frosty grass, blue eyes never leaving hers as he crossed the river. She backed up a step.
He paused then, a slight frown marring his perfect forehead. “Did you get my note?”
“The one that said you’d always loved me before you took off without a goddamned word?” No. Not bitter at all.
Edge of Survival Page 27
