Wilderness Sabotage

by Heather Woodhaven

  Hunted through the wild... Can they outsmart criminals and nature?

  Investigating sabotage on a construction site, journalist Jackie Dutton stumbles on a murder—and barely escapes when she flees and falls off a cliff. Only quick thinking from law-enforcement ranger Shawn Burkett, her ex-boyfriend, saves her. Now facing a massive blizzard and relentless pursuers together, they must rely on their fragile trust and wilderness skills to get out alive...

  “Shawn!” Jackie yelled. “Don’t give up!”

  He blinked, as if coming out of a nightmare. Pain like he’d never experienced rushed through all his muscles. He fought to focus. Jackie lay flat on her stomach on the lake’s treacherous ice. She could plunge through right next to Shawn at any second.

  “Put both hands on my pack and don’t let go,” she ordered. She twisted slightly away from him. The momentum pulled Shawn up enough to get his elbows on top of the ice. Jackie’s back arched, and she stabbed the ice with a stick end to anchor them. “Try to climb!”

  He reached six inches past his first grasp. Jackie pulled on the stick and slid farther away. The strain it had to be causing her gave Shawn newfound strength. He would not let her die for him. Coming out of a frozen lake, threatening to pull him back in, proved to be the hardest pull-up he’d ever endured. His chest hit the ice.

  Crack...

  Heather Woodhaven earned her pilot’s license, rode a hot-air balloon over the safari lands of Kenya, parasailed over Caribbean seas, lived through an accidental detour onto a black-diamond ski trail in Aspen, and snorkeled among stingrays before becoming a mother of three and wife of one. She channels her love for adventure into writing characters who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances.

  Books by Heather Woodhaven

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Calculated Risk

  Surviving the Storm

  Code of Silence

  Countdown

  Texas Takedown

  Tracking Secrets

  Credible Threat

  Protected Secrets

  Wilderness Sabotage

  Twins Separated at Birth

  Undercover Twin

  Covert Christmas Twin

  True Blue K-9 Unit: Brooklyn

  Chasing Secrets

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  Wilderness Sabotage

  Heather Woodhaven

  As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love.

  —John 15:9

  To my husband: Thank you for being my research partner and first reader. Your reactions make writing all the more enjoyable. Love you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Texas Holiday Hideout by Virginia Vaughan

  ONE

  Jackie Dutton flipped up the back collar of her navy peacoat to brace against the bitter wind. Her boots crunched over the thick snow, hours away from Boise—hours away from any city—in the middle of the mountainous desert terrain of southern Idaho. She would do almost anything to get a story. Unfortunately, her editor used the knowledge to his advantage.

  She walked alongside Hank Swain, an older foreman whose face displayed the evidence of many years spent squinting into the sun. He led her around green and red shipping containers that unintentionally looked like Christmas decorations for the mountains. “We’re talking about a two-hundred-acre project,” Hank said, stopping next to a snowmobile. “So it’s hard to give you a proper tour, but I think I’ve shown you the basics. We finished building that control structure, but as you can see, we’ve only started on the air-cooling assembly.”

  She glanced up at what looked like fans the size of airplane engines on top of fifty-foot-high poles with metallic ladders at every corner. “These acts of sabotage must be extremely upsetting for you and your crew,” Jackie said.

  “That’s an understatement.” The foreman gestured with his hand at the damaged crane. “We specialize in building at remote sites no matter the season. It’s why we win most of our bids from government contracts, but winter weather makes the challenges harder.”

  “Isn’t this a private contract?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We’re on federal land. Everything the McDowell Geothermal Company does is by permit and lease. Even the bid for construction had to be approved by the Bureau of Land Management.”

  From her rudimentary understanding, the geothermal plant was designed to drill down to the hot water underneath the ground and use the steam to produce electricity, making it a valuable renewable energy source—assuming the sabotage stopped long enough for them to finish building.

  Swain spun around and pointed north. “We finished the access road you drove up on before the first snow, at least, but we can’t afford to let sabotage slow us down.”

  The sun hovered low against the horizon of the surrounding foothills. Days ended even earlier up in the mountains, which meant she’d be driving in the dark if she didn’t wrap up the interview fast. “So far, your equipment and tools have been targeted. Any ideas on who wants to sabotage your efforts here?”

  He shrugged. “Off the record?”

  How was she ever supposed to get a promotion-worthy story if everything was off the record? Jackie forced a pleasant smile.

  He folded his arms against his chest. “Environmental groups get riled up every time anything is constructed. Some bird nest gets disturbed...”

  No news there. The CEO and plant manager had given her the same answer on the phone. The foreman rounded the corner of the control building and led her back to her car. Except, she couldn’t go yet. She had no story.

  “Would any of your crew be willing to talk to me?”

  He shook his head. “Even if they were, they’re on the opposite edge of the site and should have wrapped up for the day.” He gestured at his snowmobile, sitting alone. “The closest place my guys can stay is a motel thirty miles away as the crow flies past that line of trees. Would take them a couple hours if they drove it, though they get to go home to their families this weekend. Won’t be back until after Christmas.” The wind blew an extra hard gust. He glanced at the mountains to the west. “Speaking of which, I better go. They’re waiting for me. You should get, too. Radar says storms are coming.”

  “Well, thank you and merry Christmas.” She felt his eyes on her until she got in her car and turned on the ignition. He moved to the snowmobile and took off in the direction of the in-progress drill sites.

  She glanced at her phone. One bar of service flickered on and off. She quickly typed a message to her editor.

  I think I could find a story here with more time. I’ll need more interviews after the holiday. Don’t expect check-in until Monday night.

  The bar slid slowly across the screen, but she was unsure it would send until she returned to civilization. It was only Tuesday, but her cousin’s wedding festivities started tonight and Friday was Christmas. She was overdue to catch up on family life. Afterward, she would have to return to interview the crew. The real story was never found by talking to supervisors.<
br />
  Movement entered her peripheral vision. A man with a clipboard strapped to the front of his coat snowmobiled between tall columns she assumed were pipes. In her research, photos of similar geothermal power plants reminded her of a giant circuit board. Instead of capacitors and transistors, there were giant tanks of water and pipes. So if she could remember that her car was at the end of the long red pipe, she’d be able to find her way back safely.

  She shoved her phone back in her coat, hustled out of the car and followed the trail of the man with the clipboard. Maybe she could wrap up the story and wouldn’t have to come back to this desolate place after all.

  “I told you it would bring more attention.” A man raised his voice. Jackie couldn’t see the speaker, though, as they were past the corner of the control building.

  “This is what you pay me for.” A second voice, deeper in tone and louder in volume, snapped back. “No one else had any better ideas.”

  “Well, you went too far. That detect—”

  “That’s enough. I told you I’d take care of it.”

  Jackie tensed and strained her ears. Was the first man trying to indicate a detective had been around? She didn’t want her presence known quite yet.

  “No. You’re done,” the softer-spoken man said. “Take your stuff and leave.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The wind carried a muffled groan and what sounded like a physical struggle.

  “Fighting will only make it worse,” the deep voice said, eerily calm. “You’re dying either way.”

  The muscles in her stomach tensed at the threat until she could barely breathe. She pulled out her phone. Police would take too long to arrive if the closest city was an hour’s drive, but maybe the foreman of the construction crew could turn around on his snowmobile fast enough. No signal. She didn’t know if her text message from earlier had even sent.

  She peeked around the corner. The man with the clipboard collapsed to the ground, his face devoid of life. The other man pulled something that looked like a syringe out from the man’s shoulder—he had injected him right through his coat. He lifted his head.

  She pulled back before he could see her. Her left foot missed the sidewalk and sank into the snow with a crunch. Nearby birds stopped singing, and the air grew heavy with silence. Even the wind halted. Had he heard her?

  The crunching of his boots on the snow grew louder. The wind picked back up and made it hard to tell if the sound was coming her way, though. Should she bolt for it and risk being seen or hide? She pressed her back up against the building and sidestepped around the corner, taking care to stay on the shoveled sidewalk.

  “A little tip,” the deep voice announced, though she couldn’t see him. “If you’re going to hide, next time, don’t leave footprints behind.”

  She glanced down at the cement. Like a wet stamp, the tread of her boots had left their prints on the sidewalk. And the only way back to her car would be to run past him. Of all the times to not have a cell signal.

  She couldn’t hear his steps anymore. Maybe he was on the sidewalk, too.

  She continued to round the building. Her reflection, out of the corner of her eye, gave her pause. She peered into the windows of the building. No light, no sign of life, but the reflection revealed something else. The snowmobile that the man with the clipboard had ridden still had the key hanging from the ignition. She spun around. Her heart beat faster with indecision.

  Another crunch of the snow convinced her. She launched off her back heel and ran for it.

  “Hey! Come back here!” he yelled. “I just want to talk.”

  For a split second, she almost slowed down, but the dead body she ran past encouraged her to go faster. She flung her leg over the side of the vehicle and cranked the key. The snowmobile revved to life. Her bare hands covered the handles and twisted.

  The vehicle launched forward, jolting her backward slightly, but she clung to the handles and leaned toward them. The man was too close to her car, so she guided the snowmobile around the monstrous construction area and pointed the nose of the vehicle in the direction the construction foreman had traveled. There were tracks in the snow and ice indicating where he’d gone. If she could find him, he would accompany her safely to her car.

  A revving engine, twice as loud as hers, growled to life. She dared a look over her shoulder. A four-wheel ATV with giant wheels barreled her way. She focused on the tracks ahead, twisting the throttle of the snowmobile as far as it would go.

  The tracks twisted around the construction equipment that bordered the cement pads and drilling equipment that had yet to be installed. They were harder to follow here. She turned into a clearing in between two sections of forest. The man on the ATV would overtake her before she reached the forest, and the foreman wouldn’t be able to see her until she rode past the line of trees.

  On the left side, next to the drilling pads, a rock wall a hundred feet tall rose up from the ground, a natural fence of the property. The foothills and forest stood in front of her. The murderer continued chase, leaving her only one choice.

  She needed to outmaneuver him and get back on the road to her vehicle. His ATV may be fast, but the snowmobile handled sharp curves more gracefully. If she could get to her car with time to spare, surely she could drive away before his ATV overtook her.

  She twisted her handle hard to the left. Except, he swung wide and blocked her path. She revved the handles harder and headed for one of the foothills at full throttle. He’d taken away her options, and she’d completely lost sight of where the construction crew tracks had been.

  She vaulted up and over the foothill. A thin crevice was ten feet away, running diagonal from southeast to northwest, hidden from her view until now. She gasped, all her breath suddenly gone. She twisted the steering as far as it would go so she wouldn’t dive over the cliff. The crevice grew wider into more of a gorge. She rode parallel to it, straining her vision to see if the crevice had an end. Otherwise, how did the crew ever cross?

  Ahead, another hundred feet or so, the deep vault disappeared and was replaced by more rolling snowy hills. She’d soon be able to cross over to the forest sections. The ATV quad motor behind her grew louder.

  She glanced over her shoulder to gauge how close it was. A solid force punched her in the chest. Her head volleyed backward and forward before her body flew off the snowmobile.

  She hit the snow hard and started sliding. Her fingers, stinging from the cold, tried to dig into the snow like grappling hooks. Instead, she slipped downward on an unstoppable path to the edge. Her eyes caught sight of the snow-covered boulder that had crumpled the front nose of the snowmobile.

  A whoosh of air swept underneath her coat as gravity took her over the edge into nothingness. A scream tore from her throat. Her hands reached and grabbed blindly. Wood slapped her palms. She wasn’t fast enough to grab the branch, though. Another slam of impact hit her, this time right in her stomach.

  She couldn’t breathe. As she slipped off the branch or root remains that’d caught her, her fingers gripped the knots. Tears clouded her vision as she swung, holding tightly. Please let me breathe. Lightning flashes of pain at her temples stung before she sucked in a huge breath and cried out. Never before had getting the air knocked out of her hurt so much. Still, she clung to the branch, gulping in air. The tips of her boots searched to find a foothold to help carry some of her weight, but she was too far away from the cliff.

  The rev of an engine grew closer. Snow clumps tumbled over the cliff’s edge. The cold hit the top of her head. She shivered and almost lost her grasp. “Please, God,” she whispered. “Not again.”

  What was the use of trying? She was trapped, and the murderer had just arrived to finish her off.

  * * *

  Shawn Burkett jumped out of his truck. There was no time to lose.

  He’d been on his way to check that Pete W
ooledge, the field archaeologist, had left before shutting down for the night when he’d spotted a reckless ATV bouncing near the crevice.

  Just past the land designated for the geothermal plant was a dangerous area without trails. Only the construction crew had special permission to motor in this direction, but they had strict instructions to follow the approved GPS and stay on the specified route until they reached the safer, groomed trails a few miles away.

  Shawn had been ready to chase the driver down to write a ticket before he’d noticed the ATV was following a snowmobile. The moment the driver of the ATV spotted Shawn’s approach he’d turned toward the trees, no doubt to hide. Maybe the man had been actually chasing the snowmobile, then.

  There was no time to make a report to the field office. Whoever had fallen off the snowmobile had only seconds to spare before that branch gave way and they plummeted hundreds of feet. He grabbed his rescue pack and slapped it on his back. Normally, he took the time to examine the terrain and choose the best anchor before he rappelled off a cliff, but every second counted now. His movements were almost on autopilot, which could get him killed, so he fought to be fast but also mindful.

  The rope slipped easily through the hubs of the back wheels on his truck, and within sixty seconds he had the harness, tether and backup extensions set. “Hold on. Bureau of Land Management law enforcement ranger coming to get you.” He threw the rope over the edge. “Rope,” he called out as a warning.

  “I...I’m trying to hold on.” A woman’s soft voice drifted through the wind.

  He pushed down the surge of anger. That driver definitely had been chasing the woman, then. But at the moment, the reasons why weren’t important. He checked his carabiner and hitch before testing the rope slack and his grip. “I’ll be there in a second. Stay with me. It’s hard, but you can do it.”

  His morning and evening workout routine paid off at times like these. Fitness proved the best defense against such a physically demanding job. He leaned back into nothingness and kicked off. The moment his feet first met air always provided a burst of fear and adrenaline, but growing up in the northwest, he’d spent so many hours rappelling that the motion was almost like second nature. The bottom of his boots reached and gently pushed off the face of the cliff. The sides of the rocky crevice held only the slightest bit of snow in the cracks with only a hint of ice on the parts that got the most shade.