The Yuletide Rescue

by Margaret Daley

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen you have a snowball fight since you were a kid.” His father moved to the side, and David entered the cabin.

  “It felt good to let adult burdens go for a while.” David removed his overcoat, looking forward to warming himself in front of the fire in the hearth.

  Bree shrugged out of hers and hung it next to his. “Yeah. We should have done that ages ago.” She clapped him on the shoulder.

  Suddenly he felt a cold wetness as she dropped some snow down his shirt. “You didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did. Thanks to your father, who gave me some. Now we’re even.” Grinning from ear to ear, she leaned against the door. “And I’m not letting you outside.”

  He chuckled and sat with his back to the fire to let his shirt dry. “I can’t believe my own dad joined forces against me. His son.” But David couldn’t keep his smile contained. He remembered when he used to play with Melissa in the snow—the times they built a fort or went sledding. Bree was right. He had to find a way to right his relationship with his daughter.

  * * *

  “I won.” Bree clapped and pumped her arm in the air. “I didn’t realize dominoes was so much fun. Thanks, Don, for bringing your set.” She scrutinized Don’s face. He averted his gaze, and she asked, “I did win fair and square, didn’t I?”

  David’s father looked right at her. “Yep. I’ve never let someone win.”

  The sound of clanging pots emanated from the kitchen as David put them up in a cabinet. Bree glanced into the kitchen. “Does he always make this much commotion?”

  “I heard that. I get to play the winner.” David dried his hands on a towel, then hung it up.

  “That’s my cue to go to bed,” Don said. “I’ll take second watch.” He pushed off the couch and headed for the stairs to the second floor. “Tomorrow we’ve got to find it.”

  It. That was how they had begun to refer to whatever someone was searching for.

  “If it’s here, we will.” David took the chair across from the coffee table and set up the dominoes.

  Bree peered at the blaze that filled the cabin with warmth. “What if it isn’t here? What are we going to do?”

  “A lot of praying,” David replied. “We need to stay here until the police figure out what’s going on, and finding it should help them.” He drew her attention back to the game once they said good-night to Don. “Let’s draw to see who goes first.”

  Bree’s tiles added up to eleven. She grinned. “Only one number beats me.”

  David flipped over double sixes. “I guess it’s my day.” He looked up at her and winked. “I got not just one kiss from you and now this.” He scrambled the dominoes around the tabletop, then began selecting his pieces.

  Halfway through a game she was losing badly, Bree checked her watch. “Shouldn’t you call Thomas and check in? You don’t want to wait too long. Maybe he’ll have some good news.”

  “I’ll call when we’re finished. Did I tell you I was the one who taught Dad to play a few years ago?”

  “Oh, I see. You’re a dominoes shark.”

  Ten minutes later, David laid down his last tile. “Game over.”

  “I don’t think I have to count this up. It wasn’t even close. I’m consoling myself with the fact that I played with a master.”

  David retrieved his satellite phone. “Loser puts up the game and fixes the winner a pot of coffee. I’m going to need it.”

  He walked toward the door and stepped out onto the porch to make his call. Bree wanted to follow, but she knew hearing only one side of a conversation might lead her to a wrong conclusion. She was going to think positive thoughts. “Thomas has rounded up the people responsible, and Gail is back home with John. Please, Lord,” she said as she prepared the coffee.

  When David came back into the cabin, she took one look at his solemn expression and knew she didn’t want to hear what Thomas had told him. She switched on the coffeepot, then came out of the kitchen, facing David across the room.

  “It’s bad. What happened? Gail?”

  He nodded, cleared his throat and cut the distance between them.

  Bree’s heart plummeted, and her gut solidified into a twisted lump.

  “She’s alive,” he said, swallowing hard, “but in critical condition.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and through the sheen, she watched him reach out and draw her against him. “The police found Franks’s car a few hours ago, and Gail was tied up and gagged in the trunk. She suffered from a gash on her head and hypothermia and dehydration. She’s at the hospital now with an officer standing guard at her door.” He clasped her upper arms and peered at her. “She’s alive. Remember that.”

  “Any frostbite?”

  He inclined his head, his chest swelling with a deep breath. “She may lose her left foot.”

  Bree’s world came to a standstill. She’d done this to her friend. No words came to mind. Nothing but guilt swamped her. Her legs gave way, and David’s grip on her tightened.

  He held her up and guided her to the couch. “You are not at fault here. You didn’t do this to Gail. Franks and probably Keller are the hired guns who did. Someone else is calling the shots. Don’t blame...yourself.”

  The hesitation in David’s declaration brought Bree’s head up. Tears rolled down her face. “You’re just trying to make me feel better. I am to blame. Even you must think that. I heard it in your voice.”

  “What you heard was my realization that I wasn’t to blame for two of my team being killed in that last mission I flew. For over a year I’ve blamed myself, but I didn’t fire the missile at my B-52 bomber. That was a terrorist on the ground. I haven’t been able to shake the thought that the lieutenant who was killed had two young children who will never know their father.”

  “Were you able to fly back to base or did you crash?” She remembered the emotions that had run through her when she’d gone down, not knowing if she would survive or not, especially when she saw the trees rushing toward her.

  “I managed to land, but we were attacked by a ground group. We took what cover we could find until help arrived. My lieutenant was next to me when he was shot. I’ll never forget the look on his face. It haunts me at times. I tried to get back to the base, but it wasn’t possible.”

  The grief in his words mingled with her own, and it was her turn to comfort him. Loss was never easy to take, but when someone felt responsible, it was worse. Her arms entwined about him, and she held him close as though she could absorb some of his pain from the memories. She’d been there before and knew what those thoughts could do to a person—replaying it over and over in his mind, trying to figure out how he could change the outcome.

  She took in his face, which had become so dear to her. Combing her fingers through his hair, she said, “We can’t usually control others’ actions. In fact, there isn’t a lot we can control but our response and attitude. I know that in here—” she pointed to her head “—but in my heart I can’t seem to grasp it.”

  “Because knowing and feeling are two different things. You feel responsible for Gail’s injury because you think it should have been you. You know that you can’t control what really happened to Gail, but feelings are hard to dismiss.”

  “What if she loses her foot to frostbite?”

  He pressed a finger over her mouth. “No more what-ifs. There are many possibilities good or bad, but there will only be one outcome and at the moment the doctors don’t know it. Remember your visit with John. He doesn’t blame you, so why are you? I can’t imagine you blame yourself for every patient’s illness you treat.”

  “I wouldn’t last a month if I did. I’ve learned that in order to survive as a doctor.”

  “There are times in our work we have to separate ourselves from the tragedy in order to do our jobs. I had a long talk with Thom
as once. He sees a lot as a police detective. I did as a soldier, and now as a SAR volunteer. You do as a doctor.”

  “I hear what you’re saying but...” How did she explain because it was personal it was different?

  “You can’t be everything to everyone. You can’t fix every problem.” One corner of his mouth quirked. “Now if I would just listen to what I’m telling you.”

  “Again we’re back to knowing versus feeling. Sometimes there’s a wide gap between the two.”

  He put more space between them and clasped her hands. “But we can pray for Gail. God is the one who can help her.”

  Bree bowed her head and said, “Please, Lord, heal Gail and save her foot. She is in Your hands now and those are the best ones for her. Also please help bring the people behind this to justice. In Jesus Christ’s name.”

  “Amen.” David looked at her. “We’re doing all we can, Bree. Get a good night’s rest and we’ll start again tomorrow.” He bent forward and gave her a light kiss.

  Bree headed up the stairs and took the room where she had stored her bag. She walked to the window and stared out at the forest nearby, the white snow on the ground lightening the surroundings. The cabin was located in a beautiful spot. She could see why Jeremiah bought it.

  Jeremiah, what have you done?

  * * *

  The next morning, armed with his gun, David headed to his plane to make sure the ties had held and everything was all right; then he would explore the forest surrounding the cabin. Some of it was hidden by the thick spruce trees, and he always liked to know the lay of the land, especially if they were going to stay for a while.

  The one thing he hadn’t told Bree last night was that Thomas told him that Keller made bail and had disappeared. No sense having her worry about Keller when David would do it for the both of them.

  Satisfied his Cessna was fine, David trudged toward the line of trees as the sky began to lighten with dawn approaching. He’d needed a break after they’d finished another unsuccessful search of the cabin. As Bree and his dad were about to begin again, David had decided it was time to make sure his plane had weathered the high winds through the night and then look around. And then he still had to look around for any place nearby that Jeremiah might have used to hide what was in the bag.

  The silence of the forest calmed him as he walked through the trees. The quiet is in stark contrast to the sounds of a combat situation. That thought popped into his mind, and he realized why. His confession to Bree last night. He’d never told anyone how he’d felt after that skirmish where he’d lost two of his men. She had that effect on him. He was used to holding feelings inside, but surprisingly he’d felt better after their talk. Maybe that was his problem, keeping everything inside.

  Suddenly the silence he relished was disturbed by the sound of rotor blades like on a chopper. He glanced up through the branches of the trees and spied a white helicopter zooming toward the cabin. He raced toward it, watching as the chopper touched down in front. Breaking free of the forest at the rear, David still had a hundred yards to make it to the back of the cabin. The sound of gunfire chilled him to his core. Then an awful quiet followed, one that declared the possibility of fatalities—Bree and his dad or the intruders.

  He didn’t even bother trying the back door. His dad kept it locked as well as the front. But the shots had come from inside. His legs pumping as fast as he could run in the foot-high snow, he rounded the front, glimpsed the busted-in door and the helicopter lifting off. The sight of Bree slumped against the window of the chopper, pulling away, fueled David’s fury. Before he could decide what to do, a man in the chopper peppered the ground with rounds from an automatic weapon, forcing him back behind the side of the cabin.

  In seconds the intruders were gone. David didn’t know if he could face what awaited him inside. With dread, he mounted the steps and stepped through the doorway. The first thing he saw was his father stretched out on the floor, blood pooling on the wooden slats.

  ELEVEN

  At the feel of leather against her cheek, Bree stirred. The motion of the chopper vibrated beneath her. She kept her eyes closed, hoping to glean something before they knew she had awakened from the tranquillizer they’d shot her with. At least she was alive, but for how long?

  A hand nudged her. Over the noise of the helicopter, a man said into her ear, “I know you’re awake. I suggest you take it slow and easy as you sit up.”

  She stayed where she was.

  Fingers gripped her. Her eyes flew open. A thin, tall man with a scar down his left cheek pulled her up and shoved her against the back door.

  Again he stuck his face in hers. “You’ve cost me a lot of time and money. I’m tempted to open that door and push you out.”

  Fear jammed a fist down her throat.

  “I’ve lost a couple of good men because of you.”

  Coffee-flavored breath assailed her nostrils. Her stomach roiled. She might never appreciate coffee after this. “How did you find me?”

  “There was a tracker in the side of your medical bag. We know how important it is to you and hoped you would take it with you.” A sinister smile spread across his face. “And you did.” His grip dug into her. “I won’t hesitate to kill you if I don’t get what my boss wants. He isn’t a nice man.”

  Her throat tight, she murmured, “What?”

  “Diamonds, worth millions. Jeremiah stole them.”

  Her head still groggy from the tranquillizer, Bree closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. But only one thought replayed in her mind: I’ve seen his face. He’ll kill me once he gets what he wants.

  * * *

  David rushed to his dad’s side a few feet inside the cabin. Don moved and groaned, raising his hand to his head where a deep gash bled freely.

  “Take it easy.” David scanned his father’s body and found another wound, a bullet hole in the fleshy part of his leg. It wasn’t bleeding as much as the head injury, which meant an artery hadn’t been hit.

  Neither wound was fatal. Relief trembled through David as he assessed the cabin. Another man, who fit the description of Keller, lay to the left of his father, a bullet hole in his chest. David reached over and checked the man for a pulse. There was none.

  “Stay still. I’m calling Thomas, then carrying you to the plane.”

  His dad tried to lift his head and nearly passed out again.

  “That’s why you don’t move.”

  “Bree?” His father licked his lips. “Where is she?”

  “They took her.” David bolted to his feet and went into the kitchen where he’d left the satellite phone. When Thomas answered, he told him what happened and that he would be at his hangar in ninety minutes. “I need an ambulance. Dad has been shot and has a head wound.”

  “We’ll see if we can pick up the helicopter’s flight path.”

  “Anything. Even a general area. I’ll find Bree.” Because he had to. He should have been here. Guilt inched into his mind. He shoved it away. He wouldn’t let guilt immobilize him.

  He crossed to the bathroom and found Bree’s medical bag where she’d put it yesterday. He hurried back to his dad and tended to the two injuries, hoping the bleeding stopped. After bandaging the leg, David checked the head wound and gave thanks when he didn’t see any blood coming through the white gauze.

  “C’mon, Dad. I’m taking you to the plane. You can lie down in the back. Okay?”

  “Yes. I’m tough.”

  David looked around for anything he might need, then gingerly scooped up his father into his arms and left.

  “Got to shut the door,” his dad murmured.

  David didn’t see how he could with his nearly two-hundred-pound father weighing him down. “I don’t care about the cabin.”

  “You must come back...find the diamonds... That’s what t
hey’re after... Bree’s life for them.” His father raised his dangling arm and pointed toward the opening.

  David stepped back. His dad fumbled for the knob and managed to close the door. Then he passed out.

  David walked as quickly as he could to the plane and ten minutes later was in the air heading toward Anchorage. He’d never moved as fast as he did unhooking the Cessna and leaving the tie-downs and anchors there. It looked like he would have to return to use the diamonds as a bargaining chip. He placed a call to Ella at Northern Frontier and asked her to call Chance. He needed help once he made sure his dad would be all right.

  * * *

  Teeth chattering because the three men in the helicopter hadn’t bothered to grab her coat, Bree focused on the landscape below the chopper. If she could escape, she wanted to know the best way to go to find help. But so far she’d seen few signs of civilization. At least she figured they were heading southeast. Anchorage? If they were, she might be all right. Help would be nearby at least in the city.

  Then the helicopter veered directly east, flying over the Alaska Range with Denali in it. Maybe Fairbanks was their destination. That would be okay, too. But then the pilot took the chopper down low, skimming the tops of the trees, no doubt off radar. In a clearing with one cabin, he set the helicopter down. For miles she saw nothing but this cabin, as isolated as Jeremiah’s was.

  Her spirits plunged. It was up to her to escape and then pray she could make it through the wilderness to help. When her door opened, a man grabbed her arm and dragged her from the chopper. She stumbled and went down to the snow-packed ground. He hauled her to her feet and shoved her toward the cabin. She assessed her chances of running for the woods, then instantly dismissed that idea. With the snow, it wouldn’t be hard to track her, and with each member of the trio armed, she wouldn’t make it two feet. They would probably shoot her in the leg so she couldn’t escape. That was if they didn’t kill her.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, she trudged toward the cabin, following the tall, thin captor while the other two were behind her. The hairs on her nape tingled as though their gazes were drilling holes into her.