Mountain Rescue

by Hope White

  Quinn noted how pragmatic and calm she sounded, almost as if she was talking about someone else.

  She glanced at Quinn. “Did I miss anything?”

  “You covered it. Although—” he turned to Stuart “—I know this is a personal question, but I have to ask. Do you have a criminal record?”

  “Not unless you count a drunk and disorderly. I was pretty messed up after losing my job and my marriage.”

  Quinn shoved his personal guilt aside as he spoke to yet another victim of the plant’s closing.

  “Where did you and Rick hang out when you’d go for pizza?” Billie asked.

  “Go for pizza?”

  “Yeah,” Billie said. “Every Tuesday Rick would head out for pizza night with you.”

  “Um, sorry, Billie, but I had a work skills class on Tuesday nights. If he was going out for pizza, it wasn’t with me.”

  A disappointed expression crossed Billie’s face.

  Quinn stood and shook Stuart’s hand. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Sure, and Billie?”

  She glanced at Stuart.

  “I am truly sorry,” Stuart offered.

  “Thanks.” With a troubled smile, she left the apartment.

  * * *

  Billie was thankful that Quinn gave her space and didn’t ask too many questions during the ride to the resort. She was exhausted and flopped down for a nap the moment she returned to her room. Quinn seemed okay with that since he had business to tend to.

  Perhaps the lack of rest was catching up to her, or the events of the day. Well, that and the fact that she kept discovering more lies her husband had told her to keep her in the dark. If he wasn’t going for pizza with Stuart where had he gone? To meet with his thief friends? Because after finding the jewelry in the pantry, she assumed that’s what he was into.

  Her husband had become a common thief right before her eyes and she hadn’t even noticed. How dense could a woman be?

  After a long nap, Billie spent the rest of the afternoon reading and reflecting, praying for forgiveness for not being able to help Rick, and praying for strength to help authorities catch the men who were after her.

  A few SAR members stopped by with dinner—Bree, Grace and of course, Will. Will was a nice guy, pleasant and caring, but Billie wasn’t in a position to open her heart to anyone, not with all these conflicting emotions vying for dominance. She was angry and fearful, determined, yet sad. Until she got her emotions in order she wouldn’t involve someone else in her drama.

  Besides, Will wasn’t Quinn.

  Ugh. Where did that come from?

  “You look whipped,” Bree said, studying Billie.

  “Yeah, and this is after a three-hour nap,” she joked.

  “Donovan should have known better than to run you all over the county,” Will said.

  “It was my idea,” Billie countered, taking a bite of Grace’s delicious fudge brownies.

  “Did you make progress?” Bree asked.

  Billie nodded. “A little, I think.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Bree put out her hand, signaling Billie to stay put. Will went to the door and eyed the peephole.

  “Looks like a gift basket.” He opened the door and took the basket from the security guard. “Thanks.”

  “What’s in it?” Bree asked. “Chocolate? Candy? Licorice?”

  “Hey, back off—that’s my basket,” Billie teased.

  “But you’ll share with your friends, right?” Bree smiled and batted her eyelashes.

  Will placed the basket on the credenza. “Looks good. Would you like to do the honors?”

  Billie went to the basket and analyzed its contents. “Chocolate, check. Hard candy, check.” Bree stepped up beside her and reached for the cellophane. Billie playfully slapped her hand. “Nuh-uh. Card first. That’s the proper way to receive a gift.” Billie opened the envelope.

  “Proper is overrated.” Bree tugged at the ribbon holding the cellophane in place.

  Billie pulled the card out of the envelope just as Bree plucked a piece of nondescript chocolate from the basket. She was like a little girl sometimes, Billie mused. Billie read the bold-faced type on the card.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  You will die like your husband. Slowly and painfully. Unless you tell us where it is.

  SEVEN

  “Don’t!” Billie batted the chocolate out of Bree’s hand before it went into her mouth.

  “Billie, what—”

  Billie shoved the card at Bree. Will stood behind them and read over her shoulder.

  “What is it?” Grace said. As if she knew it held bad news, she stayed at the table, eyes widening with concern.

  “I need to find Quinn.” Billie whipped out her phone and hit the speed dial.

  “Forget Quinn, call the police,” Will said.

  “I’ll do that, too, but Quinn first.”

  Bree stood there with a stunned expression on her face, staring at the basket. “You think...?” Her gaze drifted to the piece of chocolate on the carpeting.

  “I’m calling the police,” Will said.

  “Here,” Billie handed him the detective’s business card as she waited for Quinn to answer. “Call Detective Issacs, he’s the lead on the case.”

  Grace crossed the room, put her arm around Bree and led her to the dining table.

  “Answer, Quinn,” Billie muttered into the phone. Instead it went to voice mail. “Quinn, it’s Billie. I got a threatening note in a gift basket. Where are you? Call me.”

  As Will mumbled something into the phone to Detective Issacs, Billie felt strong, as if she was keeping it together, for the most part. But when she studied her friends, traumatized by the thought of potentially being poisoned, Billie’s nerves started to unravel. No, maybe she was overreacting.

  She grabbed the wall phone and called the front desk.

  “Operator.”

  “I need you to page Quinn Donovan. It’s Billie Branson. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Hold on.”

  Billie went to Bree and stroked her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  Bree eyed her. “How can you be so calm?”

  “We won’t find these guys by getting hysterical and letting fear make us crazy.”

  Bree glanced at the lone chocolate on the floor. “I could have been poisoned.”

  “Or I’m overreacting.” Billie grabbed a napkin off the table and used it to pluck the chocolate off the floor. She set it next to the basket, out of sight. “It’s probably not lethal. Killing me wouldn’t get them what they want.”

  “Which is what?” Will said, pocketing his phone.

  “I wish I knew. We found a bag of hidden jewelry at my old house, but I have no idea if that’s what they were looking for.”

  Will put his arm around Billie. “The detective is on his way.”

  She appreciated the gesture, but couldn’t stop the frustration from rising up her chest. Quinn had said she’d always be safe as long as he was around and yet he was missing in action.

  “Ma’am,” the operator said.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Donovan isn’t answering his page.”

  Then a horrible thought struck her: What if he was in trouble?

  “Page Aiden McBride for me?”

  “Of course. Hang on.”

  Billie closed her eyes. Where are you, Quinn? Why did you leave me?

  Oh brother. She couldn’t have it both ways. She wanted to be strong and independent yet she panicked when she couldn’t find Quinn?

  She feared that the only reason Quinn would leave her was to pursue something regarding the case, which would definitely put him in dang
er.

  She turned to her guests. “And here I thought we’d have a calm, pleasant dinner without any drama. Sorry, guys.”

  “Hey, it’s not your fault,” Bree said.

  “I hope Quinn’s okay,” Billie said softly.

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” Will asked.

  “I don’t know. I have this suspicion he’s chasing a lead when he shouldn’t be. I can’t think of any other reason he wouldn’t be around.”

  A sudden knock sent her flying toward the door, but Will blocked her. “Absolutely not. Step back.” He eyed the peephole, glanced at Billie and flung open the door.

  Aiden stormed into the room. “I got your page and came right down. What happened?”

  “A threatening note in the gift basket,” Bree blurted out.

  Billie’s heart sank that it wasn’t Quinn.

  “Where’s the note?” Aiden asked.

  Billie pointed to the credenza. Aiden read the note and frowned. “No one ate anything out of this basket?”

  “No,” Billie said.

  “Almost,” Bree added.

  He snapped his attention to his sister. “But you’re okay.”

  “Thanks to Billie knocking it out of my hand.”

  “Will called the detective,” Billie said. “Aiden, where’s Quinn?”

  “The P.I. found a lead and they headed into the mountains a few hours ago.”

  “Without telling me?” Billie said.

  “You were resting.”

  Will glanced at his phone. “I’ve gotta get home for the girls.” He glanced at Billie. “I can get a sitter and come back—”

  “No,” she said. “You need to be with your family. I’ll be fine.”

  He gave her a quick hug and left.

  Billie redirected her attention to Aiden. “Why did they head into the mountains?”

  “They’re checking something out.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have the details.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Billie pushed.

  “You’re wearing your sour-lemon face, big brother,” Bree said. “You’re definitely hiding something.”

  “I didn’t like the idea of Quinn heading into the mountains with an inexperienced hiker. I wanted to join them, but I had to resolve an issue in the kitchen and they couldn’t wait.”

  “Why are you so concerned?” Billie said.

  “Because they’re heading to a remote spot where they hope to find a cabin full of stolen property.”

  “But why would—” Billie’s question was cut off by the simultaneous buzz of vibrating phones, which could only mean a search-and-rescue text had been sent.

  Billie hadn’t been field qualified so she didn’t get the text messages, but would still get a call from Aiden to help in the command center at the trailhead for experience.

  Bree gasped and looked at Aiden. “Is it...?

  “It’s Quinn.”

  * * *

  A crack reverberated across the mountains and Quinn ducked, still shocked that they’d been shot at in a national park. It’s not as if he and Cody had found the supposed cabin they were looking for, and no one but Aiden knew where they were headed.

  Which meant someone had Quinn under surveillance.

  Thankful that he’d managed to get cell service, Quinn studied his friend, who was crouched against a tree root growing out of the mountain wall. Quinn wondered if Cody was having a post-traumatic moment.

  “I got through to 9-1-1,” Quinn said, peeking around the corner. The gunfire had stopped, which was a good sign. “They’ll send someone. It’ll be fine.”

  “Uh, you sure about that?” Cody turned slightly and Quinn saw blood seeping through his friend’s fingers as he gripped his shoulder.

  “You’re hit?” Quinn scrambled to him to assess the wound. All he could see was blood. Lots of it. Quinn ripped off his jacket, took off one of his shirts and shoved it against the wound. “Pressure, man, lots of pressure.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” With a grunt, Cody held the material in place. “I guess this was a bad idea. We didn’t even find the cabin.”

  “But we must be close or else why shoot at us?”

  “Because they don’t want us messing in their business?”

  “I wish I knew who they were,” Quinn said.

  “I’ll work on the Marshall Scrap Yard connection when we—”

  “Let’s get that bullet out of your shoulder first.”

  “You guys still there?” a man’s voice called out.

  Quinn glanced at Cody. “Answer him, keep him talking and I’ll make my way around back.”

  “Quinn, don’t. Wait for the rescue team.”

  “They won’t send search and rescue until they know the area is secure, which means they’ll send cops, but no medics.” He eyed Cody’s shoulder. “We can’t wait that long.”

  “Hello, hello?” the voice taunted.

  Quinn grabbed rope from his backpack and took off up the trail.

  “We’re here!” Cody shouted.

  “You want to stay alive?”

  “Yes, sir, we do.”

  “Then I’ve got an offer for you.”

  Quinn had worn camouflage colors today, so it would be unlikely the shooter would spot him. Quinn made it to the next plateau and dodged behind a tree for cover. He peered around the tree and spotted their assailant, leaning casually against a rock clutching a gun.

  “What’s the offer?” Cody said. Quinn could tell his voice was growing weaker.

  Quinn narrowed his eyes and saw a pebbled trail leading to a concealed spot above the shooter. He headed in that direction, focused on neutralizing the shooter and getting Cody to the hospital.

  “I need you to stay out of my business!” the guy ordered.

  “Not a problem!”

  “Seems to be a big problem.”

  Quinn sucked in air and ran as fast as he could, wishing he had a weapon.

  “Then tell me what your business is and I’ll make sure to stay away from it,” Cody said.

  Almost there. Looked like about 200 meters. He could do it. He could get there before—

  Another shot rang out and Quinn hit the dirt.

  “What was that for?” Cody called out.

  “Making sure you took me seriously.”

  “I’ve already been hit. I get that you’re serious.”

  Quinn scrambled to his feet and kept running.

  “What about your friend?” the guy said.

  “What about him?”

  “Does he take me seriously?”

  Great, if Quinn didn’t answer, the guy might get suspicious and if he did answer he’d know Quinn’s position.

  “He’s unconscious,” Cody bluffed.

  “He’s dead?”

  “Not yet, but he will be if we don’t get help.”

  Quinn stopped short and peered down below. The shooter was pacing, as if he’d suddenly grown a conscience and was worried about what he’d done.

  Quinn dodged out of sight. Took a deep breath. Got to his feet. He texted Cody, directing him to distract the guy.

  “You must feel like a big man shooting at defenseless hikers,” Cody taunted.

  “You’re not defenseless,” the guy answered.

  Quinn tied the rope around a tree branch and waited for the shooter to start talking again.

  “You’re working for Bronson’s wife.”

  Quinn secured the rope around his waist and got ready to rappel.

  “What do you want with her, anyway?” Cody asked. “She didn’t do anything to you.”

  “Her husband cheated us, he—”

  Quinn jumped, lan
ded behind the shooter and tackled him to the ground. His gun went flying over the edge. Quinn got hold of the guy’s neck and squeezed. The shooter elbowed Quinn in the ribs, once, twice, but Quinn didn’t let go.

  The guy got to his feet and slammed Quinn against the mountain wall. Air rushed from Quinn’s lungs and his grip loosened. The shooter used the advantage to deliver another elbow to Quinn’s ribs. The pain was starting to get to him. It wouldn’t have been so bad had Quinn not been kicked in the chest last night. Quinn struggled to hold on, but the man broke free and violently shoved Quinn aside.

  Stumbling to the edge of the trail, Quinn gripped the rope and steadied himself, watching the guy sprint away. He probably figured he was at a disadvantage without his gun.

  Quinn bent over and took a few shallow breaths, trying to regain his equilibrium. “Cody, he’s gone!” he shouted.

  Silence. Quinn untied the rope and headed back to his friend. He whipped out his phone and called Aiden.

  “Quinn, where are you?” Aiden answered.

  Quinn gave him coordinates. “Cody’s been shot. We need someone with medical training.”

  “Sheriff’s office won’t let us up there because of the gunfire.”

  “I disarmed the shooter and he took off. It’s safe to retrieve us. Get up here, fast! Cody’s unconscious.”

  * * *

  The SAR team must have sprinted the mile and a half uphill to get to them so quickly, Quinn thought, as they led a medic to the scene. Once the bleeding stopped, they strapped Cody into the litter and started down.

  Quinn continued to scan the area for any sign of the shooter, but the guy was long gone. Although Quinn kicked himself for not being able to detain him for police, he was more concerned about Cody.

  As they approached the command center at the trailhead, Quinn spotted two police cars and an ambulance.

  Then he saw Billie, her long brown hair framing her worried face, her hands firmly planted on her hips. From her posture, he guessed he was in for a lecture.

  “I’ll see you at the hospital,” he said to Cody, who was drifting in and out of consciousness.

  As the SAR team handed Cody off to the EMTs, Aiden and Billie approached Quinn.

  “You okay?” Aiden asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” He risked a glance at Billie.