by Leigh Bale
Why?
The single word pounded her brain. Why would someone want to kill her?
As she raced through the trees, she clasped her stylish leather handbag to her chest, protecting its precious contents. She prayed Mac would know what to do and who to trust.
She gasped for breath, her lungs burning. She scrambled over fallen tree trunks and rocks, wrenching her ankle, skinning her knees and hands. An angry yell came from behind. The stranger was gaining fast.
She kicked off her shoes and splashed through a stream. Blood pounded against her temples.
Please, God! Help me get away. Help me find Mac.
She scrambled into the deepest shadows and held still. Frozen with fear. The man passed by, his angry yells fading. But where was she?
She glanced at the thick treetops swaying overhead. No help there. The dense foliage shrouded her in gloom. The evening breeze stirred the heavy branches, causing them to tremble like hulking beasts. She couldn’t get her bearings.
Lost on Thorne Mountain. The last place on earth she wanted to be.
She shuffled onward, cringing when her bare feet came down too hard on sharp stones or stickers littering the ground. The trees thinned and she emerged from the forest. The edge of a cliff bordered the lake. When she peered over the ledge at the gaping maw below, nothing but jagged rocks stared back at her.
She was trapped. Nowhere to go but down. Panic washed over her in shattering waves. Now, what?
She gasped air into her lungs, her sides aching. She scanned the area, looking for a way down.
A vision of sparkling diamonds glimmered on the inky waters of Crystal Lake. Short, frothy waves pounded the jagged cliffs below. From her vantage point, several pine trees pierced the evening sky. With a burst of fading sunlight as a backdrop, their branches swayed in the gentle breeze like elegant dancers. Soon, it’d be dark and she’d be alone on this mountain with a madman.
Toni shuddered.
“Over here. I heard three shots.” A deep, male voice came from the forest.
She whirled around. More voices sounded from the woods, drawing near. Two men, maybe more. She hesitated, wondering if they were friend or foe. She didn’t dare call out to them and had only moments before they discovered her.
Think! What would Eric do? Oh, how she wished her older brother was here with her now.
Please, God. Please protect me. Cara and Grandma need me.
The man with the gun broke from the stand of timber. Pine needles and leaves clung to his long, black hair. When he saw her, his thin lips curved into a cruel smile.
“Now, I got you. You not get away again.” He spoke in broken English, his accent heavy and foreign.
Standing fifteen feet away, he lifted the gun and pointed it at her head. Her breath froze in her throat. Ripples of horror rushed over her as she awaited the burn of the bullet.
A menacing growl came from the forest. Toni watched in shock as a huge beast lunged from the underbrush and attacked the man. The bear…no, a dog…bit down on the man’s gun arm and he yelped in pain.
Toni turned and ran, hoping to slip past while she had the chance. In her haste, she tottered on the ledge. Loose rocks rolled beneath her feet. She felt herself go and threw out her arms, dropping her purse.
“No!” Her scream echoed off the surrounding mountains. She flailed about, grabbing for something, anything to stop her fall.
Pain tore at her fingers, then slammed against her side and up her arms. She fell, down…down…
Please, God, don’t let me die.
* * *
“Over here, Dad. I heard a woman scream.” Mac MacKenzie called to his father as he hobbled through the trees. His injured leg burned like fire. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore it. Eight more weeks of medical leave, then he’d report back for light duty with the MARSOC team, short for Marine Corps Special Operations Command. He couldn’t wait to get back to work, and yet a heavy emptiness filled his chest.
All his buddies were gone. No one left, but him.
“Yeah, I heard it, too. Where’d that dog go?” Dad asked.
Shouldering his daypack, Mac limped through the trees edging the lake at Dawson’s Cliff. “He’s here somewhere. I heard him growl.”
“I hope some lady hiker didn’t have a run-in with a bear or mountain lion.”
Mac agreed. Too often, backpackers came to these mountains ill-prepared for the wildlife and fierce elements.
He leaned heavily on the crutch tucked beneath his left arm. The throbbing in his calf warned that he’d pushed himself too hard today. The last thing he wanted now was to search and rescue another hiker. He wanted to return to his quiet cabin, prop up his leg, and eat a heaping bowl of Mom’s homemade stew.
He took a step, trying not to put much weight on his left leg. The pain reminded him of the failed black ops mission in Afghanistan five weeks earlier. The memory of that night tore at his conscience like meat hooks ripping through flesh. While he had escaped with a simple bullet wound in his leg, every other man on his team had died. Including Eric, his best friend.
Crushed beneath the boot heel of war.
Mac thrust aside his grief and focused on the problem at hand. Night came quickly to these mountains, and somewhere out here a woman was lost or wounded.
Or worse.
A chill breeze stirred the air. Scattered stars winked high in the evening sky. Soon it’d be pitch black, but he knew Thorne Mountain like the back of his hand. He and Dad wouldn’t go home until they found her.
Dad walked beside him, cradling a rifle. A dead shot, Hank MacKenzie carried the weapon for protection against wild animals. As a decorated veteran of Viet Nam, he knew how to use the weapon very well.
“You okay?” Dad’s bushy gray brows lifted with concern. He eyed the heavy woolen sock Mac wore over his injured leg to protect the white bandages from dirt and grime. It contrasted sharply with the ankle-length hiking boot he wore on his good foot.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” As the growing darkness swept over the mountain, Mac dug two flashlights out of his pack before handing one to his father. They clicked them on and Mac limped along to the top of the cliff.
Woof! Woof!
Grunt bounded from the stand of timber and greeted Mac and Dad. An English mastiff the size of a barn, the dog panted and growled.
Mac crinkled his nose. “Whew, boy. You stink.”
“He’s been rolling around in deer turds again,” Hank observed.
“I’ll give him a bath in the lake tomorrow.”
The dog’s tan coat stood out in the shadows. His small, black eyes gleamed with intelligence, his pink tongue lolling over rows of sharp teeth. One of the best search and rescue dogs Mac had ever raised. He scratched the mutt’s neck, but the dog sidled away. Agitated. A sure sign he’d found something.
Or someone.
“Okay, take us to her.” Mac lifted an arm, signaling the dog to show what he’d found.
The dog bounded toward the cliff. In the fading sunlight, Dad searched the ground for tracks. Hank MacKenzie frequently trained special forces recruits in survival techniques. He’d taught Mac most of what he knew. “I see signs of two people. The size and indentation of the prints tells me it’s a man and a woman.”
Mac peered closer at the path. “You reckon some husband brought his wife out here to bump her off?”
“Could be. We’ve seen it happen once before.”
“Looks like Grunt chased the man off.” Mac pointed toward the trees. “His trail leads back into the forest. He might return.”
Dad shrugged. “Grunt will warn us if he does.”
The mastiff padded over to the far left edge of the cliff. With his paws braced against the lip of rock, he tilted his massive black head. The dog snuffed at the earth, blowing dust from his nostrils. Ribbons of drool ran from his jowls as he peered down below and gave a low growl that raised the hair on the back of Mac’s neck.
Mac tensed, not liking this situation a
t all. He gestured toward Grunt. “I think we can guess where the woman ended up.”
Dad approached and looked over the ledge, shining the beam of his flashlight over the wall of ebony rocks. Mac hesitated, hanging back. The last thing he needed was another memory of a crushed and bleeding body. He’d seen plenty of that during four tours of duty in Iraq and two in Afghanistan.
“You think she could survive a fall like that?” Dad rubbed a gnarled hand against his gray beard.
“No, I don’t.” Mac swallowed hard. Clumps of anguish tightened his gut, causing him to breathe in short, quick bursts. Symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder, his doctor had told him. “It’ll be morning before we can see to bring her body up. We may have to approach from down below with the boat.”
Grunt whined in the back of his throat and gave another low bark. The dog glanced at Mac, pacing restlessly.
Mac frowned. “I know, boy. We’ll find her, don’t worry.”
He hobbled over to the edge of the cliff. Sympathy poured over him as he stood next to Dad. Together, they turned the beams of their flashlights down the cliff. They panned across the barren rocks and further out on the pulsing water of the lake.
Nothing.
“Where is she? We ought to be able to see her body,” Dad said.
Mac squinted in the dark, his gaze moving slow and methodically over the rocks. “Maybe she rolled on the cliffs and splashed into the lake. The current could have pulled her out into deep water.”
“Doubtful. She’d need a lot of momentum to reach the water. It’s too far out.”
And then, Mac saw her. Not crushed. Not broken. She sat curled against the protective lee of rock half-way down the cliff. Her pale face and arms gleamed in the moonlight. They’d been looking too far out.
“There!” He pointed.
As their light skimmed over her, she shrank back against the rock wall. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright light and her whimper of fear shredded Mac’s heart. He could barely make out her face. “It’s okay, lady. We’re here to help. Are you all right?”
No answer. She was probably in shock.
Grunt groaned, his body wriggling with anticipation. He licked his chops and gave a low, gurgling wheeze.
“We mean to help you,” Mac reiterated. “Just hold real still. Don’t move. We’re gonna get you out of there.”
Mac hoped the woman heard him. She could be dazed, knocked senseless from her fall. Or she also could be scared to death.
The fifty foot length of rope Mac kept in the bottom of his pack should be long enough to reach her. Depending on her injuries, they’d have her safely back at the cabin within an hour, and then Mom could help tend her wounds. Trained as an EMT, Mac could stabilize her until they could make the four-hour journey to the nearest medical doctor in Las Vegas. The sleepy town of Clarkston didn’t have such amenities. Without electricity or a telephone connection at the cabin, they couldn’t even call for help or notify the sheriff.
They were on their own.
“What’s your name?” he called, trying to distract her from panicking as he handed Dad the rope.
He couldn’t believe she’d survived the fall. The chances must be one in five zillion that she’d land on that outcropping of rock.
A low moan captured his attention. He peered across the cliffs, trying to make out her features. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar. The tilt of her head and silhouette of her delicate profile. “It won’t be much longer. Hang on.”
He caught her slight nod. “Help me. Get me out of here. Please!”
A tremor of terror and exhaustion filled her voice. Like she’d been crying or screaming. Maybe both.
“We’ll get you on safe ground. Just sit very still,” Mac said.
“Hold this, Mac.” Dad handed him a carabiner clip and climbing harness.
“Mac, is that you?” The woman’s gravelly voice reached him and he poked his head over the side of the cliff again.
“Yeah! Who are you?”
“Oh, thank the Lord.” She stared up at him, moonlight bathing her pale, tear-streaked face.
Toni!
Mac tensed, finally recognizing her.
Dad’s eyes widened and he stared at Mac with surprise. “Toni? Is that really you?”
“Yes.” Her voice quavered.
“What are you doing here?”
“Get…get me out of here, please,” she said.
Toni Hamilton, his ex-fiancée. The last time Mac had seen her had been at her brother’s funeral three weeks earlier. He’d forced himself to go, out of respect for Eric. After what had happened that night east of Kabul, Mac could hardly stand to live with himself anymore.
After Eric’s funeral, Mac hadn’t followed his doctor’s orders and gone to his parent’s home in Las Vegas to recover. Instead, he’d retired to Thorne Mountain where he sought peace from his troubled mind. He hadn’t found it, yet. If only he had another chance to change what had happened that night Eric died. Ten seconds was all he needed to make things right.
To bring Eric home safe.
“Did you come to the mountains all alone? You could have been killed.” He clenched his hands, allowing his remorse to turn to anger. He was certain he’d heard gunshots. But who had fired the gun? Obviously Toni wasn’t up here on the mountain alone.
“I had to see you. We…we need to talk.”
He tensed, hating the thought of hearing accusations or seeing anguish in Toni’s eyes. In spite of breaking off their engagement and going their separate ways a year earlier, he’d never stopped loving her. At that time, he’d been so selfish, putting his career goals ahead of her. He’d changed since then, but it was too late. If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t want him now.
“You can talk later,” Dad interjected. “Let’s get her up on safe ground, first.”
“Stay where you are and I’ll be right back,” Mac called down to Toni.
“As if I could go anywhere.” Her hoarse whisper held a hint of sarcasm.
He resisted the urge to smile, but felt grateful she still had a sense of humor.
“Be careful,” she called. “A man tried to kill me. He’s up there somewhere with a gun.”
Mac caught the shred of fear in her voice. “He’s gone. We’re keeping watch in case he returns.”
As he turned to rummage around in his backpack, Mac gritted his teeth. He didn’t understand how she’d gotten here or why someone would try to kill her, but the answers would have to wait.
Chapter Three
Mac handed Dad the length of rope and watched as Hank tied it around a tall pine tree close by. After he jerked on his leather gloves, Mac propped their flashlights so they cast their beams across the top of the cliff. Looping the rope around his hands, he fed it through his fingers over the ledge. “Dad, my leg won’t hold my weight if I try to go down to Toni. Can you do it? I can hold here.”
Dad nodded, his gray eyes gleaming. From his grim expression, Mac realized his father still felt protective of him. Neither of his parents wanted him hurt again. He’d gone to Eric’s funeral against their wishes, sitting alone in a wheelchair as he watched Toni and her family sob their anguish. When they saw Mac, they had all welcomed and embraced him. Even Toni. If they knew the truth, they would have shunned him with horror and outrage.
His honor had kept him there. He’d made a promise to Eric that he’d care for his family if anything ever happened to him, and Mac intended to keep it. He just wasn’t sure how.
Now, Hank MacKenzie tugged on his leather gloves before taking hold of the rope and stepping over the edge of the cliff. He braced his booted feet against the rock wall, still lean and strong for a man of fifty-five years. A real live mountain man who’d been decorated for valor.
After college, it seemed only natural for Mac to join the military. He’d met Eric Hamilton in elementary school and they’d become fast friends. Over the past six years, they’d come to rely on one another, watching each other’s ba
cks, trusting their lives to each other.
Brothers in arms.
Down Hank went, slow and careful, until he reached the short outcropping of rock where Toni sat hunched in a tight ball. Mac tensed his shoulders. If she moved mere inches to the right or left, she’d tumble to her death.
Luck or God had been with her today.
Sudden bitterness swept Mac when he thought of God. He’d settle for luck. The last time he’d prayed, the thunder of mortar and gunfire had filled his ears along with the screams of dying men. Most of them good friends.
Since then, Mac had given up on prayer. His Heavenly Father hadn’t answered when he’d needed Him most and Mac wouldn’t give God a second chance. What good would it do?
It wouldn’t bring Eric back.
As Dad helped Toni click on the harness, he talked to her in soothing tones. Gratitude suffused Mac’s mind. Dad was a tough man, but gentle in his own gruff way. Mom seemed the complete opposite. Just as sweet, generous, and forgiving as a woman could be. Sometimes she found it difficult to leave their home in Vegas and stay out here in the mountains every summer with Dad, living without electricity and modern conveniences. She did it because Dad loved it and she loved Dad.
From above, Mac heard Toni’s ragged breath of relief. Moonlight played across her face as she rested her head against the rock wall. It reminded him of the day one year earlier when he’d ended their engagement. He’d wanted a career in the military and she wanted a family. Bouncing around the world, raising their children on military bases, didn’t appeal to her. Neither one of them would compromise.
Their romance ended.
Eric had continued to try and get them back together, but both Mac and Toni resisted. After what had happened in Afghanistan, the doctor told Mac he’d probably walk with a limp the rest of his life. His career in the military had taken a drastic turn. Maybe his breakup with Toni was for the best. She’d never accept him if he told her what really happened in Afghanistan.
