Stranded

by Patricia H. Rushford

  STRANDED

  Patricia H. Rushford

  Copyright © 2001 by Patricia H. Rushford

  First e-book copyright © 2015 by Blackstone Audio, Inc.

  All rights reserved

  Trade: 978-1-5046-8379-1

  Library: 978-1-5046-8378-4

  A special thanks to Ruby and Tom MacDonald,

  who provided a beautiful sanctuary in which to write.

  To Marcia Mitchell and my husband, Ron, whose flying experience proved invaluable.

  To my Round Robin friends for their undying support and encouragement.

  PATRICIA RUSHFORD is an award-winning writer, speaker, and teacher who has published numerous articles and more than thirty-five books, including What Kids Need Most in a Mom, and Have You Hugged Your Teenager Today? She is a registered nurse and has a master’s degree in counseling from Western Evangelical Seminary. She and her husband, Ron, live in Washington State and have two grown children, seven grandchildren, and lots of nephews and nieces.

  Pat has been reading mysteries for as long as she can remember and is delighted to be writing a series of her own. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Romance Writers of America, and several other writing organizations. She is also the codirector of Writer’s Weekend at the Beach and teaches at writers’ conferences and schools across the country.

  1

  “You’re doing a great job, Jennie. Flying like a pro.” Jennie McGrady’s grandmother, Helen Bradley, leaned over to peer out the window of her small plane, intent on taking aerial photographs of a large settlement they’d just passed over. “I’m almost done.”

  Jennie shielded her eyes from the overhead sun. “Looks like a storm up ahead.”

  “So much for the weather forecast.” The camera clicked and whirred as Gram took several more shots. “Let’s make one more circle.”

  Jennie made a right turn, lowering the right wing tip to give Gram a better view. The plane suddenly dipped as they hit a pocket of unstable air. Jennie yelped but managed to steady the plane.

  “Are you okay?” Gram lowered the camera. “Do you need me to take over?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Jennie’s confidence returned as she momentarily put the clouds behind her. She almost wished she hadn’t talked her parents into letting her go with Gram. She could have driven with them, but she’d thought flying would be much more exciting. It was exciting, all right. Nail-biting time—that is, if she could get her hands off the controls to do it.

  Once she made the circle and was back on course, her earlier concerns returned. “M-maybe we should turn back.” Jennie gripped the controls harder as the clouds enveloped the red Piper Cherokee. Rain pelted the windshield. Thunder rumbled and exploded like a bomb, and a streak of lightning to the east ripped through the clouds. The plane rocked and pitched like a child’s toy, mocking Jennie’s efforts to keep it steady.

  Gram tossed her camera aside and took over. “Hold on, sweetheart. I’ll try to get us out of this mess.” She made a left turn away from the storm and eased back on the throttle to lower their altitude. The turbulence subsided a little, but the rain continued to slash against the windshield.

  “That’s better,” Gram said.

  “It doesn’t look better. We’re still in the clouds, and I can’t see anything.”

  “That’s what the instruments and charts are for. We don’t necessarily need to see.”

  “I know, but it’s still scary.” Jennie thought back to the day before, when Gram had invited her to fly to eastern Oregon with her. Mom hadn’t wanted her to go, but Gram managed to convince her that it would be safe. And it should have been. When they left Lincoln City that afternoon, the weather reports had promised a perfect November day. Temperatures in the fifties, clear skies with a slight chance of rain. They should have known better than to believe it.

  They were flying to Sun River, where they would meet J. B., Gram’s new husband, and drive to Mount Bachelor to meet up with the rest of the family for a ski vacation—a gift from Gram and J. B. When Gram had said she was flying over, Jennie jumped at the chance to go with her. That morning, once the flight plan had been filed, Jennie had watched in anticipation as Gram checked over the plane and climbed into the cockpit. Her stomach had knotted with excitement and nerves at the thought of actually piloting the plane for short intervals while Gram coached her.

  Jennie’s stomach ached now as well—not in anticipation, but in dread. The cloud ceiling had lowered, engulfing them once again in the storm. Not wanting to think about the storm, she focused on what she thought was the real reason for the flight.

  “I’m sorry.” Jennie’s words hung on an anxious sigh. “I hope you got your pictures.”

  “Sorry?” Gram gave her a puzzled look. “For what?”

  “For needing you to take over flying.” Feeling a chill under her jacket, Jennie rubbed her arms. “I should have been able to handle it.”

  Gram shook her head. “Sweetie, you’ve only had three lessons. Even experienced pilots can get caught off guard in this kind of weather.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. You did fine.”

  Jennie didn’t feel fine. She felt like she’d botched an assignment. “Did you get the pictures you needed?”

  “Almost. It’ll have to do,” Gram answered. “Why were you taking them, anyway?”

  Gram gave her a sideways glance that said, “You know better than to ask.”

  “You’re doing another job for the FBI?” When Gram didn’t answer, Jennie dug deeper. “The DEA?”

  Gram sighed. “Can’t say. Strictly hush-hush.”

  Jennie grinned. “I’m right. It’s the DEA. What is it? I won’t say anything.”

  “That’s right, because you don’t know anything.” After checking her charts and completing her instrument scan, Gram peered through the windshield, though Jennie didn’t know why she bothered. Outside there was nothing but gray.

  Not wanting to think about the weather, she pursued with the questions. “It’s drugs, isn’t it? Is there a meth lab down there?” Jennie raised her eyebrows. “I’ll bet they’re growing marijuana in that big greenhouse we saw.”

  “You’re letting your imagination run away with you. Don’t you think it’s entirely possible that I’m taking photos for an article?”

  “Possible. But not likely. I mean … who’d want to vacation there?” Gram wrote for travel magazines and was always taking photos of exotic places. The place she’d been photographing was not what Jennie would have termed exotic or glamorous. More like weird. “It’s a religious settlement, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Settled in the late 1800s by a German colony of believers.”

  “So are they having trouble? Is the federal government closing in? Are they a cult? I saw something on television. Two guys from there were killed.” Jennie leaned forward, trying to read Gram’s face. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re taking pictures for the FBI. You’re working on the murder investigation.”

  “Jennie…”

  The warning in Gram’s voice caused Jennie to momentarily give up her quest. Gram would tell her eventually. Maybe. Jennie leaned back in her seat, watched the rain turn to sleet, and pouted.

  Jennie was used to the secrets. She didn’t like them, but with their family it was a way of life. Her dad had worked with the Drug Enforcement Agency and was now a homicide detective. Gram had been a police officer and, since her retirement a few years ago, had taken up a career in writing. But she still took cases now and then and had been known to accept assignments from federal agencies. Her first husband, Jennie’s grandfather, had been a government agen
t. He’d been killed on assignment in the Middle East. And J. B. was an agent too—or had been until a recent heart attack. Now he worked as a consultant.

  “I need to check the weather and file an instrument flight plan.” Gram tried contacting the control tower in Sisters to check the weather. The radio cut in and out. No voices. Only static. Muttering something unintelligible, she grimaced. “We’re icing up.”

  The plane dipped, leaving Jennie’s stomach behind. “Icing up? Does that mean we’re going to crash?”

  Gram didn’t answer. “We’ve got to outrun this storm and try to get below freezing level. Hold on.”

  Jennie swallowed back the panic rising to her throat. She could see the solid coat of ice building up on the leading edge of the wings. Jennie didn’t know much about flying yet, but she did know they were in trouble.

  Gram banked to the right, taking them back the way they’d come.

  “What does the ice do?” Jennie pinched her lips together and gripped her seat belt as though it were a life line.

  “Basically, ice on the leading edge of the wings erodes the lift and makes the plane heavier. Gets sluggish … slower to respond … takes more power to hold the current altitude. Too much ice can cause the airplane to nose over, stall, and eventually crash.” She glanced at Jennie. “I’m going to do all I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  As if in response to Gram’s explanation, a loud siren wailed inside the cabin. “The stall warning!” Jennie yelled. The nose of the plane dropped, and the plane began spiraling. “What’s happening?” Jennie braced her feet on the floor.

  “We’ve gone into a spin.” Gram pulled back on the yoke and leaned on her right foot, and with the increased speed, the plane began to level.

  “You did it!” Jennie cheered.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet.” Gram cast her a look of uncertainty. “Ice is still building.”

  The engine strained and groaned. The small plane dropped like a runaway elevator, leaving Jennie’s stomach in midair. “Are we going to crash?” she asked again.

  “Not if I can help it. We’ll have to make an emergency landing.”

  “B-but how?” Jennie glanced out the window. “I can’t see anything but clouds and snow.”

  Gram checked her instruments, then pinched her lips together and grabbed Jennie’s hand. Squeezing it hard, she said, “Pray,” then turned her attention back to piloting the airplane.

  Jennie did pray, but she wished she could do more. She knew how difficult landing would be. She’d seen enough news footage to know they might explode on impact. The eastern Oregon desert was filled with harsh, unforgiving rock formations. There were cattle ranches and the occasional field, but much of the land was as untamed as the wild horses that roamed there. If anyone could get them safely down, Gram could.

  “We won’t be able to see much until we’re nearly on the ground. Hopefully we’ll lose some of the ice buildup as we descend and get more lift from the wings.”

  By then it might be too late. Jennie squeezed her eyes tight and envisioned an open field. Maybe they were close enough to the compound they’d flown over. Hadn’t there been an airstrip there?

  “There was a landing strip back there. “Jennie gave voice to her thoughts.

  “I know.” Gram shook her head. “We’d have to fly through a mountain to reach it.”

  Something exploded beneath them, rocking the plane with its force.

  “What in the…?” Gram’s gaze registered terror. “We’ve been hit. Losing gas.”

  “What was it? Lightning? Did we hit a tree?” Gram didn’t answer.

  A million thoughts went through Jennie’s head as the plane plummeted. Would she ever see her mom and dad again? Or her little brother, Nick? She uttered a prayer of thanks that none of the rest of the family had come along. She worried about her mother. With losing the baby, Mom had been through too much already.

  The envelope of clouds broke to reveal a rough, rocky terrain. A grouping of scrub pines appeared in front of them. Instead of veering, Gram headed straight toward them.

  “Gram!” Jennie screamed. “We’re going to hit the trees!”

  “We’re going between them—I hope. I’ll try to sheer off the wings to slow us down. Looks like there might be a level area just beyond them.”

  Jennie saw no reason whatsoever to slow down. They were already moving in slow motion—at least in her mind. Jennie prepared herself for the impact, leaning forward and covering her head. Gram aimed for the narrow space between the trees. A sickening crunch on either side of the plane attested to her success.

  Success?

  The plane lunged and whipped around before leveling out again. “This is going to be a rough one, honey. I’m so sorry…” Before Gram could finish, the ground came up to meet them.

  2

  Huge boulders seemed to rise out of the ground to rip off the landing gear. The nose slammed into another outcropping of rocks, flipping the craft over, then over again. Jennie closed her eyes and waited for the terrifying ride to end. When the plane finally stopped, she raised her head and unfolded herself from the tight ball she’d curled herself into. Small, whimpering sounds filled her ears as her ragged breathing settled into a normal rhythm. Her sounds. Her cries.

  Leaning her head back against the seat, she offered thanks to God for sparing her life.

  Eventually Jennie’s breathing became more shallow and slow. Her heart stopped racing. It was quiet now, except for the wind whistling through the cockpit. Too quiet. And dark. The heavily falling snow had already covered the windows, casting the cockpit into gray shadows.

  “Gram?” Jennie ventured.

  The only response came from the wind gusting against the plane.

  In the dim light Jennie could see her grandmother’s still form pressed against some rocks where the side of the plane had been torn away. “Oh no,” Jennie whimpered. “Please, God, let her be alive.”

  The plane lay at an angle, with Jennie at the high side. Had it not been for the seat belt, she’d have fallen on top of her grandmother.

  “Gram!” Jennie screamed it this time. “Wake up … please!”

  Still no response.

  Jennie covered her mouth to stifle the panic filling her throat, making it impossible to breathe.

  Stay calm, McGrady. You have to stay calm. Jennie fought against her fears as she tried to remember her first-aid training. She took several deliberate breaths, deep and slow. “You can do this.” She said the words out loud as she placed her fingers against Gram’s throat.

  “Please, God. Please.” Jennie whispered the litany as she moved her fingers along Gram’s jaw, searching for the carotid artery. Finally finding a pulse, Jennie allowed herself another deep breath again. “Okay.” Jennie knew the routine. Now she just had to put it into practice. Don’t move her. Assess for injuries. Stop the bleeding. Keep her warm. First-aid kit. After a moment’s panic, Jennie remembered what Gram had told her about the first-aid equipment. Behind the pilot’s seat.

  Bracing herself, she released her seat belt and reached behind Gram’s seat for a flashlight. Tears filled her eyes as she turned it on. Jennie blinked them back, trying not to be affected by the sight of her dear Gram lying there unconscious. No time for crying. You have to stay in control. You can do this, McGrady. You have to. Blood had dripped down Gram’s forehead around her left eye and down her cheek, soaking into her white turtleneck. A closer look revealed that the blood was congealing and had stopped on its own. Jennie could see no other open wounds. Without moving Gram, Jennie had no way to check for further injuries. But at least she was alive—for now. Jennie wrapped Gram in one of the two emergency warming blankets and stepped outside. She needed air, and she needed to think.

  Jennie paced back and forth beside the crumpled plane. Snow settled into the tops of her shoes and soaked her socks
. Even with her ski jacket and hat, she felt cold and miserable. Conflicting messages whirled in her head.

  Should she go for help or stay with the plane?

  “What should I do?” She tipped back her head, looking for an answer. Snowflakes as big as quarters drifted down in silent response. “I don’t know whether to stay here or go for help.”

  Try the radio. Jennie couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. That was one of the first things she should have done. Jennie climbed back into the cockpit and minutes later climbed back out. The radio was useless—no static, no nothing. She was on her own.

  Pacing again, she weighed the options for the umpteenth time. Gram needed medical care now. She’d come to once but hadn’t been coherent. The emergency transmitter in the tail section of the plane would send signals letting the authorities know they’d gone down, but would it do any good? As long as the storm continued, there would be no rescue attempts. On the other hand, Jennie knew they couldn’t be far from the compound Gram had been photographing. Someone there would help.

  Finally Jennie made up her mind. She couldn’t stay with the plane when help could be over the next hill. Jennie estimated that she had about four hours of daylight left. She’d walk for two hours, and if she didn’t find help, she’d return to the plane and wait. Jennie checked her location on the Global Positioning System. Pulling the instrument from the crumpled dash, she put it into her backpack. She’d be able to locate the plane easily. She changed into warmer clothes—a beige rag wool sweater over a turtleneck, gloves, and hiking boots. Jennie stuffed the emergency supplies she might need into her backpack.

  She crawled back into the wreckage and kissed Gram good-bye. “I’ll be back before it gets dark. Please be okay.” Jennie set food and water within easy reach in case Gram awoke, then hauled in a deep breath. Assured that she was doing the right thing, Jennie walked away without looking back.

  The wind had blown the snow in drifts, leaving some places almost bare. About fifteen minutes into her hike, Jennie’s jog had slowed to a brisk, breathless walk. Then she saw it—a trail marked by horse manure. Some was old and crumbly, frozen, but one pile looked fresh and had melted the snow around it. It still had a slight manure smell. She estimated that it couldn’t have been there for more than an hour.