by Debra Webb
"I'll get a team headed up to that location right now, Sheriff. Keep me posted."
"Jayne," he said, waylaying her, "I don't like this. Maybe you'd better send Littles along, too. I'll send an other of my men to cover things there."
She glanced at Lebron. He was a pretty good mountaineer. She didn't have a problem with that. "All right. Thanks, Sheriff." She passed the phone back to the deputy.
"Mason, Snyder." Jayne gestured for the two senior team members present to join her.
"Walt just checked in," Snyder informed her. "They've made contact with the fallen climbers. And Fort Carson called, they've got a Chinook headed Walt's way. He had a time getting over the Continental Divide, but he thinks he can rendezvous with Walt's team within the hour."
"Excellent." That was definitely good news. The Chinook was a large enough helicopter to turn this hazardous rescue into a walk in the park. "Did you pass that along to Walt?"
He shook his head. "Just got the call. I'll do that now."
"In a minute." Jayne took a breath. "I'm leaving you two in charge here." She looked from Snyder to Mason.
"You've done this before with me and Walt. You know the steps. Deputy Littles and I are going to follow up on a 9-1-1 the sheriff received." She quickly outlined the location on the map and filled in the sketchy details the sheriff had provided.
"You sure you can handle this with only the deputy?" Mason glanced toward the officer in question.
Jayne nodded. "I've worked with Lebron before. It won't be a problem. He and I should be able to secure this guy. If we can't get him out you can send that Chinook for us when Walt's team is taken care of." She grinned. Mason and Snyder were well aware that the route she would need to take was child's play for her and she had the proper emergency medical training to secure the victim.
"Wait a minute," Snyder said, his expression turning wary. "Rice said you were on light duty. As simple as this rescue sounds, it isn't light duty."
"I'm fine." She gave each of them a stern look.
"There's no time for this. Take care of things here, Lebron and I will handle this one. If anything else comes up have the sheriff's office call for mutual aid. Two other mountain rescue units are already on alert status. You've got a few more good volunteers here but I want you or Snyder manning this base. No one else." On second thought, she added, "Keep this second rescue under wraps for now. I don't think the sheriff wanted the media to get wind of it just yet."
Snyder and Mason assured her they would handle things here. Jayne had known Thurman McGill since she'd arrived in Aspen. As a widower, he lived alone. She didn't want to consider whether he might have run upon foul play. It wasn't impossible that he would ask for her rather than Walt. She'd coordinated the use of his helicopters before.
"What's going on?"
She and Deputy Littles had started for the equipment room when Heath's voice reminded her that he was still there.
All that had happened that morning came rushing in on her at once. Jayne closed her eyes and blocked the emotional landslide. She didn't want to feel this, couldn't deal with it right now.
She opened her eyes and looked straight into his. "I have a job to do. Just stay out of my way."
Heath stepped close, intimidatingly so. "I told you that I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Deputy Littles laid a hand on Heath's shoulder. "Back off, sir," he ordered sternly.
Heath stared at the man's hand and then at the man. "That's not happening."
When the deputy's other hand moved toward his holstered weapon Jayne knew she had to do something. "It's okay, Lebron. Mr. Murphy might be of assistance to us." Her gaze leveled on Heath's. "We're headed up to do another rescue. If you're up to it, we could use you." A line of fury burned through her despite her best efforts to keep her mind away from personal issues. "But if you're not, stay out of the way because I'm not letting anyone die today because of you."
Heath didn't have to answer, she saw the hesitation in his eyes a split second before he banished it. "Wherever you go, I go."
"Fine, just don't get in the way."
Jayne had to admit, this was the most unlikely rescue team she'd ever led but there was no time for over analyzing. She couldn't leave Mason and Snyder shorthanded. The remaining volunteers were needed here. Another call could come in. Walt's team might need additional backup though she doubted it with the Chinook en route.
This injured climber was her problem. She could drag him out alone if necessary. Deputy Littles was more for that other unknown element than for anything else. On that same note, she had to confess that having Heath come along wasn't such a bad idea. No one at tempted a rescue alone. Not even a climber as confident and, at times, as cocky as her. It was the first rule of rescue.
Create no new victims.
* * *
CLAD FOR THE WORST winter weather and wearing emergency packs loaded with the necessary supplies, Jayne led the procession from the trailhead. Deputy Littles had driven his SUV, updating the sheriff as to their plan en route.
The weather worked its will as they set out, the wind howled and the snow drove hard into their faces. Goggles protected their eyes. Mere humans, who had any common sense, acceded to the weather's demands on days like this. But Jayne knew that plenty of folks would venture out just the same. They had paid for a holiday in winter's paradise, and they intended to have it. So, with little experience in the mountains those cocky few would venture into the twilight zone made accessible by bravado and Gore-Tex. If they were lucky they survived their stupidity. For others, mountain rescue volunteers such as herself would forge out into the deadly weather and drag them back to civilization.
Jayne had insisted on breaking trail, tromping through the fresh layer of snow, each step plunging all the way up to her knees, slowing her forward movement. But she'd be damned if she'd do this any differently just because the man she'd slept with last night wanted to play the big bad protector.
Heath stayed right behind her, forcing the deputy to bring up the rear. Littles didn't like it and Jayne didn't have time to care.
She kept thinking about Thurman McGill and wondering why he'd asked for her and why the hell he'd gone out on a day like today. Maybe he'd heard that Walt and the others were already out on a rescue and had hoped to help, but that didn't make sense either since he would have taken a different route for that purpose. And he, of all people, was well aware of his equipment's limitations. She'd know soon enough.
It took barely more than an hour to reach their destination. Heath stopped her when she would have continued up onto the ridge. "I'll take the lead from here," he said, his tone brooking no argument.
In spite of her determination not to, Jayne had spent the last hour working hard not to think about the things Heath had accused her father of. She'd come up with a dozen different scenarios and excuses that explained every little thing his accusations had caused her to remember. She'd found no solace. As much as she cared for her father, she would have some answers. If he had done these things…she shuddered and pushed the horrible possibility aside. Not now. She couldn't go there.
Another thing she'd done in the past hour was to talk herself out of love with Heath Murphy.
Love.
God, how could she let that word even wiggle its way into this crazy mixture?
She couldn't…wouldn't. Whatever they'd shared was over.
"I told you to stay out of my way," she snapped, unable to keep the hurt twisting inside her out of her voice. The wind had died down and the snow had diminished to nothing more than a flake or two swirling through the air from time to time. Snyder had radioed her with the word that the Chinook was in the process of hauling Walt's people to safety. All she wanted to do was get this rescue over with and go home.
She didn't want to think anymore.
Heath unzipped his parka with a jerk. His goggles dangled around his neck, as did hers and Littles's. "Just let me do this, Jayne. It's not a big deal."
&nb
sp; He seemed damned steady for someone who'd al most freaked out on her during their last climb. "Not un less you panic," she retorted. Around this bend and over this little ridge would be a straight drop. Their rescue was most likely on that ledge. Maybe Heath hadn't figured that out yet, but she knew this terrain like the back of her hand.
"I've got it under control," he growled.
"Right," she quipped, smirking.
If he hadn't grabbed her by the arm she might have believed him. He'd spoken with fierce confidence. But she felt the tremble in his hands before his fingers tightened solidly around her.
Their gazes collided but he blinked away any fear be fore she could make it out.
"I'll lead," Littles butted in. "I'm the one with the badge and the weapon."
Jayne swore softly.
"What did he mean by that?" Heath demanded as the deputy moved past them.
She hadn't wanted to go into this with Heath. She knew he'd make something of it. "The sheriff had a bad feeling about this call." That's all she intended to say. She yanked her arm free of his grip. "Stop wasting my time."
Heath insisted on staying in front of her, but didn't slow her progress. "Tell me exactly what he said."
Jayne ignored him. If this man was injured—if it was Thurman McGill—she didn't want to waste any more time talking.
"Jayne, tell me—"
Heath froze.
It wasn't a particular sound or movement that stopped him in his tracks, rather it was the total lack of either.
Nothing.
The sound of the deputy's plunge through the fresh snow had been silenced. Nothing moved. If the deputy had encountered the victim, why didn't he say any thing? Heath drew his weapon.
"Dammit!"
Jayne scrambled over the rock outcropping before Heath could grab her. She'd apparently sensed the same thing he had. He resisted the urge to call out to her. They rounded the slight dip and bend in the ridge at the same time.
Jayne abruptly stalled. "Dad?"
The word echoed in the air at the same time Heath's gaze landed on the man. He stood on the ledge as if he'd been dropped on that particular spot to wait for them. Deputy Littles lay at his feet.
Jayne would have rushed to aid her friend if Heath hadn't held her back.
Howard Stephens lifted one booted foot and pushed the deputy's too-still body over the edge. Jayne screamed, tried to tear away from Heath's hold.
"Don't move!" Heath commanded.
Stephens looked at him and laughed. "You must be kidding."
"Don't make me do this," Heath warned. Somewhere deep inside him he'd known all along that it would come to this. Danes had put him in this position. Had ordered the man's execution.
Stephens shook his head. "Do you really think I'm worried about you shooting me in front of my own daughter? No. I don't think so. I know what the two of you have been up to."
"Don't you do this, Heath," Jayne cried. "Don't." Devastation echoed in her voice, she shook violently.
Heath couldn't look at her, had to keep his full attention on Stephens. But he didn't have to look. He knew that her eyes would be wide with terror, bright with emotion. And this son of a bitch didn't care.
"Come to me, Jayne."
"No way." Heath tightened his grip on her arm. "She's not coming near you."
"It's over now, Murphy," Stephens said. "I already have the answer I wanted. It's Cole Danes. But don't worry, he won't get away with this. Sending you here did nothing but sign his own death warrant."
Heath kept his expression carefully schooled. "This is over, Stephens. Throw down your weapon."
Stephens snorted. "Oh, that's right. You're not going to give away anything, are you? It's all about the assignment, right? You don't want to screw this up like you have everything else in your life."
Heath clenched his jaw hard to fight the impact of the words…the truth. He fought fire with fire. "Why don't you tell your daughter how you screwed up her life? Maybe tell her about what you helped do to the Colby family or maybe show her your most recent kill list. I'm sure she'd find the names interesting reading."
Stephens took a bead right between Heath's eyes. "She'll never believe you over me. I'm still her father."
"You…you killed Deputy Littles," Jayne said, as if the realization had only just then penetrated.
"Come to me, Jayne," Stephens ordered. "I have a helicopter standing by. Let me take you away from this man. He only used you. He doesn't care about you."
Helicopter?
Jayne stared at her father. He stood on that ledge dressed much as she was, in full climbing gear. At first, she'd been confused. Lebron Littles was dead. Her father had pushed his body off the ledge. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blot out the image of him falling that bloomed in her mind's eye.
Her father had killed him. She hadn't heard the gunshot. Hadn't seen him do it, but it was true. Her mind just didn't want to accept it. Deputy Littles wouldn't have attempted to harm her father. There was no reason he would have represented a threat to her father…
Helicopter. Thurman McGill. Her father standing there with a gun. All the fragments coalesced in that instant.
"Did you hurt Mr. McGill? Did you use one of his helicopters to get up here and set this up?" Her eyes widened with her next thought. "It was you who called in the 9-1-1."
"Come to me now!" he commanded cruelly.
Jayne jerked at the sound. She hadn't heard her father shout like that since…memories flooded her. Long buried memories of a time when her father had done a lot of that. Shouting at her mother. Name calling. Cruel behavior. Her breath caught in a ragged gasp. How could she not have remembered?
"Drop your weapon, Stephens," Heath cautioned. "I don't want to have to shoot you, but I will."
"So shoot me," her father said, "and I'll shoot her. You think you can get a direct enough hit to stop me be fore I get one off? Trust me, Murphy, I won't miss."
Jayne went still. Heath felt the change.
"She's your daughter," Heath said, the words bitter on his tongue.
"I brought her into this world, I can take her out."
Jayne shuddered then abruptly wrenched away from Heath before he could stop her.
"Stay back, Jayne!"
She'd rushed straight up to her father before the warning stopped ringing in the air.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked as she peered up at the man she'd loved and made excuses for all these years. "I thought you loved me."
Heath readied his grip on his weapon at the sound of hurt in her voice. Killing this bastard was far too simple a fate for his heinous acts.
"I do love you," her father said, careful to keep his eye and his aim on Heath. "That's why I have to do this." He pulled Jayne close to his side, his full attention never leaving Heath. "You see, sweetheart, as long as you're alive they won't stop coming. Now that they know about us, they'll want to use you to get to me. I can't take that chance."
Heath snugged his finger around the trigger but couldn't risk the shot with her in her father's hold.
"Move away from him, Jayne," he urged, not completely successful at keeping the desperation out of his voice.
Jayne blinked, her brain still struggling with the harsh reality. The weapon in her father's hand twitched twice.
An almost inaudible hiss sliced the air after each twitch.
It took several seconds for Jayne to assimilate what her eyes saw. Heath fell to the ground. Her entire being went numb as her father released his hold on her long enough to kick Heath's weapon out of his reach.
She swayed but caught herself.
This couldn't be real.
She shook her head. Not real.
The hard clutch of her father's hands on her shoulders tore her from the dizziness of shock dragging at her consciousness.
"You understand why I have to do this, don't you, Jayne?"
Her gaze connected with his and for the first time in her life she did understand. He was h
er father. He loved her. But he was willing to sacrifice her or anyone else to save himself.
"Yes," she whispered, unable to push the words past her lips with any more force than that. "I understand."
The wind whipped up a little, swirling snowflakes between them.
"Good." He released her. "Then I'll let you do the honors." He gestured to the precipice of the snow-covered ledge. "You're a good daughter, Jayne. I know you won't let me down."
He was right. Not once in her life had she ever let him down. She'd trusted him, believed in him despite all that he'd done to her mother…to her.
She thought of Heath lying there, unmoving on the ground. Was he dead? If not he would be soon. He'd come here to warn her…to protect her. She hadn't believed him, had been taught not to trust. She'd never been allowed to have anyone, not really…because of her father. She went very still inside as the haze of years of lying to herself cleared.
"There's just one thing," she said, looking deeply into her father's eyes.
"Be quick," he suggested, certain of his destiny. "My enemies are too close for comfort."
"You go first!" Jayne plowed into him with all her weight…with all the rage bursting inside her.
He went down, the lower part of his body dangling over the edge. She stumbled back, fear pounding in her chest. He clawed at the ledge, grabbed onto her leg. She hit the ground—tried to reach the weapon he'd dropped. He pulled her farther away…she couldn't reach it!
"You little bitch!" he screamed.
She felt herself sliding, moving over the ledge.
Jayne grappled for a handhold. Couldn't grab on.
Her hips followed her legs over the precipice.
She screamed. Tried to kick him loose.
He hung on.
The sound of a gunshot shattered the frigid air.
The weight dragging her downward fell free.
The sudden shift loosened her grip on the snowy ledge.
