As they neared a sharp curve at the side of the cliff, she slowed down, glancing in the rearview mirror. Kruger took the bait. He advanced, ready to slam her bumper. A second later, she cranked the wheel to the left.
Kruger didn’t have time to slow down. His truck hit the guardrail at full speed and launched off the edge.
It was a very steep drop to the river below. She doubted he’d survive the fall.
Unfortunately, Hope couldn’t avoid her own disaster. When she swerved onto the gravel embankment on the opposite side of the road, she was going way too fast to correct her mistake. The wheel jerked out of her hands. She slammed on her brakes, but her tires found no purchase on the loose gravel. The Jeep skidded across the road, careening toward the guardrail in a shuddering slide.
Like Kruger, they went over.
* * *
SAM HAD WAITED all weekend for Hope to call.
On Sunday afternoon, she’d sent one short text about driving back from L.A. He texted back immediately: Come over. Even though she didn’t respond, he tidied up his house, washed the sheets, and stocked the fridge with groceries. Now it was late, and he still hadn’t heard back. Had she made it home okay?
After burning off some energy in the climbing gym, he checked his messages again. There was a strange text from Owen:
Hope is searching cabin owned by Dixon, 443 White Pine Ave
What the hell?
He tried to call a dozen times before Owen finally picked up. And then he didn’t even talk. Sam could hear Hope shouting in the background. It sounded like a car chase. When gunshots erupted, Sam’s knees started shaking. The term he’d heard climbers use for this reaction was “Elvis legs” or “sewing-machine legs.” It was a normal side effect of fear and physical exertion. Sam hadn’t felt it until now.
He didn’t know if he should hang up and call 911, or stay on the line. Forcing his wobbly legs to move, he stumbled toward the house phone. The problem with calling the police was that he didn’t know what to tell them.
“Where are you?” he repeated several times.
Owen shouted something about Cold Springs Road and hung up. Instead of using the landline, Sam grabbed his keys and ran outside, getting behind the wheel of his Range Rover. Cold Springs was off the 198, less than ten minutes away.
He drove like a madman to get there, taking a series of twisty mountain back roads. With his free hand, he dialed 911 to report gunshots and a vehicle accident on the 198. The operator kept asking questions he couldn’t answer. Making a sound of frustration, he ended the call and tried Owen again.
No response.
Cursing, he went north on the highway, searching for headlights. He passed Cold Springs and kept going. To his dismay, he saw a vehicle fly off the side of the cliff, near the tunnel. Tires squealing, he pulled over on the shoulder to take a better look. While he watched, horrified, a second vehicle followed the first.
It looked like Hope’s Jeep.
“No,” he croaked in disbelief. “No!”
Heart pounding, he leaped out of his SUV and ran toward the guardrail. One vehicle had plummeted several hundred feet and burst into flames. The other took a slower tumble down an angled slope. It landed in the ravine, out of his line of sight.
Into the middle of the river.
“Shit,” he said, jumping behind the wheel. He couldn’t get to them from here. He’d break his leg scrambling down the steep hill. Backing up, he turned around and headed the opposite direction. Kern Road was only a few hundred yards away. Its scenic bridge offered easy access to the riverbed. He squealed to a stop by the bridge and got out, hitting the ground running.
Sam knew he had to reach them in minutes. Occupants of a submerged vehicle were likely to become drowning victims. Assuming Hope and Owen had survived the plunge, they might still be trapped inside.
Please, God. Let them be alive.
He raced along the river’s edge, scrambling over rocks and skirting between trees. There was no path, and the ground was uneven. It was dark. Branches whipped across his face and tugged at his clothes.
When he finally reached the wreckage, he knew it was too late. Too much time had elapsed. The Jeep was upside down in the river, its back bumper almost invisible. The front end was completely under water.
He stared at the still, wet tires, his blood turned to ice.
This couldn’t be happening. Not again. He felt like screaming at the sky, bellowing until his voice went hoarse. If Hope was dead, he didn’t want to go on.
He pushed the thought out of his mind, baring his teeth. Fuck death. He’d defeat death with his bare hands. With grim determination, he shrugged out of his jacket and waded into the water, ignoring the cold bite. When it was waist-deep, he dove in, swimming the short distance to the vehicle. He took a deep breath and went under.
Sam was trained in swift-water rescue, as well as high-angle, so he understood the danger of approaching a vehicle in a river. It could shift and roll at any moment, trapping him below the surface.
But he was also well versed in taking extreme risks. If all of those free-solo climbs had prepared him for this task, he didn’t regret a single second on the rock face. He entered through the open front window, swimming around the cab. The passenger seat was empty. So was the driver’s seat.
He needed more air, so he exited the way he came and broke through the surface. After a quick gasp, he went down again. This time, he searched the backseats and the cab space, running his hands along twisted edges.
Nothing.
They weren’t here.
Sam knew what that meant. Some accident victims were thrown clear of the wreckage. Maybe Hope and Owen had been tossed from the Jeep as it fell. If they’d landed at the bottom of the cliff, their chances of survival were slim. If they’d ended up in the river, the bodies had already been swept away.
He swam back to shore, shuddering from the cold. Like a zombie, he trudged along the riverbed for another quarter mile. He didn’t see any broken remains, but he found the crash site where the Jeep had entered the river.
If they’d managed to get out, they’d be here.
Sam collapsed on the bank, numb. His chest ached with sadness. It felt as if there were a vise wrapped around his torso, crushing his internal organs. He was vaguely aware of a dull throb in his palm and blood dripping down his fingers.
It was nothing compared to the emotional pain. His heart was bleeding. He hadn’t been able to save Melissa, and he’d failed again with Hope. He hadn’t defeated death. Death had defeated him.
The hot sting of tears burned his eyes. He gave in to it, letting sorrow take him. Shoulders shaking, he hung his head and cried.
* * *
HOPE BRACED HERSELF for the crash, expecting to die in a burst of flames.
A couple of images danced in her mind in the seconds they were airborne. Her baby’s pink, wrinkled face as she let out her first cry. Faith on her birthday, blowing out the candles. Sam, asleep in the hotel bed.
How could her life flash by? It hadn’t even started yet.
Although they’d gone off the same cliff as Kruger, they didn’t take the same trip. Instead of flying into space like the General Lee, the Jeep tumbled end over end. Her seat belt caught hard across her chest, almost knocking the wind from her lungs. Twin airbags deployed. She couldn’t count the number of times the vehicle rolled. Her knees and elbows banged against the interior with every stomach-jolting impact.
When it finally came to a stop, they were both alive. She had about two seconds to count her blessings. Because the Jeep landed upside down in the Kern River.
The icy current rushed in the broken windows, hitting her like a slap in the face. Murky water filled her mouth and nostrils. She sputtered and choked, trying to avoid the deluge, but it was no use. The Jeep was fully submerged before the airbag had even deflated.
Her first instinct was to right herself, but she was dizzy and disoriented. She couldn’t breathe. The front end of the vehicle sank
to the river bottom and scraped along the rocks, groaning from the pressure.
She had to get out.
Pushing the airbag away from her face, she attempted a swimming motion. Her seat belt pulled tight, trapping her in place. Hope’s lungs burned from lack of oxygen. The extreme cold had stolen her motor skills and robbed her ability to think. She tugged on the seat belt in confusion. It wouldn’t budge.
Another pair of hands slapped hers away and released her seat belt. Her body floated up. Owen tucked a forearm under her chin and pulled her backward, out the broken rear window. They surfaced together, gasping.
He had saved her.
The tail of the Jeep was sticking out of the water, but it was hardly stable. Any minute, the current could sweep them downriver. As oxygen bubbled back into her brain, she realized they were in serious danger. The Kern was wider and deeper than the Kaweah. It claimed drowning victims on a regular basis. The longer they stayed in the water, the colder they’d get. They’d lose simple functioning.
“Can you swim?” he asked, shouting to be heard above the roar.
She didn’t have a choice. It was swim or die. “Yes.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
As they kicked away from the Jeep, it shifted, dislodging the rocks on the river bottom. Hope swam with all her might, fighting a current that threatened to suck her down, carry her away or trap her underneath the vehicle. Although it was a short distance to the bank, her arms grew heavy and her legs sluggish. She had to fight to keep her eyes open. The combination of shock and cold created a dangerous lassitude, inviting her to sleep.
When her foot glanced off the side of the Jeep, she realized it was gaining on her. A surge of panic gave her the strength to fight her way to the shore. She climbed out of the water on her hands and knees. Coughing and shivering, she collapsed next to Owen.
They watched the Jeep sail downriver, into the darkness.
“Wow,” he said, staring after it. “That was intense.”
Hope shrugged out of her soaked sweatshirt and took stock of her injuries. There weren’t any bones sticking out of her skin. She was cold, and she might freeze to death if she spent the night in wet clothes. But she wasn’t injured, by some miracle.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
Her cell phone was gone. So much for the photographic evidence she’d collected. “Where’s your phone?”
“In the river, I guess.”
Owen still had the flashlight in his pocket. After he gave it to her, she turned on the beam and evaluated his condition. The bite wound on his forearm looked awful. There was a jagged laceration and several deep punctures. He needed stitches.
She used her sweatshirt to make a sling for his arm. Once it was immobilized, he could walk comfortably. Their best bet was to travel downriver, rather than attempting to ascend the steep cliff. Before they headed that direction, Hope caught sight of flickering flames. She was curious about the wreckage.
“You think he’s alive?” Owen asked.
“No.”
“Should we check?”
“Might be wise.”
By tacit agreement, they started hiking toward the burning truck. It was less than a quarter of a mile away, on the other side of the river. When they got close enough to see the mangled truck parts, Kruger’s fate became clear. A blackened corpse sat behind the wheel of a twisted frame. The smell of charred flesh hung in the air.
“This didn’t end well,” Owen said.
“Not for him.”
He seemed surprised by her glib comment. She’d never thought of herself as hardened, but after the events she’d lived through, she felt a little disconnected from reality. She’d shot a man at Angel Wings. Now she had another death on her hands, and she hadn’t yet processed the first one.
She stared across the river, realizing that she regretted killing the dog more than the humans. Did that make her cold?
Faith was right. Hope had been isolated in the Sierras, insulated from loss and heartbreak. She had to stop distancing herself from others. Embrace her feelings.
A searchlight stabbed down the cliff, illuminating the macabre scene. Kruger’s face was scorched beyond recognition. The skin around his mouth had burned away, exposing his teeth in a chilling grin.
She grabbed Owen by the good arm and pulled him behind a pine tree. Flattening her back against the bark, she waited for the light to pass by.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WHEN THE COAST was clear, Hope and Owen weaved back through the trees along the riverbank, sticking close to the shore.
There was a bridge about a mile away on Kern Road. They could climb out of the ravine and walk to safety. As they neared the area where her Jeep had entered the river, Hope noticed a shadowy figure sitting on the bank. She froze in her tracks.
The man must have sensed her presence, because he lifted his head. “Hope?”
It was Sam.
He lumbered to his feet and strode forward, wiping his eyes. His clothes were soaked, like theirs. Looking back and forth between them, he blinked several times, as if he couldn’t believe they were real. “You’re alive,” he said, gripping her upper arms. With a strangled laugh, he embraced her, and then Owen. “You’re both alive!”
She realized that his clothes were wet because he’d searched the wreckage. Her Jeep must have been visible downriver. As she pictured him diving beneath the surface and swimming through the empty cab, she started to shiver uncontrollably. He’d risked his life to attempt a rescue that would never have been successful.
Had he been...crying?
He’s in love with you, Faith had said. Hope still wasn’t convinced, but his repeated, superhuman efforts to save her felt good.
“I thought the river had swept you away,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I thought you were dead.”
With a sudden rush of clarity, she understood why she’d been avoiding his calls. It wasn’t her fear of falling in love with him. That was a fait accompli. She was afraid of losing him. She hadn’t allowed herself to get attached to a man since she’d given up Grace.
“I’m fine,” she said, her heart racing. “Owen needs to get to a hospital.”
“What happened?”
She gave Sam the abbreviated version, glancing toward the top of the cliff. There were multiple flashing lights now, indicating that patrol cars had descended on the scene. The trees and shrubs along the riverbank made excellent cover, but they couldn’t linger here for long without being discovered.
Sam’s euphoria at finding her in one piece disappeared. Anger flared in his eyes, masking his other emotions. “You broke into Kruger’s cabin?”
“I used a key,” she mumbled.
“What did you find?”
She told him.
“You took photos of a toilet and muddy boots,” he said in a flat tone. “That’s the evidence you almost died for?”
Hope fell silent, not bothering to mention the photos were gone.
He turned his wrath on Owen. “You thought this was a good idea?”
“Not...really,” Owen said, wincing.
“Why did you call him instead of me?”
“I didn’t call him,” she said. “And you wouldn’t have gone along with it.”
“Exactly!”
Hope stomped past him. “Let’s continue this conversation at the hospital. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing my ass off.”
“You’re lucky your ass isn’t scattered across the cliff,” he said, following her. “What if you’d been killed? What if Owen had been killed?”
She clamped her mouth shut, skirting around a tree. His free-solo habit was more dangerous than anything she’d ever done, but they’d discussed that already. She didn’t think it was fair for him to criticize.
Before they reached the bridge, Hope paused, seeing more lights in the distance. “Did you call 911?”
“Of course.”
“They’re here.”
/> “Good.”
For once, she wasn’t glad help had arrived. Ambulances came with squad cars, and she didn’t trust anyone in law enforcement. Meeks could be waiting, ready to take her for a ride. She moistened her lips, glancing across the river. There was a forest service road on the other side of the Kern. Maybe they should make a quick escape.
“Sam,” a man shouted in the distance. “Sam, are you there?”
It was Dixon.
Although they were in the sheriff’s jurisdiction, it wasn’t unusual for NPS to respond to the scene. Rangers often took emergency calls outside park limits, and the accident involved three of its employees.
Dixon’s presence wasn’t suspicious, but she didn’t trust him. He had ties to the drug smugglers. They’d held Faith in his cabin. Kruger was his brother-in-law. The facts added up, and not in his favor.
She started to backtrack, her pulse racing. Her shoulders met the hard wall of Sam’s chest.
“What should we do?” he asked in a whisper.
“Go on. Tell him you couldn’t find us.”
He shook his head fiercely. “We stay together.”
There was no time to argue, so she took him by the hand and went the opposite direction. His reluctance to leave them made her heart swell with emotion. She didn’t know if his feelings were real, or fueled by adrenaline. They’d battled several life-or-death situations together. Would he lose interest once the smoke cleared?
Hope didn’t want to think about that—and they had to survive first. Avoiding Dixon and the rescue crew meant crossing the river again.
None of them wanted to take another swim, but they didn’t have much choice. Teeth chattering, she waded into the current with Sam and Owen. When they reached the other side, she was chilled to the bone. Dripping wet, they climbed the embankment to the dark, deserted forest service road.
“Where does this go?” Sam asked, glancing to the right.
“Terminus Dam. It follows the river for a stretch and then winds around uphill.”
Freefall (No) Page 23
