Freefall (No)

by Jill Sorenson

  They started walking. Going the other way would take them right back to Dixon.

  At least the hike would keep their blood pumping and prevent hypothermia.

  After about a mile, they stopped to rest at a lookout point. Sam’s cell phone wasn’t working. Hope couldn’t see much through the trees lining the ravine, but lights from emergency vehicles were still visible near the bridge on Kern Road. An accident crew was working the scene at the top of the cliff. They’d need a crane to bring up the remains of Kruger’s truck.

  Her sweatshirt made a wet, uncomfortable sling for Owen. She took it off and Sam used his utility knife to cut the fabric into long strips. As she bandaged the wound, she noticed a cut on Sam’s hand.

  “Let me see that,” she said, grasping his wrist.

  He turned his palm up, showing a deep laceration. “Your Jeep bit me.”

  When she was done fixing up Owen, she wrapped a strip of fabric around Sam’s hand, tying it over his knuckles.

  “How’s your sister?”

  “Better,” she said, glancing up at him. “She rested most of the weekend. Had a few nightmares.”

  His eyes glinted in the dark. “You avoided my calls.”

  “I didn’t know what to say,” she admitted. The thought of confessing her feelings to him scared her more than their current predicament. Maybe they could keep running away from their troubles...together.

  While she pondered that, a vehicle turned on the forest service road and started heading uphill. “Hide!”

  They scurried behind some prickly manzanita bushes and crouched down, waiting for the vehicle to pass.

  “Your sweatshirt,” Sam whispered.

  They’d left the torn remains on the side of the road, and there was no time to retrieve it. She stayed put, praying the mistake would go unnoticed. An old Chevy pickup chugged around the corner, going slow. Searching.

  “It’s Morgenstern,” she said.

  “Should we run?”

  She hesitated. The park volunteer might spot the motion and call for reinforcements. Maybe if they stayed still he wouldn’t see them.

  The pickup rolled past the sweatshirt and stopped, shifting into Reverse. So much for not getting caught. He took out a flashlight and pointed it at the wet bundle. She had to take action before he communicated this find to NPS. Morgenstern was a loose cannon, but he hated Kruger and Dixon. He might help them just to be contrary.

  She scrambled out from behind the bushes. “Over here!”

  Morgenstern moved the beam of light to her face. “Banning?”

  She squinted, shielding her eyes with one hand. Sam and Owen rose up behind her. “We need a ride to the hospital.”

  “They’re dredging the river for your Jeep.”

  “Can you help us?”

  He harrumphed an agreement, motioning with the flashlight. “Get in.”

  There wasn’t room in the front seat for all of them, so Sam climbed into the bed of the pickup. Hope sat in the middle, between Morgenstern and Owen. The truck smelled like sweat and menthol cream.

  “Take the long way,” she said.

  He stepped on the gas, heading uphill. The road passed by Terminus Dam and circled back toward Visalia, where the nearest hospital was located. Morgenstern didn’t argue with her about the route or ask any questions. Although he was a brooding, taciturn sort of fellow, his lack of curiosity struck her as...curious.

  “How did you know we were out here?”

  “I didn’t,” he said.

  “You were just driving by?”

  Morgenstern frowned, his uneven mustache covering his entire upper lip. “No. I heard about the accident on my radio.”

  As a volunteer, he wasn’t supposed to have a radio among his personal belongings. She didn’t see one inside the truck, either. While she looked around for it, puzzled, he picked up speed, traveling a little too fast around the curves.

  Something wasn’t right.

  She glanced at Owen, who appeared tense and pale beside her. Morgenstern gripped the wheel with hairy knuckles. For a man in his sixties, he was in pretty good shape. He was tall and knobby, carrying no extra weight.

  “Where’s your radio?” she asked.

  “I must have left it in the trailer.”

  “Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Nope. Things cause cancer.”

  Although it sounded like a typical Morgenstern statement, cranky and cynical, she knew he was lying. She’d seen a cell phone in his trailer just a few days ago. He’d put his bologna sandwich right next to it.

  Why would he tell her he didn’t have any communication devices? There was only one reason she could think of.

  He didn’t want her to call for help.

  Judging by his increasingly reckless driving, Morgenstern was aware of her suspicions. He took the turns at full speed, his tires kicking up gravel, slipping on the soft shoulder. Sam was getting the ride of his life in the back. He banged on the rear window in an unsuccessful attempt to get Morgenstern to slow down.

  “You couldn’t leave well enough alone,” he growled. “You had to poke around in everybody’s business.”

  Hope gripped the dash with one hand, bracing herself for a crash. Owen also assumed a defensive posture. He looked ready to protect her from Morgenstern’s blows. “You were in on it with Kruger?”

  “Your whore sister wasn’t even hurt.”

  She wanted to punch him for badmouthing Faith. “Why would you get involved in this? You hated Kruger.”

  “I hate Dixon more. We had that in common.”

  Morgenstern’s animosity wasn’t difficult to understand. Dixon had been in the unenviable position of laying off the “less productive” employees when the recession hit. Morgenstern and his wife were among the first to go.

  She didn’t know why Kruger resented his brother-in-law. Dixon had given him an honest job and a decent home. Instead of appreciating those generous gifts, Kruger found a way to exploit the situation further.

  One thing was clear: these men had conspired against Dixon, not with him. Hope had run away from the wrong man—and jumped right into the enemy’s truck.

  “It’s over now,” she said, her stomach clenched. “They’ll investigate and connect you to Kruger. The evidence at the cabin...” She trailed off, aware that Kruger’s boots and toilet tank wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Not without a statement from her or Faith.

  Morgenstern concentrated on the road, his face a cold mask. They’d arrive at the dam in moments.

  Terminus Dam was on the opposite side of Moraine Lake, built along the edge of a very sheer cliff. It was a long way down to the bottom. Hope’s breath quickened as she pictured their bloody corpses at the base of the spillway. When the river water poured in, which happened at regular intervals, their bodies would be swept clear.

  She turned to Owen, her pulse racing. “Jump out on the next turn,” she said in his ear. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  Morgenstern put the pedal to the metal, as if anticipating their actions. When they spun around the curve, Owen opened the door and tumbled out. He timed the escape perfectly, rolling clear of the tires. Hope scooted across the seat, eager to follow. Morgenstern grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back. Pain seared her scalp.

  She balled her hand into a fist, blinking the tears from her eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  SAM KNEW THEY were in trouble when Morgenstern’s driving became erratic.

  One minute he was sitting in the back of the pickup, cold and uncomfortable, teeth rattling with every bump in the road. The next he was flying across the rusted metal flatbed, slamming into the wheel well.

  When he regained his bearings, he crawled toward the rear window and pounded on it. He wanted Hope to slide the divider open, but she didn’t even glance over her shoulder. She kept her attention on Morgenstern, her lips moving as she spoke. They appeared to be having a serious conversation.

  For
the next few minutes, Sam concentrated on staying in the back of the truck. He was thrown up in the air, jolted sideways and almost knocked out. After he found a haul hook to grab on to, he gripped it like a pommel and held tight.

  Owen fell out of the passenger side and rolled down a gravel embankment, landing free of the spinning tires.

  Holy shit!

  Sam searched the interior for Hope. It was hard to see clearly while the truck was bouncing up and down on the dirt road. When he caught sight of Morgenstern’s fist in her hair, Sam’s vision went red.

  Mother. Fucker.

  Hope was under attack, and he couldn’t help her. The passenger door was still open, banging in the wind as the truck flew around corners. It didn’t seem possible to climb into the cab that way. Sam wanted to bust through the rear window, but he didn’t have a blunt object. Morgenstern’s window was closed.

  While he watched, powerless, Hope fought like a wildcat. She punched Morgenstern in the nose and clawed his face. He hollered a protest and extended his arm, holding her at a distance. She continued to struggle, pummeling his shoulder.

  Sam had to get inside the vehicle through the open passenger door. It was his only option. The road straightened, making it easier for him to stay upright in the back of the truck. His stomach plummeted as he looked ahead. They were almost at the top of the dam. Morgenstern might drive the truck right over the edge.

  At this speed, the guardrail wouldn’t stop them.

  He gripped the doorjamb with one hand and climbed over the side, stretching out his right leg until his foot touched the passenger seat. Swallowing hard, he glanced at the road again, judging the number of seconds before they were airborne.

  Less than ten.

  No time to hesitate. He lifted his other foot from the bed of the truck and shifted his weight forward, straining toward the interior. Morgenstern swerved back and forth, trying to shake him off. Sam almost couldn’t hang on. The open door banged against his ribs, causing a sharp pain. He clung to the jamb, half in, half out.

  Morgenstern’s attempt to dislodge him didn’t work, but he’d robbed Sam of any opportunity to get inside and take control of the vehicle. They’d be sailing into space in five seconds.

  Four.

  Three.

  Hope reached for the transmission lever, her fingers splayed wide. At the last possible moment, she gripped the lever and dropped the truck into Neutral. Morgenstern cranked the wheel to the left and slammed on the brakes, cursing. The truck came to a hard stop against the guardrail, its passenger side parallel with the edge. Sam flew backward, into the precipice. He collided with the hanging passenger door and managed to hook his arm through the open window. That arm saved him.

  His legs dangled above a deadly drop. A piece of groaning metal was the only thing between him and the spillway several hundred feet below.

  “Sam!”

  Forcing his legs not to scissor wildly, he glanced at Hope. Morgenstern was dragging her out the driver’s-side door. While Sam fought for his life, she fought for hers. Punching and kicking, she made a valiant effort to break free.

  The door wouldn’t hold forever. A pin popped loose from the hinge, dropping him down a few inches. His stomach plunged all the way to the bottom. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs toward the guardrail, hooking one foot under the lip. The climbing maneuver worked. Once braced, he pulled his body closer to the truck, stretching out his arm to reach the doorjamb. He hauled himself upward, into the cab.

  Sam scrambled across the seat and stumbled out the other side, looking for Hope. Morgenstern was standing at the edge of the dam.

  With a gun to her head.

  Although he was on terra firma now, Sam felt dizzy. He’d reached his breaking point. If they survived this, he’d never court death again. He’d never free-solo. He wanted a different life. A quiet life. Any kind of life, as long as it involved Hope.

  He was in love with her.

  Jesus.

  What a moment to realize the extent of his feelings. He was paralyzed with the fear that he wouldn’t get the chance to tell her. She might die here, on this very spot, never knowing how much he cared.

  Trying not to panic, he inched closer. “What do you want?”

  Morgenstern ground the barrel of the gun against Hope’s temple until a whimper escaped her lips.

  Sam forced himself not to react. “If it’s money, I have millions.”

  The offer seemed to enrage Morgenstern. He tightened his grip on Hope’s hair, his eyes burning with fury. Sam didn’t know if he planned to kill them and himself, or just them. He’d almost driven off the cliff.

  He was clearly capable of pulling the trigger.

  Morgenstern kept his gaze on Sam. “When I was young, all of the rangers were men. Then bitches like this one came along to ruin everything.” He shook Hope for emphasis. “Demanding equal pay. Taking jobs they couldn’t handle.”

  Sam thought Hope handled herself as well as, if not better than, her male counterparts. She was brave and dedicated to a fault.

  “My wife worked as a park secretary for twenty-seven years,” he continued. “She never complained, never showed up late, never called in sick a single day. She got cancer the year she was laid off. Six months later, I was forced into early retirement because of a bad knee. We couldn’t afford treatment.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hope said. “Please, don’t—”

  “Hush up,” he said. “I needed thirty thousand dollars for Maureen’s chemotherapy. Insurance wouldn’t cover the costs. It might as well have been thirty million. When I asked Dixon for my job back, he refused.”

  “Why not shoot him, then?” Sam asked.

  “If he was here, I would.”

  “Hurting an innocent woman won’t change anything.”

  “It’ll get his attention. Maybe get him fired. Kruger and I were running marijuana right under his nose. He’s a disgrace.”

  “If you really want attention, shoot me,” Sam said. “I’m a fucking icon around here. Nobody cares about Hope.”

  “Don’t shoot him,” Hope said shrilly. “He’s suicidal. He’ll enjoy it!”

  “I’m not suicidal. She’s lying.”

  “I’ll shoot you both,” Morgenstern warned.

  “I liked Maureen,” Hope said.

  “You’re not fit to say her name!”

  “She supported the female rangers, Alan. She was a good person. Don’t sully her memory this way.”

  “Let Hope go,” Sam begged. “Take me.”

  Hope’s face crumpled with sadness. Sam felt a matching pressure behind his eyes. He didn’t want to die. Not anymore. He wanted to grow old with Hope, but he’d give his life for her in a heartbeat.

  Morgenstern wavered, looking back and forth between them. He might be a sexist, disgruntled madman, but he’d loved his wife. Her death had driven him crazy. Sam knew how that felt.

  “Don’t kill an innocent woman,” Sam said. “Think of your wife.”

  The volunteer glanced over the edge of the dam, considering. Lights flashed across the wide expanse. Two squad cars were approaching from the opposite side. They’d arrive on the scene in minutes.

  Sam exchanged a glance with Hope, his body humming with tension. More deputies might cause Morgenstern to do something rash. Sam stepped forward with caution, praying he could save Hope.

  “Stay back!” Morgenstern shouted.

  Sam went still.

  “I only wanted justice for Maureen,” he said in a strangled voice. “I only wanted my due for a lifetime of service.”

  Hope stared at Sam, her expression taut. If Morgenstern was going to shoot, he had to shoot now. The squad cars were almost upon them.

  Making a tortured sound, Morgenstern shoved Hope forward and leaped over the guardrail. He fired three times in rapid succession, aiming at the sky. It was a startling rebellion, cut short when his body hit the ground below.

  Sam rushed toward Hope, drawing her slack form into his arms. She was in sho
ck, her shoulders trembling.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, studying her face.

  “No.”

  He cupped his hand around her neck and brought her head to his chest, tears of relief spilling from his eyes. Even if she had cuts and bruises and broken bones, he was overwhelmed with happiness.

  Because she was alive.

  * * *

  HOPE DIDN’T STOP shaking until they got to the hospital.

  The heater in the squad car was on full blast, and she had a safety blanket wrapped around her, but she couldn’t seem to get warm. When they arrived at the emergency room, she was treated for mild hypothermia. A nurse gave her a gown to wear while her clothes were laundered. As soon as she was dry, she felt better.

  Sam needed five stitches in his palm. Hope returned to his side during the procedure, offering her emotional support.

  “Looks like you’ve got a new lifeline,” the doctor joked.

  Hope met Sam’s gaze, startled by the words. “I think you’re right,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  After a few hours, their clothes were returned and they were free to go. They went to check on Owen, who was being prepped for surgery.

  His injuries were more extensive than she’d realized. The dive he’d taken out of Morgenstern’s truck hadn’t helped. His bite wounds went down to the bone, and he had a torn ligament in his elbow. An orthopedist had been called in to repair it.

  Hope had spoken to Dixon and the sheriff at the top of the dam. She’d explained her impulsive search of the cabin and the resulting car chase. Dixon had seemed insulted that she’d suspected him of drug smuggling, but he didn’t scold her. The fact that he’d been oblivious of his brother-in-law’s criminal activities wouldn’t sit well with the park superintendent. Instead of riding her ass, Dixon needed to cover his own. Special Agent Ling was coming in tomorrow to oversee a park-wide investigation.

  They found Owen in a bed near the operating room. He looked a bit woozy, as if he’d been given morphine. Sam reached across to shake his good hand, holding it for a moment. “Playing the hero again, I see.”

  Owen glanced at Hope questioningly.

  “Hope told me you pulled her out of the Jeep,” Sam said. “Pretty hard to do with a messed-up arm.”