“Peter.” She said his name with a sigh and a tone of finality. “When Darcy fired into that mountain, Alanna made a choice. She left all those officers, including you.”
“She went after the kids! She—”
“If she was on our side, we would have heard from her by now.” Chief Hernandez put up a hand, as if to forestall the argument she knew was coming. “Maybe she’s in trouble. Maybe she’s already dead.”
Chance whined and got to his feet. Peter’s insides twisted until he felt himself hunch over from the pain of it.
“I’m sorry,” the chief said. “You’ve gotten too close to this. At this point, we have to consider Alanna an accessory to kidnapping.”
Peter jerked to a standing position, knocking his chair backward and making Chance step sideways out of the way. “She’d never actually help Darcy get away with those kids!” No matter how much she loved that woman, that would never happen.
“Peter, look around. Your partner is in the hospital and Alanna left her dog behind. She’s gone.”
“She’s coming back. She’d never leave Chance. She hung on to him in an avalanche!”
“I’m sorry,” Chief Hernandez repeated. “But it’s time. We’re going public with this and we’re naming Alanna, too.”
She gave him one last look, full of apology and residual anger and just a hint of distrust. Then she disappeared into her office and Peter sank back into his chair.
Chance promptly nuzzled up against him with so much force it pushed the chair backward, his whine a half growl, half cry.
“I know, boy,” Peter whispered. “This is bad.”
He stared at the chief’s closed office door, then over at the few other officers in the station, who were studiously ignoring him. He blew out a long breath and stood. “Come on, boy.”
Grabbing his coat, Peter strode for the door, trying not to run. Chance stayed right on his heels. With every step, he could feel the new career he’d fought so hard for slipping away.
But did he really have a choice? Alanna wasn’t guilty. And he couldn’t let her get hurt because she was trying to make amends for something that wasn’t her fault.
It was time to break ranks. It was time to search for Alanna on his own.
Chapter Eleven
Maybe Darcy hadn’t been as guilty as Alanna had feared.
Not that she was totally innocent. She’d escaped from law enforcement, fled across the country to hide. But for the first time, Alanna wondered if Darcy had been incorrectly blamed.
Had she really kidnapped those kids?
Alanna stared at the cell phone she’d been holding for the past ten minutes, at Peter’s direct contact that he’d entered yesterday. She was sitting in his truck, the truck she’d stolen, with the engine running in a tiny back alley on the outskirts of Desparre as the sun began to set.
Five years ago, in the process of trying to find her, Kensie had run into trouble with a criminal. Alanna had first seen her in this alley, from the rearview window of a car as it drove away. For the second time in her life, she’d watched her big sister screaming for her, but in the alley, it had been Kensie who was in trouble. Until her sister had appeared at the cabin, Alanna had thought Kensie had been killed here. Things had turned out okay then, but would they now?
Her phone had rung repeatedly for the past five hours, Peter’s name lighting up on her screen. When the first call came in, she’d been on Darcy’s tail, too scared to take her eyes off the vehicle for a second. She’d caught up to it a few miles away from the cabin. She hadn’t actually been able to see Darcy inside it, but the way the vehicle was speeding, taking corners much too fast, who else could it be?
An hour later, after she’d lost the vehicle—at that point not even sure it was Darcy she’d been chasing—she’d thought about calling Peter. But she hadn’t been ready to admit defeat yet. And she’d been terrified to learn what happened to the officers who’d been buried under that avalanche.
When the snow had first started rushing down that mountainside, she’d considered staying for about ten seconds. Peter had already been running toward it, Chance outpacing him. She’d known Chance would be better help digging people out than she would. Darcy had been right in front of her, running back into the cabin, ready to grab those kids and make them disappear again. At least, that was what she’d thought.
Alanna had felt like she was those kids’ only shot. She couldn’t let Darcy take them again.
Now here she was. Alone. No Darcy. No kids. Afraid to learn what had happened at that cabin.
Setting the phone next to her, Alanna flipped on the radio to a local station. Would this debacle have made the news?
“...officers are doing fine,” the host was saying and Alanna relaxed against her seat, grabbing her phone to call Peter, to check on Chance and apologize for all of it. Tell Peter what she’d discovered.
She’d been so sure she could talk some sense into Darcy. Of course, maybe she would have been able to if there hadn’t been officers hiding in the woods, signaling to Darcy that Alanna had already betrayed her.
She couldn’t totally trust Peter. Not even now, after they’d seemed to connect on such a personal level back at his house. The realization hurt. A lot. But it wasn’t the most important thing right now.
Alaska wasn’t her home anymore. Soon enough, she’d be back in Chicago, Peter a distant memory. Right now, though, she needed his help. Maybe if she was lucky, if she was right, he could help her prove that Darcy wasn’t a kidnapper at all. At least not anymore.
“Be on the lookout for escaped convict Darcy Altier,” the radio host continued. “If you see her, contact police immediately. She is armed and dangerous. Police are also looking for her accomplice, Alanna Morgan. In case you don’t remember the name, Alanna was one of five children kidnapped by Darcy Altier and her husband nearly twenty years ago. She—”
Alanna flipped the radio off, dropping her phone. The police had named her as an accomplice? After she’d told them where to find Darcy? After she’d run into that cabin, trying to rescue those kids, all without any police help?
And after what she’d found...
Darcy had been running out the back door. Alone.
At first, Alanna had thought she’d lucked out. That Darcy had decided to run and leave the kids behind, avoid putting them in the middle of a standoff.
But a quick search of the one-room cabin had shown Alanna that wasn’t the case. Darcy didn’t have the kids. Maybe she’d never had the kids.
Unfortunately, kidnappings happened all the time. An escaped convict—especially one who’d been in jail for a series of kidnappings—in close enough proximity to a new case would be an obvious suspect. Then, when another kid went missing in a part of Canada that was along a potential route Darcy could take to return to Desparre? Maybe that had been enough to cinch the investigation and Darcy had been innocent all along. This time, anyway.
Alanna would never know unless she found her. It was more obvious than ever that she couldn’t trust the police, couldn’t trust Peter.
She needed to do this alone.
* * *
“IT’S BETTER TO ask forgiveness than permission, right, boy?” Peter asked Chance as he sped them along the icy back streets of Desparre.
Chance’s head swiveled in the passenger seat and the look in his eyes suggested he had doubts.
Since Alanna had his truck, Peter had taken his police vehicle. He wasn’t sure how long he had before the chief noticed his absence and grew suspicious. Before she called him up and demanded he return to the station. Before he faced serious trouble for ignoring her orders.
Of course, she could track the police vehicle, too, have his fellow officers chase him down. But Peter hadn’t had time to find something else. At this point, he was looking at insubordination at best, aiding and abetting a fugitive at worst. What
was one borrowed police vehicle in comparison?
Even if he could get away without any charges being brought against him, he was probably finished in Desparre. He’d gotten the job because the department was desperate. Dozens of other applications around the state—even the country—had shown him how fast most police stations would eliminate him without an interview because of his hearing loss.
Unless there was drastic change, his career as a police officer was over. The idea made him nauseous.
Police academy had been brutal. He’d thought he was in good shape before he started, but he’d discovered that traipsing alongside soldiers in war zones hadn’t prepared him for the full physicality of chasing suspects for long stretches. It hadn’t prepared him for actually carrying his own weapon and learning not to flinch at the sound of it firing, which was just a little too similar to the boom of the explosion that had changed his life. It hadn’t prepared him for all the small adaptations he had to make just to be sure his bad ear didn’t put him or his fellow officers at increased risk.
He’d stuck it out, through the bruises and the flashbacks. He’d even worked through the bullying from an instructor who didn’t approve of Desparre PD bending their applicant rules to get another recruit willing to live in their remote town. The guy thought Desparre PD was unnecessarily endangering him—and that Peter could endanger his future colleagues by not being up to the job.
He’d worked hard to be a good officer, to make sure his disability didn’t impact his effectiveness. The day he’d graduated from the academy and gotten the official go-ahead to become a Desparre PD rookie, he’d felt a sense of accomplishment and joy headier than his first assignment as a war reporter.
Today he was throwing it all away.
Still, he didn’t turn around. No way could he just follow orders when those orders were putting Alanna at risk. No, the only shot he had at saving the career he’d grown to love so much was to bring in Darcy and save those kids.
At least he had an idea where to start. Sure, it was an idea based half on coordinates Alanna had decoded from her memory of the symbols she’d seen, half on guesswork. He had filled in the blanks, considering what else made sense based on the numbers she had and satellite images of the area. But guesswork was better than nothing. It was better than sitting in that station, waiting to hear that police officers in some other town had surrounded Darcy and Alanna. That they’d considered both women dangerous and were willing to sacrifice them in order to save two kidnapped children. That they’d shot first, asked questions later.
The very idea of anyone training a weapon on Alanna made him punch down harder on the gas. The first location he’d worked out wasn’t nearby. It was in the total opposite direction of the cabin in Luna, in a town even tinier than Desparre. A place that didn’t even have their own police force. It seemed like the best option for his quarry.
After all, there was no way to know how long he could run these leads alone before his fellow officers surrounded his car and demanded he stand down. Demanded he hand over his weapon and his badge.
As if sensing his thoughts, Chance let out a sudden woof that startled Peter into jerking the wheel. Chance was jolted in the seat and Peter righted the car on the slippery ice. “I know, boy. You’re my backup today.”
Alanna had told him how the St. Bernard had been rescued from a cruel owner as a puppy, how she’d gotten him certified as a therapy dog so she could bring him with her to work. It was as much to help her own anxiety as it was to help the trauma survivors she worked with, she’d said. Chance had known exactly when to comfort him at the police station, even when to support Tate out in the cold by the cabin; it was clear he was a damn good therapy dog. And given the way he’d raced into action during the avalanche, he probably would have made a good police dog, too.
“We’ll find her,” Peter told him, hoping it was true.
Chance whined softly, turning his attention out the front windshield. The dog seemed as desperate to find Alanna as Peter.
And he was desperate. There was no other word for it.
Four days ago, he would have scoffed at the idea that he could come to trust Alanna Morgan, let alone that he would care for her so much. But at his house, they’d connected. It had lifted a weight off him to be able to open up about his past. And he’d come to admire her fortitude after everything she’d experienced. If she lived in Alaska, if she wasn’t part of an ongoing case, he’d already be pursuing her romantically. The idea felt ridiculous and yet it made him yearn for something he hadn’t realized was missing from his life.
Maybe it wasn’t Alanna. Maybe it was just time for him to think about finding someone to settle down with, like all his older siblings. Have some kids, make a real home. Take down those pictures from war zones on his walls and move forward. Except how could he do that if he didn’t even have a job?
He shook off the worries he couldn’t be distracted by right now and slowed as he approached the coordinates he’d mapped out. He’d looked up the location online, zoomed in and seen what might have been a cabin. Perhaps it was a hiding spot for a desperate couple who’d known one day their crimes could catch up to them. Who’d suspected they would eventually be on the run again.
Adrenaline shot through him as he drove slowly past. It was hard to tell now that the sun was down, but up close, he realized there was a cabin. Tiny and tucked away from the street behind more woods, it looked a lot like the place in Luna from this afternoon. It was a well-built log cabin, similar in style to the house where the Altiers had lived in Desparre, the one they’d built by hand. Could Julian have built this place himself, too? Peter could see light through the windows.
This time he didn’t slow down, didn’t pull into the driveway. He drove right past and parked down the road where his vehicle wouldn’t be visible from the cabin.
For one crazy second, he considered calling for backup. But even though he and Tate had developed a strong friendship outside of work, he couldn’t ask his friend to risk his career. Besides, Peter didn’t even know if Tate was out of the hospital yet. And there was no one else he’d trust to protect Alanna no matter what they saw, no matter what happened.
“It’s you and me, boy,” he told Chance, his breath puffing in front of him as he stepped out of the vehicle. His boots broke through a top layer of ice with a noisy crunch, then sank down into more than a foot of snow beneath. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake letting the dog come, but he couldn’t just leave him in the SUV, hidden out here in the woods. What would happen if Peter was killed and no one knew he was here?
Chance leaped out of the vehicle, sticking close and moving silently. His big body was hunched over, the fur on his back raised, like he was stalking something. Like he knew exactly what they were doing and he, too, was willing to risk everything for Alanna.
“Be careful,” Peter whispered, simultaneously hoping that the dog understood and that Darcy wouldn’t hurt Alanna’s pet.
Chance glanced at him once, then looked back toward the cabin. The dog was focused and slinking forward as if he knew Alanna was in there.
Hoping he was right, Peter unholstered his pistol and crept slowly along beside Chance, toward the home. He moved from the cover of one tree to the next, cursing the wind that whistled past his ears as it limited his hearing even further. The snow was deeper here than it had been in Luna and the damp cold seeping through his jeans above the tops of his boots made him shiver. But at least the icy top layer was more melted here, his boots making a quieter crunch each time they broke through.
A shadow moved behind the curtains in one of the windows and Peter’s pulse jumped. It didn’t mean he’d found them, but someone was home.
He scanned the area and spotted something on the far side of the cabin, a brief reflection of light in the moonlight. Squinting at it, he realized with a start that it was his truck. Alanna was here.
Creeping closer,
he reached the edge of the woods, then made a run for the side of the cabin, staying in a crouch. Chance raced along beside him, reaching the cabin first. But he waited for Peter, giving him a look that seemed to ask, What’s the plan?
Flattening himself against the side of the cabin, Peter peered at the window, hoping for a gap in the curtains. There was nothing to see, so he tapped his thigh for Chance to follow and slunk to the back of the dwelling. He wasn’t worried about Chance barking. The dog was well-trained and seemed to sense the need to stay silent.
The windows here were the same, but just like the last cabin, there was a back door. For a building this small, it didn’t really need more than one entrance. Unless someone needed an easy escape route.
Peter tested the handle, expecting it to be locked. But it moved under his hand and he froze, hoping no one inside had seen it. For a moment, indecision gripped him, made all his muscles tense. Then he eased the door slowly open, angling his weapon so he could lead with it.
Though it probably wouldn’t help; doorways were one of the most dangerous places for police officers. You didn’t know what was on the other side, and the only way to find out if someone was standing there waiting with their own weapon drawn was to open the door and go inside.
He’d trained for this, Peter reminded himself. Sure, if he was here officially, he’d have a partner. But someone would still have to go through first. In police academy, you learned a simple series of steps to get you inside and out of a doorway as fast as possible. You learned the exact sequence your gun hand and your attention should move to eliminate any threats before they could eliminate you. Still, none of that changed the fact that dying as you came through a doorway was far too common for police officers.
He weighed calling out “police,” but thought it too risky. If Darcy was holding Alanna and the children, he could put them in jeopardy by alerting her to his presence.
He glanced sideways at Chance, who was waiting in a crouched stance as if he planned to bound in after Peter, and held up a hand, telling the dog to wait. Then he steadied his gun hand, ignored the senses-dimming staccato of his heartbeat and pushed the door wide.
Alaska Mountain Rescue Page 11
