Rescue on the Run Page 7

  Abby pressed the baby tightly to her chest as thick flakes swirled against her face. The clamor of frantic cries echoed behind them. But they were moving even faster now, almost flying across the ground.

  Thud! The sled hit something large and hard. A stump? Her body jolted upward and pitched to the side. She could feel Cal’s movements behind her, shifting his weight to keep them from getting knocked off course.

  She gasped as the surface dropped out from under them. A second later, they were flying through the air and then crashing to the ground, nailing the landing.

  They were almost at the tree line now. Ahead were rows and rows of pines, but the paths between them were narrow, littered with fallen branches and decaying stumps.

  “Watch out!” Cal called out.

  She clutched the baby closer, but the warning came too late to prevent a branch from slapping against her face. A rush of blood surged to her cheeks, but the cold quickly numbed her pain.

  And then, after the hurry and tumult, a strange sort of quietness filled the air. She realized with a start that she could no longer hear the shouts of their pursuers. The sled had skimmed across the ice into the shelter of the forest, and, at least for the moment, Ricky and the others seemed to have given up the chase.

  We’re safe. She breathed out a long breath she didn’t know that she had been holding. But her sigh turned into a scream as a large pine appeared in front of them. Cal leaned to the right to change their trajectory, but the sled continued to hurtle in a collision course with the tree.

  Her eyes clung to the sight with terrified fascination as the pine loomed closer and closer. There was nothing to do but pray.

  “Hang on!” Cal said as the sled upended, and they tumbled sideways into a drift. Instinctively, she pulled the infant against her body, bracing her forearms into a protective shield.

  “Please, God. Help us,” she whispered as she hit the ground and rolled onto her side, her arms instinctively cradling the baby’s tiny head.

  “Abby! Are you all right?” Cal reached out his hand, and she placed her own in his as he pulled her to her feet. “Is the baby okay?”

  She stared down at the infant in her arms. He sniffled and huffed. Opened his tiny rosebud mouth to pull in a breath. His lips tucked upward in a sad sort of smile. And then he fell back asleep.

  * * *

  Piling the extra blankets, Cal made a cozy nest, designed to keep their tiny traveling companion safe and warm. It lacked the sturdy protection of the crate, but it would do for the time being. And they could move faster if they didn’t have to trade off carrying the baby. They might even make it back to the highway before Ricky and his flunkies could follow their tracks.

  He grasped the rope and gave it a firm pull. He took two steps forward, then slowed his pace to wait for Abby.

  “What’s the plan here, Cal?” Abby said, falling in next to him as they trudged through the pines.

  He wished he knew. “At this point, the only plan is to put as much space as we can between us and the kidnappers.”

  “At least Isobel is safe.” Abby’s smile collapsed into a frown. “At least I hope so.”

  “I expect that she’s already checked in at the hospital. The trucker who stopped to help us seemed like a good guy. And Isobel was so weak at that point that I didn’t have much choice. Assuming the nine-one-one dispatcher managed to patch a call through to the station, a dozen or so deputies will soon be arriving at the bank.”

  “But Ricky and the others won’t be there.”

  “That’s true. But the authorities will realize what happened and send off a search party to comb the area.”

  They were quiet for a minute. The only sound was the crunch of their shoes against the snow.

  “So,” Abby said at last. “You’re probably wondering what happened with my sled.”

  When he didn’t answer, she continued.

  “I thought I was following along the path you left, but I ended up spinning sideways in the wrong direction. Then I got stuck in a snowdrift, and it all went 9-shaped from there.”

  “Not your fault. The snow was a lot slicker than I expected.”

  “But if I had kept control and hadn’t veered off your path, we wouldn’t be stuck out here with the baby, lost in the woods.”

  “We’re not lost. We’re in the process of finding our way. Besides—” he shrugged “—when it comes to mistakes, I seem to have cornered the market, starting with my decision to leave my cell phone in the truck. And I should have realized that Max and Martina’s plans involved something a lot more devious than robbing the bank.”

  Abby reached over and touched the sleeve of his coat. “Well, Cal, I suppose we both made mistakes. But you were the one who ended up saving the day. We were out of options when you found those sleds. Escaping through the skylight was a genius plan. You deserve all the credit for rescuing Isobel and the baby.”

  “It was a team effort,” he said.

  They walked awhile in silence. He shot another quick glance at Abby as she trudged along next to him. “You still doing okay?”

  She caught his eye and smiled back at him.

  “I’m good,” she said.

  Good? That was putting a positive spin on it. She had to be freezing. The shoes he had found for her in the attic were thin and flimsy, unlike his own insulated footwear. How much longer could she go before she began to show the signs of frostbite? Numbness, pain and swelling. Fever and the inability to move. He could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.

  He turned again to face her. “I know you don’t want to complain, but your feet must be really cold. Maybe you should ride on the sled next to the baby. Just for a while. You could use one of the blankets to warm up your legs.”

  “Cal?” Abby raised her voice to be heard over the wind. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m really am fine at the moment. I promise to tell you if I feel the start of frostbite. The trainers you found in the attic were a titch too small, so I slipped on an extra pair of socks that I found in a drawer in the break room. And I actually have another trick for keeping myself distracted. I’ve been thinking about Davey and the first thing I want to do when I bring him home to live with me. Did I tell you that I bought him a bike? I saw it on Craigslist, and it was the perfect size. It has training wheels and everything.”

  Davey, of course. He was learning that when Abby decided to do something, she didn’t proceed with any halfway measures.

  “That’s great, Abby. And if you need some help teaching him to ride without the extra wheels, I’d be glad to oblige. It would be fun to pay it forward for all the time my own dad spent running behind me holding on to the seat of my bike until I felt ready to strike out on my own.”

  Abby grinned. “I just might take you up on that.”

  He hoped that she did. He’d be glad to lend a hand any way he could. If things had gone differently with Shannon, he might’ve had a little boy like Davey to call his own.

  A wave of melancholy engulfed his senses. Why was it that grief never seemed to hit him straight on? Instead, it crept around unexpected corners, bent on knocking him flat. He shook his head, determined not to allow sadness to overtake him. He was usually an optimistic person. He didn’t even think about Shannon all that much anymore. So why was she on his mind so much tonight?

  He knew the answer even before he posed that question.

  It was because of Abby. And how much she reminded him of his wife.

  It wasn’t just Abby’s posh appearance—the designer clothes and the perfectly coiffed hair. It was something deeper, something that he had noticed just a couple of weeks into his job as sheriff.

  Arriving on the scene of a fatal accident, he had watched Abby’s desperate attempts to revive the driver, even after it was clear to everyone present that the man had stopped breathing and was gone. Over and over again, she’d admin
istered CPR, pushing hard and fast against the man’s chest, not stopping until she was pulled off by one of the medics. Dedication like that was to be admired, but over time, he had seen how that sort of single-minded determination became Shannon’s undoing in her career as an officer on the force. And how it had ultimately resulted in their decision to separate and then divorce.

  He had gotten to know Abby pretty well during the past few hours, and he had to admit that those sorts of comparisons to Shannon weren’t quite fair. Abby was determined and, courageous, but not to the point of being foolhardy. Abby was... He searched his mind for the best description, finally settling on empathetic and caring. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Abby wasn’t much like Shannon at all.

  But he’d been down a long, hard road when his marriage imploded, and all his hopes for the future were lost.

  And he wasn’t sure he was ready to take on anything like that again.

  SEVEN

  It was snowing harder now, and the trail was becoming increasingly difficult to navigate. Large, heavy flurries were leaking from the treetops, through the branches and onto the ground as a stiff west wind wiped away their footprints almost as quickly as they were made.

  Abby paused to stare at the felled pine blocking their path. Wasn’t that the same tree they’d passed a half hour ago? It couldn’t be. Could it? She traced her gaze toward Cal, who was walking beside her. His eyes seemed troubled, and she wondered if, like her, he suspected that they were walking in circles, past the same snow-covered landmarks again and again.

  She shot him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “It shouldn’t be much longer before we emerge from the trees. And once we get to the road, we’ll flag down someone passing by and hitch a ride into town.”

  “I don’t know, Abby.” He stopped to gaze at a cluster of pines ahead. “It’s hard to tell in the shelter of these tall pines, but the blizzard seems to be picking up steam. Not many folks are apt to be out and about in this kind of weather.”

  “Maybe. But all we need is one driver to stop and give us a ride. And isn’t there a chance that the inclement weather has scared off Ricky and the others? Is there a chance they decided to take the money they stole from the bank and head for home?”

  Cal shook his head. “It’s possible. But my gut tells me they’re still out there. I don’t know where, but I don’t think that they’ve abandoned the chase. Ricky doesn’t seem like the kind of person who gives up easily.”

  “But don’t you think that...” She paused midsentence as a boom reverberated in the distance. “What was that?”

  “Not sure. It sounded like it came from somewhere up ahead.”

  A second blast rumbled. The baby stirred and began to cry.

  Abby bent down and lifted the baby off the sled. “I’m going to hold the little guy for a bit, just until he calms down. I’ve missed having him in my arms.”

  “Okay. We can trade off carrying him. The gap between the trees is so narrow that it might be best to abandon the sled.”

  Abby nodded. The thud of the infant’s heartbeat beside her own was the motivation she needed to keep going, putting one foot in front of the other as she plodded through the drifts. She didn’t want to think about booms and blasts that shattered the silence of the night. And she didn’t want to think about Ricky and the other kidnappers lying in wait somewhere around the bend.

  Cal moved forward and took the lead. She stepped in his oversize footprints as he wove his way through the trees and across the uneven terrain. It was slow going. Her legs were tired, and her feet were cold. But that didn’t matter. She and Cal had jobs to do. They were in this together. It helped to think of their trek as part and parcel of their everyday duties, their commitment to saving lives and protecting the innocent.

  It had been clever of Cal to steer the sled into the trees where the SUVs wouldn’t be able to follow them. It evened the playing field, but only a bit. Growing up, she had known this forest like the back of her hand, but with the storm raging all around them, she lacked the certainty to navigate the way. It was almost impossible to recognize her usual landmarks under this much snow.

  Tears prickled at the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away. Hadn’t God already provided for them? Isobel’s labor had been straightforward. The baby was healthy, and so far, they had kept him out of Ricky’s clutches. Isobel was probably at the hospital, hooked up to an IV. The authorities were alerted to the situation. She breathed in slowly to steady her racing heart.

  “Thank you, God,” she whispered. “But please, help and guide us as we try to preserve this brand-new life.”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Cal’s excited voice broke through her thoughts. “Look what I found.”

  She hurried the few paces toward the spot where he was standing. Cal brushed aside a coating of flakes to reveal a rectangular plaque that had been hammered onto the trunk of a tall pine. “Hope Trail,” she read. “And the arrow is pointing straight ahead.” A glimmer of joy sparked in her chest. “I know this path! It isn’t the easiest or straightest route, but it leads to the scenic overlook of Highway 101! And, if memory serves, we’ll reach it in less than an hour.”

  Cal scratched his chin and his lips curved into a half smile. “Highway 101, you said? Isn’t there a gas station a short distance from the overlook? A couple of pumps out front and a small convenience store in the back? Maybe we should stop there and see if we can call for help. It would be a good place to hole up and wait for reinforcements.”

  Of course. One Duck Shop. She knew it well.

  “Here, let me take the little guy.” Cal reached out his arms. “You need a rest.”

  Abby peeked down again. She didn’t want to hand over the baby, but Cal was right. Her arms were stiffening up. Reluctantly, she passed the wrapped bundle to Cal. He unzipped his coat, folded one arm against his chest and then zipped it back up. With the baby’s little head popping out from the top of the zipper, Cal made easy work of his role of guardian and protector.

  “All right,” he said. “We can walk quickly, but we shouldn’t rush. We can’t afford to stumble over a fallen branch and break a leg.”

  Abby nodded. As much as she wanted to take off sprinting down the path, it wouldn’t help to be reckless. “Since you have the baby, let me go first.”

  She started forward. She had assumed that walking along the path would be easier than wandering through the forest, but the snow was thicker here, and the drifts were even larger than the ones near the trees. And heavy flakes were still coming down, obstructing her visibility. She could see three, maybe four feet ahead. She put her right arm out in front of her, and her left arm to the side, feeling for encroaching branches. As long as they stayed on the path, they would be fine. A few times, as she stepped forward, her hands brushed against the sharp needles of a nearby pine, and she would veer sideways away from the trees. Behind her, she could hear Cal’s heavy breathing. She was grateful that he was carrying the baby. All of her energy was channeled into navigating the trail.

  Behind her, Cal started to hum a song, and she smiled as she listened, trying to identify the melody. After a few more notes, she had it. “Baby Beluga,” an old favorite of hers and her brother, Gideon, when they were growing up.

  “Hey,” she said, slowing down so he could catch up and walk beside her. “I know that tune. My dad used to sing it to us whenever we visited the zoo.”

  “Your dad, huh? I haven’t met him, so I assume he doesn’t live on the reservation.”

  “No. He died when I was ten. He was driving me to camp when a semi came out of nowhere and plowed into our car. It was horrible. But the paramedics at the scene were amazing. I decided then and there that I’d found my future career.”

  If “horrible” described the accident, then “devastating heartbreak” would sum up the aftermath. Even now, twenty-five years later, the memory was
still fresh. The emergency responders had arrived within minutes of the call. One of them lifted her out of the car and wrapped her in a blanket and then sat with her and waited while the rest of the crew tried to revive her dad. They did everything they could to save him, but he never regained consciousness. He’d died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

  Her mom had a tough time dealing with the loss, retreating into a shell of sadness and despair. There were days when there wasn’t anything to eat in the refrigerator or any clean clothes to wear. Bills piled up, and creditors called all hours of the day. It was a dark, dismal couple of months for all of them.

  That was when she had first realized the negative side of loving someone, the feelings of helplessness and abandonment that came with loss. But, unlike her mother who had managed her grief by retreating from the world, Abby had accepted her new responsibilities with grim determination. Self-reliance became her coping mechanism.

  She could still recall announcing to her fourth-grade class that she would never get married because she was never going to fall in love. If riding her bike was any indication, falling was a painful experience, one that she didn’t care to repeat.

  Besides, her life, even as a ten-year-old, was already too full, between minding her younger brother and managing the house. Well-meaning neighbors had tried to help. So had the principal from her school and the social workers who had begun paying weekly visits to their ramshackle house. But it wasn’t until her uncle pulled up in front of their house with an empty U-Haul and a plan to take them to Dagger Lake that things took a turn for the better.

  Abby used the back of her glove to wipe away a tear. “I still miss him, even after all this time. I guess the way he died, with me there in the car with him, will be etched on my heart forever.”

  “It must have been awful.” Cal’s voice was soft and comforting.

  “It was for a long while. But there were unexpected blessings, too. We ended up moving back to the reservation, and I got to spend time with my brother. Before that, there were so many distractions keeping us apart. But in Dagger Lake, we bonded over our love of the outdoors and of fishing. Almost every weekend, we headed to the lake and cast out our lines.”