In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (40 page)

As Nick took the tool, he prayed he'd have a chance to use it.
They were pinning all their hopes on one piece of information
in Debra's story. Perhaps she'd just remembered seeing the plow
during her scouting expedition. Maybe it had remained in her
memory not as a marker for the spot where she'd left Rachel,
but because it reminded her of the story about her bicycle.
Maybe...

"You want to ride or walk?"

At Mark's question, Nick did his best to tamp down his panic.
The K-9 vehicle that had pulled up next to them had already
headed down the road. The plan was for the dogs to begin at
opposite ends and work toward each other as they tried to pick
up Rachel's scent. Nick and Mark would follow the one that
began at the main road.

"Walk" Despite the bitter wind, Nick wanted to be on the
ground, not cocooned in warmth. "You can follow in the car"

In response, Mark tossed him one of the black balaclavas
they wore on cold-weather SWAT call-outs. Pulled his own on.
Turned up the collar of his coat. Set off down the road.

The measure of friendship was often taken in high-pressure moments, Nick knew, and his throat tightened with emotion
as he tugged on the protective head covering and followed
Mark.

The K-9 team beginning its search at the entrance to the
road had already started down the two-lane path, and Nick and
Mark fell in behind the officer and dog. The sky was clear and
the moon bright, rendering the flashlights they'd retrieved from
the car almost unnecessary.

They walked in silence, the only sound the crunch of their
feet on the frozen ground stubble, the rattle of bare branches as
the wind shook the trees, and the panting of the dog who was
tackling his task with focus and enthusiasm.

With every minute that ticked by and every yard they covered,
Nick's anxiety grew exponentially. According to the farmer on
the adjacent property, the overgrown road they were traversing
was only about a quarter of a mile long. It wouldn't take the two
dogs long to cover that distance.

And if this turned into a wild goose chase, Rachel would
die.

Because they were out of time.

Five minutes later, Nick's heart sank when he spotted the
other K-9 team a hundred feet ahead.

"Is there a secondary location?" The officer in front of them
called the question over his shoulder as the dog continued to
nose along the ground and tug on the harness.

"No" Mark answered when Nick remained silent.

"We can retrace our route, but these dogs are good. Rico's
never missed-"

All at once, the dog stopped, sniffed, grew excited. He tugged
on his harness, urging the officer to the side of the road, straining toward the woods.

"I think we have something'

Yanking his BlackBerry off his belt, Mark punched in Steve's number and relayed the news as the police officer and dog
plunged down an indistinct path through the woods.

Please, God, let this be it! Nick's pulse began to pound as he
followed close on the team's heels.

They'd gone no more than a hundred feet when Rico stopped,
sat, and perked up his ears.

Nick had done enough work with K-9 units to recognize the
dog's posture as a passive alert. He'd found something. But it
couldn't be Rachel. There was no building of any kind in sight.

The officer bent down and carefully moved aside the dead
and decaying leaves with a stick. Nick joined him, watching as
his probing uncovered a pair of thin, supple leather gloves. He
recognized them at once.

Rachel's.

He recalled teasing her about them the day he'd gone to tea,
pointing out their limited practicality in cold weather. She'd
laughed, responding that her bulky thermal pair weren't quite
appropriate for the chic hotel where she played. And that a
woman had to sacrifice warmth for style on occasion.

His spirits soared. They were on the right path!

"Look how these were left. I don't think they were dropped
by mistake:" Mark crouched to examine them.

Nick took a closer look. He was right. The gloves had been
folded together into a small ball and tucked off to one side of
the path, under some leaves.

Rachel had left them a clue.

Despite her fear, despite possible injuries, she'd been trying
to send searchers a signal.

Amazing.

"Good for her," Mark said softly, echoing Nick's thoughts.
"I'll get the local EMTs in here" He pulled out his BlackBerry
as he stood.

Once the officer rewarded the dog with a treat, he urged Rico to move ahead. The dog didn't need much encouragement. As
if sensing that the object of his search was nearby, the animal
surged forward.

Two minutes later, when the small group emerged in a clearing, Nick took cursory note of the small pond off to one side as
the dog headed straight for a decrepit outbuilding constructed
of cement blocks.

But as he swung his flashlight across the facade, what he
noticed most was the shiny new padlock.

"Pay dirt," Mark declared, pulling out his BlackBerry again.

Hammer in hand, Nick sprinted across the uneven ground,
his heart pounding. Please, God, let her be alive!

While the officer rewarded his canine partner with another
treat, Nick went to work on the padlock. It took several blows,
but at last the shackle disengaged.

As he unhooked the latch and prepared to enter, Nick knew
that as long as he lived he'd never face a moment this terrifying again.

Because what he found on the other side of the door would
affect the rest of his life.

For better or for worse.

The beam of Nick's flashlight found her at once. She was curled
into a fetal position just inside the door, her back to him.

Lying still as death.

His heart lurched, and he tried to swallow past the rancid
taste of fear as he stepped over Rachel and knelt beside her.
He took a quick inventory, noting the shredded stockings, the
abrasions on her feet, the soiled blouse that would never be
pristine white again. Her hair had fallen across her face, and
he gently lifted it aside. The bloodied bump on her temple
quickened his pulse. As did the iciness of her pale skin as his
fingers brushed over it.

Worst of all, he saw no indication that she was breathing.

Steeling himself, he leaned forward to press his fingers against
the carotid artery in her neck. He thought he detected a very
shallow pulse. But he wasn't sure.

"Come on, Rachel, stay with us." The plea came out in a ragged
whisper as he stroked her cheek.

A commotion at the door caught his attention, and he
looked up. Two EMTs stepped over the threshold, followed
by Mark and a couple of other agents, who wedged themselves into the corners of the small building and used their
flashlights to provide some illumination for the emergency
technicians.

"The helicopter's five minutes away," Mark told him. "We're setting up flares in the field to guide it in. There's plenty of room
to land. How is she?"

"I don't know." Nick choked out the words and moved aside
as the EMTs took over.

The silence in the small space was heavy as the two technicians checked Rachel's vitals, then exchanged a look.

"What?" Nick asked, tensing.

"Pulse and respiration are very slow." As the technician
spoke, the EMTs spread a thermal pad on the ground. "Lift
her slow and easy," he warned his partner. "On three. One.
Two. Three."

In one smooth motion, they transferred Rachel to the pad,
still curled in the fetal position.

The whump-whump-whump of rotor blades registered in
Nick's consciousness. The sound grew rapidly louder as one of
the EMTs placed a light blanket over Rachel.

"Didn't you guys bring anything warmer than that?" Nick
snapped.

"We're trying to avoid afterdrop"

"What's that?"

"A further decrease in core temperature. If we rewarm the
periphery, the vessels in the arms and legs will dilate and send
cold blood to the core, causing a further decrease in temperature. You can kill people that way. It's important to rewarm the
core first"

Nick swallowed. Hard. If he'd been in charge, he'd already
have made a deadly mistake. "How do you do that?"

"With specialized equipment like IV warmers and warm,
humidified oxygen. The medevac team will be equipped to measure her core temperature"

As he waited for the paramedics on the helicopter to arrive,
Nick moved closer to Rachel. She was curled on her right side,
and he reached for her left hand-only to discover that it was clenched around the cross she still wore around her neck. He
couldn't pry her white fingers loose, so he closed his own hand
around hers. And continued to pray.

Sixty seconds later, the medevac team arrived and took over,
led by a man Nick estimated to be in his late forties. He had the
tanned, weathered face of a sailor, and his light brown hair-cut
in a short, military style-was liberally salted. As the two local
EMTs moved aside, he stepped over Rachel, noting Nick's grip
on her hand before he nudged him aside.

"You look like FBI:"

"Special Agent Nick Bradley"

"Kevin Callahan. You have a personal interest in this
case?"

"Yes" At this point, Nick saw no reason to hide his feelings
for Rachel. Besides, he wasn't about to budge from her side.

"Okay. You can stick close. Just stay out of my way."

"You must be the Coast Guard hypothermia expert"

The man was already checking Rachel's pupils, but his lips
twitched into the glimmer of a smile. "I guess we'll find out
how expert I am:" He examined her exposed skin as he spoke to
the two paramedics who'd accompanied him. "We've got some
cyanosis. Let's get a tympanic sensor on her. See if you can find
a vein that isn't collapsed and start an IV. Normal saline:"

The small space fell silent except for the rustle of movement as
the paramedics worked. Kevin eased Rachel onto her back and
carefully worked open the buttons on her blouse. He pushed the
fabric aside, revealing the delicate lace edging of her camisoleand angry bruises on her neck.

Nick sucked in a sharp breath. He'd seen marks like that
before. On strangulation victims.

"Someone was trying very hard to make sure this woman didn't
live to see tomorrow," Kevin remarked as he began to hook her
up to the cardiac monitor, attaching sticky pads to her chest.

"IV is in;' one of the paramedics said.

"Tympanic temperature is thirty-one point six;' the other
technician reported.

Nick did the math for the conversion to Fahrenheit. About
eighty-nine degrees. His gut knotted. She was way too cold.

"Someone tell the pilot to shut down" The directive came
from Kevin.

"Aren't you transporting her?" Every muscle in Nick's body
stiffened. He could think of only one reason why there'd be no
urgent need to get Rachel to a hospital. And he wouldn't even
consider that possibility.

"Yes. But I don't want her exposed to rotor wash with the
outdoor temperature this low"

"I'll take care of it;' Mark offered, disappearing out the
door.

"Let's get the stretcher in here," Kevin said.

One of the paramedics rose to retrieve it, and thirty seconds
later he passed it through the door of the shed.

"Okay, let's move her very gently," Kevin said. "We don't want
to jar her and send any cold blood from the arms and legs into
the central circulatory system:"

"What about the vibration from the helicopter?" Nick
asked.

"We'll cushion the stretcher as best we can. Cover her head
too," Kevin directed the technicians as they cocooned Rachel
in blankets.

While they eased Rachel through the door, Nick tossed
Mark his keys. "Take my car, okay? I'm going on the helicopter:"

"No problem." He restrained Nick with a hand on his arm and
aimed his flashlight at one of the hinges. "She made a valiant
effort. I found this on the floor." He opened his hand. A small,
sharp stone rested in his palm.

As Nick looked from the blood-stained rock to the gouged
wood beside the hinge, his vision blurred. Working in the cold
and dark, by feel alone, Rachel had managed to dig one of the
hinges almost out of the wood before she succumbed to hypothermia.

Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, he stepped out
the door, into the dark. "Call Rebecca, okay?" He choked out
the hoarse request.

"I'll take care of it. And I'll meet you at the hospital:"

With a wave of acknowledgement, Nick sprinted across the
field, the flares around the perimeter giving off an eerie glow in
the dense blackness of the night. The rotors were already turning
when he reached the helicopter. He ducked through the wash
and climbed aboard.

"I figured you'd want to ride along," Kevin said, sliding the
door shut behind him.

Taking a seat near Rachel, he touched her pale cheek. It was
still ice cold. "Is she .." He stopped. Cleared his throat. Tried
again. "Is she going to be okay?"