Authors: Kimberley Woodhouse
"I'm not sure." She looked away again. At her mom.
The emotions playing across her face weren't lost on him. He took the kit. "This won't take long, let me get this cut closed up and then I'll check her injuries." At her quick glare, he inclined his head. "
Then
I'll leave you alone and get warmed up, okay? Why don't you try to get some rest?"
Andie just shook her head.
He taped up her hand with swift movements.
She continued to stare at her mom. A single tear made a trail down her cheek.
"You're set. Would you like to help me with your mom?"
"Sure." She moved to squat beside him. "Her leg's hurt. I bandaged it, but we'll need to change the bandages soon."
They worked in silence for several minutes. Jenna's leg seemed to be the worst of her injuries, but she had a knot on her head too. Could be a concussion. With luck, it wouldn't be too severe. His lip curled. Yeah. When had luck ever been on his side? Tiny cuts—likely from glass fragments—covered her. He glanced up at Andie. "She's okay for now. Get back in your bag. We won't be any help to her if we don't stay warm."
Andie nodded, but something was obviously bothering her. "What's the problem, kid?" It came out more gruff than he intended, but she just stared at him.
"My name's not
kid.
"
He met her stare. If she wanted to answer, fine. If not, he would get some sleep. He was about to shrug and roll over, when she tilted her head.
"I have one more question."
He arched a brow. "Which is?"
"Why were you on our plane today?"
ZOYA
April 6
North Pole, Alaska
9:27 p.m.
Dasha and Sasha stood at my side as we searched the sea of people for Andie and Auntie Jenna. Where could they be? And what was going wrong that they were delayed so much? "Where do you think they are, Mom?"
She shook her head and sighed, then glanced down at her watch again. "I don't know. Jenna wanted us to be here ninety minutes after they were supposed to land. And we're late." She looked at the landing strip in the distance. "That should've given them plenty of time to take care of the plane and whatever else needed to be done."
"Well, what should we do?" The dogs whined, sending a chill up my spine.
God, where are they?
"I'll call Jenna's cell in case there was an emergency and they took a cab home or something."
Yes, be patient. Be patient . . . Be patient. You know how to wait, Zoya.
The chant didn't help to ease my anxiousness.
Mom dialed, then frowned. "That's odd. It's going straight to voicemail." She patted my shoulder. "I'm sure they're fine. Don't worry."
But, she was worried, it was written on her face.
I buried my face in Sasha's fur as Dasha nudged me with her nose. They were worried too. I could tell.
So we waited . . . And waited.
It was almost midnight when we left. Without Andie and Auntie Jenna.
JENNA
April 7
Sultana, Denali National Park
12:21 a.m.
Unforgiving rocks pressed into her back. Pain jolted up through her legs. The cold of the air chilled her lungs. The cocoon around her kept her from moving.
Andie! Where was she?
Voices drifted through the night air. Two voices. One wonderfully familiar. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Jenna latched onto Andie's voice.
Thank You, God!
Her daughter was alive, speaking, moving around. The sounds became crisp and clean as the haze wrapping her mind cleared. Andie was talking to someone. Well, questioning someone. Jenna smiled.
That's my girl.
With a moan louder than she intended, she struggled to pry a hand loose of its confines and lift it to her face. The headache was intense, but it meant she was alive. Now if she could just open her eyes and see for herself that Andie was really there, in one piece, and out of danger—
"Mom!"
That one word was enough to lift the two-ton weights resting on her eyelids. She managed to flutter them open. Andie hovered over her. What a beautiful sight. "Hi, baby." She reached for her daughter's face. "You okay? Are you hurt?"
Andie's teary giggles melted her heart. "I'm okay. A little blood here and there, but I'm okay."
Jenna loved her daughter's laugh. The sense of humor that couldn't be crushed. Chuckling along with her daughter, she thought about Andie's statement—her twelve-year-old and blood were an interesting combination. Poor kid. She could only imagine what had transpired while she was unconscious.
"You need some water, Mom. Can't let you get dehydrated." Andie reached into her sleeping bag and pulled out Jenna's emergency bag. Rummaging around, she lifted out a bottle of water. "Just a few sips."
The cool water slid down her throat. Wow. She was so tired. "Thanks," the word came out raspy, "I needed that."
"Mom, you look exhausted. Are you okay? Does anything hurt really bad?"
"I'm okay."
Please, God, let that be true.
"Just needed to see my girl."
Andie climbed back into the sleeping bag next to her. "I love you, Mom."
"Love you too, sweetie. Thanks. I am really tired." She struggled to keep her eyes open, but they wouldn't obey. Their predicament sent chills through her core. What would they do? They'd crashed in Denali National Park, but it wasn't tourist season yet and the park didn't allow vehicles past the welcome center. It was remote. And treacherous.
If only they could have made it down to the Kahiltna.
Stop the "if onlys"! You can't do anything about it. You've got to get out of here. That's the only thing that matters.
But, she was so tired. Opening her eyes again, she looked at Andie. She had to find a way to take care of Andie. Would anyone be able to find them?
Fear gripped her, so deep and powerful it clamped the breath in her lungs. They didn't have much of a chance. Her heart raced and her breathing quickened. They would die on this mountain. Her eyes shut of their own accord. Such hard work to keep them open.
"Mom?" Andie's voice penetrated the cloud hovering over her mind.
She had to keep trying. Her daughter needed her. But before she could respond, her body shut down all thought as she drifted back into the deep black calling her.
CHAPTER FOUR
COLE
April 7
Sultana, Denali National Park
12:34 a.m.
Cole sighed. At least Jenna's waking up had turned his interrogator's attention away from him. Now if those two would just go to sleep and stay asleep. He had work to do.
Too many unanswered questions ping-ponged around in his head. What did Hank use to drug him? Why would Hank want to kill him too? Unless . . .
Hank and the others knew.
The realization dropped like a bomb. That meant he had less time.
Glancing over at mother and daughter, he watched their breathing patterns. Interrogator Andie kept opening her eyes.
The kid is scared.
Warmth seeped into his limbs. Maybe he should take a power nap. It was cold and dark, and his body needed to rid itself of whatever toxin Hank had slipped him.
3:04 a.m.
He woke with a start. The night sky was cloudy now. A storm must be coming. He could feel it in his knees.
Cole inched his way out of the warm sleeping bag and watched the girls for any sign of movement. Confident they were asleep, he crept toward the plane.
The flashing light caught his attention immediately. He'd have to dismantle it, but it was already too late. They probably had the grid of their location within minutes after the crash. They would come. Soon. And there was nowhere to hide.
He ripped open the parachute, located the homing device, and pulled out his Leatherman. It took less than ten seconds to dismantle the beacon. He used the side of his boot to drag snow, burying the fragments beneath the pristine whiteness.
Another mound of material lay outside the crumpled plane's door. As he reached for it, he recognized a tent. At least, what used to be a tent. No wonder the kid had bundled them in the sleeping bags. The tent was useless. A moan inside the plane made him scowl.
Hank.
A new wave of anger surged in his gut.
Cole climbed through the wreckage and approached the prostrate form. He knelt beside him, whispering as loud as he dared. "Hank." He shook his shoulder. "Hank, can you hear me?"
Another moan.
"Hank. I don't have time to mess around. Open your eyes."
A bloody eye slid open halfway. "Co—"
"Don't try to speak." Cole's hands balled into fists and then grabbed the man's collar. "I didn't come in here to listen to anything you had to say. You're going to listen to me. Blink once for yes, twice for no."
Hank blinked once. And struggled to pull in air past the constricted collar.
Cole threw him down. "They're coming for you, aren't they?"
A single blink.
Cole ran his hand through his hair and let out his frustrations in a huff. "They knew about me? That I would be on board?"
A jagged breath preceded Hank's single blink.
"Do they know where it is? Is that why you tried to kill Jenna and Andie?"
No response, only a blank stare.
Cole yanked up Hank's collar again. How easy it would be to kill him. "Answer me! Do they know where it is?"
Pain contorted the man's face, and then a double blink.
Cole dropped him back to the ground as relief rushed through him. At least he had one thing going for him right now. If he could keep them all alive long enough.
With a last look at his one-time friend, he knew he had little time to search. The plane was in shambles. It had rolled after the crash and landed upside-down. Bags and equipment lay strewn across the ceiling-now-floor. He found his duffel, grabbed it, then looked around for anything else he could use.
A small case caught his attention. Jenna's briefcase or laptop bag? Time to find out if Marc's pretty wife knew anything.
He took a moment to do quick surveillance. The girls continued to sleep. Good.
With quick hands, he yanked at the zipper on the bag. It caught on something. He pulled a small flashlight out of his boot.
As the beam of the light lit up the complication, he inhaled and threw the bag down. It was locked.
Smart lady. Grudging admiration stirred, then shifted. To suspicion.
What was she hiding?
ANDIE
April 7
Sultana, Denali National Park
3:17 a.m.
I stared through the gigantic hole at Cole as the clatter of Mom's briefcase echoed in the small plane. What was he doing, going through our stuff like that?
"What are you doing?"
He jumped up and glared.
I glared back.
Don't you look at me like that. You're the one who was snooping around in our stuff.
If he wanted to play "who-can-be-meanest-the-longest" I was ready.
"I'm figuring out how to keep us alive out here. Taking inventory of what food we have." He gave a small nod and scanned me from head to toe.
Was he always this grumpy?
Like I believe you were prying open Mom's briefcase to protect us.
He knew I didn't trust him. This would be interesting.
"
That
isn't where you're supposed to get food." Pointing at the emergency bag outside the plane, my jaw clenched. "That's where the food is."
He sighed.
I stared.
Time slithered by.
Have fun getting yourself out of this one.
"Look, it's really late. Let's get back to sleep." He worked his way out of the plane.
Our gazes collided once again. Mine harsh and penetrating. His grouchy and tired. I crossed my arms and shifted my weight to one leg. "Well, should I trust you?"
"You asked that earlier."
"Earlier I didn't see you looking through our stuff and trying to open Mom's briefcase.
Earlier
it was different."
He frowned and rubbed his forehead. "Look, let's just go outside."
"Why? What are you hiding in here?"
His eyes squinted, and I tried not to smile. Clearly, he wasn't sure what to do with me. Which was fine. Dad always said the best place for an enemy was off-balance. 'Course, I wasn't sure if Cole was an enemy or not.
"All right, little interrogator. The truth is I couldn't see because it was too dark. I thought that was some sort of lunch bag or the emergency kit."
"Then what's that in your hand?"
He looked down at the flashlight.
"Plus, I could see fine when I came in here a second ago."
Ouch! Didn't see that one coming, did you?
He fixed me with a hard look, but I couldn't tell if he was mad or just . . . kind of impressed. "You asked. I answered."
Okay. Mad, it was.
I rolled my eyes.
Fine then, Mr. Grump.
With that, he moved past me and made his way outside and away from the plane.
I followed him. My eyes slid over to Mom. She would live and everything would be all right. Period.
"Andie."
I turned back to Cole. His face was still hard, but he looked tired, too.
"I know it's hard for you to trust me. I can't explain things right now, but I need you to get some sleep. Tomorrow's . . . going to be tough. On all of us."
"Will Mom be okay?" I turned to look at him. What was it about him that made me feel queasy?
"Just get some sleep."
I swallowed back the tears that threatened to escape. Was she really that bad?
"She'll be fine."
But what would happen now? What if Mom
didn't
wake up?
"Cole?"
"Yeah?" He grunted and lay down.
I watched him closely.
Better not get his temper goin' again.
"Nothing."
CHAPTER FIVE
JENNA
April 7
Sultana, Denali National Park
5:03 a.m.
Soft snores woke Jenna with a start. She hadn't heard snoring since Marc died. It took a moment for her realize where she was.
Oh. Right. Plane crash. Snow.
As her brain came to life, she began to wiggle her fingers and toes, testing out the feeling in her body. Her right leg ached, but everything else seemed to just be bruised and sore.