No Safe Haven (7 page)

"Not just you, Jenna. Both of you. And you know because I promised Marcus I would protect you." There. He'd told her the truth.

A quick inhale and she brought a hand to her throat. "You knew Marc?"

"Yes. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"I need some air." She moved past him to the fresh air and snow outside.

He followed her. "Look, I know you don't trust me."

"That's an understatement."

Cole ignored her comment and grabbed her arm. "We have to get away from the wreckage. Our best bet is to climb up and away from the plane. I promised to protect you, and that is what I'm going to do." His voice commanding, he gripped harder, willing her to turn around.

She turned to face him once again, but yanked her arm free and glared at him. "What about the ELT?"

"Hank disabled it . . . Just like the ailerons, the radio, and who knows what else."

Her shoulders slumped. Finally a chink in her armor. "The fuel tank . . ." Her whisper barely reached him.

"What?"

"The tank began to lose fuel at an alarming rate after you collapsed." She dropped to the snow, winced, and grabbed her injured leg.

"You know how to fly?" That surprised him.

"Not really. I've gone through flight ground school, and one lesson." She lifted her pant leg.

He couldn't help but notice the blood had soaked through the bandages again. "That needs stitches."

"So what? You're a doctor now, too?" She pulled herself up to stand. The fire in her eyes could not be missed.

He ignored the barb. "All right. We know that the plan was well thought out. A backup plan for each backup plan."

"What are you talking about?" Hands flew to her hips.

"Jenna. They want you dead. Isn't that clear?"

Her head flew side to side. "No. There's got to be a mistake. What about the flight plan? I heard Departure Control. They knew we were in the air. Good grief, we've known Hank for years, I—"

"If I know these guys—"

"What guys? Who are these—"

"If I know these guys, they found a way to erase it." He disliked giving her one blow after another, but the stubborn woman wouldn't shut up.

"What about the rangers?"

"They have no idea we're here."

Jenna began to pace. Her face a mask of determination. "Okay. So we need to get away from the wreckage. But why can't we go down the mountain? The Kahiltna glacier is down there, and there's a better chance to be seen or rescued."

"No. They'll be expecting us to do that. And right now, we don't want to be seen. It's too dangerous. We need them to believe that you died in that crash."

"Well then, let's go down another way." She just wouldn't give up. Pacing around him, her voice calm, she refused the truth. "Going up is too dangerous. I need your help to
protect
Andie, not kill us all making a trek we have no business taking on a good day."

Enough of this. He grabbed her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. Maybe he could shake some sense into her. "The only ones who know we are here are the people who want you dead. They will be coming. Soon. When they find the plane, if they take the time to check it, they'll know we are alive, and they will search . . . no take that back—they will
scour
this mountain below the crash site. They won't stop until they find us. And kill us." He shook her with the emphasis of his words. "The only chance we have is to go up and hide for as long as we can."

Her eyes were wide orbs. Maybe he'd gone a little too far.

"How do you know so much about whoever it is that's doing this?"

Cole let his hands drop as he gazed off down the mountain. "I've seen firsthand what they're capable of. They won't stop. Ever."

Silence surrounded them. As they stood there, Cole listened to her breathing. A heavy sigh, then a couple of quick breaths. He turned to watch her, afraid she would collapse in the snow.

But instead, she set her shoulders, lifted her chin in a defiant gesture, and pointed her finger into his chest. "Let's get one thing straight right now."

There was no way to mask his surprise at her strength. "All right . . ."

"You hurt one hair on my daughter's head," she poked him hard in the chest, "and I will rip you to shreds."

Cole sighed. This was going to be harder than he ever thought possible. At least she was willing to leave. "Deal." He'd tackle the rest of the argument later. And time was running out. "We need supplies. Let's go through the plane and see what we've got. We may be stranded up here a while."

"Fine." She sniffed.

Pulling a bag from the wreckage, he watched Andie approach. "The sun will be up within the hour, and we need to be moving by then."

CHAPTER SIX

JENNA

April 7

Sultana, Denali National Park

6:27 a.m.

Jenna stood up and surveyed the piles around her. Marc always teased her about being prepared for nuclear fallout, but she was thankful she had insisted on keeping the plane stocked with equipment in case of an emergency. The inflatable raft wouldn't do them any good right now, but the mountaineering gear would. For the hundredth time that morning she wished she had paid more attention to her husband's instructions about climbing, but Cole seemed to be at ease with the ropes and harnesses. She'd have to learn fast. That or trust him, and she wasn't quite sure she could do that yet.

Cole worked on a camp stove that had seen better days before the crash. They didn't have a lot of gas for it, but at least they'd be able to heat water. There were three backpacks, two hauling sleds, five sleeping bags plus the one Hank had, ice axes, crampons, a shovel, stakes, ropes, and various other survival items. Her emergency bag had plenty of water and food for several days, and she always kept a couple flats of water in the plane, but what if it wasn't enough?

Shaking her head, she went back to search for the snowshoes and skis. Marc had welded special holders into the back of the plane for them, but as soon as she reached the tail cone, she realized they were long gone. The crash had torn off the end of the tail with the rudder. The skis and snowshoes were stored in that narrow slot—so they were now buried somewhere on the mountain with the rest of the wreckage. With a sigh, she turned to take another look at what was left.

What if Marc had stashed things in the seats? As Cole went back into the hold to search, she decided to follow her hunch and check the rest of the plane. Crawling through the mangled fuselage, she yanked on the seat cushions above her head and ducked as the contents of the compartments tumbled out.

A small black case engraved with Marc's initials caught her attention. As she turned the shiny box over in her hands, she noticed the lock. With no way to open it without a key, she shrugged and tucked it into her pocket. She would save it because it was Marc's. And that made it important to her.

"Jenna? Do you really need all this duct tape?" Cole's voice drifted over to her.

She ignored the question and shook her head. He had no clue.

Life vests and flotation devices filled the floor, but when she opened the next seat, her breath caught in her throat.

"Cole! Come here!"

As he approached, she heard his intake of breath. He'd seen them as well.

"Jenna, where did you find these?"

"In the seat. Isn't it wonderful? We can call for help!" Her excitement bubbled up. They would be saved.

Cole picked up the small, handheld radios. "No, we can't."

"What do you mean?" She yanked one of the radios from his hands. "Of course we can."

"No. Jenna, we can't." He closed the narrow space between them and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Don't you see? Anyone can listen in. And it's naïve to think that if we called for help only the 'good guys' would hear us."

"But—"

"Jenna. Listen to me. We'll use it if we have to, but right now, someone wants you dead. And they'll stop at nothing to accomplish their goal."

"I don't understand! If we called for help, couldn't the rangers protect us? Get us out of here?"

He pried the radio from her fingers. "I'm counting on them helping us, yes. But right now, no one knows we are here—
except
the ones who tried to kill you. Hank dismantled the battery on the emergency beacon and somehow changed your flight plan. No one knows to come rescue us. No one knows where we were headed."

"What? How do you know all this?" This couldn't be happening.

"I watched Hank during the preflight check. And realized he could've done much worse. Which he obviously did." He raked his hand through his hair.

"So, we really don't have any hope?" Her breaths came quicker. "Are you sure we can't hail the rangers?"

"These things only have about a five-mile radius. From what you said, there's probably not a soul within thirty miles. The rangers are in Talkeetna. So who do you think is most likely to hear if we were to make a call for help?"

The weight of his statement sat like a polar bear on her chest. She knew all too well he was right, but she'd pushed anyway. Always looking for a way out, for some small glimmer of hope. As much as she hated it, he'd made his point. Defeat filled all the tiny little crevices of her heart that had begun to dream of a safe and easy escape from this nightmare. "I guess we should finish going through all this stuff." As she picked her way through the remaining bags, Jenna wondered if Cole was trying to save them or get rid of them.

———

In less than thirty minutes, they'd found a goldmine of supplies, but Jenna's heart sank every time they pulled out something new. Marc had teased her, yes, but he'd also put a lot of thought into these supplies. He spared no expense, only the best for his family. So why did she still doubt him?

She pushed the traitorous thoughts back. Marc had been a wonderful husband. He loved her. She knew that. Closing her eyes, she brought a fist up to her chest. Yes, she
knew
that—but what about that conversation she'd overheard? Who was Amy? And why did he spend so much time with her? Now she would never know and the memories she had of their fifteen years together would always have a shadow over them.

"Hey, Jenna." Cole called to her from deep inside the hold pulling her out of her depressing train of thought. "Check this out."

The man had volunteered to climb into the tiny cargo hold—and that was no easy feat since he was well over six feet tall—but it unnerved her to have him digging around in their personal things.

Jenna stuck her head into the opening, schooling the expression on her face. "What's up?"

"I thought you might want to see this." Cole pointed to the corner.

As she made her way over to where his finger directed, her heart did a flip-flop. There—taped to what would have been the upper corner had the plane remained upright—was her list.

The list she'd made with Marc at the kitchen table the night he insisted they all take a trip into the mountains. Before Andie's dangerous episodes. Before brain surgery. Before Marc shut her out. Jenna remembered arguing with him . . .

"Marc, she's just a baby, and with her diagnosis, we'd have to be really careful in case of an emergency."

"Jenna, honestly," Marc teased her, "you always want to be prepared for everything, but we can't possibly protect her from
every
little thing that could possibly happen every minute of
every
day."

"Oh, honey, I know that. But what if we got stranded in the mountains, or what if we had to make an emergency landing over water, or the weather turned bad and we crashed somewhere?" She knew her dramatics were overkill, but she needed him to see that she was right.

Hands up, signaling surrender, Marc chuckled. "Okay, okay. You win. Let's make your emergency list, and I'll make sure the plane is always supplied." Reaching for her, he drew her into his embrace. "You know I love you."

"Mm-hmmm." She relished his strong arms around her.

"And even though I tease you, I love your lists."

She swatted his arm.

"I do, hon. It's a good thing. And I know it."

———

Jenna's hand slid over the plastic-encased paper as the memory faded. Tears slid down her cheeks. Every year since, he'd ordered new gear, teasing her about the list. She'd had no idea it was here. No idea he'd kept it, posted it, used it as a guide.

"He loved you very much, Jenna." Cole's hand on her shoulder invaded her private moment.

Sobs shook her as she crouched in the corner, tracing the smiley faces and "I love yous" scribbled around the edge of the paper. They'd continued to banter as they'd worked on the list. The last "I love you" she'd scribbled, he'd immediately tried to outdo her and wrote, "I love you more." Like he had the final word.

"Jenna?"

He just wouldn't leave her alone. Was it so hard to let her have a moment or two of grief? Good heavens, she had a daughter with a rare nerve disorder, she'd lost her husband only a year before, and now she'd been in a plane crash. It would be nice to just go back to bed and wake up from the nightmare of it all. If she had a bed.

"Jenna, we really need to get moving. It's already light. They'll come. Searching." His tone impatient and worried.

"Okay." She wiped the tears from her face.

"I'm going to pack these flats of water on the sleds with some other supplies for later. We'll hide them away from the crash site."

"Won't we need the water?" Her mind wanted to engage, but her heart hurt.

"We can't carry the weight." He placed a hand on her shoulder again. "We need to go up. We'll melt snow if we need to."

What was the use of arguing? She needed to put all her energy into protecting Andie. "What about . . . him?" She didn't want to look at Hank's injured body.

"We'll send someone back for him. He's injured pretty severely, one, possibly both of his legs are broken, but he's got protection from the wind, and someone covered him up." Cole looked at her, his gaze determined. "You understand that we can't risk bringing him, don't you?"

"What if we pulled him on one of the sleds?" The man had tried to kill them. The reasoning behind it eluded her. But leaving him seemed inhumane.