Why not Wyoming? (Wyoming Wilds Series Book 1) (24 page)

Head slamming against the window, Annie woke startled and
disoriented. Heart hammering erratically, she jerked her earbuds out. The plane
bucked violently. A short scream behind her wasn’t one of passion this time.
Hands shaking, she fumbled with her seat belt and clicked it back into place.
The plane lurched, the nose lifting. The whine of the engines changed and
Annie’s eyes flew back to the window. The snow and pine covered slopes looked
too close for her comfort.

A shudder ran through the plane, seeming to ripple in the air
around them. The upward momentum shifted and suddenly they were dropping.
Annie’s stomach remained lodged in her throat. The far wing dipped, throwing
her toward the aisle. Nails digging into the armrests, she started to pray. Her
shoulder struck the wall as they wobbled, straightening before rolling
dangerously to her side.

“Buckle your seatbelts and brace for a rough landing,” the
pilot said tersely over the PA.

Way ahead of you
, Annie thought. That confirmed it. They
were going down. At least he had said landing. Landing sounded so much better
than crash. She tucked her head down like the pictures showed. Weren’t they
going too fast? How did you slow a plane? Her phone dug into her hip. She
wished she could talk to CJ one more time. Had she told him she loved him when
she texted him back? She wasn’t sure. She caught her breath as they sloped hard
to the opposite side again. The woman behind her screamed. Annie’s knee bounced
with barely restrained terror.  She would never miss an opportunity again if
just given the chance. Nothing else mattered. Book rankings, money, location,
they were trivial. She just wanted to be with him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw tree tops fly past her
window and braced for impact. The belly of the plane slammed down. Even bent
over and braced, the impact snapped Annie forward. The seatbelt cinched,
stealing her air. Metal screeched. The wing disappeared in a spray of sparks.
They were spinning. She clamped her forearms over her ears at a deafening
screech. Frigid air flooded the cabin. Snow rolled in like the tide. Something
smacked her sheltering forearms, snagging and ripping at her hair. The plane
slammed to a violent stop, jerking Annie out of her crouch. Her neck whipped violently
with the collision and the side of her head cracked against the window frame. Blinding
light exploded behind her clenched lids, and then nothing.

Propping his boot up on the opposite knee, CJ looked at the
clock. Annie’s flight was late. His knee bounced. Running his forefinger
through the crease of his jeans where they bunched above his boots, he brushed
away a bit of stubborn sawdust. With a little help from his friend Dan, he’d
been working on a Valentine’s surprise for Annie right up until the time he’d
had to leave to pick her up. It wasn’t exactly traditional, but he hoped she
would like it.

He glanced at the clock again and sighed. Usually, the knock
was that the hands weren’t moving. These were moving. His unease grew with each
passing minute. He saw his old school friend hang up the phone and turn back to
the counter. Pushing to his feet, he walked over.

“Hey, Janine. Do you have a new ETA on the flight coming in
from Denver?”

Janine tried to force a smile. He doubted it would’ve fooled a
stranger. It certainly didn’t fool someone who had stood or sat next to her all
the way through school.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head mutely, her soft brown eyes begging him not
to ask any more questions. His gut twisted as she wrung her fingers.

“Tell me.”

“I-I-I can’t.”

“Janine.”

“I-I d-don’t have any details, CJ. I don’t know.”

He reached over and touched her shaking hand. Stroking his
thumb over the top of her wrist, he tried to calm her.

“It’s okay. Just tell me what you do know.”

Tears pooled, threatening to fall at his tender touch. “We lost
them and the tower can’t raise the pilot,” she whispered, her head shaking back
and forth in desperate denial.  

CJ’s heart sank to his boots. Fear, denial and shock flooded
through him. Taking a deep breath, he forced his mind to the details.

“Do you know how long ago?”

His school friend shook her head.

“Where?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

“I need to know where, Janine.”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry, CJ,” she said, voice breaking on a
sob.

He refused to acknowledge her pity. It was not going to end
like this. His grip tightened on her hand.  

“Listen. I need your help. Anything you can get me. I need to
know where she was when they lost contact,” he said, keeping his voice soft but
insistent.

Janine gave a tight nod and, drawing a shaky breath, she
hurried off a woman on a mission. CJ’s shoulders slumped and he let the counter
hold him up. Guilt crushed him. If he’d stayed in Grand Rapids, this wouldn’t
be happening. If he’d shown her he was committed to moving to Michigan,
maybe…he fought to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Annie was everything
that he’d ever wanted. He couldn’t lose her now.

Feds, State Police, the Forestry Service, three Sheriff’s
Departments and Search and Rescue—they were all there. CJ tried to listen to
the search coordinator outline the grid and procedures, but facts, numbers, and
statistics chased through his mind and drowned the words out. Studies had shown
the chances of being involved in a plane crash were about one in eleven million.
Of those unlucky ones, ninety-five percent of plane crash victims survived the
initial crash. That was comforting. Some of the other numbers weren’t. The
Bighorn National Forest stretched over a million acres. It was eighteen degrees
out there and dropping. With the current temperature and wind, they would be at
risk of frostbite in thirty minutes or so if they didn’t take precautions.
Boone nudged his shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

Nodding, CJ headed out. Boone had already tried to talk him out
of joining the search. His best friend should’ve known better. As part of the
Search and Rescue team, CJ did this for perfect strangers. There was no way he was
going to wait someplace warm and dry while his Annie was out there. Shifting
the emergency pack on his shoulders, he wondered what she was wearing. The
right clothing could make all the difference in the world. People dressed for
comfort on a flight, often not considering the weather on the other end. Did
she even have a coat? Fire could’ve prevented her from retrieving luggage. Why
hadn’t survival techniques come up in their long discussions? He growled. That
was going to change.

Shit. Had they said who the pilot was? If it was Jenson, at
least the man had grown up out here and knew some of the ins and outs of their
harsh climate. Hypothermia. The word flashed in his head, taunting him. Did
Annie know the signs? CJ’s stomach clenched and he shook his head, chasing away
the hundreds of things that could go wrong. He needed to think positive and
pray she was doing the same thing.

Her armpits hurt. Annie frowned and winced. She had a splitting
headache and it was cold. A fine spray skittered across her face. Her frown
increased. Dragging up her blanket, she rolled away from the irritation. She
would close the window when she got up. Her face met a burning cold and she
jerked back, crying out at the pain the jolt sent shooting through her skull.
Forcing heavy eyes open, she stared at the tree trunk inches from her nose. She
blinked, trying to clear her sight and mind. Where in the hell was she?

Searching her memory, she tugged at the blanket around her. Sitting
up with effort, she shook melting snow off her hands before tucking them under
her arms. As far as she could see, towering pines formed shadows against the
pale snow. In a different time, it could’ve been beautiful. Panic crept through
her shocked system. She was alone. The frantic slam of her heart made her chest
ache all the more. Why couldn’t she remember? Had she been roofied? Where was
Crystal? She wouldn’t have gone out alone. Whose blanket was this? Why was she
so confused?

A noise startled her and she twisted around. Memories came
slamming back. They’d crashed. The mangled remains of the plane threw sinister
shadows in the moonlight. Someone stepped out of the wreckage. It was the
pilot. He was dragging his leg, using the side of the plane to steady himself.

“You’re awake. How’s your head?”

Annie pulled a shaking hand from the warmth of her armpit and
prodded the side of her head. Her fingers came away sticky.

“It hurts.”

“It looks like you took a pretty good shot, but the bleeding
has slowed. Any nausea or blurred vision? Does anything else hurt?”

It took a couple of tries to run through a self-diagnosis. Her
brain was sluggish.

“Uh ...” she pressed a palm against her forehead. “My vision is
slightly blurred. M-my head is pounding. My chest and my armpits hurt for some
reason.”

“Sorry. I hooked you under the arms trying to pull you out of
the wreckage. If these things go up in flames, they go fast.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze darting back to the
twisted fuselage. How in the hell could she complain about that?

One wing had sheared off and the whole tail was gone. Annie
swallowed hard looking at the gaping maw.

“The other couple?” she choked out, unable to even form a
complete thought. They’d been in the back.

The pilot shook his head, looking away. Annie lifted a hand to
her mouth in horror. Her eyes sprang back open as a snapshot of her amorous
young travel companions flashed behind her lids. A sob bubbled against her
hand. They’d been so full of life.

“You need to get your coat on.”

She stared at the pilot, the words somehow not connecting in
her pounding head.

“You’re going to freeze. I tossed all the luggage over here. Put
on whatever is warmest. I’m sorry to say they’re not going to mind,” he said, face
twisting in a pained grimace as he turned away again.

His leg gave out as he took a step and he stumbled, catching
himself on a tree. Annie turned away as the man slid to one knee and vomited.
Her stomach pitched at the miserable gagging. Keeping her gaze turned, she pulled
herself up. It was her turn to grab onto a tree trunk. Shivers wracked her
body. How had she not been aware of those until now? She tentatively touched
the side of her head. It seemed she had more to worry about than the bleeding.

Pushing off the tree, she staggered to the pile of luggage. Her
hooded down coat was there. Shrugging it on over her heavy cardigan, she
hastily retrieved scarf, gloves, and hat from the pockets. Her teeth were
chattering. She stared at the other luggage, picturing the romantic getaway the
couple had planned. Swiping away tears, she hopped up and down trying to
generate some heat. It was a bad idea. The movement made her head scream and her
already suspect stomach roll.

Not hearing anything else from the pilot, she shook out another
blanket and picked her way over to where he still knelt in the snow. She draped
the blanket over his shoulders.

“How bad is your leg?”

His shoulders slumped under the weight of the cover and her
hand.

“I’m not going to be able to hike out of here,” he said grimly.

“Let me take a look.”

He turned slowly and settled with his back against the tree.
The navy of his pant leg was black with blood. He’d tried to wrap his tie
around it. Peeling it back gingerly, Annie caught her breath. The wounds were
deep and jagged. Muscles and tendons had been severed. How in the hell had he
pulled them all out? She looked back toward the luggage.

“Is there a first-aid kit?”

“I’ll-I’ll get it,” he said, trying to push up the tree on one
leg.

Annie pulled him back down with an incredulous look.

“Sit! Just tell me where it is.”

He shook his head, guilt and horror haunting his dark eyes.

“Just help me up.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I left it…” He closed his eyes, head falling back against the
tree trunk. “I left it on the other side of the wreckage with…with them.”

Annie sucked in a sharp breath, head whipping in that
direction. He grabbed her arm.

“Just help me up. You shouldn’t see that.”

She swallowed weakly but shook her head.

“I’ve got this. Stay put.”

Pushing to her feet, she circled around the back of what was
left of the sleek Cessna. She could handle this. Now was no time to play the
damsel in distress. What would her mom say? There was a man that needed her
help. Time to suck it up, buttercup. She had a very vivid imagination. Reality
couldn’t be worse. Right? Her eyes darted between the trees. It seemed darker
over here. She shrugged off a shiver. It was probably just a side effect of
being alone. Her heart hammered, making her head throb in time.

Dark shadows in the snow made her hesitate. Squaring her
shoulders, she crept forward. The first-aid kit sat between the shadowy shapes,
beckoning her like a treasure chest. She focused on it. She wanted to remember
the girl with a streak of bright pink in her hair grinning over her handsome
boyfriend’s shoulder as he carried her piggyback across the tarmac. That was
the way to remember them.

Stretching out for the open case, Annie studiously avoided
looking at the bodies, but she couldn’t miss the stains that crept out from under
them darkening the pristine snow. She murmured a soft prayer under her breath
and grabbed the first-aid kit. There was nothing she could do for them now.

On the way back to the waiting pilot, she snagged up a large
duffle bag marked with bright images of skiers and snowboarders. With any luck,
the deceased would have a pair of boots that would fit the injured man.
Wingtips weren’t going to cut it in this climate. Once she had the leg secured
and wrapped the best she could, Annie assisted him into a pair of snow pants,
fresh, dry socks and the young man’s boots which were thankfully a size too
big.

“Come on. Now you,” he insisted, shrugging into the matching
ski jacket. It was bound to be warmer than his classic navy dress coat.

Annie peeled back the waistband to check the tags on the fluorescent
pink ski-wear and shook her head. Cute, but not with her curves.

“I’m good.”

“What about the boots?”

Looking down at her feet, Annie wiggled her cold toes in the
soft leather of her riding boots. They were her favorites. She’d paid a pretty
penny to have them stretched to fit her calves. She shook her head. That wasn’t
important now. Checking the size on the pink ski boots, she shrugged and sat
down on the edge of the bag to put them on. They weren’t meant for hiking, but
her fashionable footwear wasn’t designed for warmth, so it was a smart trade-off.

Clothing concerns addressed, she dug under the layers to find
her phone. Even her limited experience with Wyoming told her the chances of
having a signal out here were slim, but she still felt a stab in the pit of her
stomach when the small screen confirmed it. She tucked the device back into a
pocket. Rubbing her hands up and down the outside of her arms, she looked at
the pilot.

“Do you know where we are?”

“As close as I can figure, about sixty miles west of Sheridan.
This is national forest land.”