“Okay, let’s get Nina out of there,” Miranda said. “Start pulling on the rope. I’m going to watch her ascent. Listen to my orders.”
“Always,” Quinn said.
Miranda rolled her eyes, but gave a half-grin.
Zack saw something in the newlywed couple that he never remembered having with his ex-wife, or any of the women he’d dated. Solid respect, playfulness, and deep affection. From the silent looks to the discreet touches, Quinn and Miranda obviously had something special between them.
Something that Zack wanted for himself.
He’d never thought that way before. He’d been content with casually dating. He was a cop-the job came first.
But the job was important to Quinn Peterson, and his wife not only knew it, but relished it. At the same time, there was no doubt in Zack’s mind that Peterson would drop the world to be with his wife.
That kind of support and love was hard to come by.
He and Quinn slowly pulled Nina up. Hand over hand, they developed a rhythm that worked. He glanced down the slope, saw Nina, and then Olivia farther down, hunkered in the crevice, holding on to a young tree that seemed to be growing precariously on the slope.
There was something about Olivia-something more than her brains and beauty, her dedication to her job. Something he wanted to explore more fully.
Like he’d told her this morning, he wanted to spend time with her. When this was over. When Driscoll was behind bars.
The thought of having Olivia all to himself for a week or two, to learn everything about her, thrilled him.
“Hold it!” Miranda suddenly called, and both Zack and Quinn halted their movements.
Zack heard rocks rolling. He thought they would stop. They didn’t.
“Nina! Stay still!” Miranda called down.
Nina cried out, then Olivia screamed.
“What happened?” Zack looked down and couldn’t see Olivia.
“She’s okay. She slipped.”
“I can’t see her!”
“I see her hand. Get Nina up. Fast.”
Miranda didn’t have to say it twice. Quinn and Zack worked double time to bring the girl up the slope. They handed her off to the EMTs who were waiting, and Miranda tossed the rope down to Olivia.
“Olivia! I’m sending down the rope. Grab it.”
The earth was still moving, rocks bumping down. It wasn’t an earthquake, Zack realized; it was the disturbance of people on this steep, unstable slope that was causing the loose ground to fall away.
“Why isn’t she taking the rope?” Zack asked, fear evident in his voice.
“She can’t see it.” Miranda’s lips were tight. She called down. “Olivia! The rope is three feet to your right. You’ll need to let go of the tree.”
“No!” Olivia’s voice was faint, but she sounded petrified.
“You have to!” Miranda called.
“I’ll be okay. Give me a minute.”
“Dammit!” Miranda said, running a hand through her hair and yanking on the dark ponytail hanging down her back. “She doesn’t have a minute,” she mumbled.
Rocks continued to fall, and Olivia cried out.
Zack’s heart beat double time. He shouted, “Olivia St. Martin! Grab the damn rope now!”
He saw her hand let go of the tree and for a split second, Zack thought she’d fallen deeper into the crevice. Then he saw both her hands reach up, feeling for the rope.
“Six inches,” Miranda called. “Right there. Yes! Pull it over your head, under your arms, right now. Now. Okay. Good.”
She turned to Quinn and Zack. “Get her up. Fast.”
As they pulled, a huge chunk of ground gave way, and they scrambled for a foothold. They felt additional weight on the rope, and Miranda grabbed the end and helped pull. Hand over hand. Hand over hand.
Olivia scrambled up the last twenty feet herself. A huge gash had sliced her forehead open, and blood was dripping down her face. Zack pulled the rope off her and looked down the slope.
He wished he hadn’t.
The rock slide had widened the crevice. He couldn’t see the bottom, even with the industrial lighting. The thought that Olivia could have fallen to her death terrified him.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She breathed heavily in his arms, her entire body shaking violently.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Zack repeated. “You’re okay.”
He murmured words of reassurance in her ear, for himself as well as Olivia. He didn’t want to let her go.
He kissed her hair, her cheek, her neck. She held him tightly, her arms wrapped around his back, under his jacket, trying to be as close to him as possible. Her shaking subsided and he tilted her face to look at him, wincing at the gash on her head.
“You need to let the EMT take a look at your head.”
“Later.” She leaned up and kissed him.
He returned the kiss with fervor. Needing to taste her, to feel her response, that she was fully alive and breathing in his arms. “Liv,” he whispered into her lips. “I was so scared.”
“Me too,” she murmured. He pulled back and looked at her, wanting to understand where they were going because these intense feelings scared him, almost as much as her falling. The thought of Olivia walking away at the end of the case filled him with a terrible sense of loss.
In her eyes he saw relief and desire, the same yearning he had for her.
She buried her face in his chest. “Hold me. Just for another minute.”
He would have been happy to hold her forever.
But Chris Driscoll was still on the loose.
In the military, Chris Driscoll had learned that a backup plan was necessary for survival. Without a plan, you die.
The little bitch got away. She wasn’t an angel at all, but a demon sent to trap him. He hadn’t been thinking when he pursued her. If he had waited, she would have returned. If he had listened better, he would have found her.
He was so angry and surprised when she attacked him that he’d chased her, then lost her. She eluded him. She sent that deer into his path and he crashed.
But he’d prepared for failure, like any good soldier. He just needed a car.
He knew exactly where to get one.
CHAPTER 27
Zack and Quinn spread open the map of the Cascades on the desk in Zack’s room at the North Fork Lodge.
The lodge owners, middle-aged sisters Kristy and Beth Krause, had opened their bed-and-breakfast to the police earlier in the evening, so when Zack and the others arrived at two in the morning, they already had several rooms prepared.
“The fog was too thick for the sheriff’s search teams to attempt a manhunt tonight,” Quinn said. He pointed to an area near the base of the mountain and the Anchor River. “They’ll be starting here at daybreak with dogs and at least a dozen men. We’ll have men with dogs coming from the other side.” He pointed to the place near the Boy Scout camp where Driscoll had crashed the truck.
“He could elude our men at night,” Zack said. “If he goes at a steady pace, he’ll be at the base of the mountain by morning.”
“Miranda said this area is almost impossible to navigate. He either has to follow Road 56-and we have men discreetly stationed at several places along the road-or wind around to the river and follow it out.
“There is a chance,” Quinn continued, “that he could cross Road 56 at one point, and that would put him on this side of the mountain. There are several vacation homes and public campgrounds. It’s a little late in the season, but the sheriff’s department is sending deputies to each residence to first warn anyone there, as well as inspect any vacant houses. They’ve called in support from neighboring counties as well as the forest rangers.”
“This lodge is in that area. If Driscoll crosses Road 56 he could end up here.”
“That’s why the sheriff assigned two deputies to these grounds.”
Zack ran a hand over his face. “I should have been doing all this.”
“Why? That’s why you have a good team around you. You’ve been going practically 24/7 for the last week.” Quinn slapped his hand on Zack’s back. “Get some sleep. Everything that can be covered in the four hours between now and dawn has been.”