Where There's Smoke

by Doreen Roberts

  Claire stopped to grab a sweatshirt and a flashlight. It would soon be dark, and the night could turn cool on the Ridge. She didn’t want to think about having to find her way to the cave in the dark. She didn’t want to think about Harrie being up there in the dark.

  Dusk was already creeping in along the Gorge as she headed out to Coopers Landing. She turned on the radio, anything rather than listen to the thoughts tumbling through her mind.

  Seconds later the voice of a newscaster broke into the program. “The latest word on the wildfire now taking hold in the west end of the Gorge...”

  She reached for the control and turned up the volume. And as she listened, she knew now why Turner had hung up the phone. Praying through tears that ran down her face, she flattened her foot to the floor and raced for Coopers Landing.

  After a while she could see it. Smoke...thick, gray and tinged with red. It hung over the forest, smothering the air. The acrid smell filled the car, and her heart raced in terror. She would not think beyond getting to Turner.

  A deputy sheriff flagged her down a few hundred yards from the clearing. For a crazy second she thought about ignoring him, then common sense overtook her desperation and she pulled over.

  They had closed the road ahead, he told her. It was too dangerous. The fire could leap across at any moment, trapping her inside. She would have to find an alternative route.

  She quickly explained, and his expression changed. Ordering her to leave her car parked where it was, he took her in his car on to the Landing. Her horror when she saw how close she was to the fire almost destroyed her. Turner’s cabin had to be right in the middle of it.

  A small knot of people stood in front of the shops, talking among themselves and looking worriedly to where the dense smoke rolled through the trees and crackling flames leapt in the wind.

  Claire’s heart sank when she saw that Turner wasn’t among them. She scrambled out of the deputy’s car and hurried over to the group. The noise was unbelievable. A roar like the furnaces of hell. Sparks drifted over the roofs of the shops, and a fire fighter stood at one end, directing a gush of water from a hose, soaking down the buildings.

  “Do you know where Turner is?” she asked one of the women.

  Another one answered her, her face drawn with anxiety. “He went back to his cabin with the police. I think they’re looking for his little girl.”

  Claire’s face was so numb she could hardly make her lips move. “The cabin? Harrie was at the cabin?”

  The woman looked at her with sorrowful eyes. “They don’t know. They just know the fire started there.”

  I’m going to be sick, Claire thought frantically. She couldn’t pass out now. Turner needed her. She turned toward the road again, but the deputy’s arm stopped her.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded.

  “I have to find Turner Mitchell. He’s the father of the little girl I told you about.”

  “Lady, I’m sorry, but no one is going anywhere near that inferno. You’d last two minutes, if you’re lucky.”

  “But—” For a minute she struggled against his arm, then from across the road she saw the shadowy figures of men emerging from the trees. They stood poised on the edge of the highway for a moment, and her heart leapt in relief. Turner was with them.

  She waited until he’d crossed the highway. He saw her as he reached the other side, and his expression was hard to read. Smoke had blackened his face, and he had a hole burned in the shoulder of his gray shirt. His eyes held the haunted look of a desperate man, and she longed to run into his arms and hold him. But then he looked past her as if she didn’t exist, to where the residents of Coopers Landing waited in silence.

  “She wasn’t there,” he called out, his voice ragged and unrecognizable.

  Murmurs of relief from the group answered him.

  “Turner,” Claire whispered, then louder. “Turner.” He looked at her then, and the pain in his eyes broke her heart.

  “We managed to get close enough to water it down,” he said, still in that strange, broken voice. “They searched through what was left of it...they’re pretty sure she wasn’t there.”

  “Turner.” She moved toward him, her hands outstretched. “She’s probably up on the ridge.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I figure she’s up there, too. They’re up there searching for her now.”

  “I can find her, Turner. I know where all her places are.”

  He gazed at her for a long moment, hope flickering across his face. Then he shook his head. “They won’t let you go, Claire. It’s too dangerous.”

  She set her jaw and looked at him. “I have to go. It could be her only chance. We have to find her before—” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed. She didn’t have to spell it out for him. Already the fire had reached the foot of the hills. The unpredictable wind could send it roaring to the top at any time.

  He was about to answer her, when one of the fire fighters approached him. He was a young man with a shock of long blond hair, his face grimy, blue eyes red and watery. He had to clear his throat a few times before he could speak.

  “Mr. Mitchell, I think you should know, when we were searching the debris for...when we were going through everything, we found evidence of arson.”

  “Arson?”

  “Yes. Someone had emptied a tank of gasoline. We found the empty container. Someone wanted that place burned down in a hurry.”

  “My God,” Turner whispered, his face turning gray. “He’s out there. He’s after her...he could—”

  Claire wondered how much more she could take on this terrible night. She knew what he was thinking. Ray Newberg’s killer. He was the only one who would want to burn down a simple cabin in the woods.

  “He probably thought she was inside,” Turner said as the deputy drew a notebook from his pocket and began to write.

  “Perhaps she was. Perhaps he followed her there and she got away without him seeing her.” Clutching at the shred of hope, Claire grabbed hold of Turner’s arm. “He’s probably long gone by now, Turner.”

  “Well, I’m not going to wait to find out.” Turner looked at the deputy still scribbling in his notebook. “If anyone wants to know where I am, I’m going up on the Ridge.”

  The deputy opened his mouth to protest, but Turner had already spun around, heading for the road.

  “Wait,” Claire said, bounding after him. “I’m coming, too.”

  He shook his head at her. “I can’t let you, Claire. Give me a rough idea where to start looking and I’ll go from there.”

  “Either I come with you or I follow you up there. Take your choice.”

  She waited while he stared at her for what seemed an eternity. Then he said gruffly, “You’ll be safer with me. Let’s go.”

  Ignoring the deputy’s shout, she plunged across the road with him and into the smoky trees.

  “We can’t go the short route,” Turner said as they jogged along an unfamiliar trail. “The fire’s already got too much of a hold. We’d never get through. We’ll have to go in the back way. We can circle the fire and hopefully outrun it. Providing the wind doesn’t pick up or change direction.”

  She didn’t want to think about it. They both knew how fickle the wind could be. She couldn’t answer him, anyway. She needed to save her breath.

  She let out a small yelp as a deer lumbered past her, going in the opposite direction. Now that she noticed it, the woods seemed to be teeming with creatures, scuttling, sliding, leaping in a desperate flight for life. They were heading toward the river. Some of them would drown, some would not outrun the flames. But some would survive, as Harrie would, she told herself fiercely. As Harrie must.

  The smoke bothered her eyes, her throat, her lungs. She dashed an arm across her face and plunged on at Turner’s side. They seemed to be heading straight for the heart of the fire. She could hear the roar and the crackle of flames, and already sparks were stinging her face and arms.

  She’d left her sweatshirt in the
car, she remembered. She wouldn’t need it for warmth. The heat hovered all around them. Just when she started to feel really frightened, Turner veered off to the left, down an even narrower trail through dense undergrowth and trees. The ground sloped sharply upward, and she realized they were on the lower slopes of the hills.

  Her legs ached already, and they had a long climb ahead. But the thought of Harrie up there, alone and frightened, perhaps already aware of the terrible danger she was in, spurred her on.

  After a while the smoke seemed to thin out, and she could breathe a little easier. Turner climbed steadily, just a little ahead of her, but she had no trouble keeping up. The thought that worried her the most was that they were approaching the Ridge from a different direction. In the dark, it could be very difficult to find Harrie’s secret places.

  The sparks no longer bothered her, though her lungs still ached with the effort to breathe. Then, suddenly, they were out of the trees and climbing open land.

  In front of her Turner halted. “God,” he said softly.

  She paused by his side and followed his gaze. Her breath caught, and she raised a hand to her burning throat. It was like looking straight into hell.

  The sky glowed an angry red above the burning forest. Yellow flames sprang up through the smoke, leaping and tumbling like brightly colored waterfalls. Every now and again a tree exploded, sending a shower of sparks flying into the wind.

  As Claire watched, a row of trees burst into flame, one behind the other like a stand of fireworks. All around them came the rustling sound of animals seeking escape. These were not so fortunate, their route to the river cut off, their only hope the open land on the other side of the ridge.

  “There’s the trail Harrie would use,” Turner said, pointing off to the right. “We’ll make for that so you can get your bearings.”

  Wondering how he could see so well in the dark, Claire followed him, stumbling now and again when her foot hit a rabbit hole or a mound of earth.

  Then her feet were on firm ground again as they reached the trail and continued up. Before long she began to recognize small signs. Like the spindly alder that had been split in two by the elements, the outcrop of rocks shaped like a whale and, finally, the marionberry bushes. Harrie’s first hiding place.

  It took only a moment to establish that she wasn’t there.

  “I know where she’ll be,” Claire said as Turner shook his head. “I think she’ll be in the bat cave.”

  “Bat cave?”

  “Yes.” Claire quickened her pace, although her muscles protested painfully. “The only problem is, if Harrie was telling the truth about the bats, the cave is not going to be too comfortable.”

  What if that had stopped Harrie from going in? she thought, once more caught up by the fear that had hovered in the back of her mind. What if Harrie had found somewhere else? Somewhere she didn’t know about?

  A loud drone disturbed her thoughts as a helicopter swooped low over the burning forest. It was followed by a small plane, which left a trail of mist behind it as it dived perilously close to the tops of the trees.

  Turner touched her arm and pointed farther down the Ridge. A line of men fanned out, moving slowly upward. “The search team,” Turner said. “It will be a while before they get this far up.”

  Claire nodded. “The bat cave is higher up, about another five minutes’ climb. I think we should go there first and work our way back down if she’s not there.”

  “Okay.” He paused and looked down at her. “You all right?”

  “Yes.” No, she thought, she wasn’t. Harrie was missing and in danger. A fire raged beneath them, threatening to turn on them at any time. Somewhere out there, though neither of them had mentioned it again, a killer could be lurking. And worst of all, she loved Turner Mitchell and couldn’t have him.

  The closer they drew to the cave, the harder Claire prayed. Already smoke had begun to drift up the slope. The wind was shifting. They were running out of time.

  Finally she could see the crevice and pointed it out to Turner. He muttered something she couldn’t catch and broke into a run. His voice seemed to echo off the hills as he shouted Harrie’s name over and over again.

  Claire had to scramble to keep up with him now. She saw him halt in front of the cave, still shouting. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel the vibration of it. Harrie had to be there. She had to be.

  Turner paused. The silence was broken by the drone of the helicopter and the faint shouts of the fire fighters striving to be heard above the roar and crackle of flames.

  Then faintly, as if nothing more than an echo on the wind, Claire heard a soft voice.

  “Daddy?”

  Turner shouted back, and Claire’s eyes misted as she stumbled forward. The glow in the sky lit up the hillside now. She saw the expression on Turner’s face as he looked at her, and she wanted desperately to fling herself into his arms and never let him go.

  “Thank God,” Turner whispered, then turned back to the crevice. “Harrie, come out now, right away.”

  “I can’t.”

  The wail came, loud and clear.

  Turner squatted in front of the crevice, his face pressed to the gap. “Why can’t you, kitten?”

  “There’s a big rock on my foot, and I can’t move it.” She began to cry, a thin, mournful sound that broke Claire’s heart. “It hurts, Daddy.”

  Turner swore, then reached for the opening to the cave as if he would pry the rock apart with his bare hands.

  “Wait, Turner.” Claire stepped up to the opening. She thought about the bats for just a second, then shut out the vision from her mind. “I think I can get in there.”

  He looked at her, his look of frustration fading into hope. “It’s a tight squeeze.”

  “I can do it. I’m slimmer than I seem.” She would walk through the rock itself as long as he’d keep looking at her like that, she thought.

  “Can I help?”

  “Yes, you can keep talking to Harrie. Try to calm her down so I can get her out of there.”

  He nodded, and as he did so, a gust of wind showered ash across the rocks. Claire glanced behind her, her pulse jumping when she saw that some of the shrubs at the edge of the trees were in flames.

  “For God’s sake hurry,” Turner said urgently.

  Sending up a silent prayer, Claire edged her hip into the narrow space. Turner started speaking to Harrie, who answered him with an occasional word now and again.

  At least she’d stopped crying, Claire consoled herself as she squeezed her body farther into the gap. For a moment she panicked when she thought she wouldn’t be able to get her head through. She pulled in a breath and felt the rock pressing against her body as if it were closing in on her.

  Closing her eyes, she slowly let out the air in her lungs and pulled in her diaphragm. Then she turned her head sideways and pushed again. Inch by inch her body scraped painfully along the rock until, with a small cry of triumph, she was through.

  At first she could see nothing. She could hear a faint scuffling noise and the chill crept up her back. She felt an uncontrollable urge to protect her head and had actually raised her arms, when Harrie spoke her name in a voice filled with such terror, Claire forgot about the bats.

  “Yes, honey, it’s me,” she said, moving her foot forward to test the ground in front of her.

  “My foot’s caught,” Harrie said out of the darkness.

  The dank smell of the cave almost suffocated Claire as she moved toward the voice. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark, helped by the faint glow from the gap in the rocks.

  From outside came Turner’s voice again, deep and urgent. “Claire, make it fast. The fire’s gaining hold.”

  Fighting back the panic, Claire answered him. “We’ll be right out.”

  “Is the man gone?” Harrie said, her voice shaking with fear.

  Once more chills chased down Claire’s back. “The man?”

  “The man who chased me. He burned down t
he cabin, I saw him.”

  “Oh, honey.” She had pinpointed the voice now, just a few feet in front of her. The roof sloped sharply, and she cracked her head painfully as she stepped forward. Dropping to her hands and knees, she started to crawl toward Harrie.

  “Where did you see the man?” she asked in an attempt to keep Harrie talking.

  “He chased me up the hill.”

  Claire stopped abruptly. “How far up the hill?”

  “All the way up here. That’s why I came in here. I knew he was too fat to come in after me.”

  Claire was proud of her casual tone when she answered. “How long ago was that, Harrie?”

  “A long time ago. When it was still light.”

  He could be anywhere, Claire thought, her heart beginning to race again. Anywhere. She called out sharply, “Turner?”

  His deep voice answered immediately. “Yes, I’m here. Is she all right? What’s going on?”

  Reaching out in front of her, Claire touched a smooth, bare arm. “I’ve got her, Turner. But please, be careful out there. Our friend followed Harrie up here.”

  She inched forward again and drew Harrie’s trembling body into her arms. The little girl let a sob escape. “Oh, Claire, I was so scared.”

  “It’s okay now, honey.” She started to feel down the child’s leg. “Which foot is it?”

  “This one.”

  A small hand touched Claire’s and drew it down to where a large flat rock rested on something. “It fell on my foot when I was crawling back here.”

  Claire shifted her position so that she could get both hands on the rock. “All right, I’m going to lift this up. As soon as I do, you try to pull your foot free, okay?”

  “Okay.” Harrie sounded doubtful. “But it hurts a lot.”

  “I’m sorry, honey, I’m afraid it might hurt a bit, but we have to get out of here. We’ll soon make it better once we get out, okay?”

  To Claire’s relief she sounded stronger when she answered. Remembering what a tough little girl she was, Claire could only hope that she’d be able to withstand the pain enough to get the foot free.

  “All right, Harrie, on the count of three, okay?”