Kirk used his GPS, which told him his location within a few feet and kept him on a direct path upward. “Another hour, girl.”
Pepper wagged her tail, raised her head and sniffed. She let out a low whine that indicated her eagerness to keep going, to do the work she spent so much time training for.
“Rest a little first,” Kirk told her. “We’ll make better time if we—”
A shot fired, echoing across the mountain. A patch of snow from above them broke off the mountainside and plunged toward where Pepper and Kirk stood. The miniature avalanche missed them by less than fifty yards.
Pepper growled and Kirk dived for cover, knowing she’d automatically stay with him. He had no idea if someone had fired at him and missed, or if a hunter’s stray shot had gone awry. Either way, he didn’t want to present himself or Pepper as a target.
Another possibility crossed his mind. Sara might have found a gun on the plane and tried to signal for help, firing close but not too close.
However, it was much more likely that Logan had been right. That someone else wanted to stop Kirk from getting to Sara first.
He had no idea from where the shot had been fired and hesitated to risk coming out from behind the tree. He listened hard and heard nothing. No footsteps. No cracking branches. No voices. Just the wind and Pepper’s panting.
And Sara’s voice in his head, urging him to hurry.
Kirk removed his hat, placed it over a branch and stuck it out from behind the tree, prepared to pull back at the first sign of danger. But nothing happened.
However, he had not imagined that shot. He considered breaking radio silence, but decided against doing so. Logan had warned him to use the radio only in an emergency. While a shot fired at him might qualify, calling in for information or help might allow whoever was out there to triangulate on his position.
Kirk couldn’t allow anyone to reach Sara before he did and, with renewed determination, he headed upward. Choosing his path to take advantage of natural cover slowed him more than he would have liked, but he told himself that the pace he set would have been brutal to even a skilled mountain man.
Unfortunately, he could do little to hide his tracks in the snow. He’d just have to move faster and ignore the burning of his lungs in the thin mountain air.
Breathing hard, Kirk checked his position again about thirty minutes later. He estimated that Pepper might soon catch Sara’s scent. He removed Sara’s sweater from the plastic bag and allowed Pepper a whiff before he signaled the dog to begin a back-and-forth route, hoping he hadn’t tried too soon. If Sara hadn’t survived, or if her scent was too faint, he could waste too much of the animal’s stamina and strength. Pepper would run until she dropped, in hope of a successful rescue. Kirk had to make sure he didn’t ask more of the animal than she was capable of giving.
As if their task wasn’t difficult enough, the snow that had dwindled to occasional snowflakes for hours began to swell into another full-fledged storm. The only good thing was that the snow would quickly fill in his tracks.
Kirk neither saw nor heard any signs of another human being on the mountain. Yet, he sensed he was being pursued. If he found Sara alive, he would have to figure out a way to slip past whoever was after her and come down safely.
But that was a very big “if.”
Pepper’s ears rose, and she wagged her tail excitedly. She’d caught Sara’s scent. She no longer zigzagged but headed almost straight upward, leading Kirk through a dense stand of pines, around boulders higher than his head and past a cave in the cliffs.
When Pepper stopped and growled, Kirk at first feared that she’d lost the scent with a wind change. But then he realized that Pepper had stopped because she could go no farther. They’d come up against a solid wall of ice.
And right beside them was half the airplane—the tail section. Even from here he could clearly see that no one was there. Taking out his binoculars, he searched the mountain for signs of the fuselage.
Buried in snow, about five hundred yards from the tail section, he could make out the flattened fuselage and the silhouette of the broken cockpit window. But no body. He’d have to check it out. She could be hidden on the other side or buried in the snow.
He stepped toward the aircraft, but Pepper blocked his path. Knowing her senses were much keener than his, he knelt, wishing, not for the first time, that she could speak to him with words. “What is it, girl?”
Pepper lightly took his gloved hand between her teeth and tugged him toward the cliff. She looked up and barked. Clearly, she wanted to go straight up the side of the mountain.
Kirk looked back at the crashed plane, flattened as if with a giant hammer. Without going closer, he already knew that if Sara had been in that plane when it crashed, she would be dead. But if the plane had smashed at a higher elevation and dumped her out before tumbling farther down the mountain, she could still be alive and above them, as Pepper seemed to indicate.
With someone in possible pursuit, Kirk didn’t waste time. He believed in his dog. “Okay, girl. We’re going up.”
First, he hitched Pepper into her harness, which was attached to a sturdy rope. Once Kirk climbed up the cliff’s face, he’d haul her up hand over hand. Pepper nudged him, quite impatient with his speed.
“Okay, okay. I’m going.”
The climb wasn’t quite straight up. Kirk told himself he’d overcome worse obstacles. But not in this kind of wind. Not after hours of trudging through hip-deep snow. Not when he couldn’t see five feet in front of him. And certainly not when he presented a clear silhouette for a shooter.
But Pepper’s determination gave him hope that Sara was up there waiting for him. And when he cleared the top, he smelled what Pepper had been so excited about.
Smoke.
Chapter Five
The fire had kept Sara and Abby warm enough to survive the night, and Sara had dozed between the tasks of putting additional wood on the fire and feeding Abby. She awakened groggy, startled by a noise she couldn’t quite place.
She checked her watch. Half past ten. She hadn’t meant to sleep so late, but with the blizzard outside still raging, there was no reason to get up and make the decision whether to stay here, head for higher ground with her cell phone, or try to walk out before she lost more of her strength. The lack of food and the cold had worn her down into a strange lethargy, although she was sure she’d kept up their core temperatures and avoided hypothermia and dehydration by her determined efforts. Not only had she kept the fire going, but inspiration made her heat stones in the fire and then place them around their extremities. That extra warmth had been worth the effort of gathering the stones and carrying them back, but she’d paid for the heat with depletion of her energy.
Lifting her arms was now an effort. She wasn’t sure she could stand, but for Abby’s sake, if she had to, she would crawl to the downed tree to collect more wood to keep the fire going another twenty-four hours. On stiff arms and knees, she moved out from her lair into hard-falling snow and wind that seemed to chill her straight to the bone.
The minute she stuck her nose out, a warm tongue swiped across her cheek and a dog’s familiar whine greeted her ears.
“Pepper?” Sara had to be dreaming. Because where Pepper led, Kirk followed.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or question her sanity. And as much as she and Abby needed rescuing, Kirk was the last man on earth she wanted to face. The pain of the divorce was still too sharp.
A man’s silhouette solidified out of the snow. He was wearing a dark blue parka and carrying a huge pack. She’d never thought to see Kirk again and had tried to bury her feelings along with her memories. The good recollections and the bad ones had haunted many a sleepless night. But looking at him now caused those dammed-up feelings to make her head spin, reminding her of her loss and all she’d missed since their split. She would not faint—even if her knees did feel like jelly. Now was no time for silly, emotional reactions—not with Abby’s life at stake.
“Sara?”
She covered up both her relief and her pain with sarcasm. “Now I know what it takes to get you home—a plane crash.”
“Are you all right?” He strode toward her, his concerned eyes searching her face; he was evaluating her condition like the professional he was.
“That would depend how you define ‘all right.’”
His voice was gentle. “Any broken bones, internal or external bleeding?”
She shook her head, told herself to keep to the practical chores needed for survival. “Unless you have a way to get us out of here in this storm, I could use help gathering firewood and something to eat.”
He shrugged off his huge pack, dipped his hand inside and pulled out a power bar. She held out her hand, forgetting that she’d taped a diaper around it to keep her fingers warm, and saw his brows rise in surprise.
He unwrapped the power bar and handed it to her. “Very innovative.”
“You have no idea.”
Pepper had stuck her head inside the makeshift igloo. Outside, her tail wagged ferociously.
“Dog,” Abby said.
Kirk’s gaze went to the snow shelter and then back to her. “The baby?”
Sara bit into the bar and chewed. Until now, she hadn’t realized how very hungry she was. She’d been busy trying to keep warm and feed Abby, and the dual drain on her body had taken a toll. Now that Kirk had arrived, exhaustion took over, and she swayed on her feet.
“Abby’s okay.”
Kirk handed her his canteen and field-ration meal, the kind that heated automatically upon being opened. “Go eat. I’ll gather more wood.”
A million thoughts spun through her head but she pointed toward the downed tree. “There’s a dead pine over there.”
Kirk removed an ax from his gear, waited until she crawled inside the shelter, then shoved his pack in after her. “Help yourself to whatever you need. But don’t use the radio.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Sara forced herself to eat slowly instead of gobbling the turkey, stuffing and green beans, hoping the food would replenish her energy. Until Kirk had arrived, she’d been going on pure adrenaline, and she hadn’t much left in reserve. Maybe that was good. Her emotions felt numbed.
After finishing every bite of the hot meal and washing it down with water from Kirk’s canteen, Sara dug into his pack and found a set of snowpants, which she slipped on over her jeans. She donned an extra pair of thick socks and set aside the gloves for later.
Abby awakened, and Sara breast-fed her daughter. When the howling wind died around them and the temperature inside increased, Sara realized that Kirk had placed a tarp over the branches of her roof, leaving a hole in the center large enough for the smoke to exit.
She’d just finished changing Abby’s diaper, when Kirk crawled into the snow hut and Pepper followed. The tiny shelter suddenly seemed crowded and warm. The food must have rejuvenated her because Sara’s emotions spiked. For so long she’d wanted this moment of their family coming together to happen, but when it hadn’t, she’d told herself that it was for the best. If Kirk didn’t ever meet his daughter, he’d never ask for joint custody, and Sara wouldn’t have to share Abby. Selfish of her? Yes. But sensible, too. Kirk had a simpatico relationship with his dogs, not with his ex-wife, or with his child. But then, he hadn’t yet met Abby.
Abby should know her father. On one hand, however, Sara feared Kirk would reject their daughter. On the other, she was afraid he wouldn’t.
Although Kirk stole several glances at the baby, he focused mostly on Sara. “You did great, you know.”
“I had no choice.”
“Most people wouldn’t have lasted through last night’s storm.” He took up over half the room, but he scrunched up his knees to make space for Pepper as he fed the fire with wood. “Did you have matches to start the fire?”
Relief shot through her. She didn’t have the strength to discuss Abby or their divorce. Not yet. Maybe Kirk sensed her mood, or maybe he didn’t want to talk about their past either.
“When the pilot parachuted out of the plane, he grabbed my computer case. Filled with books, the weight probably felt right to him and he believed he’d stolen my work—and left us to die. But I’d slipped my laptop into the diaper bag I’d strapped behind Abby’s car seat. I only had my computer and Abby’s diapers. I got a spark out of the battery.”
Kirk chuckled, and the pride in his eyes warmed her.
“Did I ever tell you that you have a beautiful mind?”
“I should have been smarter. More careful.” Abby fussed in the car seat, and Sara picked up the baby, held her over her shoulder and rubbed her back to ease out a burp. “I know my program is valuable, but I never imagined that anyone would do more than maybe try to steal it.”
“Your home was trashed, the hard drive of your desktop computer empty.”
“I wiped the hard drive.” Abby started to cry. Probably the gas in her tummy hurt. Poor little tyke. Although the literature she’d read claimed breast-fed babies didn’t get as much gas as those bottle-fed, Abby almost always burped once after feeding, then again a few minutes later.
Pepper ignored the noisy baby and kept her eyes on Sara.
Kirk spoke louder to be heard over Abby’s cries. “Where are your program’s backups?”
“Hidden.” At least she’d done something right. But then, she’d always protected her work. What she couldn’t forgive herself for was putting her daughter’s life at risk. As if in agreement, Abby began to scream and kick her feet.
“Can I hold her?” Kirk asked. From the tender but irritated look in his eyes, he obviously thought she wasn’t comforting her daughter.
Maybe he was right. Abby certainly seemed to spend a large amount of time crying. Still, Sara knew she was a good mother. Her pediatrician agreed. Some babies were difficult. Abby was one of those, yet that had nothing to do with how much Sara loved her.
With a pang, Sara handed the baby to Kirk. In protest, Abby turned her head toward her mother and cried harder. Her tears seemed to say, How could you do this to me? Sara supposed she would have felt betrayed if the child had ceased crying the moment her daddy held her, so she couldn’t stop a tiny hitch of satisfaction.
Kirk bounced the baby gently, seemingly fascinated by her tiny tears, her red, red face and her fists clenched so ferociously. Sara supposed she should warn him. But then she thought of the nine months of pregnancy that she’d spent alone. Bearing the pain of childbirth without her husband to hold her hand. Months of midnight feedings. He had just climbed a mountain during a blizzard to rescue them. For that she owed him. But when it came to Abby, she owed him nothing.
“Stop bouncing her, Kirk. She just ate.”
He glanced from Abby to her breasts. “You still have enough milk?”
She nodded. At the mention of the intimate subject, she tried to appear casual but suspected he wasn’t fooled. He knew every inch of Sara’s body, knew what pleased her, knew what drove her wild. But that had been a long time ago, she reminded herself.
“How did you know I’m breast-feeding?”
He juggled Abby, ignoring Sara’s warning. “Logan Kincaid told me when he hired me.”
“Logan Kincaid?” The brilliant computer programmer who’d sold Sara part of her source code had told Kirk that she was breast-feeding?
Abby burped loudly, predictably spitting up on her daddy’s shoulder. Sara chuckled and wagered with herself how long it would take him to hand the baby back to her. Five seconds? Ten? Twenty?
Kirk frowned and gently placed Abby in the crux of one arm, picked up a handful of snow and calmly rubbed away the sour milk. The smell would take hours to fade, but she said nothing, simply enjoyed watching him deal with the mishap. She’d forgotten how down-to-earth he could be. She should have figured that a man who worked next to bombs all day wouldn’t get upset about a little baby spit.
“You knew she was going to do that, didn’t you,” he muttered, partly annoyed, part
ly amused. “I should have listened. I should have listened to you about a lot of things.”
Refusing to let his reflections soften her feelings toward him even a smidgen, she put off the personal comments for a later discussion.
“What does Logan Kincaid have to do with me?”
“He found me at the ranch. He told me your plane had gone down.”
Maybe she still hadn’t recovered enough for her brain to work properly, but she couldn’t make the connections necessary to understand what he was saying. “You aren’t making sense. Why would Logan Kincaid find you?” Kirk had been stationed in Pakistan. “Or were you on leave at a ranch?”
“Logan runs a private corporation of ex-military and CIA types. They take on secret missions for the government. Within hours of your plane going down, Logan Kincaid knew a witness had seen a man parachute to safety. He also knew your house had been trashed.”
“Someone wants my program.”
“Badly enough to kill for it,” he added, his tone hard, his eyes harder. “But who?”
Pepper responded to his tone by lifting her head. He petted her reassuringly and she snuggled against his legs.
“The program’s worth a lot of money, so my competitors would be interested, of course.” She paused, thinking. “Terrorists might want to stop our government from using my software. If it tests out, and it will, the program is so fast it can digitalize a face and identify it, even in poor lighting. Even if the person wears a hat or sunglasses. I’ve figured out how to—”
“Sara—”
His sharp tone made her realize she’d been about to delve into the technical intricacies of her work.
“—who else would kill for your program?”
Daddy to the Rescue Page 6