by Terri Reed
Which was probably why the colonel assigned Poppy and Stormy, an Irish wolfhound, for the initial deploy. Stormy was highly cross-trained to detect weapons and people, while Poppy was also an experienced wildlife trooper. Maya and her partner, a Malinois name Sarge, were experts at sniffing out all types of weapons and explosives. Even infectious diseases.
After retrieving his partner, a red-and-white Siberian husky named Juneau, from Hunter’s assigned small office and gathering the equipment necessary for a mountain search, Hunter headed to the colonel’s administrative assistant’s office. He stopped in the doorway.
“Good afternoon, Hunter. Come in,” Katie Kapowski, a petite redhead with sharp green eyes, was the consummate professional. She rose from her desk with a file folder in her hand.
As Maya and Poppy and their respective dogs joined Hunter and Juneau, Katie gave Hunter the folder. “Here’s everything I could gather quickly on the missing wedding party. I’ve already been fielding calls from Mrs. James and her representatives, wanting answers.”
“We will do our best to bring home the four missing people,” Hunter assured her. He never made promises he couldn’t keep, and he knew from experience that sometimes search and rescue missions ended up as recoveries. He sent up a prayer that wouldn’t be the case here.
Following the directions in the file folder, Hunter drove his vehicle to the Glen Alps trailhead parking area. Poppy and Maya brought their own SUVs to a halt alongside his.
A Metro police cruiser sat waiting with its motor running next to a van with the logo of the tour company, Unexplored Alaska.
Hunter climbed out of his SUV and breathed in the crisp, cold air. Overhead more clouds gathered, giving credence to the predicted coming snowfall.
A tall police officer climbed out of the cruiser and jogged over to him. “Trooper McCord?” the officer asked.
Hunter stuck out his hand. “Yes. Hunter McCord. Officer—” Hunter glanced at the name badge on the other man’s jacket. “Brand.”
“Call me Everett. My chief wanted me to let you look at the Unexplored Alaska van before we have it taken to the state crime lab.”
“I appreciate it,” Hunter said. “Were there any signs of foul play in or around the van?”
“Not that we saw,” Everett said. “But I’m sure Tala will find anything if there is something to find.”
Hunter knew the forensic tech, Tala Ekho, from the Alaska State Crime Lab, was top-notch, and he had confidence that what Everett said was true.
“Open the van, will you?” Hunter instructed. “We’ll let the dogs take a good sniff.”
Everett complied, opening the side door to the ten-passenger cargo van.
After releasing Juneau from his compartment in the SUV, Hunter had the dog explore the van. Then Hunter and Juneau moved aside to let Maya and Sarge take a sniff. Then Poppy and Stormy had a turn. Though Sarge and Stormy weren’t necessarily trained for search and rescue, their noses would be assets out in the field.
Everett locked up the van when they were done.
“We’re going to head up the mountain and search for our missing wedding party,” Hunter told him. “If we find anything, I’ll alert dispatch and they can alert you.”
“Copy,” Everett said and jogged back to his cruiser.
Consulting the notes provided by Katie, Hunter said to Poppy and Maya, “We take the main trail, and then we’ll branch off to an alternate route for the top of Flattop Mountain.”
“Where was the tour guide found?” Maya asked, looking over his shoulder at the map.
“Here.” He pointed to a red dot that had been marked on the paper topography map. “A few yards above what looks like a crag in the mountainside.”
“Let’s do this,” Poppy said as she adjusted the strap on her climbing helmet.
Hunter tucked the map into the front zippered pocket of his winterized jacket. He put his climbing helmet on his head, making sure his goggles had a good seal before jamming his hands into his gloves. Then he hefted his internal frame pack loaded with everything he could possibly need for this mission onto his back.
Maya and Poppy also had similar packs. And the dogs were outfitted with winter coats marked Alaska K-9 Unit and long leads.
Hunter and Juneau led the way up the marked trail at a fast clip. When he gauged they’d traveled the right distance, he checked the map again, looking for where the tour guide had taken his party off the path.
Maya and Sarge moved ahead of Hunter. “Here.” She gestured to where a yellow cone had been set in the snow, revealing the route many feet had recently tread, which appeared to lead toward Flattop.
With Maya now leading the way, they followed the intermittent yellow cones as they traversed the manmade footpath. The terrain was rough, the forest thick and the incline steep.
“We’re coming to the crag,” Hunter said loudly.
The outcrop was approximately ten feet wide where they stood but extended farther along the face of the mountain until it narrowed into a short ledge, barely wide enough to stand on.
More yellow cones led up the next incline. Hunter paused to assess the area. There were footprints in the snow all over the outcrop. No doubt from the tour group and the police department.
“Let’s spread out,” he said. “Maya, search where the body was discovered. See if you can find the weapon or any other evidence that might be useful.”
Maya nodded. Then she and Sarge proceeded to follow the cones.
Hunter stood facing the mountain. “The others had to go up, right?”
“Or around,” Poppy said. “There was nothing to suggest they went back the way they came.”
“You take a path up to the right,” Hunter suggested. “I’ll go to the left. Check in frequently.”
“You got it.” Poppy and Stormy headed off.
Hunter unhooked Juneau from his lead. “Search.”
The dog cocked his head, sniffed the air, then put his nose to the snow. Rather than turning toward the trees as Hunter expected, the dog took off toward the place on the outcrop that was narrow. Juneau stared over the side of the cliff, let out a series of sharp howls, then hurried back to Hunter before circling back to the edge of the cliff.
Hunter rushed forward. He peered over the side but couldn’t see anything through the thick forest and snow covering the side of the mountain. He shrugged off his pack and retrieved his binoculars. Once he had them adjusted properly, he swept his gaze looking for what had Juneau alerting.
His gaze snagged on a flash of bright pink.
There was someone caught on a large bramble growing out of the side of cliff face about twenty feet below where he stood. He was going to have to rappel down the mountain.
He prayed this was a rescue and not a recovery.
TWO
Heart beating a chaotic rhythm in his chest with his gaze locked on the still figure sprawled in the snow-dusted bushes below, Hunter grabbed the radio from beneath his jacket. Thumbing the mic, he said, “Poppy, Maya, I found one of the wedding party over the edge of the outcrop. I need to get down there.”
“Headed back now,” Poppy’s voice came through the device.
“Copy,” Maya said. “On our way.”
Hunter took another look through the binoculars and stared down at the motionless form. The bright pink of the jacket suggested a female. Her blond hair was matted with blood on the back of her head. The bride or her bridesmaid?
The grooves in the snow suggested she tumbled down the side of the cliff.
Dead or alive? His gut twisted. It had been three hours since the wedding party had gone missing. If the woman below was alive, she had no doubt sustained injuries and was probably slipping into hypothermia.
Hunter had to get to her.
Using the radio again, he called dispatch, asking for EMS. He gave them the location. The
n he searched through his pack and unloaded the rappelling gear, which consisted of ropes, a climbing harness, and a carabiner brake rig. Spying a nearby tree that would be a sturdy anchor, he looped the ropes around the tree trunk, then made a bowline removal knot. He tugged on the rope, assuring the knot would hold, then stretched the ropes to the edge of the cliff. Once he had his harness secured around his waist, Hunter threaded one end of each rope though his Rollnlock, an ultra-light pulley and rope clamp/brake.
Poppy and Stormy came out of the trees, dislodging clumps of snow from the branches, and hurried over. Poppy gave the command for Stormy to sit. The big Irish wolfhound’s head almost reached her shoulder.
“I called for EMS,” Hunter said, handing her the binoculars.
Poppy went to the edge of the cliff, then hustled back to his side. “I see her.”
“I tied off to the tree as an anchor,” he informed her. “I need you to keep the lines from tangling and make sure the ropes don’t get caught on anything.”
“Will do.”
Within moments, Maya and Sarge joined them. Snow clung to Sarge’s fur. Hunter explained his plan to rappel down the side of the mountain to assess the woman’s injuries.
“Maya, can you be my beta and navigate me down?”
“With pleasure.” Taking the binoculars, Maya hurried to the cliff’s edge and lay down so she could peer over the side. Sarge went on his belly beside her.
Hunter secured his goggles, slipped on his heavy-duty climbing gloves, then double-checked his harness and rigging.
After a moment of scanning the trees, Maya said, “Okay, you’re going to go straight down from here. Then you’ll need to go twenty degrees to your left to miss a boulder. It appears to have a smear of blood on it.”
“Got it,” Hunter replied. “That explains the blood on our victim’s head.” He didn’t like the idea of a head injury.
“Ropes look good,” Poppy said.
To Juneau, Hunter said, “Down.” The dog went onto his belly. “Stay.”
Hunter knew his K-9 partner wouldn’t break until given permission. There was no reason to take Juneau down the face of the cliff. “Poppy, can you send word to Sean that a search around the base of the mountain is in order in case any other wedding party members also went over the side of this ledge and weren’t as blessed to have a bush break their descent?”
Sean and Grace would recover whomever hadn’t survived the fall because the base of the mountain was a good sixty or so feet down. Hunter sent up a prayer that the victim he was about to rappel to would be alive.
At the edge of the crag, after one last safety check of his harnesses and then locking the carabiner clip that would act as a brake, Hunter clutched the rope and put his booted feet on the lip of the ledge, bracing himself as he leaned back and stretched his legs out. Slowly he walked his way down the cliff face, allowing the rope to slide smoothly through the device. His boots slipped on loose rock and debris beneath the layer of snow, but thankfully, they were equipped with crampons that provided traction.
With each step of his descent, his heart stuttered. Questions ran through his mind. Who shot the tour guide? And why? Was this a kidnapping gone wrong? Or something else? Was the woman below alive?
He paused a moment to glance upward as the first few flakes of snow began to fall, quickly melting against his jacket.
A sense of urgency hurried him on, and he quickened his pace.
“Stop!” Maya called. “Shift left.”
Praying the rope didn’t fray on the sharp edge of the outcrop, he walked horizontally along the sheer cliff face.
“Perfect,” Maya said. “Good to go for ten more feet.”
Moving swiftly yet carefully, Hunter glanced over his shoulder. He was almost to the woman. Her blond hair was tangled in the branches of the bush she’d landed on. He grimaced at the up close sight of matted blood on the back of her head.
Thankfully, the thicket had prevented her from falling farther down the mountainside. Hunter sent a quick praise to God for big blessings.
When he reached the woman’s side, he planted his feet to brace himself, locked his brake mechanism in place and then stripped one glove off.
He gauged the woman’s height around five feet, six inches. She wore hiking boots and snow pants and gloves.
Careful not to dislodge her, he rooted beneath her hair and the collar of her bright pink coat for her neck, praying he would find a pulse.
There was a definite thump against his finger. A pulse. Weak, but there. “Yes!”
Where were her friends? Was this the bride?
Hunter thumbed his mic on his radio. “The woman is alive. As soon as EMS arrives, we need a litter down here,” he said. “I don’t want to move her until we have to.”
Poppy’s voice crackled on the radio. “EMS is on their way to us. I will let them know the status of our rescue.”
A rescue. Hunter once again sent up a praise to God for another blessing on this bleak day. The irony that he was thanking his Heavenly Father wasn’t lost on Hunter. There had been too many prayers that had gone unanswered over the years.
* * *
A groan echoed in Ariel’s ears. Was someone hurt? She needed to help them.
She heard another moan and decided she was the source of the noise. Nausea rolled through her stomach as the world seemed to spin. What was happening?
Somewhere in her mind, she realized she was being turned over onto a hard surface. Dull pain pounded the back of her head.
“Miss? Miss?”
A hand on her shoulder brought Ariel out of the foggy state engulfing her. Opening her eyelids proved to be a struggle. Snow fell from the sky, stinging her cheeks, falling into her eyes. Then a hand shielded her face from the elements.
Her gaze passed across broad shoulders to a very handsome face beneath a helmet. Dark hair peeked out from the edge of the helmet and a pair of goggles hung from his neck. Was she dreaming? Who was this man?
She’d never seen this guy before in her life. This had to be a dream, right? Yet how could she dream about a man she’d never seen before?
The pull of sleep was hard to resist. She closed her eyes. Maybe the man in her dream would help her. But help her with what?
“Stay with me,” the man murmured.
His voice coaxed her to do as he instructed, and she forced her eyes open.
Where was she?
Awareness of aches and pains screamed throughout her body, bringing the world into sharp focus. She was flat on her back and her head throbbed.
Ariel started to raise a hand to touch her head, but something was holding her arm down. She tried to sit up, and when she discovered she couldn’t, she lifted her head to see why. Though doing so created more pain. Straps had been placed across her shoulders, her torso, hips and knees to keep her in place on a rescue basket. A metallic silver Mylar blanket had been tucked around her, insulating her body’s warmth.
“Hey, now, I need you to concentrate on being still and staying awake.”
That deep, rich voice brought her focus back to the moment. Memory flooded her on a wave of terror. The horror of rolling down the side of the cliff, hitting her head, landing in a bramble bush, and the fear of moving that would take her plummeting to the bottom of the mountain. She must have gone in and out of consciousness before being rescued. She gasped with realization. “Someone pushed me!”
The handsome man’s piercing blue eyes widened. Then his eyebrows drew together. “Pushed you?”
“Where’s Violet? Lance and Jared?” She struggled not to freak out. Why had someone shoved her off the edge of the cliff?
The man winced slightly. “You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Her dream man’s voice soothed her. But why wasn’t he answering her questions? She swallowed, her mind rebelling at the possible an
swers. “Who are you?”
“Trooper Hunter McCord.”
Definitely not someone she’d previously met. Ariel rolled the name around in her head. She liked the sound of it. Strong consonants, masculine and powerful. Was he someone she could count on? Trust?
Doubtful, her cynical side chimed in. There was no one she could rely on in life, except for God. She knew this, but still that dream of a grand romance lingered at the edges of her consciousness. Hmm. She must’ve taken a hard hit to the head if she was romanticizing her rescuer.
A beam of light shone bright in her eyes. “Can you tell us your name?”
She flinched against the light. “Ariel Potter.”
When the light was turned off, she realized the first man wasn’t alone. Two other men were with him, both dressed in snow coveralls with the Anchorage Emergency Medical Services logo on the breast pocket and across their helmets.
The men talked in a low tone with the trooper. She couldn’t make out the words though she strained to hear.
Hunter moved closer. “Okay, Ariel, we’re going to lift the rescue basket and take you up the side of the mountain.”
“What?” She writhed against the restraints.
“Don’t move,” Hunter said again. “It’ll be a lot easier on everybody if you lie still and let the EMS do their job.”
She settled down, trying to keep her body still. She hated the helpless, vulnerable reaction stealing over her.
Hunter straightened. He made a whirling motion with his hand. And then she was moving. First, she was elevated to only a slight incline, and then she was almost vertical as the basket was pulled up the side of the cliff. Her stomach lurched, and her heart slammed against her ribs. She watched the world through narrowed eyes, too afraid to close her eyes but too afraid to open them all the way.
Beside her, Hunter climbed alongside the basket.
It seemed like forever before she was horizontal again.
Once the basket was no longer moving, a wet, rough tongue licked her hand. She jerked, her gaze locking eyes with a dog. A beautiful rust-and-white-colored Siberian husky with amber-colored eyes that seemed to express worry. For her? Why would a dog she’d never met be concerned about her? Was the dog even real?