There it is! That’s it. That’s the lodge. That big old eye sore. Was I glad to see it, standing out like a beacon.
I went past, then turned the plane in a big, easy circle and lined up with the river. Throttle back. The engine hum slowed. Flaps set to landing. Throttle back some more. Slow. Dropping.
My hands gripped the yoke. We were coming down. Was it too fast? Throttle back some more. Glide in. That’s the way. The trees got bigger. Closer. Dropping.
“Keep the nose up.”
“What?” I turned.
Dalton’s expression was adamant. “Keep the nose up!”
“Right.”
I pulled back—easy—on the yoke. We were level with the treetops. Throttle back. Easy now.
Dropping fast. Maybe more throttle? Shit!
The pontoons slapped hard on the water, whipping my head forward.
We bounced up, the nose pointing to the sky, slamming me back in my seat. Then dropped flat, the floats crashing into the water, pitching us forward. I yanked the yoke back, but it was too late. The nose dove. The propeller rammed into the shallow water and hit bottom, breaking off with a bang as we rolled. Glass shattering. Metal crumpling. Over and back up again, everything spinning. Then the plane tipped backward and the tail hit the water with a sploosh.
Then all was still. Quiet. I let out my breath.
Dalton stared at me with that half-grin. I burst out laughing.
CHAPTER TWENTY
We sat in the cockpit, staring at each other, my heart thrumming in my ears, my hands shaking.
Dalton gazed out the broken window, a contented smile on his face.
“You seem awfully calm,” I said.
“I knew…” His voice shook, strained. “I knew you…could do it.”
The whir of an outboard engine grew louder. The pontoon boat coming closer.
I unclipped my seatbelt, took my headphones off, then Dalton’s before pushing the door open and stepping out onto the plane’s float, which was bent at an awkward angle.
I had to be cautious. If Rocky had called and given us up…
Irene was at the helm, some man beside her. The other guide? I couldn’t remember his name.
“Are you all right?” she shouted as they approached.
I shook my head, pointing to the passenger side. “Dalton! He’s hurt!” They pulled up alongside. “He needs a hospital, right away.”
The other guide—Jack, that was his name—stepped off the boat, onto the plane float, opened the door on Dalton’s side, and peered in at Dalton. His eyes came to a halt on Dalton’s leg and the knife sticking out of it. “What the hell happened?” he asked, alarm clear on his face.
“Help me get him out,” I said, crawling over the pilot’s seat. “Don’t move the knife.”
His lips pursed in a sympathetic owe, he didn’t hesitate. He took Dalton by the arm. “You awake, buddy? Can you move?”
Dalton nodded, a subtle, but determined nod.
Irene had the boat tied off and got on the other side of Jack. One under each arm, they heaved Dalton up and onto the pontoon boat where he slumped onto the bench chair.
I followed, sliding onto the chair next to him. “Go, go, go!” I hollered.
Irene obeyed, understanding the severity of the wound, the importance of expediency. There’d be time for explanations later. The boat engine fired to life and she was on the radio, shouting orders to someone.
Jack knelt in front of Dalton, a first-aid kit in his hands.
“How long has it been? Has he lost a lot of blood?” he asked as he stuck a needle in Dalton’s arm, then donned surgical gloves and started poking at the gauze I’d packed around the knife.
“A couple hours?” I said. “We were up on a hill. It took some time to get him down to the water, to the plane.”
He nodded, taking in the information, but the expression on his face was grim.
“Do you think—” I couldn’t say it. “Is he going to—”
He gave me an encouraging smile.
“Thank God we’ve got two planes,” Irene said, setting down the radio. “Bob’ll fly him straight to Anchorage.”
My head was buried in Dalton’s chest, holding him upright, holding him close. All I could do was nod. It was out of my hands now. If Dalton was going to live, it depended on others. On time. On the weather. On the—oh god. I sat upright. “Can you fly at night?”
Jack nodded. “We’ll get him there.”
When the pontoons hit gravel, I looked up. Joe stood on shore. In two strides he was onboard and had me in his arms. “Oh my sweet daughter, what’s happened?” His eyes landed on Dalton and the knife in his leg, then back to me, full of questions. “What happened?” He looked lost, wanting to help, but Jack was there, tending to Dalton.
“Oh Daddy, it was awful.” I collapsed into his embrace, his arms, as if he really were my dad, my real dad. Thankful he was alive. The op hadn’t been compromised. And Dalton was going to be all right. He had to be.
The brothers appeared with a stretcher, easing Dalton down onto it.
I tried to help but the ground moved, the world spun. Joe was there, holding me upright. “Take it easy,” he was saying. “We’ve got him. You take it easy now.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Sit back down. Daddy’s here now.” He hugged me tight and stroked my hair. And I remembered. I was Poppy Pratt, spoiled daughter of a rich oil tycoon. In her Daddy’s arms. I let the tears flow. “Don’t let him die.”
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he soothed, rocking me. “Daddy’s here.”
“I got Mark on the radio. He’s in the air, headed straight here,” Irene said. “Maybe twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes!” I sat upright. “That’s too long.”
Jack patted me on the knee. “It’s all right. You kept the knife in. That was smart.”
I managed a nod. “But he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Irene, did you call Anchorage? A medevac?” Jack asked.
“Too far out,” she said, shaking her head. “We have to wait for Mark.”
Jack tugged at the bandage on my leg, peeled it back. My thigh had turned purple and yellow and the wound site oozed some nasty stuff. “We’ll take him to the hospital then turn right around and come back for you.”
Dalton was white, passed out, but Jack stayed with him, keeping a close eye on the wound. I sat next to him on the gravel shore. Waiting.
“It’s too long. It’s been too long. Too much blood lost,” I said. I’d failed. He was going to die.
“We’re not giving up yet,” Joe said.
Finally, the plane came into view, the steady hum of the prop like the sound of salvation. It pulled up on shore, the propeller left slowly spinning as the brothers joined Mark, helping him to remove the back seat, then the passenger seat. They dropped them on the gravel shore, then hurried to carry Dalton on the stretcher toward the plane.
I yanked out of Joe’s embrace. “I’ve got to go with him.”
“There’s no room,” Mark said. “Jack will be with him.”
“But—”
“It’s in God’s hands now,” Mark said. “You have to let him go.”
I stared. Frozen. In God’s hands? This, from a poacher. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. Rip his heart from his chest. Scream, this is all your fault as I bashed his skull against the gravel. Instead, I leaned into Joe’s arms and watched the plane taxi down the river, then lift off into the darkening night.
Irene fussed with my leg wound, dousing it with alcohol. “We don’t want that to get infected,” she said, making a painful face as I winced. “This will have to do until Jack and Bob get back for you.”
They’d brought me inside, into the great room, with all the dead animal heads hanging on the walls. And the fireplace. Oh the warmth. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be warm again.
Irene pressed some gauze to my leg wound and secured it with tape as her eyes traveled to the wound on my arm. �
�You look like you’ve been to war.”
I nodded, thankful for her kindness.
Mark sat down across from me. “What the hell happened out there?”
I glanced at Joe.
“You know what,” he said, “let’s just give her some space. She’s had a shock.”
Townsend frowned but got up from the chair. “I’ll make some tea.”
Joe nodded a thanks and took my hand, but Irene didn’t budge.
“I knew it,” she muttered. “I knew that Rocky was trouble.”
“What did you say?” Joe asked.
“Nothing,” she said with a sigh. She shook her head, her gaze shifting to the rash at my neck. “I’ve got some salve for that.” She rose and left to go get it.
“Just relax,” Joe said. “We’ve got nothing but time. We’ll get this all sorted out later. Lay your head back and relax.”
“I can’t. Where’s the plane? I have to get to Dalton, he—”
“Don’t you worry about Dalton right now. Just try to relax. Close your eyes.”
“No. I can’t. I have to know about Dalton.”
“I promise. You’ll be the first to know. Trust me. Just close your eyes.”
I lay back, every muscle complaining. Maybe just close my eyes for a bit.
Someone grabbed my arm. I sat upright with a jolt, my heart racing. “What?” Where am I? It was warm. My head heavy, groggy. Were we—“Dalton?”
“He’s stable,” Joe said, letting go of my arm and sitting down next to me. “They got to the hospital in time. Jack is already headed back here to pick you up.”
Relief rushed over me and I felt like I might collapse. My eyes turned misty. He was going to be all right. I drew in a long breath, tried to relax.
Townsend was sitting on the chair across from me, Irene beside him. Both wore expressions of concern.
“Are you ready to tell us what happened?” Mark asked.
I glanced at Joe. He nodded. “Tell us everything.”
“Well,” I said, hesitating. Everything? Crap. Dalton and I hadn’t talked about our story. It didn’t matter. The kiss—the kiss wasn’t relevant. Unless Rocky had called. I looked at Mark, trying to read him. “I’m not sure, to be honest. We flew out to the spike camp. Got set up. Everything seemed fine. I guess. The next day, Rocky took us to look for the bear. He spent all day but didn’t find it and he was upset about that.”
Mark nodded. That made sense to him.
“He was more than upset. He was…distraught?”
“How do you mean?”
“Like he was embarrassed maybe? Anyway, the next day—” Rocky shot the bear? No, no need to mention that. “He found the bear, but I missed the shot. Well, after we got back to camp, Rocky said he forgot the phone in the plane and took off to get it.” I paused. “We assumed he was going to call you. Did he call?” I watched his response.
“No,” Mark answered. Innocently. “Not a peep since you headed out to the spike camp, not until Irene called me to come back with the plane.”
I looked to Joe for confirmation. He gave me a subtle shake of his head. If Rocky called, he wasn’t aware of it.
“When he got back to camp, he pulled a gun on us and started shooting. For no reason.”
All three shared the same look of surprise and confusion.
“Dalton and I took off running. For the next two days, he—” I closed my eyes. Stay true to character. “Daddy, it was awful. He had his crossbow and he—” I swallowed hard “—he hunted us.”
“What!” Joe looked truly shocked. He couldn’t be sure if I was telling the truth or making it all up to maintain my cover. Either way, he played along. “You’re saying he, he—”
“He chased me and shot at me. He shot Dalton too, but…”
“I knew something like this would happen,” Irene muttered, holding her head in her hands.
Mark shut her up with a glance.
I looked to Joe. “He was crazy. Like he went wild.”
Joe turned to Mark. “What the hell kind of psycho did you have working for you?”
Mark held his hands up in defense. “I had no idea. Honest. I’m as shocked as you are. I mean, Rocky was a bit odd, but—”
“A bit odd?” Joe rose to his full height. “He shot at my daughter and stabbed my son! You sent my children out into the wilderness with this man, knowing he was psycho?” He had his chest puffed out in full papa bear mode. “What the hell kind of operation are you running here?”
Mark stood toe to toe with Joe. “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said, his jaw set with determination. He turned to me. “Where is he now? Still at the spike camp then?”
“He’s—” My eyes went from Mark to Joe then back. “He’s dead.” A flicker of surprise showed in Joe’s eyes. “He and Dalton got in a fight. The knife, he—” I left it at that. Too many details wouldn’t be prudent right now.
“Why didn’t you call for help?” Joe asked.
“We couldn’t find the phone. I think he hid it somewhere. The radio in the plane was disabled. I tried to fix it, but…I had to get Dalton to a hospital. I had to—” Tears welled up in my eyes again.
Mark glared at me in disbelief. “So you thought it was a good idea to try to fly a plane?”
“That’s enough.” Joe sat back down and wrapped his arms around me. “She’s been through enough. The damage to your plane is inconsequential.”
“Inconsequential?” He shifted on his heels. “This is my livelihood.”
Irene held out a hand to Mark. “I don’t think—”
“How dare you?” Joe rose back up from the chair and faced him down, his eyes enraged with fire. “I’m going to sue your ass from here to the South Pole and back. As soon as I get to Anchorage and get my lawyers on the phone, I’ll—”
Mark’s hands shot up in defense, his expression quickly changing from anger to realization, then to a placating smile. Lawyers meant investigations. “Let’s not get carried away. I see your point, of course. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. This has all happened so fast.” He sat back down. “You’re right. The important thing is you got your brother back here,” he said to me. “You were very brave.”
I nodded, accepting his apology, but Joe wasn’t having any of it.
“That’s enough. Now leave my daughter be. She needs rest.”
Mark’s gaze dropped to his hands and he nodded. Irene took him by the arm and led him out of the room, shutting the door behind them.
Joe’s eyes followed them out, then turned to me. In a whisper, he said, “Is that what happened?”
I nodded.
“Was your cover blown?”
“No, we don’t think so. That’s the thing, he—” And the tears surged to my eyes.
“Jesus,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god. I killed him, Joe. I killed him.”
He sat down next to me and took me in his arms.
“He stabbed Dalton and I did it. I shot him with the bow.”
Sobs wracked my body and I shook.
Joe rocked me, stroking my hair. “It’s all right,” he kept saying. “It’s all right. You did what you had to do.”
Snot ran from my nose and stuck in my hair. Joe reached for a tissue box on the table and handed it to me.
“He chased me, hunted me, like a…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “And then the trap, it didn’t work maybe? Or maybe Dalton was worried because he was holding the bow? I don’t know.”
“The trap? What trap?”
“Well, there was this bear trap and Dalton, he didn’t—”
“You know what. That doesn’t matter right now. Listen to me,” he said. “You defended your partner. You risked your own life to save his getting him back here. You’re a hero.”
I shook my head and more tears gushed from my eyes.
“We’re officers of the law. We put ourselves in harm’s way. We never know what that might mean. He was a very bad man. Yo
u defended yourself and Dalton.” He wiped a tear from my cheek. “You did your job.”
I snuffled, trying to get myself together. “What’s going to happen? I mean, here? What about—”
“You let me worry about that,” he said and pulled me back into his bear hug embrace.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Next to his bed, bags of blood and saline hung from hooks, plastic tubes running down into his arm. The sounds of beeps and clicks, his steady breathing helped by a machine, the potent scent of disinfectant—all reminded me of being in this same position in Costa Rica.
Maybe I was a bad partner. Last time he got shot. Because of me. This time stabbed. Maybe I deserved to be investigated. Maybe I was brazen and…maybe I wasn’t cut out to be an agent. Dalton deserved a better partner.
He lay there, asleep. My heart ached for him to wake, to tell me he was all right, to show me that half-grin, one more time.
I sat down on the edge of Dalton’s bed, took his hand in mine. “You’re gonna be all right,” I said, wishing he could hear me. “For a while there, I wasn’t sure, but they say—”
The nurse came in. “We’re doing everything we can,” she said, checking the knobs and fiddling with the tubes and wires in the machine next to him. “You’re not supposed to be out of bed. You need to rest yourself, young lady. ” She gave me a motherly look, hands on her hips. “Let me help you back to your room.”
“No. I’ve been sleeping too much.”
“Oh my.”
I spun around. Chris stood in the doorway. I sprang to my feet and into his arms. “You got my message!”
“I was in Chicago and hopped a flight right away.”
“Oh Chris, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“What are you prattling on about?” He led me back to the chair. “Sit down. Take a breath.”
The nurse smiled at us as she left the room.
“Your job. My big mouth. Chris, I can’t believe I was so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Poppy McVie Mysteries: Books 1-3 (The Poppy McVie Box Set Series) Page 53