“Unlike me,” Phillips said, laughing. “Only I was thinking a different kind of meat. I’ve been beefing up on Scripture for a year, getting ready for my trip.”
“Where are you going again?”
“Resurrection, Alaska.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Is that near Deadhorse?”
Mac sat on the boulder Phillips had been perched on before he’d tackled him. He scrubbed his face. “It’s about forty miles west, I guess. I investigated a murder there once.”
“Were you a cop?”
Mac nodded. “In a former life. I thought I could make a difference back then. Maybe help people.”
“Why did you become FBI?”
Mac held out his hands in a sort of surrender. “Idealism. Again, I thought I could make a difference.” But his words felt hollow. No, he’d become FBI because he’d wanted to be more than just a small-town cop. He’d wanted to matter, to be needed, to make a difference in someone’s life.
“I know this is a personal question, but I thought I saw you sneak off with Andee last night. You and she . . . ?” Phillips raised his eyebrows and smiled. “She’s a sweetheart.”
Mac let a small smile escape. “Aye.”
“But?”
“But she’s not interested. Thinks I’m already over-committed to my job.”
Phillips shot him a look.
“Stop. The fact is, she’s right. I can’t balance both a job and a family. I’ve seen other guys try and get burned. Besides that, I’d make a horrible husband. I’m a big-picture kind of guy—not the flowers-and-chocolate type.” Although seeing Andee’s face last night when she saw his birthday treat had churned up a bevy of new feelings. Her smile had been worth his fear that she might break into hysterical laughter at his attempts. He’d never been a guy who remembered the details, but now he wondered if he’d just never found the right lady for whom he’d be the poetry-quoting kind of guy. The one for whom he’d make the effort to remember a birthday or anniversary. To whom he might come home to on a faithful, regular, first-priority basis.
The thought made him blink, and he stared at Phillips, who smiled.
“Andee’s the one,” Mac said quietly.
Phillips kept smiling.
Mac stood. “I’ve been thinking all these years that I couldn’t balance the two—a family and the job—when in fact I couldn’t face the risk. I didn’t want to get that close to someone and let her down. Let myself down. So I turned to my job.”
“Saving the world and tackling people on top of mountain ridges,” Phillips said.
“Something like that,” Mac said.
“Mac, at the risk of sounding too missionary, I have to say that we all want to do a good job at what we’re about. But God gave us those people in our lives to show us why it matters. And when we get hurt or lose someone we love, it doesn’t mean we shut down or stop caring. We keep moving forward in faith. Trusting God that He can take those moments that feel like death and bondage and free us. Give us a new life.”
That’s what Mac felt around Andee. A second chance. Someone who trusted him, whom he trusted in return. He breathed deeply the scents of the morning. “This is quite a view.”
“Did you know you can see the pipeline from here? Nina pointed it out to me. She was scouting out the view from here.” Phillips pointed through the trees to where Mac could make out sunlight glinting from a dark silver tube.
“Nina was up here?” Scouting out the . . . pipeline? Mac winced. Oh, don’t start that again.
“Yeah. I guess I startled her. She was gathering firewood, I think, but she left part of her pile here when we climbed down.” Phillips motioned to a gathering of willow sticks and brush.
Mac looked at the pile and something sparked. The feeling grew as he examined the hollow of kindling and tinder formed under a windbreak. It would only take a match, and in moments the pile would become a bonfire. . . .
Able to be seen for miles.
No.
Mac stared at the bonfire pile and tried to dismiss all his instincts that told him he’d been right all along. He’d blamed Andee. He’d blamed Phillips. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself and call Nina a terrorist.
No.
Still, he turned, a low dread in the bottom of his gut pulling him back to camp. “Pray for us, Phillips,” he said, meaning it as he climbed down the cliff.
He could see the campfire smoke rising from the camp, and the smell of it drew him into a jog. Andee had probably gotten up and started the fire. The thought made him smile. Somehow he’d figure out a way to prove that he wasn’t going to do what her father had done and choose his job, whatever that would be in the future, over her.
He’d convince her that she meant enough to him to try and care about the little things, the things that turned a friendship into a romance. The things that showed her how much he cared.
His feet crunched over the rocks, but as he came close to the camp, he saw no one tending the fire. “Andee?”
Nothing.
He stood by the fire, watching sparks leap into the sky, crackling and dissolving into the crisp morning air. “Andee!”
He heard a groan and lifted the edge of the men’s shelter. “Oh no.” Ishbane and Flint lay face-down on their emergency blankets, hands duct taped behind them, tape muffling their mouths. Mac rolled Ishbane over and worked the tape off his mouth.
“It’s Nina,” Ishbane said, with more anger than fear in his voice. “She took the gun. And Andee.”
Chapter 17
ANDEE TREKKED ALONG Disaster Creek, the sounds of the rushing water fading as she ascended the cliffs bordering it. Nina’s steps thumped ten feet behind her. A quick glance behind confirmed that Nina still had Andee’s Glock aimed at her spine.
“Why are you doing this?” Andee spoke in calm, even tones as they walked, grasping at her fading hopes that Nina had simply snapped, her common sense taken a hike off a tall cliff, leaving only panic to rule the roost. “Nina, I know we’ve had a rough trip. But we’re almost to Disaster, and you’ll be home to your husband and children tonight. Please put the gun away and let’s go back.”
Nina said nothing, just kept walking.
“Where are we going?” Andee stopped and faced Nina. Nina’s dark eyes met hers with such ferocity that she felt her bones shake. Dropping out of the sky from four thousand feet didn’t scare Andee nearly as much as staring into Nina’s harsh expression.
“Keep going.”
Andee climbed over boulders, deliberately crunching the dying purple buds of the Jacob’s ladder that pushed out from impossibly barren soil. Maybe Mac would return and follow them. She flinched, remembering what Nina had done to Ishbane and Flint, how Nina had ordered her to tape them into submission. For the first time, when she looked into Ishbane’s eyes, she was grateful he was a man who worried about details. He’d remember how Nina held a gun to Andee, how she’d taken the stuffed whale and her camera case, how she’d stoked the fire and poured a trail of camp gas from the fire to the shelters.
Most of all, she hoped he’d remember in which direction they’d headed.
Please, Lord, get Mac back to camp so he can put out the fire before it finds Sarah and the guys. The sun had burned off the frost lining the spruce and eaten the moisture from the rocks. Andee felt sweat slick down her back as she walked. For all Andee’s hunger and fatigue, Nina seemed to have stores of energy that told Andee some great agenda kept her moving. Lord, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes over the last few days. But You’ve protected us all. I don’t know what Nina wants, but I pray You’ll save Sarah and Flint and Ishbane . . . and yes, me too.
“Stop.”
Andee stopped, bent over and gripped her knees, and breathed hard. From this vantage point thirty feet above the river, she could see for miles to the east. Dalton Highway, the pipeline, the pepper of spruce and birch against the colors of fall on the forest floor. The sky had turned pale blue, as if not wanting to make a decision between dismal and hap
py. Andee smelled smoke in the air and prayed it wasn’t from the campfire burning the shelters.
“Sit down on your hands.”
Andee calculated the distance between herself and the gun and sat on a boulder, her hands tucked under her knees.
Nina pulled out her camera, screwed off the lens, cracked open the film case, and pulled out a small plastic box the size of a television remote. A GPS locater?
“Where did you get that?” Okay, stupid question. Out of the camera-that-was-not-a-camera obviously, but really, what’s going on?
While Andee scrambled to sort out her guesses, Nina pulled the whale from her jacket and, gripping it between her legs, tore off the tail.
Andee stared at her, dread fisting her stomach. “What about your son?”
Nina gave her an are-you-stupid? look.
Yes, apparently. Because until this moment, while she watched Nina tug another device zipped in plastic from the whale’s body, she’d clung to the optimistic belief that Nina had just gone AWOL from her senses. Panic did that to a person—especially a mother—who was desperate and hungry and freezing.
This was not panic.
Nina tucked the device into her jacket, then held up the GPS locator. “Get up. Keep walking.” She gestured with the gun.
Had Nina known where they were going all along? It made no sense. Until this morning, she’d acted like any other passenger— scared and willing to do anything to survive.
Andee traced back her morning. Remembering her conversation with Sarah made her feel sick. She’d told Sarah about the map, the radio, and Mac’s suspicions. Had Nina been awake and listening? Or had she been planning this all along and only decided to take Andee along to keep Mac away, when she learned that Mac was an FBI agent? Why didn’t she keep her big mouth shut? “Where are you taking me?”
“Over there.” Nina pointed ahead, out over the water.
Andee’s blood washed cold. A rope bridge hung thirty-plus feet over the gorge, the river below a snarl of freezing white water. A man stood on the other side of the rope bridge, waving.
“I’m not going across there.”
“Yes you are, Andee. Trust me, you are.”
Andee forced her feet up the path. At the top of the rocky path leading to the cliff’s edge, another man waited for them. Wearing a dark green army jacket, a black cap, and bunny boots, he stared at her with black eyes that spoke of exasperation. He wore a semiautomatic weapon slung over his shoulder.
He looked past Andee to Nina. “ ¿Qué le duró tan?”
“I went out for pizza. What do you think?” Nina shook her head, glaring at the man. “Is everything ready?”
“Por supuesto,” he snapped in return.
Andee listened to the foreign speech and felt ill. Why hadn’t she listened to Mac? When he’d run that scenario by her about the Venezuelans, she’d actually laughed at him— laughed! And it felt way too creepy that she’d mocked him about Nina’s whale. Her knees gave out, and she reached over to brace herself against a tree.
The man grabbed Andee’s upper arm in a viselike grip.
“Ow,” she said, too tired for bravery.
He yanked her toward a climbing harness lying on the ground.
“Put it on,” Nina ordered.
Andee closed her eyes and just stood there, contemplating her choices.
“I know you know how. Do it.”
“No. I don’t know why you need me, but I’m not going to help you. I won’t.”
Nina stepped closer. “You might not think that. But the fact is, you don’t have a choice.” She raised her voice, so it floated across the yawn of Disaster Creek to the other bank. “Show her, Constantine!”
Andee felt numb, right down to her toes, but couldn’t stop herself from looking in the direction Nina had yelled.
The man on the other side pulled another man from the shadows. A lean man, with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. As she watched, Constantine leveled a gun at the man’s head.
“Gerard!” Andee gasped. “Daddy.”
Mac watched the fire consume the second of the shelters, a plume of black tufting the sky. Thankfully, the rocky corridor that separated their campsite from the forest would keep the blaze from spreading, but the fact that Nina had tried to kill the others had him nearly blind with fury.
And scared. Because if she’d leave Ishbane, Flint, and Sarah to fry alive, what would she do to Andee?
He still couldn’t wrap his brain around the truth. Nina had been his saboteur. Her tears, her seeming concern for her so-called children had thrown him off her scent, and he wanted to pound his head against the rocks. Why, however, hadn’t she overpowered them earlier?
Phillips had helped him drag the others from danger and rescue their packs and supplies. Now Mac stood outside the ring of flames watching sparks escape, breathing hard.
“Which way did they go?” Mac asked Ishbane, who’d begun pacing. The man seemed to have conquered some inner demon, the one that made him pasty faced and weak. As if he finally realized that he might be a participant in his own survival.
Ishbane gave him a hard look, then pointed upstream along the Disaster.
Mac addressed Phillips. “Stay here. Watch over Sarah. And if Nina comes back, don’t just pray.”
Phillips met Mac’s hard gaze with his own. “Listen to me. God already knows what is happening here. He knows how frustrated you are, and He knows where Andee is. I don’t know what His plans are, but I know you can trust Him, Mac. Your job isn’t to save the world here—it’s to do your part and trust God for the big picture. In fact, God designs these moments so He can step in. God wants to come to our rescue. So, frankly, my best defense is prayer.”
Mac wished he could embrace Phillips’s words.
The sudden squawk of the radio nearly sent him through his skin. “Mac, I know you’re listening.” The static tried to blur the words, but as he grabbed it from his belt, he recognized Nina’s voice. “I know you have the radio, and you think you’re coming after Andee.”
She has that right. Mac glared at the radio, as if willing Nina to materialize through it.
“Don’t. I promise you, we’ll kill her if you follow us or call the authorities. Stay where you are, and we’ll keep Andee alive.”
Sure, you will. Mac should have listened to his instincts, should have never let any of them out of his sight. He’d been lazy. Stupid. He listened to the static as Nina cut off transmission and nearly threw the radio against the rocks.
“Mac, calm down,” Phillips said.
“You calm down! I can’t believe I didn’t see it!”
Phillips took a step toward him.
Mac held up a warning hand. “Don’t. I have to go after her. I can’t just sit here.”
Ishbane stopped his pacing. “Yeah. You do. But leave the radio. It’ll be GPS tracked, and they’ll know you’re moving. We’ll call for help.”
Mac stared at him, frowning. GPS tracked. Of course. Nina hadn’t needed the radio. The GPS tracking allowed her cohorts to locate her. No wonder she’d gone along peacefully, despite volunteering a few times to hike out with Andee. He thought of Nina’s courageous, deceitful efforts on the scree slope. Imagine if she’d let Ishbane fall? It might have slowed them all down. And she’d buddied up with Andee because she’d needed her to stay alive. Until her fellow terrorists had located her.
Had he alerted these terrorists by turning on the radio, somehow activating an inbuilt GPS signal? He felt sick, nausea pitching his stomach. He handed the radio to Phillips. “I don’t know if you can get any other channels, but try.”
Phillips nodded. “God cares just as much about Andee as you do, Mac. Don’t forget that.”
Mac scrambled up the path in the direction Ishbane had pointed. Please, God, don’t take her away from me. I’m so, so sorry I haven’t valued what You’ve given me. But I do now! I really want to be that guy who remembers birthdays and risks getting hurt just to see Andee smile.
&nbs
p; Before he’d met Andee he’d felt numb. Disintegrating. Andee had reached past the cold and made him feel alive.
“Joyful are those who have the God of Israel as their helper.” He heard Andee’s words quoting from the psalm in his head as he thundered up the path, feeling nothing as his feet fought for footholds.
Please, God, I’m not good at this, but I want to trust You. Help me trust You!
He found the flattened Jacob’s ladder flowers, indentations where Andee had dug her feet into the ground, and what looked like stuffing. He picked it up, sifting the batting through his fingers. Nina’s whale.
He wanted to hit something hard. Nina had been hiding something—a transmitter for a bomb? a radio? It had been inside that toy for four days and he hadn’t suspected a thing.
Like a hammer driving home the last of his suspicions, the truth finally fitted into place. He’d dreamed this scenario a billion times. With the mountains as sentries, any remote detonation signal from a safe distance would have to happen from the air. While others planted the bombs on the pipeline, probably acting as hunters or hikers, Nina had most likely planned to hijack Andee’s plane to send the radio/GPS signal that would flood millions of acres of Alaskan soil with crude oil. She’d used the stuffed animal to get through customs, probably removing the voice box of the whale and replacing it with the hardware to get the job done.
But now that Andee had crashed said plane . . . what was Nina up to?
Apparently Plan B.
Mac had to alert the right people. To stop Nina and her group, whoever they worked for.
Did he go after help, save the pipeline, or . . . find Andee?
There was only one right answer.
Mac tripped, landing hard on his knees and hands. Blood warmed his palms as he shot back to his feet. Below, he saw the rapids, heard the roar of the river.
His breath sawed in his lungs, cutting, burning as he topped the cliff. And then he spotted a rope, used to traverse the river, dangling over the edge, cut from the other side.
The other side, the side on which lay the pipeline . . . and Andee.
Expect the Sunrise Page 21