Rugged and Restless

by Saylor Bliss

  I was slumped forward, my chest pressing into something hard. My lungs burned. My brain was starving for oxygen. I needed to breathe. Raising myself against gravity as much as I could, I sucked in huge gulps of air.

  My arm felt too heavy when I lifted it and clumsily sought the cause of my agony. When I finally found the source, I wished I hadn’t. Touching the back of my head started a series of bright explosions behind my eyeballs. I allowed my hand to drop, knowing the stickiness on my fingers was blood.

  “Damn it.” The words sounded like a whisper breaking through the ringing in my ears, and it took a moment to realize, I’d been the one to speak.

  Convincing my eyes to open took effort. Slowly images swirled into focus. Gearshift. Steering wheel. Airbag? I was in a vehicle. A truck.

  Yes, Justin McGee’s truck.

  I tried to sit up straight but the cab leaned forward at a very unnatural angle. I lifted my head and saw the dark green of pine boughs splayed against the windshield. Had I driven into a tree? Where had I been going?

  Travis! I was supposed to pick him up. Had I gotten him? Was he hurt? The muscles in my neck protested when I twisted my head to the right. The passenger seat was empty. No, that’s right. I hadn’t picked him up yet.

  My right arm tingled. Circulation was cut off. Willing the muscles to, I moved spasmodically, reaching for my side. I had to get the seatbelt off before the freaking thing strangled me.

  “Hawk MC Unit 1, this is Sheriff Cooley. Christine, do you copy?”

  Where was that voice coming from?

  “Christine Willow, this is Sheriff Cooley, performing a status check. Please respond.”

  The voice was tinny and small. “That’s a radio. Keep talking, DC.”

  Silence.

  A moan escaped my throat, becoming a wail of despair. Pushing through the anguish, I continued to reach for the seatbelt buckle.

  Finally my fingers connected, fumbled. After a little effort and a lot of cursing, I depressed the button. The loud click reverberated through my brain. Released from the confines of the shoulder harness, I flopped forward and landed with a gasp against the steering column again. The horn blared. Bracing myself against the wheel, I pushed, but my hand slipped on the powder from the deployed airbag, impelling me forward to land with a breath-stealing crunch.

  I would just rest a moment. Rest until I could catch my breath again. My eyes were so… heavy.

  Travis

  I stood behind Deputy Sherwood while she worked the citizen’s band radio, contacting ranches and homesteads along the route to Jackson, advising them of a missing person. My chest squeezed with each call she made, until I had to vacate the office again.

  Outside, I leaned against my rental car and spent a long time staring up the road to Jackson. In the distance loomed the mountains I’d always loved, now shadowy and menacing. The sun was beginning to kiss the tops of the tallest trees. They were on the morning side of those mountains. Once the sun edged behind the trees, the night would be on them. For the first time since coming home, I missed the always-lighted city.

  Footsteps crunched the gravel behind me. I knew without looking that my brother approached.

  “They’ve contacted the Forest Service. Search and rescue is being called out.”

  Two pickups pulled into the parking lot. I recognized Gus Hanson’s blue rust bucket, saw the old ranch foreman getting out, then my father rounded the rear of the truck and headed straight for us.

  The warmth of my father’s touch on my shoulder provided a margin of comfort. When I raised my eyes, my father was regarding me with a steady, reassuring gaze. “We will find her, son. And she’ll be okay. Nothing else is acceptable.”

  “How does a bright red pickup just vanish?” I asked.

  “It wouldn’t, son. Not without help.” Dad rubbed his jaw as he studied the parking lot that was quickly filling with volunteers.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them.

  Pickups and SUVs pulled in, one after another. More vehicles lined the street. People called out to each other as they moved toward the building. Some had been at Valentine’s and found it closed and the owner missing. Others had heard through the grapevine. Perfect strangers were reporting to the sheriff’s office to aid in the search.

  The sun lost its battle, and the veil of darkness slipped over Pine Haven. With it, a sense of menace slipped over me.

  The county road crew arrived with high-powered nighttime work lights. Flashlights were handed out. Brother Bobby drove the church van, hauling volunteers up to the mountain road where human chains were formed to search for Christine.

  They’d wasted so much time. The longer she was missing, the less chance they had of finding her alive. I hovered in the parking lot, unable to tolerate being inside.

  DC sent off another group of volunteers. My steps were labored as I approached. “I’m sorry, Trav. I should have paid more attention to your concerns.”

  “DC.” Travis fought to get the words out. “The pictures in your office. The ones of the missing women…”

  The dismayed expression on DC’s face told me my old friend had already considered that scenario.

  “Don’t go there, Trav,” said DC quietly. “We’re not ignoring that possibility, and I’ve notified the FBI, but don’t go there in your head yet.”

  Headlights swung into the parking lot and a white pickup pulled next to the sheriff’s cruiser. Robert and Phyllis MacKay climbed out.

  “DC, we just heard about Christine.” Phyllis was a lot more vocal than the last time I’d had seen her. My radar went up. “We’re here to help with the search,” Robert said gruffly. “I’ve got the light bar up on my rig. We can start looking along the lumber roads up on Diamond Peak.”

  “Get away from here, you miserable sack of shit.” My muscles bunched as I prepared to strike, but I found myself up against the considerable bulk of my baby brother, planted firmly in my way.

  “Don’t.” Grant walked me backward a few steps. “You won’t be any good to her if DC has to lock you up.”

  I abruptly released my fists and lifted my arms in a gesture of surrender, and Grant stepped back. I aimed a malicious glare at Robert.

  Phyllis gave back a sweet smile. “Just give me one reason,” I whispered. “One reason to take you out.”

  DC looked at the MacKays through a narrowed gaze, apparently appraising this new source of assistance. Finally he nodded. “Thanks. We can use the help. I’ll assign some extra eyes to go with.”

  MacKay’s malevolent eyes glittered his triumph at me as DC stepped back to the office. Flanked by my father and brother, I followed DC.

  “Cammy!” DC scanned the room until he spotted the deputy. “Take Scott and ride along with Robert up by the old logging camp.”

  “Scott’s out with the VFD,” said Cammy. “I’ll go solo.”

  As his deputy passed by, DC touched her on the arm and murmured in her ear. She nodded and kept going. DC made subtle hand motions to a lean man with black hair and black eyes standing near the door. The man nodded and slipped outside. Maxon Freeman Junior, a good choice for backup.

  I pushed through the handful of people lingering in the office and intercepted DC. “Why are you letting them help?” I demanded. “What if—?” I choked on my next words.

  DC considered the question for a long moment before answering. “Because if he’s helping, I know where he is and what he’s doing.”

  A white foam cup of something hot was pressed into my hand, followed quickly by a sandwich to my other hand. The rich tangy scent of coffee tickled my nostrils and turned my stomach.

  “Sissy and Charlotte brought food.” Grant closed a hand over my shoulder and gave a little shake. “You have to eat, Trav. You’re not helping anyone by starving yourself.”

  I bit into the sandwich. I might as well have been chewing the coffee cup. Taking a long drink of the dark liquid, I found my eyes bugged out. The stuff was extra strong and insanely sweet. I smiled.
It would probably give me an extra couple of hours.

  I stepped outside, blinking, holding a hand above my eyes against the harsh glare of midmorning sun. Hot waves shimmered off the blacktop parking lot. But even L.A. heat wasn’t enough to push back the cold that had rooted in my core.

  The acrid tang of smoke from recently extinguished fires lingered. After a beat, the scents of settling dust and the rotten-egg stench of thick L.A. smog joined the mix. Heavy construction equipment droned in the distance. Cleanup had begun.

  How long would it be until the earthquake’s scars were erased from the city? And would the scars of the past twenty-four hours ever be excised from my aching heart?

  A flash of navy blue caught my attention just as someone touched me on the arm. I forced a smile on my face for my boss. Ebony skin glistened with fine perspiration, but Renee’s hair remained slicked and neatly twisted into a perfect picture of professionalism.

  “Hey.” I scrubbed the remaining tears from my face with the backs of my hands. “Turns out I’m not cut out for this work after all.”

  Renee regarded me with obvious compassion. “Don’t make the decision just yet. Take some time.”

  I shook my head. “I have four weeks of vacation. I’m going to use that in lieu of notice. I’m sorry.” With a sigh, Renee nodded. “I understand. I just talked to Marcus. Our condo was flattened. He’s done out here, too. Looks like we’re going back to Baltimore.”

  I smiled. “It really was good working for you.”

  Renee squeezed my hand. “If you ever get to Maryland, Jocelyn, you look me up.”

  Promises were superficial, but I made them anyway, knowing in my heart I was going to Wyoming.

  “Would you like me to call you when the funeral arrangements are made?” asked Renee.

  I hesitated. Mick had touched her more deeply than anyone I’d ever known. He’d been right. They would have had something good.

  But I had never seen him in life. To see him in death would be a hollow substitute. The parts of him that he had shared with me, his last thoughts and feelings, hopes… dreams… were all gone. There was simply no meaning to be found in visiting the shell my head. “Thanks, but no. I have someplace to go.”

  Christine

  With a sharply indrawn breath, I came awake. The damp mountain air surrounded me. I shivered. So cold. The truck’s window was open. Why couldn’t I see anything? I forced myself to slow my breathing. Gradually the absolute panic edged back. I began to make out nearby shapes. Black on dark. Nighttime.

  I had to move. My position was cutting off circulation to my legs. Mustering a sense of determination, I pushed against the steering wheel, mindful of the powder-coated airbag this time. As I moved back, an ominous rumbling began and the truck shook violently.

  Quake! My heart stalled. But as my movements stilled, so did the shaking. “Okay… Oh, man!” I tried to slow my rapid breathing, but my heart pounded so hard I thought my chest would burst.

  More shaking, then the already cracked windshield creaked, popped, and a pine bough burst through in a shower of tempered glass. Instinctively I covered my face as chunks rained over me. With a series of jerks, the truck shifted, and I cried out, flailing my arms as I tumbled sideways.

  The groan of distressed steel ricocheted through the cab, and the truck remained still and silence fell again. My arm was twisted beneath me. I rolled until it came free with a pop and a painful toothache feel in my shoulder. I flopped back and the truck jiggled, then jolted in a sudden downward movement. I froze.

  Wherever I’d landed, the truck wasn’t on solid ground. What had happened? Fearful the truck would drop, maybe with deadly consequences, I forced myself to remain still while I tried to piece together what had happened.

  Someone had been with her. Who? Thinking brought on a throbbing ache in her temples. “Oh, God, please…” I needed an aspirin. Maybe a whole bottle of aspirin.

  “Christine Willow, Hawk MC Unit 1, this is the sheriff’s office, do you copy?”

  I scowled. The radio again. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere above.

  “Christine, this is Stella with the Pine Haven Sheriff’s Department.”

  Justin’s radio! I’d plugged the handheld unit into a charger dock in the truck’s overhead console. I reached upward, but in the darkness there was no way to tell if I was within reach or far off the mark.

  “Christine, if you can hear but cannot respond, be advised that search and rescue are in place. We’re looking for you, hon, so you just hang on wherever you are.”

  They’re looking for me! Hope surged.

  Which means they don’t know where I am. And was just as quickly smashed.

  How could they find me if I didn’t know myself?

  I reached up again but grabbed only air. Exhausted from my efforts, I let my eyes close. Just for a minute…

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Travis

  “You just got out of the hospital,” dad reminded me, pointing at a green vinyl chair next to DC’s desk. “Park your butt for at least an hour. I know you’re not going to sleep, but you’re not doing yourself or her any good pacing like a caged animal.”

  How many times had my dad tried to get me to rest? At least a dozen. And the old man was probably right. Ever since that first shock of coffee had worn off, my muscles had screamed with exhaustion. With a sigh, I sat.

  Many of the searchers had come in to take a break during the darkest part of the night. A few were conversing over sandwiches and coffee. A handful of volunteers who lived close to town had gone home, but with promises that they’d all come back out before first light. Trying to continue the search now was not only dangerous for the searchers, but too much evidence could be missed, or worse, destroyed by people walking over it in the dark. I had participated in enough searches to understand that concept.

  But those operations had all been part of my job. They hadn’t been my whole heart. I watched the people left in the office. As soon as my old man turned his back to talk to a neighbor, I got up and slipped out into the darkness. I stood against the back of Grant's truck, staring in the direction of the mountains where I knew without a doubt Christine was stranded, unable to contact us, probably hurt, likely injured. I struggled in the dark to see.

  It was her face I conjured.

  Christine’s face, with the Bluebell eyes flashing fire at me on a mountain road. Christine, flirting with me at her bar, performing a sexy song and dance. Christine looking over her shoulder with that half-smile, enticing me to follow her. With eyes darkened by passion when we kissed.

  I imagined her face as she slept, her vulnerability slipping out. Eyes that held compassion for a defenseless baby animal. Her face, streaked with soot and set with defiance… lit by concern as she sat a vigil by my bed in the hospital. Then as I’d last seen her, eyes filled with hurt because she’d misunderstood my astonishment when she’d told me about Mac.

  “I know you’re out there,” I whispered into the night. “You’re out there somewhere and I know you’re still alive. Sweetheart, I will find you.”

  Not for years had I felt the sort of connection with another person that I had with Christine. Without her in my life, I might as well be dead, because I sure as hell wouldn’t be truly alive.

  Headlights sliced across the blackness of the parking lot and I stood, prepared to meet the newcomers. But a sudden sense of misgiving kept me pinned to the safety of the shadows.

  When I recognized the MacKays, my stomach heaved and I was glad I’d stayed put. I watched old Robert park directly in front of the door, as if he were somehow entitled to the best parking. Then MacKay and his wife entered the sheriff’s office, Deputy Sherwood on their heels.

  A figure slipped through the darkness and joined him.

  I was taller than average, but Max Freeman had a good three inches on me. Broad-shouldered, with muscular arms built by years of hands-on ranch work, he nonetheless carried himself with cat-like agility. Because Max was f
our years my senior, we had never really traveled the same circles, but we’d always been friendly on the few occasions our paths crossed.

  I nodded. “Freeman.”

  With typical reserve, Max nodded in return. “If DC’s not looking hard at those two, he should be. Something about them…” He shook his head. “She’s batshit crazy and he’s too quiet.”

  Interest piqued, I focused on Freeman. “What happened?”

  “We were up by the old logging roads.” Max adjusted his Stetson. “That’s an area that bears another look in the light. The old lady was pretty anxious that we officially mark the area as already searched.”

  My head popped up. “Go on.”

  Max shrugged and shook his head again. “It’s just a feeling. But if I’m right, McGee, we don’t have much time to find your lady.”

  His message delivered, the taciturn man strolled toward the building, leaving me alone in the dark, with a renewed sense of urgency squeezing my lungs. The earliest fingers of dawn were just beginning to creep into the eastern horizon, when the first of the returning volunteers arrived.

  I pulled a weary hand down my face, wishing I could wipe away the exhaustion that was as much mental as physical.

  Christine

  Daylight filtered into the cab when I opened my eyes again. The sharp scent of pine sap had become a dismal companion throughout the dark night, and with the coming of dawn it was easy to see why. At least a third of the cab was occupied by the branch that had crashed through the windshield. One leg was cramping. I had to move it. Praying the motion wouldn’t set the truck into more shifting, I managed to straighten the leg so it wasn’t underneath me. Blood rushing into the foot burned as though I’d walked over hot coals. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths until the searing eased.

  How long had it been? Why hadn’t someone found me yet?

  And Travis! Did he think I’d abandoned him?