"They might decide to assess the damage to the road and see if they can bring us out that way," Harvey suggested.
Matt shook his head. "Not gonna happen. It’s a major rebuild."
"Does this mean we're getting out of here today?" Whitney asked, a hopeful lilt in her voice.
"I wouldn’t count on it," Matt said. "Visibility’s not great. And the rain’s getting heavier by the minute."
They fell silent as, moments later, the helicopter ascended and disappeared off to the east over the mountains.
"Don't expect a rescue attempt in this weather," Sam warned. "The best we can hope for today is that SAR makes a drop with supplies and radios. I think we should drive out to the road again too and see if there's anything going on. They might have sent out a crew by now."
Whitney looked dubious. "What about Logan? We can't leave him here alone with Reed."
"That’s exactly what we’re going to do," Matt replied firmly. "If the killer comes back, he won't get past Reed with his rifle."
"But what if Reed’s the killer?" Whitney protested.
Matt furrowed his brow. "I’m not buying it. He didn't even know the mudslide had taken out the road. Which tells me he hasn't been anywhere near here in almost a week."
Whitney shook her head incredulously. "You don't know that. You're just saying that because you don't care what happens to Logan."
Matt pressed his lips tightly together. "Trust me, if I thought that idiot boyfriend of yours was in any real danger, I’d intervene. He’s a whole lot safer with Reed than hanging out in a trailer on his own." Matt nodded to the others. "All right, let's jump in my truck and drive out to the road."
He held the passenger door open for Blair, while Harvey, Sam and Whitney all piled into the back.
"I need to stop by my trailer and pick up my other shoes on the way back," Whitney said, as they drove out of the campground. "These ones are soaked." She squirmed around on the seat and then reached down and lifted something onto her lap. "Hey, maybe these will work!"
Blair froze, staring straight ahead, the hairs prickling on the back of her neck. She’d forgotten that she’d tossed the tennis shoes into the back of the truck before breakfast, fully intending to retrieve them later. Too late now. She had to think fast. She couldn’t pretend the shoes were hers. Harvey would know she was lying.
"Are these yours, Blair?" Whitney asked, angling them to take a better look. "They seem big."
Casting a casual glance over her shoulder, Blair eyed the tennis shoes and chuckled. "Oh, those. I found them in the dumpster. They’re still in pretty good shape. Too bad they’re nines." She arched an eyebrow and looked inquiringly from Harvey to Sam. "Either of you guys throw them out?"
Sam shifted uneasily under her knowing stare. "Nope. Not my style."
Harvey frowned at the tennis shoes. "I tossed a bag of garbage out that had some shoes in it, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I figured Sandy must have wanted to get rid of them."
"Okay if I have them then?" Whitney asked.
"Sure." Harvey gave a disinterested shrug and turned to stare out the window at the rain that was now coming down in sheets.
Blair forced herself not to look across at Matt. She was fairly certain Harvey was lying about the shoes, although she had no idea why, or if it was even important. But she had a hunch Hazel had thought so. There had to be something she was missing. She leaned her head against the glass, listening to the raindrops pelting the window. She couldn't untangle all the subterfuge around her. She just wanted out of this mess before they all ended up dead. It was like a live game of Clue with a cast of untrustworthy characters replete with baggage, weapons, and motives, moving among trailers instead of rooms. Except they couldn’t put everything back in the box afterward and pretend none of this had happened.
The sound of heavy equipment and drilling reached them long before they came upon the washed-out section of the road. A jolt of excitement shot through Blair’s veins. They weren’t alone anymore. Help had arrived. They weren’t condemned to stay in Bird Creek until an unidentified serial killer picked them off one-by-one.
Matt rammed the shifter into park and switched off the engine. They clambered out and stood in the rain listening to the welcome sounds of diesel engines and backhoes scraping up rocks, just out of sight around the bend. It was impossible to make out any voices over the sound of the rain and the machinery, but it was heartwarming knowing that only a few hundred feet around the corner the road crew was already hard at work. Now that the sheriffs’ helicopter had spotted the SOS signal, rescue was imminent. All they had to do until then was stay alive.
After a few more minutes, they piled back into the truck. There was nothing to be accomplished by standing in the rain. The road crew would be forced to call it quits before too much longer.
When they pulled back into Bird Creek a few minutes later, Matt parked alongside the road and left the engine running while Whitney ran to her trailer to pick up her things. Blair peered anxiously through the window at the downpour. The wind was whipping up and she feared they might be imprisoned at the campground for several more days if conditions deteriorated again. It was not a heartwarming proposition. Another day, another body—or another missing person.
She was lost in her morbid thoughts when a thunderous crack jolted her back to her senses. She bolted upright in her seat and gasped in disbelief as a Ponderosa pine toppled over onto Whitney's trailer.
24
It seemed as if everyone was moving in slow motion as all four doors on the truck opened at once and Blair and the others stumbled out into the rain. Oblivious to everyone else around her, Blair dashed from the road up to Whitney's campsite, fear gripping her innards and squeezing like a fist. Just when hope was on the horizon, nature had dealt a low blow. She’d been feeling guilt-stricken and protective of Whitney—acting like a surrogate mother of sorts—ever since discovering how young she was. More than anything, Blair dreaded finding her knocked unconscious, crushed beneath the weight of the tree inside her trailer, or writhing around in pain. Rage at Logan’s selfishness and recklessness welled up inside her. He was the one who’d brought Whitney to this death camp. Her blood would be on his hands if anything happened to her.
Sam was the first one to reach the mangled door. The tree had fallen lengthwise, squishing the entire trailer like a sandwich, and shrinking the entryway to a fraction of its natural size.
"Whitney!" Sam hollered, ducking down and crawling inside without a second’s hesitation. Blair followed him, shutting down the voice in her head that warned her of the danger of the roof collapsing entirely and trapping them too. Inside, the trailer looked like a dumpster had exploded, spewing its contents everywhere in reckless abandon. How could anyone have survived this? It seemed nature was conspiring with the killer to tighten the cords around them, ensuring no one would get out of the campground alive.
And then a groan reached her ears.
"We’re coming, Whitney," she yelled frantically. On gloved hands and knees, she gingerly made her way over shards of glass, miscellaneous debris, and splintered particle board, following Sam’s path to the back of the trailer. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight that greeted them in the bedroom. Whitney lay trapped beneath the cabinetry and a section of the roof that had collapsed under the weight of the tree bearing down on it.
"Help me!" she moaned, shivering in the rain now freely pouring through the demolished roof.
"We can’t get her out this way," Sam muttered. "We’re going to have to figure out how to move the tree off the trailer. You stay with her and I'll go back out and tell Matt and Harvey what we’re dealing with."
He slid past her, and Blair inched her way through the waterlogged wreckage on the floor toward Whitney. She reached for her hand. "You're going to be okay. We’ll get you out of here, I promise. Can you breathe all right?
"Yes." Whitney let out a heart-wrenching sob. "I want to go home."
Blair squeezed her hand. "You’ll be go
ing home real soon—we all will. Just hang in there a little longer. Stay strong."
Whitney bit her lip. "My legs are trapped."
Blair reached for some broken pieces of particle board and jiggled them out of the way to try and get a better look. She swallowed back the fear surging up her throat when she saw that Whitney's legs were buried beneath the debris locked in place by the tree. It was impossible to tell how badly injured she might be.
"Can you feel your legs?" Blair asked anxiously.
"Yes. I can wiggle my toes. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?"
Blair gave a reassuring nod. "Are you in pain at all?"
A tear trickled down Whitney’s face. "Something’s jabbing into my back. It hurts."
Blair immediately began digging through the rubble with her torn gloves, wincing when a splinter pierced the tender skin beneath her nails. After locating the jagged piece of wood causing Whitney’s discomfort, she wrangled it out and tossed it aside. "Better?"
"Yes," Whitney croaked. "I'm going to die here, aren't I? This is my fault for lying to my parents."
Blair brushed her hand softly over the girl’s forehead. "No, it’s not. It was a random accident—caused by a storm—it could’ve happened to any one of us."
More tears slid down Whitney's cheeks. "Sonia trusted me."
Blair wrinkled her brow. "Who’s Sonia? Is that Logan's wife?"
Whitney’s voice dropped an octave. "Yes. She's always been kind to me. And I liked babysitting Gavin. She’s never going to let me see him again after this. I feel so ashamed."
Blair exhaled a long breath, weighing her response. "What you did was wrong, but this is mostly on Logan's head. He’s the adult here, and a married man."
Whitney sniffed into her sleeve. "I shouldn’t have encouraged him."
"Now’s not the time to beat yourself up. Let's just concentrate on getting you out of here. I'm going to leave you for just one minute while I go outside to see what the plan is. I'll be right back."
Whitney gave a shaky nod.
Blair crawled slowly back to the opening that was once the trailer door, doing her best to avoid the shards of glass. Her gloves were nicked in several places from crawling through the wreckage earlier and offered no guarantee of protection.
Back outside, she joined Matt, Sam, and Harvey who were huddled around the back end of the trailer viewing the roof and assessing the damage.
"What's the verdict?" Blair asked, pulling the drawstring on her hood tighter in a futile effort to stay dry.
"We don't have any equipment to move the tree," Matt said. "We’re thinking we’ll have more luck if we try to get her out from underneath the trailer."
Blair raised her brows. "You mean cut a hole in the floor?"
"There's already a gaping hole in the floor," Sam replied. "I crawled underneath to take a look. If we can enlarge it, we can extricate her that way."
Matt gave an approving nod. "I'll go back to my trailer and pick up my tool bag."
"I’ll walk with you," Harvey said. "I need to put on my waterproof pants. I didn’t think we’d be out in this rain."
They strode off, and Blair turned to Sam. "I’d better go back inside and let Whitney know what's happening."
"Holler if you need me," he responded. "I’ll be right here."
She locked her gaze on him. "Thanks for your help through all of this—offering to attempt that risky climb and all. I’m sorry for what Matt said about Andy’s accident. He doesn't find it easy to trust people, but I think he trusts you now."
"I get it. It's hard to trust when you’ve been betrayed," Sam said. "A lot of people in the climbing community turned against me when the news story broke—people I’d known for years. Trust’s a fickle thing."
Blair nodded. "True, but like I keep telling Matt, you won’t heal until you take the risk to trust again."
Sam’s expression was unreadable as he wordlessly ducked down and crawled beneath the trailer.
Blair’s heart jolted when she went back inside and saw that Whitney’s eyes were shut. "Whitney!" She shook her gently. "Wake up! I’m back!"
After a moment, Whitney’s eyelids fluttered open. "I’m so cold. Can they get me out of here?"
Blair nodded. "Absolutely. Matt’s gone to get his tool bag. There’s a hole in the bottom of the trailer. They're going to try and enlarge the opening and slide you out through it. They can’t lift the tree off without the proper equipment."
"I thought I heard a helicopter," Whitney said. "Was I dreaming?"
Blair smiled sympathetically. "Maybe, but I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Even if they can’t attempt a rescue in these conditions, Sam thinks they’ll make a drop with radios and supplies. We won’t be here for too much longer."
Whitney thought about it for a moment. "What if I can’t walk to the helicopter?"
"We’ll carry you if need be," Blair reassured her. "Don't worry, Matt’s a soldier. No one gets left behind."
"Not even Logan?"
Blair grimaced. "Not even Logan."
For a moment or two there was silence between them and then Whitney asked, "Who do you think the killer is?"
Blair sighed wearily. "I don’t know. Every time I think I’ve figured it out, I change my mind."
"Did you ever think it might be me?"
Blair let out a sudden breath, somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. "No, I can honestly say I never thought it was you. Although, I’ve suspected almost everyone else at one point or another."
Whitney wrinkled her brow. "Even your husband?"
"Matt?" Blair raised her brows and shook her head. "No, of course not."
Whitney let out a shallow breath. "Logan thinks it's him. He says Matt’s the only one here who we know for sure is actually capable of killing a human being."
Blair squirmed uncomfortably. "That’s different. What he did in wartime has no bearing on what happened here."
"But he lied about the gun, didn't he?" Whitney said.
25
"How … how do you know about the gun?" Blair sputtered.
Whitney sighed and scrunched her eyes shut. "I heard you two arguing about it when you got back from the outhouse last night."
Blair bit down on her lip, berating herself for not being more careful. She’d assumed Whitney had fallen right back to sleep. And she’d forgotten that a sixteen-year-old’s ears could pick up just about anything.
"This has to be our secret, Blair!" Whitney twisted her lips. "Apparently Matt has his fair share of secrets—PTSD, anger issues, insomnia, paranoia. And he’s the one calling Logan dangerous. How do you know Matt didn’t snap and kill that guy?"
Blair let out an indignant gasp. "Don’t be ridiculous! That’s not possible!"
Whitney flashed her a tight smile, her eyes conveying equal measures of understanding and condemnation beyond her years. "You’re defending him just like I defended Logan. You don’t want to believe something so awful about your husband could possibly be true. But the fact is, you don’t know for sure—"
"Blair! You in there?" Matt’s voice boomed.
She startled and scrambled onto all fours. "I’ll be right back," she muttered to Whitney before crawling to the trailer door and clambering out into the rain.
"We need you out of there now," Matt explained. "We're going to start expanding the hole so we can't have any extra weight on the floor in case the whole thing gives way."
"Are you sure this is safe?" Blair asked dubiously.
Matt reached for a pair of pliers from his tool bag. "It’s safer than going up on the roof and messing with that tree."
Harvey opened up a beat-up metal toolbox and pulled out a claw hammer.
"Is Whitney doing all right?" Matt asked.
"I think so. She’s not in any pain." Blair couldn't meet his eyes. Whitney's words were still ringing in her ears. But he lied about the gun, didn't he? Was it possible her husband had lied to her about other things too? Could he have had some kind of psychotic bre
ak and strangled a man when he’d encountered him on one of his insomnia-driven night hikes? Maybe he didn’t even realize what he’d done. Blair shook her head free of her increasingly macabre thoughts. It was unthinkable. She was becoming the paranoid one.
Sam crouched down to wriggle under the trailer just as the distant sound of an engine reached their ears. Blair tilted her head, frowning in concentration. "Do you guys hear that? I think it’s a helicopter."
They stood stock-still, breath on hold, as the unmistakable whir of helicopter blades grew louder.
"That must be SAR," Sam said excitedly.
"I can head up to the SOS point and wait for the drop while you get Whitney out," Blair said, her heart fluttering with excitement at the thought of finally making contact with their rescuers.
"No! I’ll go." Harvey tossed his hammer back into his toolbox. "Whitney needs you here. And it’s easier for Matt and Sam to crawl under that trailer than an old geezer like me. I’ll hike up the trail and wait for the drop."
Matt gave a nod of agreement. "We’ll get to work here and meet you back at our trailer when we’re done—unless they make a landing. In that case, lead them here and have them bring a stretcher for Whitney, just in case."
Harvey turned and trudged off down the road, disappearing into the downpour.
Blair shivered inside her coat as Sam helped himself to Harvey’s tools.
"There's not much point in you standing here in the rain watching us," Matt said. "Why don’t you go back to the trailer and get warmed up? Make some coffee or something."
Blair’s teeth chattered. "Yeah, I might do that. I can bring you guys a thermos if you want."
"Thanks," Sam said. "But we’ll be on our bellies in the dirt for the next while. We’ll grab a cup when we get back with Whitney."
Blair watched as the two men hunkered down and crawled beneath the trailer, before turning and making her way down the road to the other end of the campground. Her fingers tightened around the key in her pocket. She had no intention of holing up inside her trailer and brewing coffee. This was her opportunity to snoop around inside Harvey's RV. Whitney’s words had disturbed her. But he lied about the gun, didn't he? She had to eliminate Matt as a suspect. Everyone else’s secrets had been exposed, but the mystery of the tennis shoes still bugged her. Harvey had played it down as inconsequential, but a sixth sense told Blair there was more to the shoes than that. After thinking it over, she was convinced it wasn’t Reed she’d seen skulking away from the dumpster—the figure had been more broad-shouldered, like Harvey. Why would he have been tossing the trash out so early in the morning when no one was out and about if he had nothing to hide? Everyone here was hiding secrets. Harvey was no exception.
You Will Never Leave: A psychological suspense thriller Page 17