The Replacement

by Anne Marie Duquette

  “You okay?” Lindsey whispered. She tried to move her legs, an unsuccessful attempt. She tried to shift her back, as well. No pain, but no movement, either.

  Pam tried to nod, could barely move her head, and whimpered, “It’s dark.” She sneezed snow out of her nose, then whimpered again.

  “Don’t be scared,” Lindsey said. “Just breathe slow and easy. I’ll take care of you.” She didn’t say anything more, trying to prevent her own panic and overuse of precious oxygen. Instead, she moved her good arm and hand—both gloves had stayed on this time—and slowly, agonizingly, began to dig straight up, hoping she could break the surface, hoping it was within reach of one pitifully short arm that suddenly seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

  ERIC’S CHEST HURT SO MUCH, he thought for a moment that his heart had actually stopped beating. The dog wanted to go one way, the beeper on his receiver said to go another. Lindsey had to be inside the helicopter, didn’t she? So he should go with his instincts and ignore the dog. Only his instincts were telling him that perhaps the dog made fewer mistakes than the technology—unless the chopper had been blown apart against the trees, and the three occupants were scattered throughout the snow.

  Dear God, what should he do? Trust Lindsey’s life to a dog—a dog who didn’t even obey his commands? But that dog could smell differences on a cellular level. Naomi was proof of that, wasn’t she? And he wasn’t really trusting a dog as much as he was trusting Lindsey and her judgment.

  “We’ll split up,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt. “You two take my backup receiver and the sled. I’ll take a shovel and follow the dog.”

  INSIDE THE DARKNESS, Wilson swore. Damn this snow, damn that bitch of a ranger, and damn the daughter of my bitch wife! With muscled strength fueled by anger and adrenaline, he pushed snow away from his face and moved both his arms slowly upward. He knew the trees and the chopper had to have taken the brunt of the slide. He also knew the snow above him wasn’t that deep, since the chopper had remained upright amid the trees he had forced the pilot to land in. And judging by the way he was able to move, it wasn’t that packed around him, either.

  He hoped the pilot was crushed to death, along with the ranger. As for his daughter, if she was dead, it wasn’t his fault. They should arrest the ranger for kidnapping, not him. Maybe he’d sue the ranger service—from out of the country, of course. Nothing, no one, should stand between a man and his family.

  Wilson managed to displace enough loose snow so that he could stand upright, which made digging even easier. Why, he could even hang on to parts of the helicopter and pull himself to the surface. His gun might be lost, but if that ranger still breathed, he could still kill her, even if he had to choke the life out of her with his bare hands.

  First…he needed to get free.

  PAM NESTLED EVEN CLOSER against Lindsey’s broken arm, causing Lindsey to gasp. She suddenly remembered how a woman and child in a similar position had been immortalized forever, covered by the ashes of Mount Vesuvius in ancient Pompeii. Lindsey had one arm straight up as far as she could move it and hadn’t broken the surface. Nor could she use her other arm, the one painfully anchored around Pam’s waist. Broken bones, Pam’s position in her lap, plus the heaviness of the snow on them both proved impossible to conquer.

  I hope my beeper’s still working. Are you out there, Eric? I’m so cold, and Pam’s not answering me anymore, even when I call her name. The air is so heavy. We’re running out of time!

  ERIC FOLLOWED GINGER, who seemed to have no difficulty traversing the new packed surface of slide material. “Seek, girl,” Eric encouraged, while watching his own footing. The dog trotted steadily on, then stopped above the snow and began to dig, front paws and nose tunneling through the snowpack. Eric quickly joined her, using his folding shovel and throwing the snow to one side.

  From his location, Eric could see the two policemen heading downhill and farther away from him, but he didn’t stop his efforts, nor did the dog. Down they tunneled, a foot, two feet, a yard, then Eric was waist-deep in the hole he’d dug, and still no sign of a human. By now Ginger waited outside the hole. Not even an article of clothing appeared as the minutes ticked by. If it wasn’t for Ginger’s frantic whining, he would’ve joined the other men, but the dog grew more and more excited. Suddenly, Ginger launched herself into the hole, tipping Eric sideways and knocking the shovel out of his hands. Unable to dig with the dog inside the hole, Eric tossed aside the shovel and moved out of the dog’s way as she worried and clawed at the snow…and exposed the tip of Lindsey’s glove.

  WILSON STRUGGLED HARD, grabbing onto the helicopter’s frame and using every ounce of strength he had to pull himself higher through the snow and toward the surface. The helicopter seemed to shift slightly as he hauled himself upward, inch by inch, through the snow.

  The snow can’t be packed down that hard if I can move the chopper frame, Wilson told himself. I’ll be out of here in a few more minutes.

  Using his hands and feet to feel in the dark, his eyes starting to make out the faintness of daylight through the snow above him, Wilson knew he didn’t have far to go. He hooked his foot in what seemed to be a convenient hole. He couldn’t see what it was, but it felt firm beneath his boot sole. He shoved his foot more firmly into the hole and strained upward. The jagged opening in the superchilled Plexiglas, already damaged by a projectile cavity and greatly enlarged by the slide, couldn’t take the weight of the snow-covered man. Brittle from the cold, the cockpit glass shattered, taking Wilson and all the snow above him down farther. Still conscious, he fell backward, his weight pressing his leg against the edge of glass his own bullet had weakened. The glass sliced through muscle and vessels, stopping only at bone.

  “SON OF A—the receiver’s just gone dead!” McClanahan swore. “The pings were coming good and close, too.”

  “Maybe we should just start probing around here,” his co-worker suggested.

  “Maybe I just need to get a new battery from the ranger,” McClanahan said. “Dammit, there’s a lot of snow below us.”

  “I’ll probe if you want to hike over and get the spare,” the other man said.

  “If that’s even the problem. I don’t wanna be the one to tell Joyce Wilson we lost her kid because—”

  Eric’s excited shout interrupted their conversation. “I’ve got a live one! Give me a hand!”

  The two men, cheered by the news, hurried uphill to Eric’s location and joined in the rescue attempt. They left behind Wilson and the helicopter—its top rotor mere inches from the surface. Wilson was still alive, his injured leg staining his prison of snow.

  LINDSEY COULD BARELY BREATHE, nor could she tell if Pam was breathing. Lindsey’s lungs hurt so much from lack of oxygen that at first her numbed fingers didn’t even register the cold as Ginger’s teeth yanked off her glove. But when warm human skin touched her fingertips, she instantly recognized Eric’s touch. Tears ran down her face and into the small air pocket she’d dug around her face as she forced her oxygen-deprived and weakened muscles to respond. Her fingers curled slightly, and she felt his hand curl around hers. She heard his voice, muffled and faint. Although she couldn’t understand the words, her joy was boundless.

  “Help’s here, Pam,” she whispered as three pairs of hands and a set of paws dug at her, clearing away snow. Eric’s hand grasped her good one as they lifted a limp Pam from her lap, shoving an oxygen mask onto the child’s face.

  “She breathing?” Lindsey asked, not aware that her voice was a faint whisper.

  “She’s breathing, sweetheart.”

  Lindsey closed her eyes in relief. She opened them again and cried out as Ginger jostled her. She yanked her good arm away from Eric to cradle her injured one.

  “Where are you hurt?” Eric demanded. McClanahan dug a wider hole around her as Eric held back the dog, while the EMT police officer tended Pam.

  “My arm. It’s broken.”

  Eric deftly caught the splint the EMT tossed him, and
released Ginger. “Did you hit your head? Can you see out of your right eye?”

  “Wilson did that,” Lindsey said. “He killed Eva, too. He told me.” Then, to her horror, she began to cry. When a grim-faced Eric splinted her arm, a myriad of emotions shook her body. Grief, relief, joy, horror and pure shock—they couldn’t be contained. She couldn’t stop her sobs as Eric and McClanahan gently lifted her stiff, chilled body from the hole and out into the bright light of day. She continued to cry as Ginger licked her face, and cried as she was given her own oxygen mask. Only when Eric took her onto his lap and held her tight did she begin to settle down.

  “Jim?” she asked, remembering the pilot.

  “Safe and sound with us,” Eric said, his arms tightening around her.

  “Everyone’s accounted for but Wilson,” McClanahan said. “I heard the chopper’s transponder right before we found you. We should…” He jerked his head toward the buried helicopter’s location.

  “Lindsey, love, I have to go, but I’ll be right back,” Eric said, gently transferring her from his lap to the silver solar blanket waiting for her on the snow. He then carefully covered her with another, and adjusted her oxygen mask. “Okay?”

  Lindsey nodded and closed her eyes. She heard Eric’s “Keep a close eye on them both” to the remaining officer before he called Ginger and set off with McClanahan, shovels in hand.

  DESPITE HIS GLOVES, Eric’s grip on the shovel was so fierce that it hurt his fingers. Lindsey’s words echoed in his head. Wilson had hurt her—and had killed Eva. And now he had to leave the woman he loved to rescue an enemy. He barely noticed the beep of the transponder, as he concentrated on using his probe, and on Ginger’s frantic searching. Fury over Eva’s death waged with joy at Lindsey and Pam’s rescue.

  “Think I’ve got something!” McClanahan sang out. He and Eric efficiently started digging, and just a few feet down uncovered one of the helicopter blades. “The transmitter was with the chopper all along, yet your ranger and the child weren’t here. I don’t think they were thrown—they must’ve gotten out before the slide.”

  Eric couldn’t respond. For a moment, his shovel remained motionless in his hand. If I hadn’t trusted Lindsey’s expertise and Ginger’s instincts, Lindsey and Pam would be dead right now. Suddenly he understood the bond between canine and human, the great respect Lindsey had for the dogs she worked with.

  He changed his position to dig closer to Ginger’s location. He didn’t respect Wilson, but he did respect life. He always had. Eric put his back into his work and shoveled harder.

  WILSON HEARD THE MUFFLED sounds of digging above him. About damn time, he thought, his brain muddled with loss of blood. If it’s the police, they’ll be in for a surprise. One good thing about his fall, it had reunited him with his gun. He’d shoot them all and get the hell out of here. He’d come back for Pam later, maybe in a few months, when the police heat had died down and his cut leg healed.

  Wilson shifted beneath the snow so as to bring his gun more to the ready. Such was his confusion, his mortally weakened condition, that Wilson didn’t even realize he’d dropped the gun.

  ERIC CONTINUED TO DIG. Suddenly, Ginger backed away from their location. Her ears flattened, pinned against the side of her head, as her lips pulled back in a grimace.

  “Hey, what’s wrong with the dog?” McClanahan asked.

  Eric knew. He watched Ginger sit on her haunches, saw her nose wrinkle at the new smell—then saw her nose point to the heavens as she keened her death howl.

  “Hell,” the chief spat out. “That can’t be good.”

  “I’m done here.” Eric folded his shovel and fastened it back onto the sled. Ginger at his side, he turned away from death and back to life.

  Back to Lindsey.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Hospital

  Day 10, noon

  LINDSEY MOVED RESTLESSLY on her hospital bed. Her broken arm, now in a lightweight fiberglass cast, throbbed miserably, as did a cracked rib. She tried to find a comfortable position, alerting Naomi, who was sitting in the room. Pam was down the hall, reunited with her mother.

  “I thought you were asleep,” Naomi said. “Should I call the nurse? Do you need more pain meds?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “I just need Eric back. I won’t be able to rest until I know he’s safe and sound.”

  “He’s safe, Lindsey. He’s at the main ranger office right now.”

  “Are you sure Wilson’s dead?”

  “We are. The man can’t hurt anyone now. I don’t know if you remember, but Eric was working Ginger. That’s how he found you and Pam in time. He trusted the dog—not the transponder.”

  “I remember….” Despite her panic at the time—due to oxygen deprivation—she remembered Eric and Ginger rescuing her as a team. “Hard to believe.”

  “Not really. He loves you, Lindsey. He’s never stopped. You know that, don’t you?”

  Lindsey nodded and adjusted the pillow under her injured arm, careful not to jar her side. “How’s Pam?” she asked.

  “With her mother. San Francisco Children’s Hospital was going to send a helicopter for her, since this hospital’s is out of commission, but Pam doesn’t want to get on another chopper. She went ballistic just hearing about it.”

  “I can’t blame her.”

  “They suggested sedation, but her mother refused. Said she isn’t going to force her. Instead, they’ve flown a doctor here to treat her frostbite. From what I heard, she’ll need some more debridement surgery, but it looks like she won’t lose any more toes.”

  “Thank God. Does she know her father’s dead?”

  “Her mother told her, but no details.”

  “What details?” Lindsey asked.

  Naomi hesitated. “Eric said I shouldn’t upset you.”

  “I want to hear, Naomi. I need to hear.”

  The other woman slowly exhaled. “Eric and the police went back out after they brought you and Pam here. The pilot wasn’t hurt, so he went back, too. He wanted to check out his craft. Dispatch said the rescue team recovered the body a little while ago. Eric told me about it later, while you were still with the doctors.” Naomi paused.

  “And?” Lindsey urged.

  “Seems there was a pocket beneath the helicopter where the snow didn’t pack tightly. That’s where Wilson was. He managed to get himself upright and was climbing his way out of the snow using the helicopter frame to assist him. Somehow, he managed to slip and get entangled in the wreckage. He injured himself and died from his injuries.”

  “Just from a slip?”

  “Wilson cut a major artery, Eric said. No one could have saved him.”

  Lindsey suspected Naomi wasn’t telling her the whole story, but she didn’t press for details. For now it was enough that the man could never hurt anyone again.

  “I feel sorry for him,” Lindsey said quietly. “Being trapped in the snow, dying like that.”

  “That’s how he killed Eva. I say he got what was coming to him,” Naomi said fiercely, tears in her eyes. “And thanks to him, we blamed Eva all this time, too!”

  Eric must have told Naomi that Wilson had confessed to Eva’s murder. “Still, it’s a horrible feeling, being buried alive. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” She shivered at the memory of her own close call. Naomi approached, smoothed Lindsey’s covers and, still standing, held her good hand and patted it, even though she was the tearful one, not Lindsey.

  “Well, it’s all over now,” Naomi said briskly. “You just relax, and I’ll stay here until Eric comes.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Lindsey protested. “You should go back and stay with Keith. How’s he doing?”

  “Fine. He knows I’m here and sends you his best. I promised Eric I wouldn’t leave until he returned,” she explained, then quickly added, “And even if I hadn’t, I still wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave any of us behind.”

  “Yeah, Super Ranger, that’s me,” Lindsey said with a wry twist of her lips, stari
ng at her throbbing arm. “I think I need a vacation,” she said, closing her eyes.

  “Definitely some rest.” Without releasing Lindsey’s hand, Naomi pulled her chair close to the bed.

  “I have a confession to make,” she said suddenly.

  Lindsey opened her eyes.

  “I’m the one who asked for you as a replacement,” she admitted. “I want to be your friend. And your sister-in-law. I needed the chance to set things right, so—”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I know it was wrong. I didn’t even tell Eric. Can you ever forgive me?”

  Lindsey smiled. “No problem,” she said, closing her eyes again, feeling the warmth of Naomi’s fingers around hers.

  WHEN SHE OPENED HER EYES, almost two hours had passed. Keith, in hospital pj’s and robe, with a portable IV, sat in a wheelchair near her bed.

  “Hey, partner. Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Keith! My God, you look great,” Lindsey said, truly delighted.

  “Better than the last time you saw me.” Keith grinned. “And since the doctors said I could sit up, I got a nurse to wheel me here. I decided I’d check up on you. How ya doin’?”

  “I’m warm and breathing, with no complaints. Except for my hair.” Lindsey pushed away the straggling mess in her eyes, suddenly aware of Naomi’s absence. “Where’s Naomi?”

  “On the phone at the front desk. Eric called her to get some last-minute details for the main office. He’s requested sick leave for all three of us.”

  “When’s he coming back?

  “Soon, I expect.” Keith paused. “Lindsey…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?”