Chasing Trouble (In Ashwood Book 3)

by Kinney Scott

  Linnea lay back against the crooked interior, “My phone. Where is it?” she said with a muffled voice holding the fleece against her face. It had been on the seat with the Garrison’s address pulled up for navigation, but she couldn’t find it. The slim device may be anywhere. Pulling the infant sized coat away from her face she explored her swollen lip and nose with the tips of her fingers. Finding less blood, she nodded at the good sign.

  Now that she wasn’t going to bleed to death, Linnea leaned to snag the larger parcel. As she stretched, her ribs screamed in protest, “shit, my ribs,” she hissed.

  Her fingernails dug into the tape, peeling the box open. Pushing away the brown paper, Linnea grabbed the thick winter coat. “Yes, thank you Santa,” she laughed, choosing to laugh rather than cry.

  Easing her ravaged wrists into the fleece lining, she immediately felt warmer. The men’s extra-large enveloped her in a layer of soft warmth and she sighed. Lifting her hips Linnea eased the coat under her butt and relaxed for a moment. She didn’t know if she could climb out of the car, but if she was here until morning she would survive.

  Halfway through Bing’s version of Silent Night, the carol stopped. With the music gone, she felt entirely alone. The only sound apart from her own breathing was the drip of fluids from the ravaged engine.

  Protected from the worst of the cold, she eased back the driver seat and shimmied to the rear of the car. “Ahhh, damn that hurts,” she groaned, worried about the persistent pain in her rib cage.

  With the car tilted against the earth, only the rear window on the driver’s side had any hope of escape. She tilted the button, but the electrically powered window did not make a sound. What can I use to shatter the glass? Linnea wondered, searching the car for a useful tool.

  ***

  “What do you mean, Linnea is missing?” Rick asked standing to take immediate action.

  Iris spoke quietly, “It may be nothing, but Linnea planned to meet Amanda here for dinner - over an hour ago.”

  “An hour’s not that late,” Kent said.

  Rick’s glare shut Kent’s mouth, and he looked back to listen carefully to Iris, “Annie said Linnea left the taproom heading this way over an hour ago. She’s not answering her phone. We’ve called around, but no one can find her.”

  “Thanks. Call me if she shows,” Rick said over his shoulder already moving to the exit.

  Kent followed behind, “Let me drive, you can call Bill and see what he knows.”

  “I’d feel better if we both looked for her,” Rick said moving at a jog.

  “Wait. Think about it. If one of us drives, the other can spot. In the dark, with this snow falling, we could miss her. If she slid off the road, we could drive right past and never see her at all.”

  “You’re right…okay. Let’s take your truck. It sits higher and has a better view. Hang on for a second.” Rick dug behind the driver’s side seat and pulled out an aid kit he kept ready at all times.

  His voice rose over the growl of Kent’s engine as Rick gathered as much information as he could from Bill. Linnea’s uncle already stopped by her tiny house, and found her place dark and empty. Bill’s next stop would be the firehouse, where volunteers were already gathering to map a grid for the search. Wade and Ravenna were driving the main highway, looking for any sign.

  He finished the call with Bill, “Okay, Kent and I will start from The Northside and work our way toward Mosquito Creek Taproom. Maybe she’s just broken down on the side of the road somewhere along the way,” But, he knew that wasn’t the case. Ashwood residents wouldn’t pass by anyone in need, she had to be in a spot nobody could see.

  Kent and Rick passed opposite Ravenna and Wade driving slowly along the highway. “Damn, it. This is pointless. Linnea’s not on this stretch of road. Where is she!” Rick yelled in frustration, pounding the dash. “I don’t even know where to start looking!”

  “Call Amanda, she’ll know what’s going on,” Kent said wishing he could place that call.

  Rick brought up his contacts, and tapped the screen, “Amanda - Rick here. Kent and I are searching. Can you tell us anything that will help?”

  Amanda’s panicked voice rose over speakerphone, “Annie said she left the taproom around six. Dillon talked to everyone, and a couple people saw her leave. I guess Linnea had two packages delivered to the taproom today, and those are gone. Dillon thought Linnea might be delivering a Christmas gift to someone, maybe a friend or a secret Santa…but we don’t know. Rick, she could be anywhere.”

  “We’ll find her. Call me if you hear anything,” Rick racked his mind, trying to recall conversations he’d had with Linnea before he sent her away.

  “God damn it. This is my fault,” Rick growled, “If Linn and I were still together she wouldn’t be alone right now. She started taking late shifts after I broke things off.”

  “Don’t waste your time worrying about that now. Try to think, where could she have gone?” Kent insisted.

  Another truck passed by with a man and woman inside, the passenger held a powerful flashlight aimed in the ditch, slowly covering the same ground Wade and Ravenna had already searched. Rick noted the tracks the truck left in the fresh fallen snow.

  Rick looked again, “I’ve got an idea, take side roads. Find any road without tracks.”

  Kent nodded seeing the logic. Fresh snow would be a sign. Nobody would have searched those stretches of road.

  Rick grabbed a flashlight from his emergency kit, rolled down the window and aimed it a few feet ahead of their path, attempting to notice anything that looked out of place. Kent cranked the heat, fighting the cold blasting in the open window. With the temperatures dipping into the teens, they had to find her. Linnea might not last through the night.

  ***

  Bracing her arms against the far passenger side door, Linnea lay across the backseat and slammed her heels against the opposite window. Each impact shot hot agony through her rib cage and created starbursts of pain behind her eyes.

  “Break! Break! Break!” she shouted with each jarring slam. Furious tears streamed down her face, and she tasted blood again. Only able to breathe through her mouth, her cries were hoarse and guttural. Linnea reached to the front seat, found Ricky’s little winter coat and wadded the already bloody material against her nose. She turned to sink back across the rear seat, her head now on the high side of the car.

  Linnea bunched into a ball to keep warm. By drawing her knees up, she could slip her upper thighs under the protection of the warm fleece-lined coat. Once the bleeding slowed, Linnea covered her head with the baby’s jacket, desperate to preserve heat, huddled against the dropping temperature.

  ***

  “Where am I? Shit…I’m lost.” The last two turns put Dillon some place he’d never known existed. The old logging roads were so narrow, he could go miles before finding a spot to turn around. Immense firs slumped white and heavy, and falling snow swirled in whirlwinds ahead of his headlights, blurring the path ahead.

  Finally, he met a T intersecting a wider but still remote road. Dillon glanced left and right unable to decide. He eased out a few feet straining to find lights from homes or cars in either direction.

  A faint red glow bouncing off the white banked-up snow looked out of place. He squinted to bring the blur of crimson into focus. Turning left, he drove about seventy-five yards and found a spot where the skid marks angled off the road. The streaks across the pavement had nearly covered in fresh powder. Red tail-lights aimed precariously skyward confirmed his fears, Linnea had been in a serious accident.

  Dillon rushed from his still running car, the door left wide-open and yelled, “Linnea! Linnea! I’m here. Are you okay?”

  He slid down the embankment knee deep in snow and gravel sliding along the tilted car to slow his descent.

  The entire passenger side had wedged into the ditch. Crumpled from the impact the nose of her sedan had become one with an ancient old growth stump on the edge of the road. Peeled metal gashed open expo
sing the engine compartment, a confirmation of a violent impact. Inside he saw blown airbags, white and ghostly draping over the steering column.

  Dillon slammed his hand against the window, “Linnea! Linnea!” Please answer.

  A weak croaking voice cried, “I’m here. Help. I’m here.”

  Movement in the back seat drew his eyes to her injured face. In the dim glow from the red taillights, Dillon could make out a streak of ghastly blood smeared across her face.

  “I’m trapped Dillon,” she cried. “Please get me out.”

  He yanked on each driver’s side door, but the base of both had buried in the soft dirt of the ditch. Spotting a large rock with a jagged point he yelled, “Cover-up Linnea, I’m going to break the glass.” She huddled in the corner, shielding her face with Ricky’s coat and waited. At the first impact, Linnea covered her ears against the concussive noise.

  Pulling the sleeve of his coat over his hand, he struck the rock against the window. In three sharp blows, the glass exploded, shattering in thousands of tiny pieces over the interior of her car.

  Linnea scrambled forward. “Wait.” Dillon commanded as he took off his coat covering the jagged-edged glass.

  Her head and shoulders appeared through the escape hatch he’d created. She snaked her arms forward and held tight as Dillon eased her from the car.

  “How did you find me?” she asked, struggling to stand.

  “I got lost,” he said pulling her close. “Linn, you’re covered in blood. We need to get you to the hospital. Can you get out of this ditch if I help you?”

  “I think so. Can I rest for a second first?” her voice was so weak, he worried she would collapse into the snow.

  “Yes, take all the time you need,” he lied, desperate to get her into the warmth of his truck. With blood loss and cold she already seemed shocky. Her speech was slurred and her skin felt like ice against his chest. He stuck his hand back into his pocket and found his phone. One slim bar gave him hope. He redialed the last person he’d called and Amanda answered.

  “I’ve got her - but I need help.”

  “Where are you?” Amanda asked, and Dillon shook his head in frustration, realizing he didn’t know.

  Dillon shifted, trying to find a landmark, and Linnea struggled to speak, “I was on my way back from the Garrison’s on Forest Hill Road.”

  “I heard her - we’ve got people on the way,” Amanda said quickly.

  Dillon pulled her close and reached forward for his glass-covered coat. He had to trap some of his heat against Linnea.

  Wrapping them together in his arms, her huddled body sank against his lean muscled chest and she moaned, “I love you, Rick, I knew you would find me.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Bill’s Park Service SUV flew past, lights flashing. Kent spun his truck around to follow just as Amanda called.

  “Dillon found Linnea. She’s hurt. Medics are headed her way,” Amanda broke, sobbing over the phone, “I was so scared.”

  “She’s going to be okay,” Rick assured Amanda as Kent followed the growing line of emergency vehicles chasing Linnea’s direction.

  ***

  Squinting against bright lights, a wave of nausea crested as the ambulance pitched slightly to one side.

  “I’m gonna be sick,” she muttered, struggling to lean forward from her reclined position. Tangled in tubes and secured in a neck brace, Linnea couldn’t move without the medics help. The EMT held her shoulder and eased her head toward a blue bag catching her vomit.

  “I’m sorry…” she apologized sinking back against the gurney. A woman she recognized but couldn’t place took her blood pressure and asked about allergies, medical history, and pain.

  “Please, I just need to close my eyes,” Linnea begged as the woman’s questions fogged her mind. She couldn’t piece together the shards of pain laced events that brought her into the ambulance. Uncle Bill was there. And Dillon - or was it Rick? She couldn’t recall who stayed with her in the ditch.

  “Has anyone called my Mom and Dad?” Linnea asked pushing away the tangled recollections. Looking down, she saw Rick’s coat in tatters around her arms. The sleeves had been cut away to start an IV.

  “Where’s Rick?” she asked.

  “Your parents are meeting us at the hospital. With this line of cars following us, half of Ashwood will be camped in the waiting room tonight,” The EMT answered with an encouraging smile.

  “I know you,” Linnea muttered.

  “I come in on Friday’s when Foundry’s playing,” she smiled trying to keep Linnea talking, if for no other reason than to make sure she was coherent.

  “Ah, now I remember. You’re dating the bass player. Hannah is it?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. Hannah eased away what was left of Linn’s sweater, to listen to her lungs. “Deep Breath, Linnea.”

  She tried, “Oh, that hurts,” her face winced, fighting the pain.

  Hannah listened to her breathe and placed an oxygen mask over her face as Linn eased her eyes shut.

  Jolted awake by the movements carrying her from the ambulance to the ER, Linnea firmed her arms around her ribs guarding against the knife like pain. The endless procedures, needle sticks, and questions irritated. She only wanted sleep. That sleep came in confusing bursts until she saw her mother listening to the doctor the next morning.

  Dressed in jeans and a pullover, the doctor looked too young. He arrived and woke her during his early rounds, “Mom, how long have you been here?” Linnea asked before he went over her discharge arrangements.

  “Overnight. We came as soon as we heard,” her mother answered.

  “Dad’s here?”

  “Of course. Sylvia and Brooke too,” her mother nodded.

  “I’m not dying am I?” she asked her Doctor with a painful laugh.

  He explained that after keeping her for one night of observation she could now make plans to go home. Linnea’s most serious injuries were caused by the airbag: cracked ribs, abrasions on her arms, and a broken nose. She would need plenty of rest for a few weeks while her ribs and nose heeled.

  “Mrs. Michaels, Linnea will be able to go home this afternoon,” he added before he moved on to the next patient. Linnea knew without asking, that for now, home meant Yakima.

  Amanda ducked her head in, just as the doctor left, “Thank God, you’re awake!”

  “I wasn’t in a coma,” Linnea tried to smile, but her face felt swollen and tight.

  “No, but I’ve been dying to ask what happened!” Amanda said, taking the seat by Linnea’s side.

  Karleen listened to the details of the events, assembling her daughter’s accounts with the others she had already heard. “Sweetie, I’m going to drive back to Ashwood and get your father. We will be back this afternoon to bring you home. I love you.”

  “Okay mom, love you too.”

  “You won’t be lonely. I’ll stay until your family shows up,” Amanda said grabbing her hand.

  “We were so worried, Linn. What happened?” Amanda asked.

  “A deer jumped out in front of my car, and I hit the brakes. I lost control on the ice. I don’t remember the accident very well. One thing I haven’t figured out…How did Rick find me? And why isn’t he here?” Linnea asked, confused.

  “Rick didn’t find you. Dillon did, and he was lucky. While searching, Dillon lost his bearings on the backroads. If he hadn’t taken a wrong turn, you might still be in that ditch. From what Dad said, your car was impossible to see. You slid off the road, hit a stump and buried the car deep in a small ravine tucked under fir trees.”

  Amanda squeezed her hand, “Rick showed up with the emergency vehicles. He and Kent were in the waiting room for hours until they heard you were okay.”

  “He left? After that kiss?” she rubbed her head, trying to recall the events of the past few days.

  Amanda’s eyes widened with shock, “What kiss?”

  “I was babysitting Ricky. Rick came home and put the baby to bed…wait, Dillon showed
up…and Rick pinned me to his door. He kissed me. But, Dillon was there too, outside, waiting to drive me home. Oh, God, I’m so confused, I’ve lost track of time… When was the food drive dinner?” Linnea closed her eyes as random recollections swirled together.

  “Linnea, that was last Saturday, a week ago. Only ten days before Christmas.”

  “Wait! I can’t be in bed. There’s a Christmas Party for Whitewater and Mosquito Creek Brewing tonight at the Taproom!” Her sudden movement shot waves of pain from her ankles to her head.

  “Ah, damn - that hurt. You can celebrate without me,” she moaned.

  “Linnea - it’s been canceled. Nobody feels much like a party tonight.” Amanda shook her head as she told her the change of plans.

  “Because of me? Crap, I’ve ruined everything. Please tell Wade and Seth I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it - I’m sure you’ll be able to talk to both of them soon. Now - back to this kiss. You can’t tell me something like that and expect me to ignore it.”

  Linnea’s disappointment ached, “Yeah, right. Rick ignored it. He hasn’t called. He won’t take a single step inside the taproom. I’ve tried to figure out what happened, but it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’d heard you broke things off with him,” Amanda told her.

  “Who would say something like that? I love Rick, I’d never leave him to take care of a baby on his own. That’s ridiculous.” Linnea’s frustration stripped away her control, as she revealed the truth to her cousin.

  “You love him?” Amanda echoed, quietly.

  “Of course I love him. But it doesn’t seem to make any difference.”

  With a swift knock on the door, the nurse came in, took out her IV, and offered her a towel and toiletries for a shower.

  The offer brightened her mood, warm water and soap would feel like heaven. Linnea’s fingers wandered to her scalp to feel bits of glass and blood still in her hair.