“Yeah.” She sat up, slid to the ledge of the rock face and looked down. Jacob had already half hauled his body out of the water and was now draped over the edge of the tree, looking up at her. “How about you? How are you going to climb up that with one hand?”
His eyes scanned the slippery rock face. “I’ll figure it out.”
She twisted her lips in thought and looked around her. There was a thin but strong looking tree by the edge she could’ve anchored a rope to, if she’d had one. Her belt was leather and pretty sturdy but not long enough to lower down. Her backpack was all the way back upriver tucked inside her grounded canoe, near where she’d first been grabbed by Cutter. She could hear Jacob below her, struggling and grunting as he tried to climb up.
“Hang on,” she called. “I’m just going to try to find a way to help you up.”
“I’m okay,” he shouted back.
She shook her head. “No, you’re not. Just give me—”
Then she heard the crack of wood, loud and deafening, Jacob shouting and then a splash.
* * *
Pain seared through Jacob’s shoulder as the full weight of his body fell into the grip of one hand. The loss of footing had been sudden, as the tree beneath him finally split free from the rock face and tumbled into the water. Now his feet scrambled in vein for any foothold on the slippery stone where the tree had once been. His fingers screamed in pain as his grip threatened to falter. Time ticked past in agonizing seconds.
“Grab my hand!” Grace’s voice above him was strong and sharp as a command.
He glanced up. Grace was hanging over the ledge. Her hands reached out toward him.
“I’ll pull you over!” he shouted.
“I’m fine!” she shouted back. “I’m anchored to a tree. Just do it!”
But how big was the tree? How well was she anchored? How much weight could it hold? There was no way she could be strong enough to support him. If he gave in and grabbed her hand, who’s to say he wasn’t going to yank her over and then they’d both drown? It was bad enough she thought she had to leap from a helicopter for whatever misguided reason.
The pain in his fingers grew. She lowered herself over farther until he felt her hand brush his.
Help me, Lord! What am I going to do?
“Jacob, come on!” she shouted. “I need your help to get out of here alive. If you let yourself drown, then what happens to me?”
She grabbed his hand and held it firm. He let go of the rock and clenched her hand. For a moment, he thought they were going to slip from each other’s grasp. But then she latched her second hand around his as well, holding his hand in both of hers.
“You won’t be able to lift me!”
“Then use my arm like a rope and climb up,” she grunted. Her breaths were shallow, and he had no doubt her arms and back were in agony. “Your legs still work, right?”
He laughed, not that he meant to, but because she was utterly infuriating, and not entirely in a bad way. White-capped water churned beneath him. He swung his legs up and planted them against the rock, hearing her almost yelp in pain at the sudden shift in weight. But all she said was, “Don’t let go!”
He suspected she had no idea how extraordinary she was.
In six long painful steps, he was up. She helped haul him over the ledge. He crawled over, let go of her hands and then collapsed on his back. He stared up at the sky, wishing beyond any reasonable hope for the sight and sound of Kevin’s helicopter. Instead, dark clouds filled his gaze. Wind shook the trees around him. Pain radiated through his body and shot through his shoulder, mingled with overwhelming gratitude to be back on dry land. Grace collapsed beside him and they lay there, side by side on their backs, panting and gasping on the muddy ground. Her arm brushed against his unwounded one and rested there. Somehow the slight touch reminded him of what it was like to be sitting beside a girl as a teenager, so close their shoulders touched, and trying to get up the courage to hold her hand. Not that dating had ever been a serious possibility after Faith had been killed. Grief had collapsed on top of his family, threatening to destroy them all under its weight. His parents and brothers had needed him to help keep them all together. So he’d quit hockey and soccer to be home more after school. He’d taken on a weekend job at the local supermarket to help with the household bills. Even as, in the past two years, he’d watched first Trent, then Max and finally Nick find strong, beautiful and amazing women to spend the rest of their lives with, he’d never felt the longing for a partner to share the load, join his life or even hold his hand. Not until now. And he didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t take her hand. He didn’t even let his fingers brush against hers. And yet he didn’t move his arm away. Neither did she.
“Are you hurt?” he asked the moment he found his voice.
“Cold, wet and a bit banged up,” she said. “But I’m okay. How are you?”
Cold, wet, in pain, frustrated, worried and confused was the response that crossed his mind. But the words that left his mouth were, “You shouldn’t have let go of that helicopter ladder.”
“That’s a funny way to say thank you for saving my life.” She sat up.
His spine stiffened, pushing him to a seating position. Yes, she’d helped him. But claiming she’d saved him was taking it a step too far. His teeth clenched. “There was no reason for you to put your life in danger like that.”
“You would have drowned!”
“I would’ve found a way!”
Who was this woman? She had no idea who he was, what he’d lived through or what he was capable of. She had no idea what it meant to be a Henry and she never would. Even if she hadn’t been a reporter, Grace Finch was the last person he’d ever confide in about Faith’s death, what it had done to him, just how long and hard he’d searched for the truth, and how close he’d finally come to finding out who her killer was.
“Right,” Grace said, as if responding to something he hadn’t even said. Her wet olive green canvas jacket seemed to be plastered on in uneven folds, reminding him of his creative mother’s textured art. “Because sheer willpower and determination are enough to keep a person from drowning.”
“Sheer willpower and determination are enough for a lot of things!” he shot back. A flash of something hot moved through his veins, like a sudden fire he’d never felt before exploding out of nowhere. What was it about this woman? Nothing ever got under his skin like she did. She must’ve seen it too, because her dark eyes widened.
“Well, Detective Henry, that’s actually something we can both agree on,” she said. Then she shrugged like she was tossing his words off her shoulders. “Besides, like I said, you took a bullet for me. Figure this makes us even.”
She leaned forward, and it was only then he realized she’d looped her belt around her ankle and fastened it to a thin pine tree. That was all there’d been to keep them both from drowning? Just how gutsy was she? Slowly she unfastened her leg from the trunk.
“I also have a first aid kit,” she added. “Along with some food and camping supplies in my bag. Do you want me to check the bullet wound in your arm now? Or wait to see if we can reach my bag first?”
He noticed not checking his wound hadn’t been included as an option.
“Thankfully it’s just a graze. The bullet isn’t in the wound, and if anything it’s a lot cleaner than it was.” He laughed to show he was trying to make a joke. Her lips turned in an equally practiced smile to show she was acknowledging that, and he immediately regretted not being more authentic and real. “Honestly, I’m worried that with how muddy we both are right now we’d just contaminate it and I don’t want to risk getting an infection. Beyond that, I’m a bit dizzy but I’m not worried about blood loss, especially as the bleeding seems to have stopped. Where is your bag?”
“Back where Cutter caught up with me,” she said. “It’s in my canoe, which I had pulle
d up onto the shore. I’d taken it off to see about setting up camp and he spotted me before I could go back for it. Hopefully it’s still there. I’ve lost my Taser. Tell me you still have the guns.”
Heat rose to his face. That should’ve been the first thing he’d checked once crawling to shore, instead of lying there with a brain full of ridiculous thoughts while his lungs fought to catch his breath. He did a quick spot check. Cutter’s gun was in his ankle holster and his own was at his waist. Then he reached for his right breast pocket and worry stabbed like a spear through his core. He’d lost his phone when he’d shed the bulletproof vest. The wind whipped harder. Thunder rumbled above, ominous and unhelpful. He felt his face pale. “Guns, yes, but I’ve lost my phone. Please tell me you’ve a phone.”
“In my bag,” she said. “But the signal was really faint and kept cutting out.”
He wasn’t surprised. Getting a phone signal this deep in these woods was unreliable in the best of times and when the storm hit, reaching the outside world would be all but impossible. Her dark eyes searched his face and he watched as worry pooled in their depths. “What’s wrong?”
“I have no way to contact the helicopter,” he said. “There’s a bad storm coming and it might be hours before they can launch another aerial search. They’ll probably send both RCMP officers and Search and Rescue to our location, but that could take hours. Until then, we’re stranded.”
FIVE
“Stranded?” Grace felt her own voice break as she said the word. What did he mean? Her chest tightened and for a moment she felt her own heart beating so hard it hurt to breathe. No, she’d already spent too many hours in these woods. She wasn’t about to get stuck here any longer. As if on cue, the sky broke and the rain hit harder, pouring down around them like a sheet of tiny pebbles, marring her vision and pounding against her skin.
Jacob pulled himself to standing, using his good arm for support. “Kevin can’t fly in this weather. He’ll have to wait until the wind dies down and the skies clear. It’s supposed to be a very bad storm. They’re talking major flooding.”
Okay, so canoeing back to her car was out of the question and it had taken her six hours to get this deep into the woods when she had been able to travel through the network of rivers, with a combination of paddling and portaging. When she’d mapped it on the GPS, the hike alone would’ve been closer to twelve hours. Not to mention they now knew there were at least two armed killers in the woods.
But it’s not like they had other better options. She scrambled to her feet. “We can hike back to my car.”
“You want to hike all night in this weather?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “I can barely see in this rain. We need to hold tight and hole up somewhere until the rain clears and help can get to us. But we’ll start with finding your phone. Hopefully it’ll be possible to get a signal to the outside world.”
The fist of fear in her chest grew tighter. She wasn’t sure how successful she was at hiding it, because when he noticed her expression, he added, “Trust me, I like this as little as you do.”
Really? At least he was armed.
“The good news is that I saw a cabin not far from where I rappelled down to find you,” he said. “Fortunately, compasses are waterproof and if we backtrack, I should be able to find it.”
A cabin? Her cabin? Did Jacob actually know the location of the cabin where her father apparently had left proof of his innocence? Was Jacob actually going to lead her there?
“Obviously I’ll have to scout it out and make sure none of the convicts made it there first,” Jacob went on. He started walking. She followed. “Yeah, it’ll be a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take to get us out of the storm. I don’t want us getting struck by lightning or hit by a falling tree. Not to mention the rivers are going to rise. At least in the cabin we can dry off. And you can get some rest. Sleeping will be out of the question for me. I’ll stay up all night, guard the door and make sure you’re safe.”
They kept walking. Her mind spun as her body pushed through the rain, the trees and the thick, slippery mud. What if her father was there, waiting for her? What if he’d left something for her and Jacob found it?
What if Jacob discovered that she was the daughter of a man he despised?
And yet what else could she do? They were in the woods, the rain was relentless, night was falling and whether she liked it or not, Jacob was her best hope for surviving if Cutter and Driver found her.
“We can take turns keeping watch,” she said. “You need rest even more than I do.”
He didn’t argue but he didn’t respond either, leaving her to guess if he’d heard her. They kept walking, climbing over logs and pushing through branches. The rain poured down around them, hard and heavy, striking with a ferocity that made it impossible to do anything but slowly and painstakingly keep moving forward. Jacob’s eyes scanned the woods as they walked. His posture was almost relaxed and yet there was also an alertness to him, something about the way he walked that implied he was ready for danger at any moment. It was comforting, but not surprising. For all the times he’d walked past her at crime scenes, without so much as making eye contact, she’d seen more than enough of the detective to notice the unusual way he carried himself. There was a casualness to him, a saunter, a way he entered a space with his tall broad-shouldered form that projected the idea that there was nothing to worry about and everything was going to be okay. It never seemed fake either, unlike other cops, like detective Warren Scott whose charm turned on and off like a faucet. She didn’t know how to put it, only that it projected reassurance, confidence and authority without being tense, aggressive or stressful. She liked it.
Suddenly he stopped, turned and looked back at her through the wall of rain beating down between them, like he’d known she’d been studying him and wasn’t sure he liked it. She felt his eyes searching her face in the dying light, as if there was something written beneath the surface of her skin he was looking for. If so, he wasn’t going to find it. For a very long moment, he didn’t say anything. Neither did she. He wouldn’t be the first person she’d known to use long silences to get the other person to speak first. But if so, he’d met his match there. He rolled his shoulders back, his spine straightened and there was something about the gesture that reminded her of a mythological creature unfurling his wings. Yeah, she’d seen him do that move before too. To her embarrassment, a laugh slipped her lips before she could catch it. His eyebrows rose.
“Can I ask what’s so funny?” he asked.
“You have this thing you do with your posture,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the storm. “In reality you must be what, six foot two or six foot three? But you have this way of walking that makes you look the same height as all the cops that are barely six feet tall. Like you don’t want to intimidate them or something.”
Even through the rain, she could hear the curious half-smile in his voice. “Oh, really?”
“Really,” she said. “But then you kind of unfurl to your full height sometimes. When you want to, I don’t know, be taken seriously or project an air of authority? To be honest, I haven’t quite pinpointed why you do it. Are you aware you’re doing it? Is it something you used to do as a kid? You’re the oldest sibling in your family, right?”
He paused for a moment, standing there in the rain, and she thought he was about to answer. Then he started walking again. “No, we’re not doing this. Let me make one thing clear, this is a rescue mission, not an interview.”
“Okay, fair enough.” Her footsteps quickened. Her hand brushed his arm. “You’re the one who suddenly stopped. Clearly you had something on your mind.”
He kept walking. “Yes, and then you reminded me that I’m talking to a reporter.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Still, he didn’t stop. “I mean, that I’ve been processing and thinking a lot while we�
�ve been walking and I’ve realized I don’t like being lied to.”
“Does anyone like being lied to?” she asked.
Now that made his footsteps falter and she thought for a moment he was about to stop, but he didn’t.
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out what kind of person I’m stranded in the woods with. And I think it’s very unlikely an award-winning crime reporter just happens to be in the middle of nowhere the same day three convicted criminals escaped from a prison van. How do you account for that stunning coincidence?”
“Why are you quizzing me now?” she shot back. What exactly had he been processing while they walked? “I thought you said this wasn’t an interview.”
His feet froze. He spun around so suddenly she nearly walked into him.
“Let me make one thing clear,” he said. “You are not going to interview me in the woods or use the fact we’re stranded out here to question me about anything. You may be a reporter back in the real world, but right now, you’re just a civilian who I’m rescuing. I, however, am still a cop—I will always be a cop—and I’m still on duty, so I expect you to tell me everything and anything you know about the three men who escaped prison and how you just happen to be here in the middle of it—”
“And I have a constitutional right not to answer police questions according to the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.” She felt her voice rise. No, he wasn’t going to play a badge on her. She knew far too much about police procedures, starting at far too young an age. “Do you want my full name and address for the record, Officer? That much you have the right to ask and I’ll give it. But beyond that, I give you my word that I knew absolutely nothing about the prison escape before Cutter jumped me. Believe me, I’m not stupid enough to go running out into the middle of nowhere, six hours canoeing and portaging from my car without a decent weapon, or a cell signal, or any kind of backup if I’d known there was a killer loose in the woods, let alone two.”
Cold Case Secrets Page 5