Going to Extremes. Amanda Stevens

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СКАЧАТЬ tried to beat back her panic as she moistened her lips. “I didn’t come up here to find you, but now that I have…I can help you. I can give you a public platform. Arrange for you to tell your side of things—”

      Before Fowler could reply, a voice said from the darkness, “I’m afraid we can’t allow that.”

      Kaitlyn couldn’t see the newcomer. He remained hidden in the woods behind Fowler, but there was something familiar about his voice. She’d heard it before.

      If he knew her, maybe he’d help her somehow…

      “Who are you?” she asked, sounding far more desperate and frightened than she would have liked.

      “It doesn’t matter who I am. You’ve stumbled upon the story of a lifetime, it seems. I’m sorry you won’t live to tell it.”

      Kaitlyn’s stomach churned at his words. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t even know who you are.”

      “You’d put it together sooner or later. I truly am sorry, but in times like these, sacrifices have to be made. Our Cause is far too important to risk letting you go.”

      Oh, God…

      “Kill her and make it quick,” he said to Fowler. “Have your men dispose of both bodies and make sure they clean up inside.”

      “Whatever you say. You’re calling the shots.” For now, Fowler’s tone implied. “For the Cause!” he shouted in triumph.

      “For the Cause,” the disembodied voice agreed.

      Fowler lifted his weapon, but in the split second before he pulled the trigger, the ground gave way beneath Kaitlyn’s feet. Loosened by all the rain, the edge of the canyon broke free and slid downward, carrying Kaitlyn with it.

      She screamed as the bullet whizzed past her cheek, and then she plunged backward into nothing but darkness.

      Chapter Two

      Wednesday, 1600 hours

      The storm had let up overnight and the early part of Wednesday morning, but as the afternoon slipped away, a new front moved in, bringing rain bands that slammed across the JetRanger’s path. Cruising at an altitude of three hundred feet beneath heavy cloud cover, the chopper rose and fell like a roller coaster as wind gusts of up to twenty-five knots batted it to and fro.

      No problem, Aidan Campbell thought as he kept his eyes pealed out the window for the missing woman. The JetRanger III was a reliable machine, and the pilot, Jacob Powell, had nearly twenty years of experience under his belt. Plus, he was trained to fly in thirty-knot and above winds. Aidan had seen the guy navigate through near-hurricane conditions—and while they were taking heavy fire, to boot. Comparatively speaking, this search-and-rescue mission was a piece of cake.

      The request for assistance by the county sheriff’s office had come into Big Sky Bounty Hunters headquarters at approximately 1300 hours, and Cameron Murphy had immediately notified his teams—already in the field searching for the escaped prisoners—to be on the lookout for a Ponderosa woman whose abandoned and submerged vehicle had been spotted on Route 9. Presumably, she’d taken to high ground during the storm, but the fact that she hadn’t been heard from in over twenty-four hours didn’t bode well for her safety.

      Aidan and Powell had started their search in the area where her vehicle had been seen and then gradually widened the perimeter. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Their only hope was that the woman would somehow be able to signal them when—and if—she heard the engine.

      To fight off the strong headwinds, Powell swerved the chopper’s nose and tail back and forth like a scampering sand crab. The maneuver helped, but the altimeter was still going crazy. Nausea tugged at Aidan’s stomach as he lifted the binoculars and scanned the scenery below them. They’d flown out of the heavy rain, but visibility was still poor and they were losing the light. He could make out little more than the treetops.

      Flying at low altitudes in mountainous terrain was dangerous under the best of conditions, but in bad weather, it was a particular dicey operation. But Aidan knew there was no turning back, for him or for Powell, until they absolutely had to. If the woman was still alive, she might not survive another night in the wilderness.

      Aidan didn’t say it aloud, but for the past half hour or so, he’d been plagued by the nagging worry that despite their best efforts, they might come up short this time. SAR operations didn’t always have happy endings. He knew that better than anyone.

      His headset sputtered to life.

      “See anything?” Powell asked him.

      He shook his head. “Negative.”

      “Damn.” The frustration in Powell’s voice mirrored Aidan’s concern. Darkness was falling and they were rapidly reaching the point at which the helicopter wouldn’t have enough fuel to return to base. A decision would soon have to be made.

      He glanced at Powell. “What do you think?”

      Powell’s mouth was set in a grim line. “One more circle and then we’ll have to head in.” He turned south, putting the wind at their tail and the JetRanger sprinted forward.

      As they passed over a gorge cut deep into the side of the mountain, Aidan pointed out the window. “I’ve been rock climbing in that canyon. It’s at least a hundred-foot drop to the floor.”

      Powell shrugged. “Devil’s Canyon. What of it?”

      “If memory serves, there’s an old hunting lodge around here somewhere…yeah, just through that break in the trees. See it? It’s a long shot, but she could be holed up inside, waiting for the weather to clear.”

      “I doubt she would have made it up this far, but hold on,” Powell said. “We’ll drop down and see if we spot movement.”

      As he swung around, something twinkled in the deep recesses of the canyon, drawing Aidan’s attention. He watched for a moment, thinking it might have been his imagination, but then it came again. A flicker of light.

      Couldn’t be a campfire in the rain…

      “Did you see that?” Aidan pointed excitedly toward the canyon. “I saw a light down there.”

      Powell executed a one-eighty spin, turning his nose straight into the headwind. The helicopter shuddered, as if a giant hand had smacked it across the hull.

      The rim of the canyon was nothing but rocks and marshy ground. If they set down, the chopper was likely to sink in the mud and they’d never get it out. Landing on the floor of the narrow ravine was not an option, either, and a rescue party could take hours to get there.

      The light kept blinking. It might have been Aidan’s imagination, but the signal seemed more rapid now. More desperate.

      “I’ll go down and have a look,” he shouted into the mouthpiece.

      “Too windy,” Powell responded. “You’ll get hammered on the rocks before you’ve gone ten feet.”

      “Not if you get low enough. The canyon will act as a buffer.”

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