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Her eyes opened a crack. Her lips moved. All Cole caught was, “Danny?”
“Your copilot? I don’t see him.” Cole glanced around again. The other side of the cockpit was covered in limbs. No one could be under there, could they? He recalled the slight, stooped old man he’d seen Rachel with in the chow line last night. A guy that size could be buried beneath all that nature. Cole swore and tried shifting the debris, which only made bad sounds happen as both trees and metal protested his movements.
And yet there was someone under there. Cole touched an arm, fought revulsion at its lifelessness, followed the arm to a wrist and searched for a pulse.
Nothing.
“He’s dead, Rachel. I’m sorry.”
Rachel moaned. “Did he get us back to the landing strip?”
“No. Do you feel the plane moving? We’re sitting in a couple of trees.” Something clattered on the plane. Another harness.
Her eyelids drifted closed again.
“No, no, no. I’ve got to move you.” If only he could be sure she hadn’t injured her spine. “Can you move your neck or your toes?”
“I hurt everywhere.”
Not good. He began yanking off the branches that pinned her to her seat.
“Are you checking in for the night or coming out?” The helicopter copilot snapped.
Pulling away as many branches from Rachel as he could, Cole confirmed, “We’re coming out.” Finally there was just the big branch wedging her in. No wonder she seemed to struggle for each breath.
With one hand on Rachel’s shoulder and one on the branch, Cole pulled the shattered limb away from her ribs.
Whimpering, Rachel slumped forward and then shot back in her seat, her face white.
Shit. He’d practically killed her. And there was blood in her hair. Lots of blood. He released the catch on his harness and yanked it off. “Are you all right?”
“I can wiggle my toes,” Rachel answered with her eyes closed as he unbuckled her seat restraints.
“Good.” As gently as possible, Cole slipped Rachel’s feet into his harness and tugged it up her body. She was in no shape to climb through the windshield. Cole hauled her to her feet, pulling the remaining straps over her arms and clicking the four-point clasp home. She was no help at all.
The plane dropped a foot, sending them sprawling onto the branches covering the copilot. Branches poked Cole everywhere, as he scrambled to get them both standing again.
With rolling eyes Rachel awakened. Then her gaze steadied, caught by something on the control panel.
“You’ll need that,” she gestured toward the debris-covered gauges where a bit of yellow peeked out…a picture.
Without looking at the photo, Cole plucked it from the panel and pocketed it. Anything to get Rachel to move faster.
The plane tilted sideways.
“Get the hell out of there!” the copilot shouted.
JENNA WOULD HAVE GOT to the phone before Pop if she hadn’t been washing dishes.
Aunt Rachel called at the end of every day, and the sun was now setting. Aunt Rachel didn’t fly after dark when she fought fires unless the fire was really bad. It had to be her.
“Hello.” Pop winked at Jenna. He knew it was Aunt Rachel, too. Then his voice got real serious. “This is Mr. Quinlan.”
Not Aunt Rachel. Jenna bit her lip in disappointment and handed Matt a plate to dry. Pop ran the house when Aunt Rachel was gone, which was all the time. Aunt Rachel was never home anymore.
Jenna frowned.
She wanted Aunt Rachel to give up flying her airplane and stay at home. She worried about her aunt. Every October, Aunt Rachel brought back scary pictures and told wild stories about flying that made Jenna want to hug her aunt so tight she’d never go up there again.
Still on the phone, Pop turned his back to Jenna and sank down in a chair really quickly.
Bad news.
Even though she was only ten, Jenna had seen enough bad news to recognize it when it was delivered.
“Where?” Pop stood on his shaky, toothpick legs and scribbled something on a piece of scrap paper on the counter. He couldn’t see very well and wrote letters and numbers bigger than Matt did. Jenna sounded out the big word from where she stood.
Hospital.
Pop looked in the direction of the sink and then away. A big knot tied up Jenna’s stomach.
Not Aunt Rachel.
Jenna’s hands drifted down in the soapy water as she stared out the kitchen window at the blue-and-pink sky. Aunt Rachel meant everything to Jenna.
“Are we done with dishes?” Matt asked, standing on the stool next to her, totally clueless about what was going on.
First she’d lost her mom and now Aunt Rachel. Her family was cursed.
With a sob, Jenna ran out the back door, stopping only to pull on her boots. She was halfway to the hangar when she heard the screen door creak open behind her. Ignoring Pop calling to her, Jenna continued on to the hangar. Only then did she stop. And that was just to stick her soapy fingers in her mouth and whistle.
Once. Twice.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Not Aunt Rachel.
God had taken everyone Jenna cared about.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to whistle a third time, only nothing came out.
Jenna sank to the ground, hugging herself tight.
Even Shadow had left her.
Stupid, stupid horse.
She whistled again. This time, there was an answering whistle, clear and strong above the sound of thundering hooves.
A dark horse stopped nearly on top of Jenna. Jumping up, she grabbed a handful of thick mane, then swung herself onto Shadow’s back and guided her one true friend out across the open prairie at a full gallop.
“YOU SHOULD GET some rest,” Jackson advised Cole, having driven the Silver Bend’s van and crew to the hospital to meet Cole and Doc. They were planning to leave as soon as they heard if Rachel was okay. “You don’t know how long the exam will take.”
“I’ll wait until we see the doctor,” Cole said, stretching his legs out in front of him as he slouched deeper into the waiting room seat.
Doc suspected Rachel had a couple of bruised or broken ribs, as well as a severe concussion. But she was alive, which was a much better fate than her copilot.
“I still can’t believe you took off your harness and crawled into that wreck. I had no idea you were so crazy,” Doc said, reclining across three waiting room chairs.
Jackson frowned, spinning his wedding band. “He’s not that crazy.”
Not anymore. Cole had been wild in his youth, but joining the Hot Shots had made him realize that crazy stunts like that led to early retirement…or death.
“He just lost his mind.” Logan came in with four cups of coffee balanced in his hands. “Even my kids know Cole’s as predictable as a rock.”
“We didn’t think you were coming out,” Doc said almost cheerfully, sitting up and reaching for a coffee. “It was like some action movie watching you click your lifeline on her and grab the second rope just before the plane fell.”
“Rachel was injured.” And in a daze from her head wound. And then… “But she was alert enough to make me grab a picture from the instrument panel.”
“A picture? Of what? Her boyfriend?” Doc perked up.
“It would have to be important,” Logan agreed. “More than just a photo of her faithful dog, Shep.”
“Maybe it was of her copilot, poor bastard,” Jackson said.
His three friends looked at Cole expectantly. What would be so important to Rachel that she’d stop during their escape? He didn’t know, and yet—
Cole pulled the crumpled photo out of his pocket. It was a snapshot of two kids—a little boy and an older girl. It was the image of the girl that sent Cole’s heart pounding. She looked like his sister, Sally, in the fourth or fifth grade. He squinted at the face. No. Not his sister, but the same blue eyes, the same white-blond hair, the same dimpled smile.
Rachel’s daughter? Not unless she’d had a high-school pregnancy with a boy having the same Nordic coloring as Cole’s family. With her dark eyes and hair, Rachel had taken after her father, while Missy had been the spitting image of their blond bombshell mother.
Cole focused again on the glossy picture. The boy was younger, maybe five or six, with dark coloring and chubby cheeks. Cole’s attention turned back to the girl. There was something about the slant of the child’s eyes that was familiar.
Missy’s eyes.
“Someday, we’ll have kids together and live happily ever after.” With one bare toe, Missy sent the porch swing moving and snuggled deeper into Cole’s arms, sliding a hand beneath his waistband.
Cole tried to remember the face of the guy Missy had foolishly wanted to marry. Lyle had been tall with brown hair and eyes.
Something cold and unpleasant stole Cole’s breath. At least part of Missy’s promise had come true.
This was his daughter.
Doc snatched the picture from his fingers. “Hey, it’s just a couple of kids.” His voice was filled with disappointment.
Jackson and Logan crowded in to see for themselves. After a moment, Jackson gave Cole a knowing look.
“Are you waiting for Rachel Quinlan?” A doctor in green scrubs stood in the doorway.
“Is she awake?” Cole asked. Because he needed answers to questions he hadn’t even thought of yet.
RACHEL FLEW LOW through the forest. Branches whipped past her face too quickly for her to fend off. The wind was cold and there was snow on the ground. She was freezing. And scared.
“There’s nothing like soaring far above the earth.” Danny’s voice, distant yet nearby.
Only, they weren’t soaring far above the earth.
A fleeting memory of smoke-filled sky, and then Rachel was plunging into a green darkness with no end. Plunging—
“Rachel.” Cole’s voice this time, stern but comforting in the darkness.
She forced open heavy lids only to squeeze them shut against the bright sunshine.
Someone walked by, shoes squeaking. And voices were everywhere—urgent, loud, whispering, commanding, fearful.
Not sunshine, then. She was inside. So, why was she so cold? Her toes. Her left hand. Her head hurt. A lot. Where was she?
She pried her eyes open, determined to keep them open this time.
“Rachel.” Cole stood beside her looking grim.
She was in a hospital bed surrounded by machines. Scary machines. Tubes ran into her left hand. Curtained partitions surrounded her on three sides.
“Was there…” Her voice was rough. “Was I in an accident?” She tried not to panic, but this didn’t look good. And Rachel couldn’t remember, could barely draw breath herself.
Cole nodded.
“You’re in the emergency room. Do you know this man?” a nurse asked, leaning closer to look deep into Rachel’s eyes with a small flashlight, making Rachel dizzy.
The need to vomit was intense, then faded as the nurse drew back.
“He’s my sister’s boyfriend.” Missy. Where was Missy? She couldn’t see any of the other beds around her. But Cole wouldn’t be with Rachel if Missy was hurt, unless…
Cole’s frown was no help, filled as it was with worry and something like disapproval. Rachel shied away from the thought that Missy was gone. But if something bad had happened, he’d look like that, wouldn’t he? Like the time he’d caught her snitching a bag of M&M’s from Marney’s general store.
“Where’s Missy?” Rachel had to gasp the words out. It felt as if someone were sitting on her right side.
The nurse looked at Cole, who stared down at a small picture in his hand.
“Was I driving to the wedding?” She didn’t have her license yet, but she was a safe driver. Why couldn’t she remember what had happened? What had she done this morning? And the wedding. Missy was getting married today.
Worry threatened to overwhelm her. “Please. Somebody say something.”
Cole didn’t look so good. That’s when Rachel remembered that Missy wasn’t marrying him today. She was marrying Lyle.
“You’ve been in an accident.” The nurse stated the obvious. “A little disorientation is normal. Just try to relax and I’ll get the doctor.” She patted Rachel’s arm before moving away.
“Cole? Is Missy…” Dead? She couldn’t say the word even though she knew with cold certainty that Missy was gone.
