Freefall (23 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

S
AM
KNEW
THEY
were in trouble when Morgenstern’s driving became erratic.

One minute he was sitting in the back of the pickup, cold and uncomfortable, teeth rattling with every bump in the road. The next he was flying across the rusted metal flatbed, slamming into the wheel well.

When he regained his bearings, he crawled toward the rear window and pounded on it. He wanted Hope to slide the divider open, but she didn’t even glance over her shoulder. She kept her attention on Morgenstern, her lips moving as she spoke. They appeared to be having a serious conversation.

For the next few minutes, Sam concentrated on staying in the back of the truck. He was thrown up in the air, jolted sideways and almost knocked out. After he found a haul hook to grab on to, he gripped it like a pommel and held tight.

Owen fell out of the passenger side and rolled down a gravel embankment, landing free of the spinning tires.

Holy shit!

Sam searched the interior for Hope. It was hard to see clearly while the truck was bouncing up and down on the dirt road. When he caught sight of Morgenstern’s fist in her hair, Sam’s vision went red.

Mother.
Fucker.

Hope was under attack, and he couldn’t help her. The passenger door was still open, banging in the wind as the truck flew around corners. It didn’t seem possible to climb into the cab that way. Sam wanted to bust through the rear window, but he didn’t have a blunt object. Morgenstern’s window was closed.

While he watched, powerless, Hope fought like a wildcat. She punched Morgenstern in the nose and clawed his face. He hollered a protest and extended his arm, holding her at a distance. She continued to struggle, pummeling his shoulder.

Sam had to get inside the vehicle through the open passenger door. It was his only option. The road straightened, making it easier for him to stay upright in the back of the truck. His stomach plummeted as he looked ahead. They were almost at the top of the dam. Morgenstern might drive the truck right over the edge.

At this speed, the guardrail wouldn’t stop them.

He gripped the doorjamb with one hand and climbed over the side, stretching out his right leg until his foot touched the passenger seat. Swallowing hard, he glanced at the road again, judging the number of seconds before they were airborne.

Less than ten.

No time to hesitate. He lifted his other foot from the bed of the truck and shifted his weight forward, straining toward the interior. Morgenstern swerved back and forth, trying to shake him off. Sam almost couldn’t hang on. The open door banged against his ribs, causing a sharp pain. He clung to the jamb, half in, half out.

Morgenstern’s attempt to dislodge him didn’t work, but he’d robbed Sam of any opportunity to get inside and take control of the vehicle. They’d be sailing into space in five seconds.

Four.

Three.

Hope reached for the transmission lever, her fingers splayed wide. At the last possible moment, she gripped the lever and dropped the truck into Neutral. Morgenstern cranked the wheel to the left and slammed on the brakes, cursing. The truck came to a hard stop against the guardrail, its passenger side parallel with the edge. Sam flew backward, into the precipice. He collided with the hanging passenger door and managed to hook his arm through the open window. That arm saved him.

His legs dangled above a deadly drop. A piece of groaning metal was the only thing between him and the spillway several hundred feet below.

“Sam!”

Forcing his legs not to scissor wildly, he glanced at Hope. Morgenstern was dragging her out the driver’s-side door. While Sam fought for his life, she fought for hers. Punching and kicking, she made a valiant effort to break free.

The door wouldn’t hold forever. A pin popped loose from the hinge, dropping him down a few inches. His stomach plunged all the way to the bottom. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs toward the guardrail, hooking one foot under the lip. The climbing maneuver worked. Once braced, he pulled his body closer to the truck, stretching out his arm to reach the doorjamb. He hauled himself upward, into the cab.

Sam scrambled across the seat and stumbled out the other side, looking for Hope. Morgenstern was standing at the edge of the dam.

With a gun to her head.

Although he was on terra firma now, Sam felt dizzy. He’d reached his breaking point. If they survived this, he’d never court death again. He’d never free-solo. He wanted a different life. A quiet life. Any kind of life, as long as it involved Hope.

He was in love with her.

Jesus.

What a moment to realize the extent of his feelings. He was paralyzed with the fear that he wouldn’t get the chance to tell her. She might die here, on this very spot, never knowing how much he cared.

Trying not to panic, he inched closer. “What do you want?”

Morgenstern ground the barrel of the gun against Hope’s temple until a whimper escaped her lips.

Sam forced himself not to react. “If it’s money, I have millions.”

The offer seemed to enrage Morgenstern. He tightened his grip on Hope’s hair, his eyes burning with fury. Sam didn’t know if he planned to kill them and himself, or just them. He’d almost driven off the cliff.

He was clearly capable of pulling the trigger.

Morgenstern kept his gaze on Sam. “When I was young, all of the rangers were men. Then bitches like this one came along to ruin everything.” He shook Hope for emphasis. “Demanding equal pay. Taking jobs they couldn’t handle.”

Sam thought Hope handled herself as well as, if not better than, her male counterparts. She was brave and dedicated to a fault.

“My wife worked as a park secretary for twenty-seven years,” he continued. “She never complained, never showed up late, never called in sick a single day. She got cancer the year she was laid off. Six months later, I was forced into early retirement because of a bad knee. We couldn’t afford treatment.”

“I’m sorry,” Hope said. “Please, don’t—”

“Hush up,” he said. “I needed thirty thousand dollars for Maureen’s chemotherapy. Insurance wouldn’t cover the costs. It might as well have been thirty million. When I asked Dixon for my job back, he refused.”

“Why not shoot him, then?” Sam asked.

“If he was here, I would.”

“Hurting an innocent woman won’t change anything.”

“It’ll get his attention. Maybe get him fired. Kruger and I were running marijuana right under his nose. He’s a disgrace.”

“If you really want attention, shoot me,” Sam said. “I’m a fucking icon around here. Nobody cares about Hope.”

“Don’t shoot him,” Hope said shrilly. “He’s suicidal. He’ll enjoy it!”

“I’m not suicidal. She’s lying.”

“I’ll shoot you both,” Morgenstern warned.

“I liked Maureen,” Hope said.

“You’re not fit to say her name!”

“She supported the female rangers, Alan. She was a good person. Don’t sully her memory this way.”

“Let Hope go,” Sam begged. “Take me.”

Hope’s face crumpled with sadness. Sam felt a matching pressure behind his eyes. He didn’t want to die. Not anymore. He wanted to grow old with Hope, but he’d give his life for her in a heartbeat.

Morgenstern wavered, looking back and forth between them. He might be a sexist, disgruntled madman, but he’d loved his wife. Her death had driven him crazy. Sam knew how that felt.

“Don’t kill an innocent woman,” Sam said. “Think of your wife.”

The volunteer glanced over the edge of the dam, considering. Lights flashed across the wide expanse. Two squad cars were approaching from the opposite side. They’d arrive on the scene in minutes.

Sam exchanged a glance with Hope, his body humming with tension. More deputies might cause Morgenstern to do something rash. Sam stepped forward with caution, praying he could save Hope.

“Stay back!” Morgenstern shouted.

Sam went still.

“I only wanted justice for Maureen,” he said in a strangled voice. “I only wanted my due for a lifetime of service.”

Hope stared at Sam, her expression taut. If Morgenstern was going to shoot, he had to shoot now. The squad cars were almost upon them.

Making a tortured sound, Morgenstern shoved Hope forward and leaped over the guardrail. He fired three times in rapid succession, aiming at the sky. It was a startling rebellion, cut short when his body hit the ground below.

Sam rushed toward Hope, drawing her slack form into his arms. She was in shock, her shoulders trembling.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, studying her face.

“No.”

He cupped his hand around her neck and brought her head to his chest, tears of relief spilling from his eyes. Even if she had cuts and bruises and broken bones, he was overwhelmed with happiness.

Because she was alive.

* * *

H
OPE
DIDN
’
T
STOP
shaking until they got to the hospital.

The heater in the squad car was on full blast, and she had a safety blanket wrapped around her, but she couldn’t seem to get warm. When they arrived at the emergency room, she was treated for mild hypothermia. A nurse gave her a gown to wear while her clothes were laundered. As soon as she was dry, she felt better.

Sam needed five stitches in his palm. Hope returned to his side during the procedure, offering her emotional support.

“Looks like you’ve got a new lifeline,” the doctor joked.

Hope met Sam’s gaze, startled by the words. “I think you’re right,” he said, squeezing her hand.

After a few hours, their clothes were returned and they were free to go. They went to check on Owen, who was being prepped for surgery.

His injuries were more extensive than she’d realized. The dive he’d taken out of Morgenstern’s truck hadn’t helped. His bite wounds went down to the bone, and he had a torn ligament in his elbow. An orthopedist had been called in to repair it.

Hope had spoken to Dixon and the sheriff at the top of the dam. She’d explained her impulsive search of the cabin and the resulting car chase. Dixon had seemed insulted that she’d suspected him of drug smuggling, but he didn’t scold her. The fact that he’d been oblivious of his brother-in-law’s criminal activities wouldn’t sit well with the park superintendent. Instead of riding her ass, Dixon needed to cover his own. Special Agent Ling was coming in tomorrow to oversee a park-wide investigation.

They found Owen in a bed near the operating room. He looked a bit woozy, as if he’d been given morphine. Sam reached across to shake his good hand, holding it for a moment. “Playing the hero again, I see.”

Owen glanced at Hope questioningly.

“Hope told me you pulled her out of the Jeep,” Sam said. “Pretty hard to do with a messed-up arm.”

“It didn’t hurt at the time. Adrenaline kicked in.”

“I’m sure it hurts now.”

“It’s not that bad,” Owen said.

Hope leaned over to kiss his forehead. “Thank you, all the same.”

Flushing, he mumbled an acceptance.

“Is there anyone you want me to call?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’ll just worry.”

Sam frowned in concern. “Have you talked to Penny?”

“Not since the wedding.”

“I bet she’d like to hear from you.”

His scowl wasn’t difficult to interpret. He wanted Sam to drop the subject.

“Who’s going to take care of you after the surgery?” Hope asked. “You can’t recover in that closet.”

“He can stay with us,” Sam said.

“With us?”

“At my house.”

Although it was a good idea for safety reasons, she hadn’t made any arrangements to go home with him. It was sneaky of him to secure her agreement this way. “We’ll be here when you wake up from the anesthesia,” she promised Owen.

After he was wheeled away by a nurse, Hope and Sam had breakfast in the cafeteria. “Who’s Penny?” she asked, spreading jam on an English muffin.

Sam took out his cell phone, which had gotten wet earlier. He’d dismantled it to dry the components and now it was working again. After scrolling through a collection of photos, he handed the phone to her. “This is Penny.”

Hope saw a beautiful young woman with long, dark hair and a dazzling smile. Her simple flowered dress might have looked demure on a less spectacular figure. There was an adorable toddler in her arms. “Wow.”

Sam smiled, sipping his coffee.

“Is that her son?”

“Yes.”

“Where was this taken?”

“At a wedding.”

“Whose wedding?”

“Lauren and Garrett’s. We all met during the San Diego earthquake.”

Hope scrolled down to a picture of Owen standing beside them, tall and handsome in an ill-fitting suit. Borrowed from Sam, perhaps. She studied the little boy with interest. He had dark eyes like his mother, but his hair was tawny brown. “Is Owen the father?”

Sam almost choked on his coffee. “No.”

“They look like a family.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “He saved them.”

“Is she single?”

“I think so.”

“And he likes her?”

“Sure.”

“Does she like him?”

“As friends, yes.”

“Nothing more?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “She might go out with him. I doubt he’d ask her.”

“Why not?”

“He...doesn’t have a very high opinion of himself.”

Hope wondered how a boy who’d been in prison, and was covered in racist tattoos, could drum up the nerve to ask any girl on a date. “What if she said yes?”

“Her father is Jorge Sandoval. Former mayor of L.A. Current governor of California.”

“No,” she breathed.

“He’d disown her.”

She glanced through the set of photos, troubled. The bride and groom made a very attractive couple. Sam wasn’t in any of the pictures. Most were taken from a distance. “When was the wedding?”

“Six months ago. Just before Christmas.”

With a frown, she closed the images. “Do you mind if I call my sister?”

“Go right ahead.”

She sent Faith a quick text and handed the phone back to him. Suddenly her raspberry jam looked unappetizing. Disturbing thoughts floated through her mind. Owen’s mangled arm, the dog’s pitiful yelp, Kruger’s death grimace.