Going Gone (2 page)

In a panic, she slammed the cockpit door shut. She couldn’t make the wolves go away, but she didn’t have to see them again. As she turned to walk away, she heard a click and turned around just as the door swung open on its own. Once again she was faced with a new fear.

Logically, she didn’t think they could break through the windshield, but just in case, she needed to know there was a boundary between them and her that they couldn’t breach. She tried to push some of the loose debris in front of the door to hold it shut, but it wasn’t substantial enough, and the seats, which
were
heavy enough, were bolted to the floor.

When the two wolves jumped back up on the nose of the plane and began digging at the windshield again, she screamed and slammed the door, then used her body weight to keep it closed.

“Oh, God, oh, God, please! Don’t let this be the way I die,” she cried, sobbing hysterically.

Her fingers were so cold she could barely feel them as she buried her face in her hands. Her sister slid through her mind as she choked on a sob. What if she never saw Sarah again?

And Cameron—there was no way she could describe what he meant to her. She’d been enchanted with him almost from their first meeting, and as the months went by, she’d begun dreaming of a happily ever after with him. Now she didn’t know if she would see tomorrow.

She could hear the wolves still outside the cockpit and more that were surrounding the plane, digging and yipping and whining. She grabbed a piece of metal and began beating it against the inside wall.

“Stop! Get away! Get lost! Leave me alone!” she screamed.

The noise silenced them again, but she knew it wouldn’t last. She was looking around for an answer to her latest dilemma when her gaze fell on Dan’s body.

He was a big man and less than three feet away from the door.
He,
or at least his body, could hold the door shut. At first she hesitated, uncertain how to go about it and leave him any dignity, then realized that couldn’t matter, not when her life depended on it. Without looking at his face, she grabbed him by the arms and began dragging his body backward toward the door. Pain racked her chest and legs as she strained against his weight, while the wolves continued to circle the plane, howling and growling.

Finally it was done.

Exhausted and so shaky she thought she would faint, she turned around and went for Marcy, dragging her body up beside Dan’s. When she was done, she fell to her knees beside them. Her chest was on fire, and there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t hurt, but the deed was done. The door was shut and wasn’t about to come open.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she sobbed, as she patted Marcy’s arm, then picked up Dan’s hand and laid it across his chest. “Please, forgive me. Just know that your last physical act on this earth will be protecting me, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

She scuttled backward like a crab, and as she did, she realized the wind was rising. Just as she stood, a gust buffeted the plane, strong enough to actually rock it.

She grabbed hold of a seat to steady herself while it dawned on her that in fact she had no concept of how precarious her situation really was. If they hadn’t landed in a fairly level area, and if the wind got too strong, it could dislodge the plane, which would slide off the mountain with her trapped inside.

The notion gave her pause, and for the first time, she realized it might be to her advantage to limit her movements. She gave her coworkers one last look and then made her way to the back of the plane to the minuscule bathroom.

When she came out, she cleaned her hands on another wet wipe, ate half an energy bar, washed it down with two small sips of water, crawled back into her nest, pulled up her makeshift covers and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Moonlight came through the cabin windows, bathing the bare skin of the two lovers caught up in the simple act of love. That the joining of one body to another could cause such an intense, physical reaction was understood, but at the same time, for them it was a new and wonderful thing. When Laura began to climax, the satisfaction on Cameron’s face was nothing short of bliss. She was still riding the high of her own pleasure when she slid her hands between their bodies. Moments later he was spiraling out of control. Her heart was still hammering from the aftershocks when he brushed his mouth across her lips.

“I love you most, Laura Doyle...so, so much.”

* * *

Laura woke up with a gasp, then grabbed her chest and tried to stop the shock wave of pain that ripped through her. It was getting dark inside the cabin. Had she been asleep that long? She glanced toward the windows. They were nearly covered with snow.

Oh, dear Lord, not that, too
. “Stop the snow. Please, stop the snow.”

She crawled out of her makeshift bed, but her leg buckled when she tried to stand. Something was very wrong. The more time passed, the stiffer her whole body became, but the pain in her leg was different. She leaned against a seat and slowly pulled up her pant leg, then moaned when she saw the size of the gash.

It was about a half inch deep, running from just below her knee to her ankle, and the only reason she hadn’t found it sooner was that the extreme cold had been as successful as cauterization, and what blood there was had soaked into her black slacks unnoticed, and then into her shoe.

She fumbled around in the first-aid kit for the bottle of disinfectant and poured it into the gash. The burn was intense, but it was better than getting infection and having gangrene set in. Once the burn began to fade, she got a couple more pain pills and chewed them up, then washed them down with another sip of water.

Her belly growled, but putting food in her mouth was more than she could handle. She crawled back into her bed and began to pray. She didn’t want to die, but unless a miracle occurred, it would happen.

When she closed her eyes, she thought of Cameron. He belonged to the FBI. They found bad guys who murdered people, and good people who were kidnapped. Surely they could find this plane.

“Please, find me,” she whispered as she started to shake.

She pulled the covers up over her head.

The wolves were still circling. She could hear their whining and digging, and every so often the sounds of a quarrel as one trespassed on another’s space. The first time she heard one on top of the fuselage, she realized they were getting braver. Would this nightmare never end?

* * *

Once Cameron had given the director a quick explanation of what had happened, he headed home. After packing for cold weather, he caught a ride on a government jet flying a team of forensic specialists to the West Coast after the pilot agreed to drop him in Denver on the way. After takeoff, there was nothing to distract him from the fact that the woman he loved might be dead. The passengers he was traveling with were otherwise occupied, which suited him fine. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

It was late afternoon and only hours away from nightfall when they landed. He had a text from the assistant director giving him the location of where search and rescue had set up, and after renting a car, he wasted no time getting there.

The search-and-rescue station was in a small community center in a suburb on the outskirts of Denver. When he pulled up and began looking for a place to park, a local police officer flagged him down.

“I’m sorry, sir. This area is closed to the public.”

Cameron flashed his badge. “Special Agent Winger, FBI. Who’s in charge here?”

The officer immediately relaxed.

“That would be Lieutenant Clark. You can park in that lot just ahead. The lieutenant should be in that long building behind it.”

“Thank you,” Cameron said, and a few moments later he parked and killed the engine.

The sudden silence inside the vehicle made him shudder. Then his phone rang. It was his friend and fellow agent Tate Benton.

“Hello.”

“Cameron...I just heard about Laura. Do you know anything yet? Have they located the plane?”

“I don’t know. I just arrived at the main search-and-rescue site.”

“Is there anything the rest of us can do?” Tate asked.

It was the sympathy in his friend’s voice that did him in. Breath caught in the back of Cameron’s throat as he swallowed a couple of times to keep from crying.

“I’ve got to go,” he said quickly. “If I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Will do,” Tate said.

Cameron pocketed his phone and got out. He had a large duffel bag over one shoulder and a hiker’s backpack on the other as he headed for the building.

Inside, the place was a hive of activity. Maps of the mountainous area around Denver were taped to the walls and marked up with search grids. Radio communication was at the other end of the room, and, from the static and squawks of intermittent traffic, it was obvious that they were already in search mode.

He stopped a young woman hurrying past him.

“Is Lieutenant Clark in here?”

She pointed at a tall, stoop-shouldered man with graying hair near the com center.

“That’s him on the phone.”

“Thank you,” Cameron said, dropped his gear against a wall and quickly moved in that direction. Once the lieutenant hung up the phone, Cameron flashed his badge as he introduced himself.

Clark frowned. “What interest does the FBI have in this?”

Cameron pocketed his badge. “It’s strictly personal, sir. I’m involved with Laura Doyle, one of the passengers.”

Clark’s expression cleared. “Ah. Sorry.”

“Is there any news?” Cameron asked.

Clark’s shoulders slumped a little more, as if weighed down by his responsibilities.

“Not really. We have a general idea of where the plane most likely went down, but it’s snowing heavily up in the mountains today, so the search planes are grounded.”

Cameron’s heart sank. “I want to help. Assign me to a search team. I have all the necessary training.”

“I don’t—”

“Please,” Cameron added. “I can’t just sit by and wait when I have the skills to help.”

Clark eyed Cameron, who knew what the lieutenant was seeing: a big man, twenty-eight or twenty-nine, and obviously fit. He wasn’t the type to slow anybody down.

“I brought clothes and equipment,” Cameron added.

Clark relented. “Very well. We have cots set up in the adjoining room and a temporary kitchen beyond that. Find a place to bunk. You can go out in the morning.”

Cameron groaned inwardly. So close and still he had to wait.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” Cameron said, grabbing his gear.

Two

T
he snow stopped at midnight, but Laura continued to slip in and out of consciousness, unaware of her surroundings, alternately freezing and burning up with fever. Once when she woke up, she saw wolves standing in the doorway, snarling. Before she could panic, she passed out again. The next time she woke up, her sister was peering in through one of the small windows.

“Wolves, Sarah. Run,” she mumbled, then slipped back into her mental abyss.

The next time she came to, it was pitch-black, and her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“Water,” she muttered, and felt around in her bed until she found her stash, knowing she had to hydrate so her internal organs would not shut down.

Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the bottle, but she drank until it was gone.

Easy, honey. Too much, too fast.

She tried to sit up, but didn’t have the strength. “Cameron? Is that you?” When no one answered, she dropped her head and closed her eyes.

“I’m lost, Cameron. I’m so lost. Please, find me.”

She passed out with the empty water bottle still in her hand.

* * *

Cameron was up and dressed for the task ahead long before daybreak. When he went to the kitchen in search of coffee, the first thing he heard from the even earlier risers was that it had stopped snowing in the mountains. That meant the search would move into the air as well, which was a positive. Now they just needed to find the wreckage. He picked up a sweet roll and a cup of coffee, and sat down at an empty table to eat.

Lieutenant Clark walked in and spotted him. He, too, got a sweet roll and a cup of coffee, then walked over.

“Good morning, Agent Winger. I see you’re ready.”

Cameron wiped his mouth as he stood.

“Yes, sir.”

“I have planes about ready to go up. You can go with the air search, or with a ground crew. It’s your choice.”

“I choose ground.”

Clark nodded. “As soon as you’ve finished, I’ll—”

Cameron interrupted. “I’m ready now. Let me get my gear.”

Once Cameron returned, Clark headed for the back door.

“Follow me,” he said, and took a big bite of his sweet roll on the way out.

Large four-wheel-drive vehicles were coming into the parking lot every few minutes to unload cold, weary searchers who’d been out since the day before. Two big trucks were loading up on fuel, while other vehicles were waiting to take new crews of searchers out.

Clark flagged down one of the drivers, who was standing beside an older-model Suburban.

“Hey, Wilson, got room in there for one more?”

The driver, a heavyset woman with a shock of crimson-red hair, turned around. She eyed Cameron’s gear and backpack, and then nodded.

“Get in, but you may have to sit on that pack.”

“I don’t mind,” Cameron said, and climbed in.

The men inside shifted enough to give him legroom as he shoved the backpack in a corner, and then sat down in front of it, using it for a backrest. A few minutes later the doors slammed shut, and the vehicle began to move.

Cameron nodded cordially at the men but had no desire to visit. Still, one of them was more curious than the others and took away his decision to remain under the radar. The man leaned over, his hand extended in welcome.

“Reno Brown,” he said as he shook Cameron’s hand.

“Cameron Winger.”

“You’re not a local,” Reno said.

Cameron shook his head. “No, I’m from D.C.”

The other men in the vehicle eyed him curiously, but it was Reno who asked the pertinent question.

“That’s a far piece to come to look for a downed plane.”

Cameron nodded, but Reno wasn’t satisfied.

“Do you work for the FAA or something?”

“No,” Cameron said.

Reno waited for more, but when he figured out he wasn’t going to get it voluntarily, he smiled, shrugged and shut up.

Cameron shifted focus to a large clod of dirt beneath a seat that was turning into mud from the snowmelt next to it. They rode for almost an hour before the vehicle began slowing down.

“I guess we’re there,” Reno said.

A few moments later the doors opened.

“Leave your sleeping gear in the big tent, and if we’re lucky, you won’t need it,” Wilson said as the searchers began getting out.

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Reno said, and strode toward the waiting snowmobiles.

Cameron was right behind him.

“We ride in pairs,” Reno said. “The driver makes sure we don’t fall off the mountain. The rider looks for wreckage.”

Cameron stopped. He was anxious to search but didn’t want to waste time watching where they were going. He wanted to watch for signs.

“I know the area. Want to ride with me?” Reno asked.

Cameron nodded as he followed the men inside.

The on-site quarters consisted of a very large tent with at least three dozen cots set up. Another radio operator was on-site to monitor updates from the air searchers and pass info on to the ground crew. Extra food and fuel were stacked in any available free space.

The terrain was heavily wooded, with at least four, maybe five, inches of fresh snow, and it all looked alike. He left his gear beneath one of the cots and was second-guessing his decision to go with the ground search when Reno arrived carrying a handheld GPS.

“I’ve got our search coordinates entered in here. They said the temps went down to five below last night. If we don’t find the wreckage today, we’ll go from rescue to retrieval.”

“Shut the hell up,” Cameron said shortly.

Reno blinked and then gave Cameron a closer look.

“Sorry, man.”

Cameron sighed. “No, I’m sorry. Look, this is personal. My girlfriend is one of the missing passengers.”

Reno frowned. “Well, hell, I’m sorry all over again. So let’s get going. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Cameron held out his hand. “Can we start over?”

Reno smiled. “I’m Reno Brown.”

“Cameron Winger.”

“Nice to meet you, Cameron. You know what to look for out there?”

“Yes.”

Reno handed Cameron a helmet.

“Then off we go,” he said.

They put on the helmets as they moved toward the parked snowmobiles, and one by one, the searchers took off, moving toward the new grid pattern. Once the official search began, Reno Brown’s affable manner disappeared. He was all business as he wove through the thick growth of trees with steady skill.

Their arctic gear was welcome protection against the high-altitude cold, but it also made Cameron conscious of what the passengers in the downed plane would be enduring. He kept his gaze focused on the trees, looking for signs of broken treetops or a snow-covered shape that did not fit in to the surroundings.

The noise of so many engines startled an elk, and it bolted out of hiding and across a small meadow. Cameron watched it bound through the snow then disappear back into the forest.

The sun was bright, which made looking at the vast expanse of snow painful. The dark glasses they were wearing helped deflect the glare, but within a couple of hours he had a dull ache behind his eyes anyway.

The radios in their helmets made communication easier, but it was sparse and depressing. When they finished the search of their first grid, the crew stopped long enough to put new coordinates into their mobile GPS systems and discuss the situation.

As the day rolled on, Cameron’s hopes began to fade. When he figured out that getting a signal for a cell phone up here was next to impossible, it alleviated one fear he’d had: that the reason no one had called for help was because they were all dead.

They stopped just after three to refuel. Reno was eating an energy bar and Cameron was relieving his thirst when they received word from air search of a possible crash site a couple of miles north of their present location.

The urgency of the situation had just risen.

Reno thumped him on the shoulder as he headed for their ride.

“Let’s go get this done,” he said.

Moments later, the snowmobiles and their riders were speeding off in a new direction, desperate to reach the target location before dark.

* * *

Laura was alive between one world and the next, waiting to see who came for her first. Once she saw her mother standing beneath a snow-covered tree, but when she suddenly disappeared, Laura felt abandoned. Then she saw Dan and Marcy in the distance and called out, wanting them to wait, but they were too far away and didn’t hear her. She didn’t understand why everyone was leaving her behind. She was cold and hurt. Why wouldn’t they help? Why wouldn’t they take her with them?

Twice she thought she heard voices and pushed the covers aside each time, crying out in relief.

“Here! I’m here!”

But no one came to help, and the wolves were back. She could hear them digging and yipping, trying to get in.

“Go away,” she mumbled, and then started to cry. “Cameron, please find me. Why can’t you find me?”

A wolf howled.

She pulled the coats back up over her head as her fever pulled her under.

* * *

The vista spread out before them as Reno topped a small rise. From this angle Cameron could see the downward slope of the land, as well as a startling anomaly. Despite the snowfall, there was a very visible and distinct path of broken treetops below.

He thumped Reno on the shoulder and pointed.

“There! Look there!”

Reno nodded, then swung the snowmobile to the left and accelerated, using the radio in his helmet to alert the others to their find.

Cameron’s heart was hammering.

We’re coming, Laura. We’re coming, baby. Don’t give up on us yet.

When they began to see debris, Cameron felt sick. The worse the destruction had been to the plane, the less protection they would have had from the elements. There was a piece of a wingtip caught in a large stand of pines, and an entire wing lay on the ground a few yards farther on. Despite the snow, the heavy tree growth had partially protected it, leaving most of it visible, but they still hadn’t found the plane.

Cameron’s heart was pounding as Reno began confirming their find. All of a sudden the radio traffic that had been almost nonexistent was loud and rapid in his ears.

When they came up on the main crash site and saw the plane, the sound of their engine sent a pack of wolves running.

Cameron groaned. As if the crash itself wasn’t enough to weather.

Between the wind and the wolves, enough snow had been dug or blown away from the fuselage for him to see that it was intact.

Reno wheeled the snowmobile into a vacant space between some trees and killed the engine. He was on the radio, alerting headquarters that they’d found the wreckage, but Cameron had abandoned his helmet and was already off and running.

The doors were half-buried in snow, and no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t get them open. He began circling the plane, and as he rounded the nose and saw the dead pilot through the shattered windshield, his legs went weak.

Reno ran up behind him with a crowbar in his hands.

“The doors are jammed,” Cameron said, then crawled up on the nose section of the plane. “Throw me the crowbar!”

Reno gave it a toss.

Cameron caught it in midair and then used it to hammer at the shattered windshield until it gave way, exploding inward into thousands of tiny pellet-like pieces.

Reno saw the pilot as he crawled up beside him.

“Oh, hell,” he said softly.

Cameron handed off the crowbar and then climbed inside, but when he tried to open the door to get into the cabin, it wouldn’t budge.

“What’s wrong?” Reno said as he climbed inside with him, the crowbar still in his hand.

“Something’s up against the door,” Cameron said. “Probably debris.”

“Here, let me help,” Reno said, and together they threw their weight against it until it began to give.

That was when they realized it wasn’t debris blocking the door. It was bodies. Cameron saw a man’s leg and shoe first and kept pushing, but as the door opened farther and he saw a woman’s ankle and shoe, his heart sank.

God, please, God, no.

One more push and all of a sudden they were in.

Once Cameron stepped over the bodies and into the main cabin, he went weak with relief when he realized the deceased woman was a brunette. Laura was blonde.

Reno felt for a pulse, then shook his head. “They’re both gone. Is this your girl?”

“No,” Cameron said, and then looked through the debris toward the back of the plane. “Someone has cleared a path through here.”

The sound of approaching snowmobiles became apparent.

“The others are arriving. I’m going to try to open a door from the inside,” Reno said, and took the crowbar toward an exit door as Cameron began wending his way toward the tail section.

It wasn’t far. There weren’t that many seats in the private jet. He should have been able to see her, but he couldn’t.

“Laura, where are you?” he yelled, and began turning over boxes and suitcases as he went.

It took him a few moments to realize that all the suitcases were empty, but there weren’t any pieces of clothing strewn about, and that was when it hit him. Someone had emptied the contents to stay warm, which had to mean Laura had survived the crash! When he saw the big pile of clothes, he leaped toward it, frantically calling her name.

* * *

Laura was standing in a sunlit meadow, waiting. All she knew was that someone was coming to get her and she had to be ready. The breeze was warm on her face. The air smelled rain-fresh clean, and when someone began calling her name, she stepped forward. He was here! She didn’t know where they were going, but she was ready to leave.

The voice was nearer.
Laura. Laura.

“I’m here!” she cried, and then all of a sudden the sun went behind a cloud and the wind grew cold. She cried out, “Help me!” and then felt a touch on her face, then at her neck. “I’m ready,” she said, and let go.

* * *

“Is that your girl?” Reno asked, as Cameron was feeling for broken bones.

“Yes, this is my girl, and she’s alive,” Cameron said, unashamed of the tears on his face.