Search and Rescue (5 page)

Behind Doug, Amber lay on the mattress on the floor of the van. I held my breath, willing her to breathe, but she didn't move. I thought she was dead.

“Doug,” I cried. “What have you done?”

Doug jumped up and waved a shotgun in my direction. “Get back!” he shouted. “I'll shoot.”

“Claire,” Mom said. She took my arm, warning me to back off. “That kid is stoned out of his mind.”

She was right. Doug's eyes were glassy, and he appeared not just angry, but terribly confused. He clearly wasn't thinking straight.

Still, I shook off Mom's warning and stepped forward, holding out both hands. “Doug, put down the gun. We're here to help.”

He squinted at me and my little red skirt. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Claire. Claire Abbott. I work for the
Black Lake Times
. I'm a reporter.”

He shook his head, trying to make sense of things. “What are you doing here?” Then he aimed the shotgun directly at me. “I don't want this shit in the fucking newspaper.”

“I'm not here as a reporter,” I said. “I'm here to help. I know Amber is injured.”

“She's not hurt,” he said. “Not bad anyway. She's just sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” I asked.

“I gave her some sleeping pills. My mom uses them lots. She'll be okay.”

“How many did you give her?”

“I don't know. A few. ”

“Doug, you need to think about this,” I said. “How many pills?”

“I don't know, I said!” His hands were shaking. He was the one holding the gun, but he was scared. Scared and stoned. That made him very dangerous.

“Did you take any pills yourself ?” I asked him.

“Not sleeping pills.”

“But you took something?”

“Yeah, what does it matter?”

“You took something from your mom's medicine cabinet? Do you know what?”

He shook his head as if thinking about this was too much work. “Just go away!” he shouted.

“I can't do that, Doug,” I said. “I need to check Amber, make sure she's okay. You can overdose on sleeping pills. She could die.”

I inched closer, with both hands out. “Just let me check Amber, okay? If she's fine, I'll back off.”

He thought about that and signaled me over with the gun. I rushed to Amber's side and felt her pulse. I was no nurse, but I knew a weak pulse when I felt one. Her breathing was labored. Amber was in rough shape. “We need to get her to a hospital,” I told Mom. “Now.”

“Nobody is going to take Amber away from me,” said Doug. “I want those search-and-rescue people off my back. I keep having to move. They just about caught up with me at the viewpoint.”

So he and Amber
had
been there.

“I can't get off the mountain,” Doug said. “They've got that camp set up down there, blocking my way.”

He was right. The logging road we were on was a dead end.

“They're worried about Amber,” I said. “We're all worried.”

“They'll arrest me now, won't they?” he asked. “I don't want to go to jail!”

“You can take off into the bush. Go someplace where they won't find you. Wait there until this blows over. Just leave Amber with us.”

“I'm not going to lose her again.”

“If she doesn't get help, you
will
lose her. She'll die.”

He stood there a moment, holding the shotgun in both hands. He seemed to be working out some kind of plan. “You got first-aid training?” he asked me.

“Some,” I said.

“You're coming with me. You're going to take care of Amber.”

“He has a gun,” Mom said behind me. “Cooperate with him, Claire.”

“Okay,” I told him. “I'll take care of her.”

“Give me your cell phone,” he said.

“I don't have it on me,” I told him. “I left it at home.”

“I don't believe you. Nobody goes anywhere without a phone. A reporter sure as hell wouldn't.”

“Her phone is in her camera bag,” Mom said quickly. “It's in the car.” She was trying to calm him, give him a story he'd believe.

Doug aimed the gun first at me, then at Mom as he walked to my Honda. He snatched Mom's purse and my camera bag and threw them into the gulley. Now Mom couldn't phone for help. She'd have to drive down the mountain to get it. By that time, Amber might be dead.

Doug patted my pockets with one hand. When he was sure I didn't have a phone on me, he waved me into the van. He slammed the back door shut behind me.

Then he pointed the shotgun at Mom. “You tell Search and Rescue to back off,” he said. “You tell them I've got a gun.”

He jumped in the driver's seat and laid the shotgun across his lap as he started the van. I cradled Amber's head in my lap as we roared up the logging road. It would take Mom forever to drive back down that slippery mountain road. Even when she delivered Doug's message to Matt, I wasn't sure Matt could reach us in time to help Amber. I had to save Amber on my own. While I was at it, I had to save myself.

NINE

I
was kidnapped! Shit. Doug was wasted on drugs and driving up a narrow logging road. The weather was getting worse. Snow was piling up, making the road even more dangerous. Amber's breathing was growing shallower.

I had to do something and do it quick, but what? Doug had a shotgun.

Maybe I could talk some sense into this kid. I kneeled between the front seats of the van. Doug immediately put one hand on the shotgun in his lap. “Where are you taking us?” I asked him.

“I've got to find someplace to hide,” he said. “Like you said, we'll wait it out. Once the search-and-rescue guys are gone, we'll get off this mountain. Amber and me will take off.”

“Do you really think she's going to want to go with you after all this?”

He didn't answer.

“Doug, turn this van around,” I told him. “I know you don't want Amber to die. Take us back to the search-and-rescue camp.”

“You can't tell me what to do!” He whined like a much younger kid. “I'm the one with the gun.” He patted the shotgun. “I'm in control here. Not you.”

I slumped back on the mattress in the back of the van. Amber groaned and shifted slightly. I turned her on her side, in case she threw up. That way, she wouldn't choke on her own vomit. I couldn't think what else to do for her.

I lifted Amber's arm to take a close look at the bruises there. They were red now but would turn purple by morning. Doug had clearly grabbed her arm hard enough to leave these marks.

“You hurt Amber,” I told Doug. I checked her scalp. “Her head is bleeding. Did you hit her?”

“No!” he cried. “I love her. I took her up to Little Mountain viewpoint to tell her that. I packed a picnic.”

“You knew she would be on the wilderness trail.”

He nodded like he was proud of himself. “I know everything about her. She jogs there the same time every day. I parked close to the path and waited for her.”

“You kidnapped her,” I said.

“No!” He took his hand off the gun and slapped the steering wheel. “I just wanted to talk.” I saw his face in the rearview mirror. He was anguished. I thought he might cry again.

“When she saw me on the trail, she told me to get lost,” he said. “She just walked away from me like I was nothing.”

“So you forced her into your van.” Just like he forced me, I thought. With a gun. “Were you already stoned then?” I asked. “Doug, think about it. Would you have done any of this if you hadn't taken those drugs?”

He didn't answer for a moment. He seemed lost in the memory of that afternoon. The van skidded on the wet snow. Doug turned the wheel hard to keep the van on the road.

“She fought me and hit her head on the door,” he said. “Why did she have to fight me? I never wanted to hurt her.”

“You're hurting her now,” I said. “Can't you see that?” I smoothed Amber's hair away from her face. “You gave her too many sleeping pills. If she doesn't get medical help, she will die.”

“I only wanted to make her stay with me so I could talk to her. After I took her to the viewpoint, she tried to get away again. I stopped her and told her I'd take her home. I said we'd eat the picnic I made first. I made her drink the juice.”

I pointed at the thermos on the front seat. “You put the sleeping pills in that,” I said.

“Yes. We ate the picnic and she fell asleep. I had to drag her to the van.” I thought of those marks on the ground that I'd seen at the viewpoint. So I was right about them. Doug had dragged Amber backward, covering his own footprints.

“Do something,” Doug said. “Make her better.”

“I'm not a nurse or a doctor,” I said. “Even if I was, we would still need to get Amber to a hospital. If you don't take us back to the search-and-rescue camp right now, Amber will die.”

“No!” he cried. “Fix her up. Do something for her!” The van slid to the side. Doug over-steered in the other direction and nearly drove into the bank.

“You're high on drugs,” I told him as he drove on. “You shouldn't be driving.”

“I'm fine.”

“Let me take over. I'll drive Amber to the hospital. I can drop you off somewhere. You can take off.”

“Shut up. Just shut up. You don't know shit. I'll never leave Amber.”

I shook my head. “I don't understand why you are doing this.”

“I love her.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I said.

“I told her I loved her. I told her I'd do anything for her.” He started crying again. “She said she didn't care. She's seeing that asshole now.”

“Liam Peterson, you mean.”

“We only broke up a couple of weeks ago, and she's already with him. She must have liked him before, when she was with me.” His hands gripped the steering wheel harder. “If she'd only listen, I could make her come back to me,” he said. “I could make her love me.”

“You can't make someone love you,” I told him. “Especially not like this.”

I glanced down at the girl's pretty face. “I don't think you're in love with Amber. I think you're in love with the
idea
of Amber. She's a basketball player. She's popular. You want to be popular, like her.”

Sitting there in that van, I realized I was talking about myself as much as Doug. I had no real feelings for Trevor. I just liked the idea of him. I liked the idea of dating a
firefighter
.

“She's
got
to love me,” Doug said quietly.

I just wasn't getting through to this kid. He was too drugged up and emotional to think clearly. There was no way I was going to talk my way out of this situation. I had to act, and act now.

I leaned between the two front seats and pointed out the driver's-side window. “Look out!” I cried, to distract him. Doug turned his head, and I grabbed the shotgun from his lap. But he caught me and yanked the gun out of my hand. He fired the weapon by accident as he did so, blasting a hole in the windshield.

“Shit!” Doug yelled. He dropped the gun to the floor and put up both hands to protect his face. I turned the steering wheel hard to the right so we wouldn't drive off the road. The van careened into the bank.

I heard the crunch of metal as the front end slammed into rock. My body was hurled to the floor between the seats with the impact. Then everything went deadly quiet.

TEN

I
touched the bump growing on my forehead. No blood. I took a moment to make sure I was all in one piece before turning my attention to Amber. I knew from the pain that I would have bruises all over my body in the morning. At least I didn't seem to have any broken bones.

In the crash, Amber had rolled to one side of the van. The mattress she was on had cushioned her. She didn't appear to have any more injuries. She was still breathing, though her pulse was even weaker than before.

That drug overdose was killing her. I had to get her off this mountain. Fast.

Doug was quiet in the driver's seat, apparently knocked out. Blood dripped from his right hand, hanging limp by his side. I hadn't meant to cause the accident. I'd just wanted to get the shotgun out of his hands. At least I had accomplished that, I thought. The gun now rested on the floor between the seats, along with his thermos.

All I had to do was find Doug's cell and phone Search and Rescue. I just hoped Amber would hang on long enough for help to arrive.

I moved into the passenger seat and slid a hand into Doug's jacket pockets, searching for his phone. When I didn't find it, I opened the glove box to peer inside. Then I heard the click of the gun. I turned to see Doug pointing the shotgun at me. I shifted slowly in my seat to face Doug, with my hands in the air. There was blood on his forehead. He must have hit his head against the dash. He favored his shoulder as if it hurt. Blood oozed from the gash on his arm.

“I don't think we're going anywhere now,” I said. I turned his attention to the crunched front end of the vehicle. The headlights lit up the bank, but the engine was dead. “You've got a cell, right?” I asked him. “Let me phone for help.”

“Get out,” Doug told me. “Now.”

I backed my way out of the vehicle and stood in the snow. Doug went around the back of the van to check on Amber. I followed. “We can still save her,” I told him. “Just give me your phone.”

“I'm not going to jail.”

“You don't have to. Like I said, you can make a run for it. I'll take care of Amber.”

“No!” he cried.

“Or stay, if that's what you want,” I said. “You need help too.” I touched his bloody arm. He staggered a little from the pain.

“You're not phoning anybody,” he said. He slurred his words. Clearly, the blow to his head had left him even more confused.