When the car pulled up, Karin almost didn’t notice. Her teeth were chattering loudly enough to obscure all but the most obvious sound-and by the time she got them clenched long enough to listen, there was only silence from above. Great. A chance to call for help and I missed it. She would have banged her head against the rock, but she was so stiff and cold she was afraid even that would throw her off balance.
Coincidence was her only chance now. Someone stopping to answer the call of nature-inspired by view or bladder, she didn’t care. What she might have attempted in good condition, she now couldn’t even consider. Here she’d be on this ledge, pressed up against cold rock, until she could get someone’s attention or until she quite simply toppled off. The turkey vultures flocked to the strong thermals in these hills…maybe they’d get someone’s attention when they started circling her.
Gloom and doom.
From above-not so very far at that, just no way to get there from here-she heard the slam of a vehicle door. She started, lost a moment of attention as her foot slipped, and pulled herself together just in time to hear a uniquely familiar string of French words, a phrase that had not so long ago amused her and now sent an invigorating spark of hope through her cold body. Except-first Barret’s man and then Dave?
“Hey!” she shouted up, her voice full of suspicion. “How the hell did you find me?”
His reply came instantly. “Ellen? Where-” And then she knew he knew, for his voice grew louder, loud enough so he had to be at the guardrail and looking down. No suspicion there, just pure, joyful relief. “Are you-”
“Yes,” she said, droll for his benefit. “I’m down here.”
“How-” he started, and in her mind’s eye she could all but see him shake his head as he cut himself off.
“Can we just say the mean man threw me over by mistake and then left, and get to the details later?” She waited a moment, then added, “I made it back up this far, but…I’m stuck.”
“I’m calling 911,” he said, no doubt dialing as he spoke.
How long would they take? Could she even hold on?
And if she did…there were sure to be cops.
“Dave,” she said, and had no trouble getting her voice on the edge of tears, no trouble at all, “I’m cold, my lips are chapped to hell, I’m stiff, I think parts of me are broken, and I’m standing on a tiny little ledge. How long-”
He cut her off. “Okay.” A silent moment, and then, “I don’t have any rope.”
Jumper cables. She had jumper cables tucked behind the half seat of the truck. Or… “Check in the truck bed,” she told him, thanking her own laziness. “My tire chains-”
“Gotcha.”
She heard the bumping around, the chains dragging over the side of the truck. “Got ’em!” And then silence, which she didn’t mind because it meant he was linking the chains together. In the end Karin would have a nice narrow ladder made of chains, perhaps not so different than climbing kudzu. “Hold on!” he called down, as if she might just spontaneously let go. After a pause he added, “Sorry. That was dumb.”
Or not so dumb. Her fingers were numb, her feet cramping, and her legs stiffened into clumsy, uncoordinated appendages. She felt more like a patchwork of cold, dead sausage than a functioning human. “Dave?”
He must have heard the uncertain note in her voice. When he asked, “What?” he was as close as he’d ever been, literally leaning out over the guardrail. Had to be.
“I don’t think…”
“How broken?” he asked, understanding before she even got there.
“My wrist. Or arm. I’m not sure which. But that’s not-that is, I’m just so cold-”
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll deal with it.”
“We’ll deal with it,” she repeated to herself, curling her fingers hard against the rock to steady an unexpected sway, all the more frightening because she hadn’t seen it coming.
And her thoughts stuttered to a halt, because the end of the chain came slithering down to head level and if only she had two good hands, two warm hands, she could reach out and snag it, and if only her arms weren’t already trembling with fatigue, she could actually climb it-damned if safety wasn’t that close, and yet still out of reach.
A rustling came from above; dirt and pebbles rained down on her head. By the time she realized what he had in mind, Dave was already there. He hesitated just above her, and then lowered himself down alongside her; by the time she’d gathered the words to ask, his intention was obvious. He moved in behind her, one arm strong on the chains, his feet braced on her little ledge, and the other arm gathering her up.
His coat was open.
His chest against her back was warm.
Karin groaned in the luxury of it, tugging the edges of the coat around herself, greedy for the warmth and the human touch. He dropped his head so it rested against hers, and that, too, offered warmth. Karin soaked it in, sandwiched between Dave and the cliff. For the first time since her rude early-morning awakening, she knew that for this moment, at least, she wasn’t going to fall. For this moment, she was safe. Protected.
Safe enough, in fact, to inch herself around to face him and thread her arms around him beneath the coat, reassured by the steady strength in his chest and arms, and by his breathing. He pulled her in and let it be, so steady she’d never have guessed he was in any way vulnerable, braced against the cliff that had tried to spit her off all night.
And a different kind of warmth stole through her from the inside out. No longer alone. More than that. He’d come from safety to hazard, and now he hung here as if nothing were amiss, offering her support and comfort, his free arm holding her close.
No longer alone. Could she even remember that feeling? As if for the moment, nothing else mattered. Just her arms around him, feeling the unexpected strength in his frame and knowing it was there for her. That he was there for her.
“God,” she muttered into his chest. “This is such a mess.”
He laughed, so low she wouldn’t have known it had she not had her face on that chest. “Warm yet?”
“I’ll never be warm again.” But she took a deep breath, pulling back enough so she could see his face, instantly missing their connection. The concern she saw-and the confidence-seemed a fair trade-off. “Warm enough. Wait a mo.” For now that she’d gotten circulation back, her back itched abominably. She found a little knob of rock at her back and wiggled slightly against it, perforce wiggling against him so she thought when his eyes widened slightly she’d inadvertently-
But no. “Wait!” he said, just as she heard the tiniest little crunching sound and froze. Dave sighed, the most quiet of sounds. Then, ignoring her surprise, he snaked his hand up the back of her jacket to the spot that had plagued her all night. Right between her shoulder blades, just above her bra strap. When he withdrew his hand he held it up in the scant space between them. Not quite close enough to make her go cross-eyed looking at the little flat, round object.
“What-” she started, stopped by her own incredulity as she realized what she was looking at. A bug. Electronic surveillance. “That’s a-you-you-”
“Yeah. And it’s how our mean friend found you,” he said. “On the bright side, it’s how I found you, too.”
“You-” It was hard to be mad when she was still greedy for his warmth, his touch and the security of his body blocking out her view of the sky. Hard, but not impossible. “You-”
He shrugged and tossed the bug over his shoulder. “It’s dead, now.”
“You…litterbug!” She scowled fiercely at him, but as her own words sank home she couldn’t keep it up and the corner of her mouth twitched even as he let out a mild guffaw.
“Yeah,” he said. “And we’ll talk about that later. Now how about we get you out of here? I’ll give you a boost. Once you get started, it’s an easy climb.”
“And why do I have the feeling this boost business will involve more of you putting your hands on my ass?”
“Waste no opportunity,” he said, straight-faced. “You ready?”
More than. She turned around in still-careful increments, reaching to get a good grip on the tire chain, one-handed or not. He crouched, wrapping his free arm around her hips; Karin gave a little bounce and jumped even as he pulled her up. They worked in tacit accord to repeat the procedure, silent except for their panting and Karin’s gasp as she hit her wrist and Dave’s grunt of effort as he finally did get his hand on her bottom to push-
And then she was over the little jut of rock and damned if the guardrail wasn’t practically within reach. She scrambled up, gaining enough momentum to lurch right along on all threes, and then crawled under the guardrail, rolling over to stare up at the bright blue sky and the vultures circling overhead.
If only she was in the sun, she’d never move again.
“Okay?” Dave called up to her.
Oops. Yeah, she probably should have let him know. “Okay!” she shouted back, still not moving.
Someone snorted, followed by a clanking at the guardrail, a grunt of victory and the rattle of tire chains coming up. She sat straight up, wrist cradled to her chest.
Barret’s errand geek.
Oh my God. He was back, his car jammed in against her truck; he must have arrived while she was busy grunting and breathing and climbing the cliff. He was back and he’d pulled the tire chains up from Dave, who even now called to her. Karin could only stare. “Oh, no-o,” she said to the gangster mullet. “You had your chance. You left. It’s not your turn anymore.”
But when he turned to face her, she knew just why he’d come. She’d played him with that Mad Sheep story and in the end she’d gotten to him. Or rather, the poison ivy had gotten to him, blooming profoundly along the side of his face and over his hands.
“Ellen!”
“Company!” she warbled back down at him, a false June Cleaver note that ought to let him know in one word or less that she’d run into trouble.
Trouble with looming intent. “You said you could help me.”
“Sure.” She scooted backward a bit to lean against the side of the truck, trying to visualize how’d she’d left things inside. She frowned at the jumbled memory of the night before, of the rifle caught in the steering wheel. No easy access there.
But behind her, in the half cab…
The man loomed over her now. God, he looked terrible. The side of his face was bright red and weeping less than twenty-four hours after he’d gotten into the poison ivy, when most people were just realizing they had a problem.
She didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. “It’s too late.”
Always best to play someone based on the truth. And truth it was; he’d have had to wash that oil off within twenty minutes of exposure to stop the course of the poison ivy rash.
“No,” he said, and his fear came out in anger. “It’s only been a few hours. It can’t be too late.”
“A few hours?” She snorted expressively. “Trust me, I was out on that cliff for more than a few hours. More like a lifetime. For you, too, it seems.” She pulled herself up the side of the truck, startled by just how quivery her legs had turned. Don’t show it. With as much nonchalance as she could muster, she reached for the door handle. Maybe Dave had freed the rifle…maybe she’d find something else of use.
“Don’t turn away from me,” he snarled, yanking her away from the truck. She’d had her fingers under the handle, and the door opened behind her as he flung her back toward the guardrail. “You want to go over again? See if you can get lucky twice?”
Hell, no. This time when she went down, she stayed low. If he wanted to toss her over the edge, he was going to have to start from scratch. “Mad Sheep disease,” she said sagely, and her heart beat such a race of fear she wondered just how long it could hold out. “See? Feel feverish, don’t you?” Her fingers scrabbled against the hard ground, hunting purchase; instead they landed on knobby chains. Now there was luck. She shoved at them as though still finding her way. Shoved hard.
They slipped over the crest of the slope, slithering away…still anchored here at the base of the guardrail. Hurry! she thought at him, and then shrieked as the man bent over her and snatched her right off the ground. Her thoughts skittered in terror, certain he’d throw her over the edge again…certain she’d die this time.
But he slammed her up against the truck instead, eliciting protest from every bruised rib in her body. “This is me in a good mood,” he said, sticking his heavy features far too up close and personal. But he’d put her where she could reach inside the truck. Her bad wrist, yes. But she did it, even as she kicked him away. Not a nice swift martial-arts kick, but the kick of a woman with no strength left and no particular training to start with. Just good heavy farmwork and a fierce desire to survive.
Actually, more like a woman frantically flailing her sneakers in the direction of someone’s groin, shrieking all the while. Then her hands closed on the old leg-hold trap from the truck and she scrambled away, around the tailgate and then around the end of his own car, crouching there to step the trap open.
“You’re wasting time,” he said, sounding really annoyed this time. “You can take me to your doctor and live, or I can beat his name out of you and leave you here to die-again.”
“Someone will see you,” she said, breathless. He just laughed. She didn’t blame him. No one had yet driven by. She hunkered down behind the back fender of his car, the trap in hand-in both hands, actually, no matter how it hurt. Now for the bait. “Dave has a phone, you know. We’re not going to be alone for long.”
“Long enough,” he said, striding around the end of the car, reaching down for her-
She leaped up to meet him, thrusting the trap out before her. His hand skidded off the trip plate and the trap slammed closed around his arm and this time he was the one who shrieked. He was the one to lose his balance, stumbling backward to tip over the guardrail at a gentler part of the outcrop. His cry stopped short as he crashed through the branches and finally hit something strong enough to hold him.
Karin dismissed him, at least long enough to hop around holding her wrist and crying, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, dammit, ow!”
“Ellen!”
And here came Dave, roaring around the end of the car, his face flushed and his hair totally ruffled, his coat still flapping open to reveal a sweatshirt with the absurd logo of a red bird flexing impossible muscles. He stopped short, just as she halted her little pain dance. He said, “Where-”
Karin gave a haughty little nod at the guardrail. “Turnabout is fair play.”
In some disbelief, he leaned over the guardrail. When he straightened, he was shaking his head. “He’ll need help getting out of that.”
“Call for it,” she said. “But I’m not waiting. I’m all bent up and I’m still cold and I’m starving. I’m driving on to Bluefield.” She headed for her truck.
“You’re-oh, no. Not alone, you’re not.”
“Then follow me. You’ve probably got a sneaky way to do that, right? Some other little tracker thing?”
At first abashed, his expression hardened. “Hey, you want to talk sneaky-what the hell did you put in my drink?”
Improbably, she felt her cheeks pinking up. Ellen’s Xanax, that’s what. “Didn’t hurt you,” she muttered, mustering exhausted dignity to pull at the tire chains.
He grabbed them away from her in one big mass and dumped them into her truck bed. “I’m not kidding. You’re not going anywhere alone. I’ll follow you to a safe place to leave that thing and then I’ll take you to the Bluefield hospital.”
“I’m not waiting,” she told him, opening the truck door to fumble around for her keys. She could drive one-handed if she had to, even on these curves. For a while, at least. And somewhere in here she had Goldfish crackers.
He stood frozen a moment, then gave a bemused shake of his head. “Hey,” he said. “About that cliff thing. You’re welcome.”
“Yeah,” she said, climbing in behind the wheel. “About getting those tire chains back down to you while Mr. Mad Sheep Man was tossing me around…you’re welcome.”
He shook his head again. This time it looked like a more subtle version of throwing his hands up. “I’ll catch up with the local LEOs later.”
She couldn’t help a smirk. “Let him explain about the leg-hold trap on his arm…yeah. And oh-tell them he doesn’t really have Mad Sheep disease, whatever he says.”
That stopped him short. He held her gaze a long moment. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them. But boy, do we have to talk.”
“Yeah,” she told him. “That goes both ways. And I want food before we go to the hospital. No way I’m going to wait on an empty stomach. And no way I’m eating hospital crap.”
This time he held up his hands for real, total capitulation. “You win.”
She gave him a victory smile. But as she shut the door and started the truck, she looked at what her life had become and she suddenly wasn’t so sure.
Dave took Ellen to a truck stop just outside of Bluefield. She ordered a huge breakfast and savored each bite. For a while he just watched her. The way she ate, the way she interacted with those near her, the way her gaze flicked around to keep tabs on those around her. If he hadn’t known she’d spent the night out on a cliff face… Oh, her appearance was ragged enough-scuffed, torn and dirty clothing, her cheek scraped, her left arm tucked protectively into her lap. Her eyes gave away the most-no longer piercing, but rimmed with exhaustion. Not quite the same face as the one he’d once interviewed…but she’d mentioned that the accident had broken some facial bones. Not the same demeanor, either.
In fact, she was someone a little bit different with everyone to whom she spoke. To the older man who’d seated them, she’d been a daughter figure. To the waitress, a sister. To the trucker who’d hesitated long enough to give her a questioning once-over, dismissive enough so the man had turned away, not so blatant that he’d taken offense.
So there was plenty to look at. Plenty to ponder. And Ellen, even stiff and battered and grimy and exhausted, was still striking enough to catch Dave’s eye by surprise time after time. More vibrant than she’d been before. It made him wonder if she’d been abused by Longsford…if now he saw what she would have been like without the man’s influence. Or if-
“The accident really changed you,” he said, though he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all.
She looked at him with one of those dry expressions, the eyebrow raised, her wide mouth quirked up at one corner in a way that emphasized the unusually straight line where her lips met. “You’re just now figuring it out?”
“I’m sorry about the tracker,” he said, and took a sip of his coffee. Unleaded, because he didn’t need any more caffeine for a week. Maybe two. “It was insurance against Longsford’s men. I didn’t mention it because…frankly, I didn’t want you to think I was concerned about keeping you safe.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she said crisply, taking a slug of milk. White foam traced the left half of her upper lip. “There’s only one moment you could have planted that thing, and I’m really sorry that you even thought of it. I know I was thinking about other things.”
He winced at her words. “Trust me, it wasn’t-” And then he fell silent, caught in her gaze as she looked up at him, her expression making it perfectly clear what she had been thinking about. He stuttered to a stop there, and then finally took a deep breath into aching lungs. Slowly, he sat back in his chair, still holding her gaze. He thought about the conflict of interest and he thought about professionalism and he gave an abrupt shake of his head, freeing himself from the moment.
The scary thing was, he wasn’t convinced. Not where it counted. Witness or not, he wanted-
“You’ve got a milk mustache,” he told her.
Calmly, she licked her lip clean and went back to her pancakes.
It wasn’t until later that he realized they’d never talked about why she’d run.
At the hospital emergency department, Karin fell asleep with her head on Dave’s leg, curled up on the padded bench seat while she waited for her turn. She woke to the sound of Ellen’s name to discover his hand resting on her hip, his head tipped back while he snored gently. He still wore that silly sweatshirt and his jeans were as ragged as hers, but…he somehow still looked as if he’d walked out of the pages of a catalog.
She slid out from beneath his hand and he didn’t wake. No little wonder, after the crash course of drugs his system had gotten. Might as well let him sleep on. He’d taken it pretty hard that she’d gone over the cliff as a result of his tracking bug. She guessed that his out-to-save-the-world directive didn’t leave much room for nearly getting someone killed.
She followed the nurse in Igor mode, stiff and pained in every muscle she had. An interminable length of time later, she came back out, somewhat less stumbly and somewhat more floaty. Painkillers were a wonderful thing. Dave waited for her, bleary-eyed and rubbing his neck; she guessed that he’d only just woken up.
“Sleep well?” she asked him, and couldn’t help but grin.
“Ha,” he said, and rubbed his neck again. Served him right. He nodded at her wrist, where a short arm cast enclosed her arm from elbow to halfway up her hand. “Broken?”
“You must be an investigator of some sort.” But she relented and gave a short nod. “It’s not bad. One of those little wrist bones. Or two. They gave me pain meds and told me to see my family doctor when I get home.”
“About that-”
She gave a sharp shake of her head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I want to find a hotel-you’ll have to drive, by the way-and I want to sleep until I wake up. Then I want decadent room service and an old black-and-white movie. And then I’m going to sleep again-until sometime tomorrow, at which point we can pick up my truck here, and I’ll drive myself home.”
He stood up; he was closer than she’d meant them to be. “There’s more than that,” he said gently. “There are things we’re not done with.”
She’d figured. But pretending otherwise…it had been worth a try.
And then she thought of that moment on the cliff, when he’d come to help her. When he’d closed his strength and warmth around her and she’d had that flood of relief and she’d thought this is what it’s like. To be frightened and to know you’re trapped in your desperate situation…and to have someone come along and make a difference.
And to know there was still a little boy out there, and his only chance was if someone did the same for him.
Dave knew it, too. She had the feeling Dave never let himself forget it.
So she sighed and she rubbed a finger over her brow and she looked back at him with the slightest of nods. “Okay,” she said. “But not now.”
“Okay,” he said back. “Let’s find a hotel. One with really heavy curtains and good soundproofing.”
Damned if he wasn’t doing it again.
Making a difference.