Denali Dreams (14 page)

David huffed. The forty-eight hours since her departure had not been enough time to cleanse his mind of the annoyance that was Jolie Decoteau—and it hit him. The flurry of frantic images from his dream. The scream.
Her
scream. Seeing her reach for him as she slid down the side of Motorcycle Hill.
“Help me, Daaaaaavid!”
He squelched the howl against his soul.

“You okay?”

Snapped out of the memory, David looked at Maggie, her brown hair askew the way it always was. “Yeah. Sure.” David stalked around Base Camp, inspecting the antennas, talking with climbers who’d made it to the peak, reminding others who weren’t as careful in their environmental attentiveness. He kept moving to escape the images of Jolie falling to her death.

Why should it haunt him? He didn’t care about her. She was a rich girl who had life handed to her. His thoughts turned to his sister. Mariah had pined after Gael Decoteau, thrilled that a rich guy would want her. That she’d have a chance to leave Talkeetna, to escape being “trapped.” Well, he didn’t need a rich girl to rescue him. He was fine here. The people, the mountain, suited him just fine.

He gave his head a shake. “Word from Logan?”

“He’ll be okay,” Maggie said from a stool near the back. “Why don’t you get some more shut-eye. If something happens before he gets back, you’ll need to be rested.”

She was right. He knew she was. But something in him thrummed. “Anyone heard chatter from the Decoteau expedition?”

Silence met his question, and he looked over at Maggie. Arched, amused eyes met his.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Tilting her colored-brown hair, the forty-something woman narrowed her eyes at him. “In all the years you’ve worked Base Camp with me, I can’t recall a single time you’ve asked about an expedition.”

David shrugged. “Just got this feeling …”

Though he’d teased Jolie about having to rescue her, David held little doubt that she would make it to the top and back. The way she’d moved around Base Camp showed she had experience. More so than the dork with slick hair and slicker words. What was his name? Darryl? Darrin? Aw, who cared?

How was she faring? She’d probably make the top and come back fine. Without needing help. Without needing him.

David punched to his feet.

Roped together, Jolie and her team had left Base Camp two days ago, having to descend four hundred feet down Heartbreak Hill then rising a thousand feet to where Camp 1 huddled just below Ski Hill at roughly 7,800 feet. While climbing with the sixty-pound pack on her back, the sled dragging behind with the evenly split gear, and digging her poles into the icy terrain, Jolie expected the trek to leave her tired. But
this
tired?

True, twenty thousand feet on Denali felt like twenty-three on the Himalayas, but still … They weren’t even halfway up. She’d made it to Camp 3 with Gael last time. Crazy to be this exhausted. And nauseated.

When they slunk into the camp, though relief sped through her veins at seeing the rangers’ tent, her hopes were short lived for two reasons. One, somehow her mind leapfrogged from “ranger tent” to David Whiteeagle, an annoying and unrealistic jump. Two, being here didn’t mean a break. It meant two or three days of lugging supplies up to the camp at 10,000 feet. The thought plied a groan from her exhausted limbs.

“You don’t look so hot,” Nikki said as she passed a plastic bowl of food, cooked up, compliments of Aidan Sheppard.

Though Jolie took the food, the thick scent wafting up from it made her stomach churn. She set it to the side on the ice bench in the kitchen tent. “Just getting used to the altitude, I guess.”

Nikki eyed her and the bowl. “Then you need to eat to keep up your strength.”

Without thinking, Jolie took the bowl, scooped some stew, then lifted the spoon to her mouth. If they were at a lodge or something, she was sure this would taste great. But here, with her churning stomach, cold sweats, and a headache, it tasted like lead.

“It’s going to be a long day tomorrow,” James Sheppard said as he and Aidan joined them. “Jolie, how you holding up?”

She managed a reassuring smile. “Just need to rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Thinking about Gael?” Aidan, blond locks peeking out of his knit cap, smiled. “I haven’t stopped since we entered the town.”

Jolie nodded as her heart plunked against her own heavy thoughts. “Every turn reminds me of him.” She sighed. “But I’m going to do this. For him. To make peace with his death, and my father’s.”

Aidan nodded. “Same here—well, about Gael.” His gray eyes shifted to Nikki, then came a quirk of his lips in a slow smile.

Stealing a look at her best friend gave Jolie the information she needed. Nikki offered him a smile in return then tucked her head. Whoa. Since when had these two been into each other? And why did it make Jolie ache as if a fire were in her chest?

“Hey, where is every—” Derrick trudged into the kitchen tent and plopped down next to Jolie, draping an arm around her. “Man, this air is trippin’.”

If there ever was a rich kid who expected life to be handed to him, it was Derrick. Why he’d wanted to come, she didn’t know. Well, yes she did. He’d been competing with Aidan since the day Derrick and his parents moved to Fairbanks, his father taking over as COO of Decoteau Industries. The only one not directly connected to her father’s empire was Jim Sheppard. He’d been her father’s best friend since middle school. Played football and baseball with him. Went into the Marines with him.

Tummy churning, Jolie took a sip of water from her insulated water bottle. Flavored with electrolytes, it went down cool. She felt it splash against her insides. A throb started at the base of her skull.

“Tomorrow, we’ll start moving supplies,” Sheppard said.

On his feet, Aidan ladled some more stew from the pot. Then he eased himself onto the ice bench next to Nikki.

Lifting a steaming spoonful, he blew on it. “We’ll need to catch the weather report.”

His father lifted the long-range radio. “Eight o’clock.”

Eight? That was another two hours. “I think I’m going to bed down.” She stood and the world shifted on its axis.

Sheppard lunged to his feet, his hands steadying. “You okay, Jolie?”

Fingers to her forehead, she pushed through the mental fog and the ringing in her ears. “Yeah. Just stood up too fast.”

“She’s feeling sick, too,” Nikki added.

Jolie frowned at her friend.

“Hey,” Sheppard said, a finger lightly lifting her chin. “Jolie, you’ve climbed enough—is this AMS?”

“No.” Though the symptoms seemed right-on, she wasn’t convinced this was mountain sickness. She’d had it before—it was why she’d never made the summit with Gael. No way was she going back down, not without conquering the beast of the mountain that had taken her brother. Besides … going down, alone … Baron’s warning hovered just outside the rim of her consciousness. “No, I think I just need to rest. I’ll be fine by morning.”

“If it’s AMS, Jolie—don’t take chances with it. You and I both know it can be fatal.” Sheppard’s words were fatherly and protective. “I know how much this climb means to you, but I really don’t want to have to deliver you deathly sick or dead to your mother.”

She smiled. “That wouldn’t go over well.”

“I think if she just hangs in there, she’ll be great.” Derrick’s words were supportive and Jolie appreciated it.

“Just stay hydrated—several liters a day.” Sheppard nudged her water bottle. “You need to refill that and guzzle.”

“Guess you’re sleeping with your pee bottle.” Aidan snickered.

Great. Such polite conversation.
“I’ll be fine. Just need to lie down for a while.” Jolie glanced to Nikki, whose wide green eyes begged her
not
to invite her along—obviously so she could stay with a certain heartthrob.

Jolie slept fitfully, shivering the whole time. Granted, it was twenty-something degrees up here, but with the pad and the inflatable mattress beneath her arctic sleeping bag, she normally didn’t tremble so much.

She woke, drenched. Aching. Head throbbing. Hands trembling. She grabbed her water and guzzled, anything to rid herself of the thickness of her tongue. Groaning, she squinted toward the form next to her. Nikki. And beside her, Aidan and Sheppard. And Derrick behind her. How long had she slept? She grabbed her watch and eyed its face. Whoa.

Dragging herself from the sleeping bag without waking the others proved arduous. Limbs weak, she barely supported herself. Tripped. Tumbled. Crashed into someone’s pack. Something hard banged against her forearm. She bit through the pain, trying not to wake the others. But her practically drunken clambering should’ve woken them already. Maybe they were this tired, too.

She pushed out of the tent and stumbled toward the open toilet. Propriety was lost to environmental concerns and necessity. After emptying her bladder, she trudged to the kitchen tent and sat down. Something was wrong. Way more wrong than altitude sickness. She’d had AMS. This felt nothing like it, even though the symptoms were crazy-similar.

Had she caught a virus?

Or had Baron been right? Was she in danger?

Jolie wanted to laugh. In danger from whom? Derrick, her best friend of ten years? The squirrely guy who only knew how to flirt and be loud, though a really nice guy. Or the man she’d practically called brother—Aidan—and his father who’d been her father’s best … friend?

Jim? Had Jim killed her father?

Her stomach heaved.

Jolie bolted out of the kitchen tent and pitched herself into the snow. Bile launched up her throat. She retched once. Twice. Three times. Stinging, acidic. Vile.

What else could cause her to feel so sick?
Water. I need some more water.
She grimaced, realizing she’d left her bottle in the sleeping tent with the others. Great. She’d probably fall all over them again trying to get to it. Hit herself again on—

Jolie’s breath backed into her throat and collided with the memory of banging her arm in the tent. Instinctively, she touched the still-sore spot. Remembered the feel, the glint of black. Small, compact. L-shaped. A … gun?

But who would have a gun?

There was only one way she’d be this sick this quick on the mountain. Someone had poisoned her.

That’s … insane!

Then why the gun?

Jolie’s pulse sped.

But that could be AMS as well.

Her gaze rose to the thousands of feet more she wanted to scale. Gael …

I wanted to break its power.
But it seemed the High One exerted too much influence. If she had AMS and went up, the sickness would turn into high altitude cerebral edema. And she’d die. But if she stayed with the team, if someone was trying to kill her, she’d die.

She only had one choice, regardless of whatever was true. She had to get out of here. Right now.

C
amp 1 reported a missing climber.” Logan appeared in the afternoon sunshine.

David turned from the sled-cum-minibathtub and snatched a towel, drying off his head, chest, and arms. “Delayed descent?”

Maggie held up the cards she used to monitor the timing of the various expeditions on the mountain. “No, we’re good. Nobody’s late.”

He stuffed his hands into the sleeves of his thermal and pulled the shirt over his head, then grabbed his jacket following the Base Camp manager and Logan. “Who’s missing?”

Logan turned, his eyes weighted.

David felt something inside him shift. And in that split second, he knew. “Decoteau.”

With a sigh, Logan nodded. “Her expedition guide, Sheppard, called in. Jolie—”

David’s pulse careened. “Jolie?”

Hands on the mapping table, Logan pointed to Camp 1. “He bedded down at about one. When he got up at three, she was gone.”

“Whoa. Hold up.” David ran a hand over his damp hair. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Sheppard said she wasn’t feeling well, so he encouraged her to return to Base Camp, afraid it might be AMS, but she said she wouldn’t, that she was just tired. Then—he wakes up, and she and her gear are gone.”

Maggie held the radio. “Do you think she went solo?”

Logan hesitated then shook his head. “No, she’s a good climber. She knows Denali can’t be done alone. And if she wasn’t feeling well …”

David’s gaze fell in the direction of Heartbreak Hill. “Radio Camp 1. Tell them to watch for her.” He steeled himself. This was good. She deserved this, thinking she could come up on his mountain and tame it.

“You’re not worried?”

“No.” The lie burned like battery acid around his thundering heart. “And I’m sick of rescuing rich kids off this mountain.”

“Then why are you here? Because most people who can afford to do this aren’t exactly low income.” Challenge hardened Logan’s words. He tossed down a pen. “I’m going to gear up and head up the trail.”

“You were gone all night with that family,” David fumed. “You’re in no shape for another rescue.”

“I don’t care. This feels off to me. And if you’re going to sit there and say it doesn’t, then I’m the only one left to go after her.”

“She’ll be fine. You’re the one who said she’s experienced.”