Edge of Survival (24 page)

He radioed the ship in case Cam had turned up. “
Imaviaq
. This is Daniel Fox, over.”

Captain Joseph Crane picked up. Inwardly Daniel groaned. “Daniel Fox,
Imaviaq.
What can I do for you, Mr. Fox? Over.”

“Is Cameran Young back aboard?”

“Negative, Mr. Fox.
Imaviaq.
”

She was in trouble. He knew it.

“Did the police let you go already? Over.”

“No, I broke out. What’d you think? Fox. Over and out.” He used sarcasm to cover the truth. Not that it made much difference, with the Mounties on his tail. They always got their man. Daniel just had to make sure it wasn’t at Cam’s expense.

Patrick had spoken to Cam at the falls. So that was where he headed first. Goddamn, he didn’t want to think about the pool where she’d nearly drowned. What if she’d fallen in again? He’d hurt her, pushed her away, because it was that or tell her the truth about the sort of man he really was. And now she was missing.

The clouds were breaking up and the moon cast a pale silver light that showed him the course of the brook. It was easy to navigate its course west.

He found the falls and hovered low over the site, looking for the ATV Patrick said she’d used.

No sign. His hands shook. He worked his way slowly along the upper reaches of the river, knowing it was almost impossible to see anything from the air at night without someone to help him.

Tooly.

The guy might be old but his eyes were sharp as glass shards. Plus, he knew every inch of this land.

Daniel flew on to the cabin and landed on the gently-sloped hillside. He jumped down and jogged through the darkness toward the shack.

The sled dogs started barking but quieted as he got closer, recognizing his voice and scent. Daniel ran to the front door and knocked. He scanned the ground nearby. There were fresh ATV tracks but that could have been from Tooly’s own machine.

He was about to knock again when Tooly opened the door. He was wearing a stained old vest and pants done up with string.

“Is Cam here?”

The old man squinted at him like he’d lost his mind, and maybe he had.

“You think I stole your girlfriend?” Tooly’s crooked teeth showed in a brief smile.

“She’s missing.” Daniel couldn’t laugh at the man’s joke because Cam was
missing.
“Did she turn up here at all today?”

The old man was shaking his head and Daniel ducked his head, closing his eyes because he had desperately hoped she’d found this safe haven. Then he opened his eyes and it took him a moment to register what he saw—Cam’s medical alert bracelet lying in the wet grass beside the cottage door. The light from the cottage spilled out for a few feet and Daniel recognized her footprints.

He looked up and Tooly’s expression changed, seeing what Daniel had seen and knowing the game was up. Daniel took a step forward but the old man drew a pistol from behind the door. Daniel didn’t think. He grabbed the gun in an instinctive move he hadn’t practiced in years, twisting it out of the man’s hands and pointing it back at Tooly as slow rage built up inside him.

“Where is she?”

The old man’s eyes narrowed into slits and his mouth flattened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Daniel bent and picked up the bracelet, never taking his gaze from the wily old man. “This is Cam’s.”

Bony shoulders poked upward.

“You remember what I did in the army?” He and the old man had struck up a friendship when Daniel had first arrived here. He’d known enough about the natural environment for the old man to ask him where he’d learned it. And that friendship was why he’d entrusted Cam to his care. The bastard.

“You’re an old man and I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t tell me where Cam is I will break every bone in your hands, and then I’ll work my way up your arms until I reach your neck.” He held Tooly’s stare and he saw something else move in those enigmatic depths.

He was considering it. Tooly was considering being tortured rather than telling Daniel where Cam was. Bloody hell.

Daniel grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air one-handed. And then he realized something else, because it was the only answer that made sense. “You killed Sylvie Watson, didn’t you?”

He saw the answer in the tightening of the old man’s mouth.
Shit.
He’d sent Cam into the arms of a vicious killer. Tooly started kicking his legs, struggling for breath as Daniel cut off his air.

“If you’ve touched her in any way I will peel the skin from your body and stake you out for the wolves.” He dropped Tooly to the floor and grabbed a finger and snapped it at the joint. He was not fucking joking with Cam’s life on the line.

Tooly gasped as he collapsed to the floor, gagging. “I didn’t kill her. The woman came and left. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

But Daniel didn’t believe him.

The RCMP could deal with finding out the truth about Sylvie Watson. She was already dead and he couldn’t help her. But he needed to find Cam. She better be alive. He went into the cabin and threw a coat at the old man. “You’re coming with me.”

“Where to?” His eyes grew cagey.

Daniel spotted a radio in the corner of the room. He shoved the man into a chair. He might want to shoot the evil bugger, but he wouldn’t risk Cam’s life by killing him. Assuming she was still alive…

“Nain RCMP, this is Daniel Fox. I have reason to believe Tooly Grant killed Sylvie Watson and he may have harmed Cameran Young—in which case I will murder the sonofabitch before you arrive. You need to send SAR here ASAP. I’m going out to look for Cam and I’m taking Tooly Grant with me. Over and Out.”

He heard spluttering on the other end, but cut it off. They’d gotten the message. “Let’s go.” He nodded for the door. “How far away is she?”

Tooly hung his head, cradling the broken finger against his chest. “Miles. You’ll need the chopper.”

Daniel jerked his head in the direction of the bird, not trusting the old man but needing to know.

“Is she okay?” Had Tooly killed her? Had he raped her?

Tooly gave a quick jerk of his head. “I left her in the next river valley over.”

Daniel didn’t bother asking if she was alive or dead. This old termagant could lie to him anyway. He got to the machine and Tooly climbed in but didn’t bother with his harness. Daniel kept the pistol out of the guy’s reach, thrust the headphones at him and started her up.

“Why did you do it? Why did you hurt an innocent like Cam? I thought you liked her.” Daniel brought the engines up to operating speed. He was trying to forget Cam was the woman he loved and get inside the mind of this lunatic.

Tooly thrust out his lips. “She interfered in my business.”

And that was apparently enough. “So what? You killed her and took her into the wild to dump the body? Why didn’t you do that with Sylvie?” Daniel refused to let himself deal with the reality that Cam might be dead. Dissociation was his best friend, letting him function when he wanted to curl up and howl. “You dumped Sylvie in the bar because you wanted it to look like one of the miners killed her,” Daniel realized.

Tooly ignored him.

Daniel’s hands tightened around the cyclic. He kept the bird high to avoid any mountains. He wasn’t so familiar with this area that he was happy flying blind. “Why did you do it?”

The old man was silent for a long moment. “My brother left years ago. I always expected him to come back…but he never did even though I waited for him.” Tooly had been staring straight ahead, but now he turned and faced Daniel. “When the mine offered to buy this land, I realized I didn’t have to stay anymore. He never came back and I didn’t have to wait for him. Not anymore.” The old man’s eyes begged for understanding, but Daniel felt no pity. “I wanted to feel the sun on my face all year round and not die alone.”

“Why kill Sylvie?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sorry about Cameran.” His voice broke. “Sylvie was a bitch, but Cameran was…nice.” And with that Tooly threw off his headphones, opened the door of the chopper and stepped out onto the runner.

“No!” Daniel tried to grab the man but he couldn’t reach him. The chopper angled sharply and he grabbed back onto the controls. “Don’t do it!” he yelled, but it was too late.

The crazy sonofabitch jumped, and Daniel struggled to control the machine as the door flapped open. The man’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he disappeared into the darkness.

Shit. Daniel now had two choices. Go back to Tooly’s and follow the ATV tracks. Or trust the old man had been telling the truth and carry on searching blindly in this direction. Indecision played with his mind, but he knew what he had to do. He turned the bird around. He was wasting precious time, but better to follow the trail the way he’d been taught than to search without direction.

The clock was ticking in his head.

When had Cam last eaten? Had she had an insulin shot? Was she still alive?

Despite the darkness, he raced flat-out, pushed the machine to its limit. There was no joy. No thrill or anticipation. Flying meant nothing. Every second, every beat of his heart, felt like a lifetime. Every breath could be Cam’s last, and if she died, he died too.

Daniel took Tooly’s ATV and followed the trail he was pretty sure Tooly had taken with Cam. After what felt like a lifetime, he saw ground sign that indicated someone had gone off into the bush. But the tracks also continued along the trail, the grass recently broken in both directions. He stopped to check the side trail, torn with the necessity of making the right decision.

“Cam! Cam!” His voice seemed to echo for miles but nothing replied except the silent dawn. He turned off his machine and jogged through the crushed and bent saplings. Suddenly he careened to a stop, grabbing the branches of a low spruce, stones clattering over a rocky ledge.

Fuck.
Thirty feet below an ATV lay upside down, half-submerged in the river. Pain ripped through his chest as he spotted some of Cam’s belongings strewn along the riverbank, but no sign of her. That old bastard had done a good job of making this look like an accident. Was she dead? Shit, he had to get down there and look for her.

He jogged back to the ATV for rope and frowned at the tire tracks that snaked further along the trail. He hesitated. What would he have done?

And suddenly he knew she wasn’t dead at the bottom of that ravine.

Tooly had laid a false trail, but Daniel was no slouch. Cam was running out of time. He followed the fresh ATV tracks deeper into the bush. The trees flew by and he was forced to slam on the brakes by a bull moose who didn’t want to move out of the way. He buzzed dangerously close to the enormous hind legs until the beast slipped back into the bush. Then he floored it.

Suddenly he lost the tracks again. He hit the brakes and turned the machine, desperately searching. He had to be close.

He slowly idled along, scanning the ground, looking on both sides until he came to an area that looked torn up and disturbed. Branches broken off, leaves crushed.

“Cam!” The noise bounced back off the trees, but Christ, she could be in a coma by now and he had no medical supplies. Silence met his frantic calls. He forced himself to take a deep calming breath.
Keep it together.
He needed to find her. Even if she was dead he needed to hold her in his arms one last time. He’d failed to protect her but he wouldn’t fail at this.

Fear gripped her as soon as she opened her eyes. Something cold splashed her face and made her jolt upright. Her head throbbed from the shovel, her knee had swollen up to the size of a melon, and she couldn’t bend it without a whiteout of pain.

But she’d survived the night.

She. Had. Survived.

The wonder of that revelation brought a surge of relief rushing through her body until reality settled in.

No one knew where she was…

If she died, Tooly Grant would get away with murder—again. The thought made her dig for the notebook she carried in her pocket. Another splash of water dripped onto her face—heavy drops falling off the leaves of the trees—and she caught the moisture on her tongue. Her fist gripped the pencil as she scrawled,
Tooly kill me.

It looked like a kindergartener’s work, but she was satisfied. Even though her fingers were shaking, she eventually managed to shove the note into her pocket. Her hand brushed a candy wrapper and her heart gave a jolt. Tooly had taken her fanny pack, her bear bangers, her transportation and her radio, but she usually carried Life Savers in various pockets. She scrambled through them, searching with nerveless fingers to pull one lonely sticky candy from the little bits of white and silver paper.

Carefully she placed it on her tongue, letting the sweetness flood her mouth, knowing the effects wouldn’t last long but hoping it would be enough to save her until help arrived. A terrible thirst raged through her. There was no moisture for tears, no saliva left in her mouth. She might die, but strangely, now it was so close, death didn’t scare her the way it had in the past.

She pulled the notebook out of her pocket again and wrote,
Daniel, I.
She drew a misshaped heart and finished with a shaky
U.

She’d been too scared to fight for him and, ironically, he was the one person who could have saved her life. Now she’d lost him, but if she was going to die, she needed him to at least understand how she’d really felt. Why she’d rejected his friendship.

She needed him to know what was in her heart.

Her vision started to fade in and out in waves. Exhausted, she leaned back against the rock and saw an animal slip down the opposite riverbank to drink. Water would be good. If only she could find the strength to move. The animal grinned at her with sharp white teeth. Babies chased each other down the rocks and one fell in. They splashed and dipped their heads to drink. Wolverine. She drew up her good knee, rested her chin and watched them dance. She should probably be scared.

A surge of determination forced her to move again. Her whole body shook as she dragged herself down to the river where she scooped cold liquid into her mouth. It eased the terrible dryness and she plunged her lips into the water and swallowed huge mouthfuls of the precious liquid. She squinted at the opposite riverbank. A scattering of dark berries beaded lush green leaves. She pulled herself, inch by inch, toward that fruit. Ice-cold water drenched her clothes and made her suck in her breath in shock. Her fingernails split against the rocks. Her knee screamed. Her vision spun. So close now. Just a few more feet. She paused and took a deep breath. Then she moved forward again, one inch at a time…

“Come on, Daniel. Find the girl. You wanna be a hero? Be a hero today.” He grabbed his survival bag and made himself follow the sign as fast as he dared without disturbing the tracks.

The river wasn’t far away and he saw some creature sliding through the bushes ahead of him. Bear cub? He jogged forward, shouting and singing and making a shit-load of noise because he didn’t want a bear anywhere near Cam. Now he wished he’d brought the gun.

He burst into the open and saw a wolverine darting into the bush on the opposite bank. Shit. Those buggers ate carrion…

He spun three hundred and sixty degrees and saw her lying on the riverbank. He was running, but it felt like he wasn’t moving at all until he got to her side.

Her nose was bloodied, her skin china-white, her hair matted and full of leaves and burrs. He felt her neck for a pulse but she was so cold he could barely feel anything.

“Come on, Cam.” A faint fluttering gave him hope. He leaned closer and felt a shimmer of breath against his cheek. She was alive—just. Hypothermic. She needed to get warm and dry, but first she needed sugar.

He went through her pockets, emptied them onto the moss-covered rock. Notebook and empty candy wrappers. He frowned. A faint trace of purple stained her lips. He lifted her hand. It was on her fingers too.
What the…?
He looked up, recognized the bush she was lying beneath and forced back the emotion that threatened to choke him. She’d managed to stay alive by eating blueberries. He scoured the banks, searching for more. There!

Just downriver was another patch. He ran and grabbed a handful, sprinted back, opening her mouth and crushing the berries individually on her tongue. He closed her mouth and forced her to swallow.

“Come on, Cam,” he growled.

He ran back to the berry patch and grabbed more, filling his pockets. He’d do whatever it took to save her, including opening a vein if it helped. For fifteen minutes he ran backward and forward, running out of blueberries and finding salmonberries instead, forcing the juice into her mouth in a slow trickle. The deep purple juice stained his hands and her chin.

“Don’t give up on me now,” he begged.

Her pulse felt stronger. Better. He gave her some water from his bottle. Opened his survival bag and wished he’d put her emergency supplies in there rather than in his helicopter, where they now sat useless.

He cleared the surrounding area to set up a place to make a fire, found dry leaves and kindling, and built the fire quickly and efficiently. Thank Christ for the impossible-to-break habit he’d picked up in the army of carrying survival tools everywhere he went. His flint ignited the dried grass in seconds, building a steadily growing flame that he fed and nurtured.

Now he had to strip her out of her wet clothes. He did it quickly and efficiently. Like she wasn’t someone he’d worshipped head-to-toe naked and who he didn’t love from the inside and out.

He had a spare set of clothes in his bag. Woolen socks to cover her cold toes, and he pulled baggy sweatpants up her legs, gently lifting her hips. His jumper was wool and was going to be as scratchy as hell against her bare skin, so he rummaged and came up with a thermal vest made of silk and put that on her first. He was torn between getting her warm and getting her back to the clinic, but it was at least an hour’s trip in the ATV before they even got to the helicopter. He needed to get her warm first.

She was still unresponsive as he slipped the sweater over curls that had gone crazy in the humidity. She’d freak when she saw them. He swallowed tightly. Her lips looked pinker, like blood was maybe circulating better. He built up the fire, putting some live wood and green leaves on top to create lots of smoke for a signal, because they were coming for him, if not for her. Then he propped himself against a boulder, pulled her against him and covered them in a silver survival blanket. He wrapped his body around hers and prayed like he hadn’t prayed in years, pressing his cheek against hers, which still felt like ice. But she was breathing better. And maybe she felt a little warmer.

His eyes caught the fluttering pages of the notebook and something captured his attention.
Daniel
scrawled like a little kid’s handwriting. He reached out a hand to stop the fluttering pages.

I
U.

The heart looked more like Africa, but that was okay. She loved him and the feeling was mutual.

“Come on, baby, wake up.” He buried his nose in her hair, which smelled so familiar—as if he’d known her for a thousand years.

He picked up the little blue pencil and, holding the page down with the same hand, he wrote her a message.

He wanted to tell her to wait for him, but his future wasn’t exactly rosy. He could disappear. Make his way south on foot, but his chance of a life with Cam as a wanted man was nonexistent. She deserved better. And he was done running. He hugged her closer, knowing this might be the last time he ever held her in his arms, and he needed to absorb exactly how she felt.

She started to shiver and he pressed tight against her. “I’ve got you, Cam. I’m not letting go. You come back to me now.”

He could feel her starting to stir, the sugar and the heat starting to kick in. The river tinkled past. Bald eagles flew overhead, and he spotted the wolverine peeking out of the old forest opposite.

Magic.

It felt like some ethereal glade. Like they were enchanted, and he could sit here forever with Cam wrapped in his arms just so long as she didn’t die.

“Daniel?” Cam said.

He froze. Not sure if he was imagining her voice. “I’ve got you.” He squeezed her tight, warmth beginning to seep back from her to him.

Her hand crept up to cover his. “Am I dreaming? How did you find me?” Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed a frog.

“You’re not dreaming. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” He wanted to promise he’d never leave her again, but that wasn’t his promise to make. He was probably going to jail, and he didn’t have much time. But there were some things he could tell her, some secrets she deserved to know. “I was kicked out of the army because I killed a civilian cameraman. It was an understandable mistake, but his wife was a big-shot reporter and she didn’t see it that way.”

“That’s what the nightmares are about?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded rough. “On the same mission I killed a woman in front of her kid. Again, it was a justifiable hit, but…” How did you excuse murdering a mother in front of her child? “She shot one of my men and was about to shoot me, but I killed her first.” He’d had an unfair advantage. He’d never found out who she was or what she’d been doing there—victim or militant? He’d never know.

He held Cam tighter and closed his eyes because this next bit was the most difficult part. “And the main thing that keeps me awake at night is how close I came to shooting that cameraman’s wife—the reporter—just so she’d keep her mouth shut and I could carry on doing the job that meant everything to me.”

She turned her head and lifted her hand to try and wipe away the wetness on his cheeks.

“Ever since then, I’ve run from everything I cared about—except flying.” He smiled and looked up into the sky.

Would he ever get to fly again?

Right now, Cam was safe in his arms and he didn’t care. And, he realized as they sat with the sun beginning to form steam at the edges of the river, he wasn’t a good man because he’d been a good soldier. He’d been a good soldier because he was a good man. He’d known the price of doing the right thing and he’d done it anyway. Maybe he hadn’t lost his honor after all; he just needed to find a way to forgive himself for the mistakes he’d made.

He felt the change in atmosphere and knew they had company. He let go of Cam and placed his hands where the cops could see them. “You can come out, I don’t have a weapon and I did not kill Sylvie Watson,” he shouted.