Wyatt didn’t know how long they’d stood there, but after a short bit of time—two minutes? Ten?—Elsie blew out a breath and shook her head. “It’s gone now. I have no idea what she was hearing.”
More like who. Despite the troopers’ belief that the shooter had taken off, chances were high that they weren’t alone on the island, not even with the missing woman. Someone else was here, on the island with them.
They searched for hours, Wyatt doing his best to help Elsie where he could. He watched her, captivated by her work and the way she interacted with her dog, and finally started to feel like he was able to support her and not just follow along behind her.
For example, he’d started to notice the way her jaw would tighten. Sometimes because Willow had picked up a scent, or maybe lost it, and sometimes because she was hungry. He’d learned that if Willow needed something, food or water, Elsie was quick to stop, but she didn’t always take the time to take care of herself. Wyatt made it his mission to help her take care of herself as well, or at least let him take care of her.
She seemed to have forgiven him for his careless words earlier, for which he was thankful. He was still struggling to wrap his mind around what she’d told him about her own life and background. So Elsie had no family. At least, none that she knew of. That painted everything in a different light. Every time she’d come to his and Lindsay’s parents’ house for Thanksgiving after she’d turned eighteen...or worse, every time that she hadn’t... So then where had she gone, whom had she been with?
He thought of the way her cabin was so isolated, like that was what she expected out of life. She’d probably been alone.
As a teenager, he’d been annoyed by her. Wasn’t that practically a rule, to find your sister’s best friend annoying? He’d resented her presence at holiday functions because, after all, she wasn’t family.
Now he wasn’t sure he had even known what that word had meant back then. Because of course she was family. Lindsay was the closest thing to family that she had.
Wyatt noticed Elsie pulling ahead of him again and he picked up the pace, dodging around a spruce tree and narrowly avoiding being smacked in the face by one of its dark green branches. She was able to dodge in and out of trees as gracefully as if she’d been raised in the woods, and in some ways maybe she had.
He wasn’t being honest with himself, Wyatt knew. Sure, he’d been annoyed by her presence when he was younger, but wasn’t some of that because in addition to his stereotypical dislike of his sister’s friend...he’d also had a bit of a stereotypical attraction to her? She’d not been his type at all, but something about her drew him. Even then, he knew she was too good for him and it made him aggravated.
Adult Elsie was definitely too good for him, but adult Wyatt wished she weren’t, because he was thinking if he’d ever had a different type before, he’d been entirely wrong. How could anything be more attractive than a woman like Elsie—let’s be honest, Elsie, not just a woman like her—able to hike through the woods with more grace than a wild animal, brown hair tangling in curls behind her, petite and delicate but not afraid of anything, at least not that Wyatt could tell.
She was brave and smart and beautiful.
The shadows were lengthening by the time Elsie started to slow down. He hadn’t suggested they stop for hours, but was about to when she turned around and shook her head. “She lost the scent.”
“When?”
“Just now. Did you notice we slowed down a quarter mile back or so? I was trying to help Willow pick it up again.”
“Should we go back to there?”
Elsie seemed to be considering. “Could I see a map?”
He handed it to her. She traced a finger along their route. They’d gone up the mountain earlier, then down and into this hollow where they now found themselves, surrounded by trees and vegetation. It was the perfect place for someone to hide. Or be hidden by someone else. Dense and wild. It made Wyatt uneasy. He much preferred the beach area where the plane was, or even the higher mountain areas. He was a pilot. He naturally wanted to have a view, so he couldn’t imagine someone hiding down here on purpose.
“If we go back toward where we lost her scent...” Her voice trailed off. “Maybe? I think it’s worth it. Then from there we’d better head back to the plane.”
“I agree.” There was plenty of light, but Wyatt knew they had a while to hike before they made it back to the plane.
They started walking and Elsie stopped him and pointed when they reached the fork in the trail where they’d lost the scent.
“I think maybe she didn’t take a trail from here? But walked through the trees instead.”
“Why?”
“Just a guess.”
They stood for a minute, Wyatt lost in his own thoughts, not able to guess at what Elsie might be thinking. Then the hair on his arms stood up.
He looked over at Elsie to see if she’d noticed...whatever it was. She’d stilled also, as had Willow.
“What is it?” He chanced a whisper, not sure for his part if they were dealing with human threat or animal. Grizzly bears did stalk this part of the Alaskan wilderness, their paws bigger than a man’s face and unspeakably damaging. It could easily be a bear they’d sensed, even if Wyatt wasn’t sure exactly what it was he’d noticed. A smell? A noise?
It was more of a presence. An awareness that they weren’t alone.
Elsie moved forward, toward Willow, who had turned back toward Wyatt.
“Wyatt, no!”
Her scream registered at the same moment he felt something hard slam into his head. Blinded by the pain, he threw his arms out, tried to fight back, but darkness was already closing in. No, no, no, he could not afford to lose consciousness right now.
“Elsie, run!” he managed to yell before he went to his knees, the explosion of pain coming in echoes across his entire head. He laid his head on the ground, struggling to maintain consciousness, and after a second or two managed to stand back up. In the brief struggle, and his own pain, he’d lost sight of Elsie, his assailant, Willow, everyone.
God, help me find her again, he prayed and started down the trail. As he ran, he winced against the throbs of pain in his head and blinked away something that was obscuring his vision. He held a hand to his forehead, then drew it away. Shiny blood streaked across his hand.
He was mad enough to spit. How had he missed that someone was lurking close enough by to attack him?
And why hit him rather than just shoot him? He was thankful, but didn’t know why the method of attack concerned him.
Where. Was. Elsie?
That was what concerned him most, the confirmation that whoever was after her was still very much on her tail and somewhere on the island. Right now, very close to her. Pursuing her.
Unless he’d already caught her.
Wyatt wished he had Willow with him, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to read her cues and he certainly didn’t wish Elsie was without her. But they’d gotten separated at a split in the trail and he had no idea which way Elsie would have gone. He stopped. Stared. Thought, tried to think like Elsie would have.
Back to the plane. He felt confident in his decision. It was where she’d run yesterday, and it made sense. He kept going, changing directions slightly to head back toward the beach, praying that he was right.
He was nearing a thick stand of spruce trees when he felt like he was being watched. Still irritated he’d been taken off guard earlier, he pulled his revolver out of its holster. He was not going to be attacked again, and he was going to find Elsie.
Holding his breath, he stepped into the darkness of the forest.
“Wyatt.” The voice was a whisper. Elsie’s. Her arm reached out of the trees and pulled him in.
Her eyes were wide and she was holding Willow close to her, but they both appeared uninjured.
“You’re bleeding,” she told him, her voice quiet, wavering.
“I’m fine. I’m more focused on the fact that you’re okay.” Wyatt felt like he could breathe again.
“We ran, like you said. Willow held him off while I ran and then she caught up to me. I can’t believe I left her. I shouldn’t have left her...”
“Did you tell her to come?”
“Yes.”
“Elsie, that’s the most obedient dog I’ve ever known. If she wouldn’t listen to you, she was sure about it. You can’t force her not to try to protect you.”
Willow seemed to agree with him, her eyes meeting his. Wyatt would have sworn at the moment the dog could talk and was thanking him for taking her side.
“I’m just glad she’s okay.” Her arms tightened around the dog. “But your head...”
“You’re a first responder. You know head wounds bleed a lot.”
“You can’t fly us out of here.”
“If we need to get out, I’ll get us out.” His voice was probably gruffer than he’d meant for it to be.
She didn’t try to argue with him there, which he appreciated, but the truth was his head was throbbing from the hit and his mind felt like cotton balls had been stashed in it. Thinking felt oddly harder than it should, like his mental engine took a moment of revving before firing up. He’d had a concussion before—baseball in high school—and it had felt just like this. He didn’t know how he was going to safely fly them both back. Realistically, he couldn’t. He’d have to figure something else out. Surely he knew someone else with a seaplane. Or the troopers could call someone.
This complicated their search, for sure. No one would call him fit to fly at the moment, or even in the coming week, or even longer. Most of the concussion protocols he’d heard of involved a month out of a plane.
Nothing he could do to change it.
“Do you know where he went?” he asked, directing the conversation back to whoever was on the island with them.
“I don’t.” Her voice trembled. “I just dove in here to hide.”
Wyatt hated that she sounded scared. He wanted to do everything in his power to keep her from being afraid.
But with someone in the woods who clearly wanted them stopped, he understood her fear. It was probably very much justified.
He’d said he was fine, but Elsie wasn’t sure she really believed him, which was why she’d insisted that Wyatt walk ahead of her. Enough time had passed since the initial injury that she didn’t think he’d pass out, but you just never knew with head trauma.
Speaking of trauma, she’d noticed her hands were shaking. Adrenaline, most likely. But knowing the reason for it didn’t make it any less scary. She didn’t like admitting that what she’d experienced affected her at all, and she had lived in denial for years about her childhood affecting her, but there would be no denying that this was going to.
The fact that he hadn’t argued much about walking in front of her was scaring Elsie. As protective as he’d been about her safety, almost to the point of treating her too carefully, she’d expected him to put up a fight and demand to be in the back in case danger came from that direction. Maybe he was telling himself that being in front of her was keeping her safe, too. At the moment, Elsie didn’t care too much about her safety. She was worried about Wyatt.
Entirely more worried than she’d have thought she would be. Not just because he was supposed to have been her ride home, but because she cared about him, and at the sight of him being attacked by someone—she’d seen no identifying features since the person had been wearing a ski mask—she’d realized just how much she cared about him.
“You still okay up there?” she asked, deliberately keeping her voice calm as they made their way back down the trail toward the airplane.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Less talkative than earlier. She noted that out of purely medical concern.
Although she could hardly justify her desire to reach out and comfort him, maybe stroke her hand across the uninjured half of his forehead, tell him it was going to be okay. None of that was particularly professional.
Wyatt made the last turn through the woods that would lead them straight back to the beach, and she didn’t even bother trying to make any more conversation. With everything that had happened in the last few hours, they were both beyond conversation at this point anyway.
It wasn’t until Willow started to sniff that Elsie herself noticed the smell. Smoke. Something was burning.
Stomach churning, worst-case scenarios coming to mind, Elsie stepped in front of Wyatt. “I’ve got to go see what’s going on. Willow smells something.”
He was frowning, brows pushed together, and he nodded. “Me, too.”
Elsie picked up her pace and followed her dog, this time making careful note that Wyatt was right behind them as well. So far he seemed okay, steady enough to walk on his own.
“I’m fine, Elsie. Go. I can keep up.”
The man clearly wasn’t used to being a liability and it rubbed him wrong. Interesting. The Wyatt she’d known before wouldn’t have been this determined to help, or understanding enough to not slow her down. He’d been so much more concerned with his own interests and pursuits, but it was just one more confirmation that the Wyatt she’d known before was gone, replaced by this newer, better version.
One far more dangerous for her heart.
Something inside her had always warned of danger in getting close to anyone like that. Being someone’s friend was one thing, though she’d readily admit she held herself back in friendships, too. But being someone’s romantic partner?
Terror. Because of her past? The dark? The yelling?
Or because she was just afraid?
Elsie hated to be afraid.
She pushed ahead, running toward the scent of the smoke, grateful to notice somewhat morbidly that it didn’t smell like burning human remains. Despite Willow’s eagerness to reach the source of the smell, and the fact that she did have training as an HR, Human Remains, dog as well as search and rescue, Elsie didn’t think her attitude was quite right for that. Something else was burning. On the beach, beyond the thickness and darkness of the woods.
A step into the clearing revealed what it was.
Wyatt’s airplane.
The front of it, where they’d sat just hours before, was engulfed in flames. Elsie stopped walking. Stunned.
Bumping into her arm slightly as he stumbled past, Wyatt hurried toward the plane.
“No, don’t!” she yelled, but stopped herself from saying more. Somehow, she understood. The plane wasn’t alive like her dog was, but it was his partner in a similar way. It was part of what he did every day. More than that, part of who he was.
Thankfully, rather than run directly at the flames, he’d gone to the back of the plane, which wasn’t yet burning.
He emerged from the smoke with a bucket, ran to the shore and started throwing water onto the plane. Elsie moved in his direction.
“Stay back!”
She stopped where she was, a hand on Willow’s vest, and hoped this wasn’t a losing battle. After several trips, she thought she saw the flames beaten back slightly. Willow cried on occasion, a sad, low pitch.
Elsie wanted to cry, too.
Wyatt kept going until the fire was out. The back three-fourths of the plane were mostly fine, but the fire had fully engulfed the seats, the controls, those things that would be desperately needed to fly them home.
“I’m going to call someone to get us out of here,” Wyatt said after a moment, his voice rough from the smoke.
“Your plane...” She trailed off, unable to formulate her thoughts. What did one say to this loss?
His jaw was tight, his eyes flashing with anger. “My plane is just an object. But someone is determined to harm you. First they attack us, then burn the plane? I have to get you out of here.” He raked a hand through his hair, pacing the beach. “The troopers. Call the troopers, tell them to send someone as soon as possible.”
Needing something to do, feeling too outside of her comfort zone, Elsie nodded and pulled out her phone, reported the details as best she could and winced at the reply.
“It could be a while,” she turned to Wyatt and said softly after she’d hung up. “Most of their resources around here are focused on a rescue taking place closer to home. The troopers who were here earlier got called away to deal with that.”
“Not acceptable.” His jaw clenched and unclenched, and Elsie reached for his arm, laid her hand on it.
Like it was slow motion, like a scene in a movie where the music started to drive faster and louder, Wyatt looked down at her hand. It took all the bravery she possessed not to move it, not to move at all. He reached up his other hand, laid it on top of hers.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Her own frustration rose within her. “It’s not just me here, okay? You’re here, too, and you’ve lost too much already because of me. You’re hurt. Now your plane...” Her words were choked and she swallowed back her tears, afraid if she let them fall she’d be powerless to stop them. Worse than this show of vulnerability was the fact that Wyatt didn’t seem fazed by it. It affected him, she could tell that by the way his hold on her had tightened, squeezed, but he wasn’t scared.
That scared her almost as much as whoever was after her.