Glass showered the back seat of the SUV. Tanner risked a quick look at the passenger-side floorboard to verify neither Fran nor the child had been injured. She hunched over the little boy, using her body as a shield to protect him. Tanner saw no blood and released the breath he’d been holding. The boy was cocooned in her arms. His eyes popped open, and he arched his back like a cat trying to escape an unwanted embrace. A high-pitched howl erupted from him. Tanner gritted his teeth and focused his attention on the road, doing his best to elude their attacker.
“No, no, no.” The child began to chant, each word louder than the next.
“Hand me your jacket,” Fran called up to him.
Tanner grabbed his jacket off the passenger seat and tossed it back to her. She latched on to it and dragged it around the little boy’s shoulders. In the side mirror, something flashed. Tanner swerved the SUV to the other lane, which was thankfully free of any oncoming traffic, just in time to avoid the second bullet. When he spotted a truck rounding the bend, he veered back into his own lane. The car had ventured past the middle line, and narrowly escaped being slammed by the truck, whose driver gave a long burst of his horn to warn them to stay on their own side.
Something fell to the asphalt. The wheels of the large oncoming vehicle rolled over it, leaving a trail of smashed pieces in its wake. Their tail had dropped his gun. Now it was useless. Tanner muttered a quick prayer of thanks. That truck driver might be annoyed at the moment, but his appearance had very likely saved their lives.
Not that he had any expectation that the gunman behind them would give up that easily.
Had Tanner not had Fran and the child with him, he might have been tempted to do something dangerous. But he couldn’t risk it. Protecting those in his care must be his primary objective.
Behind him, Fran’s calm voice tried to comfort the boy. He caught a glimpse of her wrapping his coat around the child, almost swaddling him. Then she began to rock him. Amazingly, it seemed to soothe him. Partially. His volume decreased, although he continued to cry, “No!”
Fran started counting, spacing the numbers out evenly. “One, two, three.” The youngster gave an angry little sob then his crying dwindled. Tanner risked a look back. While the child made no attempt to meet her eyes or engage with her, his entire posture suggested he was listening to the monotonic recitation of numbers. By the time she reached eight, the boy was counting with her.
They took another curve. The rubber tires hit the rumble strip on the shoulder, creating a loud, low-pitched grinding sound. When the child paused, Fran’s voice increased in volume. Tanner eased the SUV back onto the main part of the road.
The counting resumed at normal volume. They were up to twenty-two.
Lifting his gaze to the rearview mirror, he saw their attacker was still there. In fact, he was coming closer. Tanner put more pressure on the pedal, pushing it closer to the floor. The speed limit was forty-five. The speedometer hit fifty-five and kept climbing. And still the car kept up with them. Sweat broke out on his brow. Sixty. Sixty-five.
If he went any faster, they would fly right off the road and over the edge. It was a long drop down. He didn’t know how far. All he could see were the tops of hundreds of trees lining the road. He tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles were white. His SUV was a top-notch vehicle, but evidently the vehicle chasing them was built for speed. Tanner knew what was coming. Around these curves, there was nowhere to maneuver and no open roads to turn on to evade him.
The vehicle zoomed closer. Tanner had no choice but to accelerate again. He hit the gas pedal, slamming it to the floor. His stomach lurched. Traveling this fast around the curves was asking for trouble. He didn’t have any other options. The moment he exited the curve and could peel his right hand from the steering wheel, he hit the phone icon on the dashboard then slapped his hand back on the wheel. The SUV shimmied beneath him.
“Please state a command,” the robotic voice ordered.
“Dial Chief Spencer,” Tanner shouted. His habit of making sure the local law enforcement chief and agencies were on speed dial came in handy.
“Dialing.”
The phone began to ring. Chief Mike Spencer answered.
Tanner cut him off. “I have Fran Brown and a child in my vehicle. We’re being chased by an assailant on Hatch Road. We’ve traveled about six miles from Fran’s house. I’m going too fast, if we go over, we’ll be going down the ravine. But if I slow down, he’ll catch us.”
Maybe “ravine” was an exaggeration, but it was at least a two-story drop. He doubted the guardrails would stop their fall.
“Does he have a weapon?”
“He did. He dropped it and it got destroyed. I have no idea if he has another. But he is going to hit us. I have no doubt of that.”
The SUV jolted as his prediction came true.
Fran let out a small shriek. Then she immediately returned to counting. This time, a slight quaver betrayed her tension and fear.
Tanner kept control, but it was hard.
“He hit us, sir. I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”
“I’m sending help. Hold on.”
He’d do his best, but he couldn’t make any promises. He’d never driven in conditions like this before.
The car behind them punched into his bumper again. His SUV lurched, ripping the steering wheel from his hands. Tanner caught it and kept the vehicle on the road, but it was a close call. He had no options. He couldn’t drive and shoot, and there was no place to turn back. The only thing he could do was to keep driving. Fran and the little boy continued to count in the back.
He caught the strain tightening her voice. She was keeping the child calm, but he knew it wasn’t easy for her to ignore the stress of their situation. Any moment could be their last. The only positive was that the gunman was not shooting any more. Even if he had a second weapon he probably couldn’t fire and keep up with them on these curves. If they could just hold on.
In the distance, he heard sirens coming toward them.
Would they make it in time? They were still too far away to see the flashing lights.
Another curve loomed ahead. This one seemed narrower and steeper than before. Tall trees jutted above the ridge, looking like they had grown out of nothing. A sign on the edge of the road read No Guardrail. Why would they not have a barrier between traffic and a drop into an abyss?
Behind him, the engine of their tail closing in revved.
“Hold on. He’s coming again.”
Tanner tried to steer the SUV toward the middle of the lane. At the last moment, an oncoming Jeep rounded the curve from the other direction, honking its horn. He jerked the SUV’s wheel back and avoided smashing into it. His tires skidded on the shoulder. He clenched his jaw. Way too close to the edge for his comfort.
Their tail smashed into his bumper. This time, the SUV spun out of control. Tanner’s stomach dropped. The tires left the pavement, and their vehicle flew over the edge of the ravine in a downward arc. Fran screamed. The child in her arms burrowed into her, howling.
There was nothing he could do as his SUV fell.
Fran had the sensation that her stomach had taken flight and was trying to leave her body, just like being on a roller coaster that had gone into a deep dive. But this time, there was no track or safety harness to keep them safe.
She didn’t even have a seat belt, sitting on the floorboard.
She needed to protect the little boy shrieking in her arms. Flipping over, she adjusted their position so he was on the floor and she was balanced above him. Bracing her arms, she kept herself from pressing against him and smothering him. If they jolted wrong, her arms would break.
The poor thing was terrified. His piercing screams crashed around in her head. Still, she remained where she was. Maybe she wouldn’t survive this, but hopefully he would. Tanner was yelling in the front seat, but Fran couldn’t make out the words.
When the SUV shuddered to a halt, she flew off her charge, her head and back slamming against the roof of the vehicle. Before she could catch her breath, her body banged against the floor, becoming wedged between Tanner’s seat and the middle seat. Tanner had his seat back so far to accommodate his long legs. The Amish boy huddled in the opposite wheel well, curled into a ball. It worried her how silent he was, but she could make out his side moving, so he continued to breathe. Tilting her head, she gazed out the window. Leaves and branches smashed flat against the glass.
They were in a tree. Her breath caught in her throat. When help arrived, how would they rescue them without tipping the SUV out of the tree it was nestled in and sending it tumbling to the ground below?
“Tanner,” she called, her voice hoarse and her throat raw. She hadn’t been aware of screaming, but she must have. There was no other explanation for why it felt like there were razor blades tearing at her throat when she talked. Pain was irrelevant. It meant she was still alive.
It worried her that there no was response from the man in the driver’s seat. “Tanner?”
Fear trickled down her spine. Was he alive?
Groaning, she attempted to push herself out of the small space restricting her, feeling as if her skin were being rubbed away. She’d have some bruises and welts, but that was unimportant. Under her, the SUV shook and swayed. Fran froze in place. Sweat soaked the back of her neck, leaking through the thin material of her shirt. Despite the sultry heat of the day, she shivered and her teeth began to chatter.
Was she going into shock? She wasn’t injured, but she knew a severe emotional trauma could have that effect. Well, being shot at, finding a dead body and a traumatized autistic child, then being forced off a road into a tree who knew how far off the ground could definitely be categorized as trauma.
On second thought, if she could manage sarcasm, she probably wasn’t in shock. Just terrified.
But she was alive.
“Tanner?” She tried again.
To her relief, he responded with a low moan. She heard him shift his weight in his seat. The SUV shook again. Her stomach clenched.
“Don’t move!” She hissed at him, as if speaking at a natural decibel level would cause them to tumble into space. “We’re stuck in the trees.”
“Better in the trees than all the way down.” He groaned again. “My airbag deployed. I’m stuck here.” His voice sounded muffled, as if he were speaking through a wad of cotton.
Fran stretched her neck out so she could see beyond the edge of the driver’s seat. From where she crouched on the floorboard, she could barely make out the edges of the airbag bubbled around Tanner like it was hugging him.
“Is it blocking your breathing at all? Your voice sounds muffled.”
“No. I can breathe fine. It’s uncomfortable. The airbag’s already starting to deflate.” Indeed, each word was clearer than the previous one. He paused. “Not to worry you, but I’m pretty sure I have a cracked rib or two.”
A chill ran through her. What if it was more than a cracked rib? What if he had internal bleeding? While they were stuck in this predicament, he could bleed out.
“Can you feel your legs?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just don’t know how we’re going to get ourselves out of this. How’s the kid?”
She glanced over. “He’s breathing. And he’s rocking a little. But apparently not hard enough to shake your SUV.”
“He’s small. I doubt if he weighs forty pounds. Still.” He paused. “I’m worried he might be hurt and we can’t see it.”
He started to move and the vehicle shook again, then jolted slightly, dipping forward, as if warning them not to do anything foolish. “Wow. I don’t think that was a good idea.”
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
A sound like a tornado siren blared through the vehicle. She whelped in surprise. “Sorry. That’s my phone,” he said.
Carefully, his arm reached around the airbag and pushed the button to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Tanner, it’s Chief Spencer.” A familiar, calming voice came from the SUV’s speakers. “We’re directly above you. Are you, the child or Fran injured?”
“Fran?”
“I think I’m okay.”
“Fran says she’d fine. I think I might have injured my ribs. We’re not sure about the boy. It’s possible, but if he is, we don’t know how severely. Sir, we can’t move. Every time we even breathe too hard, this bucket of bolts shakes like it’s ready to do a nosedive out of this tree. And we’re pretty sure this Amish kid in here with us has autism. He seems to have bonded a little with Fran but neither of us can tell if he has any injuries or if he’s just scared.”
A burst of chatter from the other end answered them. The chief’s voice came through the loudest. Everyone above was trying to figure out the best way to extricate them from their current situation.
“Alright, Tanner.” The chief came back on the line, his tone as smooth as if they were chatting about going out for lunch. “We have a helicopter on the way. Hang tight for a few more minutes. We’ll get you out.”
Fran’s heart raced. Her gut flipped like she’d swallowed a live fish that continued to flail inside her stomach. If their slightest movement upset the SUV, how would they get out?
Since Sean’s death, her faith had taken a beating. She still believed in God, but doubt about Him as a loving Father had festered. Her prayer life had grown stale in the midst of the lukewarmness. She knew it was wrong, but she’d even shut herself off from her church family. She used to find such comfort in worship.
She clenched her hands together and prayed while a small voice in her mind taunted her, calling her hypocritical.
It was true, but she persevered in her fervent litany.
A loud chopping hum, like a thousand Canadian geese taking flight simultaneously, swooped overhead.
“If that thing flies too close, it could unbalance us,” she whisper-yelled to Tanner, hyperaware of the little boy still rocking inches from where she crouched, her leg muscles beginning to cramp. She wouldn’t be able to stand if she didn’t move soon.
“They won’t. Look. They are dropping a ladder.”
A man clung to the rungs as the flexible line neared the passenger side of the SUV. Tanner hit all the window switches, lowering them. Fran glanced at the man and swallowed. How did they expect this to work?
“Tanner, you okay? Your eyes look irritated.”
“I’m fine. I think it’s from the gasses released by the airbag once it deflated. Not that I don’t trust you, Gabe, but this is going to require some coordination.”
“Yeah, I can see that. You might not like my idea.”
“I have none, so let’s hear it.”
“I’m going to get Fran and the kid out. While I’m doing that, can you hang out your window to balance?”
“Wait! Won’t the vehicle fall?” It was the most daredevil idea she’d ever heard.
“It shouldn’t. It will rock, for sure. But this tree is huge, and the vehicle is wedged in a wide vee. The worst-case scenario is that it will tip forward, not sideways. If it does, you need to get out and hold on to the branches.”
There was no other choice. At Gabe’s gentle directions, she inched ahead, her frozen muscles protesting with every move. Tanner was slowly shifting his weight, pulling himself up through the window.
The SUV shuddered beneath them.
“Don’t stop,” Gabe ordered when she paused. “Trust me. You’re doing fine.”
She grabbed the coat still wrapped around the boy and started counting again. He stopped rocking then began counting, his words tumbling over hers, rushing her to count faster. She took him in her arms.
“Stars, one star, two star...” He began counting the stars on her shirt. When she tried to hand him to Gabe, he bellowed in her ear and held on tight.
“I’ll have to do this.”
“I’ll hold on to you from the other side. Tanner, you get out when we do. I’ll have to lower the rope back for you.”
They were going to leave him.
Fran forced herself to breathe, knowing that if she hesitated, she might be condemning him to a painful death. Blocking out the shrieks as best she could, she held tight to the little one and allowed Gabe to drag her from the car.
It rocked and slid forward. He held her tight from the other side of the ladder.
“Tanner, get out!” Gabe yelled.
The SUV fell forward. It slid out of the crevice and crashed into the ground below. She jerked her head around. Where was Tanner? Had he gotten out, or had the sudden fall of the vehicle take him with it?