The engine revved to life, echoing and bouncing through the trees like a struck gong. The noise twanged Mara’s nerves as she clutched Tanner’s sides, Britta lodged solidly between them. Tanner took it slow as they eased through the trees toward the clearing that they’d decided was the straightest route to take them to the bed-and-breakfast.
Though the machine rattled and shuddered her bones, Mara was relieved at not having to drag herself along at a snail’s pace. If the fuel held out, she calculated they might be at the camp in a few hours. Her mind ran feverishly ahead. Maybe they wouldn’t even need to stop at that midpoint. It was barely noon, they still had six hours of daylight to travel and depending on the terrain and fuel, they might even continue through the night as Tanner had originally planned. He had to be the cleverest man on the planet to think of hiding the snowmobile away from the trailer. She wished she had someone to tell, to brag about Tanner to.
He’s not yours to brag about. She felt as if she should ease away, to mentally distance herself, but it took all her muscle power to clutch Tanner’s waist both for her sake and Britta’s. The snowmobile leaped and danced over hillocks as she tried to review how much food and water she’d packed before their hasty departure from the trailer.
Bang.
The sound was so unexpected, she could not place its origin. A broken branch? An engine malfunction?
Tanner shouted, something unintelligible. He jerked the handles sideways and she almost lost her grip. Britta yelped, slipping, but she pinned the dog with her weight to keep her from falling as Tanner hit the gas.
Another bang. Not a branch, a bullet. Her mouth went dry.
The report of the gun punched through the engine whine a third time. She tried to see the source but her hair covered her eyes and she didn’t dare risk letting go to brush it away for fear she or Britta would tumble loose. As Tanner skidded the machine sideways, she got a glimpse of Vinny twenty yards away on cross-country skis, rifle raised and aimed for another shot.
Bang, bang. Two in quick succession. Tanner swerved in a tight turn, heading back for the cover of the trees. He looped from side to side as they raced on, trying to make them a harder target to hit, she realized. Mara clung tight until her fingers ached.
A bullet sizzled past her jacket. She curled lower, cradling Britta’s body against her stomach. Only a few more feet to the trees. The sturdy trunks would protect them. Another shot pinged off the chassis of the snowmobile, shaving away bits of metal and plastic. Tanner swerved so abruptly, Mara screamed. He corrected and they flew toward the trees. Vinny shouted something, but Mara couldn’t understand over the engine and her own thundering pulse.
The trees swam closer and closer, slashes of black against the dizzying white. If he lost control... Mara gritted her teeth. At the last possible moment, he accelerated and jerked right to keep them from smashing headfirst into a gnarled fir. She could feel his labored breathing as he slowed, moving them more cautiously through the trees, deeper into the comforting shadows. Vinny would be hard-pressed to follow on skis through the maze. With one hand, he reached behind to cup one of hers which was still clutching his jacket in a death grip. Britta snuffled Mara’s neck as if to reassure her.
“You and Britta are still there? Unhurt?”
It required effort to force the words out. “Y-yes.” She felt his sigh of relief. She shared the feeling, but her brain raced ahead to the next scenario. “We’ll have to move slow, and Vinny will report to Eli.”
“No choice,” Tanner called over his shoulder. “The terrain here isn’t optimal, but we’ll make as much speed as we can.”
They’d survived another death trap. Thank You, Lord. She rested her forehead between his shoulder blades, earning a chin lick from Britta. Leaning on his shoulders was comforting and she could not resist giving him a squeeze and whispering in his ear. “Thank you for getting us out of there.”
He shifted. Uncomfortable at the intimacy? He didn’t need her for comfort, she realized, but the reverse was becoming a problem. She leaned back a fraction. There was work to be done if they were going to make it, she chided herself. “I can help with the landmarks if my childhood memories hold up. As soon as my brain starts to cooperate again, I mean.”
“I know where north is so that’s enough for now.”
He began to weave through the trees. She tried to ease her grip, but the route was rough as Tanner avoided buried rocks and branches that could wreck the machine or eject them for sure. They soldiered on for what had to be close to an hour, judging by the weak glimpses of sky she spied through the tree branches and storm clouds. They stopped periodically, turning off the engine to listen for indications of Eli or Vinny’s approach. Each pause made her insides quiver, waiting for the sound of death approaching, but they heard nothing.
Another hour of riding and her legs were cramping and the small of her back spasmed. Britta wriggled.
“I think Britta needs to get down for a minute,” she called in Tanner’s ear. He pulled to a stop at the base of an ancient redwood and killed the engine.
Britta scrambled loose and immediately stretched from tail to ears.
Mara heaved her leg over the side and hopped off into the snow. Her muscles screamed in protest. “Feels like we’ve been through the washing machine.”
Tanner did the same, bending over, hands on his knees. Probably exhausted both mentally and physically like she was.
Massaging her arms she attempted to restore circulation. “I...” She stopped, shocked as she saw the blood. It smeared her wrist and up along her forearm. Had she been struck? But there was no pain, no rip in her jacket sleeve. After a long drawn-out moment, she realized it was not her blood she was looking at. In horror, her gaze traveled to Tanner. “You’re bleeding.”
He looked down at the tear in his jacket, not surprised or upset. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Plan B didn’t exactly go off without a hitch, did it?”
Tanner had known he’d been struck by something, maybe a piece ricocheting off the snow machine, but it hadn’t felt like a major injury and there was no way he was going to stop and take a look until he got them far away from Vinny. Now he realized there was more blood than he’d thought, though the pain was only a dull throb courtesy of the frigid temperatures numbing his nerves. At least the cold was good for something.
Mara alternated between raging and silence.
“You knew you’d been hit and we didn’t stop? All this way and you didn’t so much as hint about an injury?” She tugged him to a flat rock where she dusted off the snow and forced him to sit, none too gently.
“It’s...”
She stabbed a pointer finger at him. “If you tell me it’s nothing to worry about, I will refuse to speak to you for the rest of the trip, Tanner Ford. It will be a silent treatment unlike any you’ve ever experienced.”
That made him both smile and close his mouth as she unzipped his backpack and rummaged for his standard issue first aid kit. The cold air made him gasp as she peeled up his shirt to expose his ribs. Britta raced to his side, investigating the source of his discomfiture. The wound was maybe four inches long, a gash that probably would require stitches in other circumstances.
He patted the dog. “See? Not life-threatening.”
She glared. “That’s the same as saying it’s nothing to worry about. Again, dangerously close to earning yourself the silent treatment.” She cleaned her hands, pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and ripped opened the sterile packages. Britta whined and tried to climb in his lap. Mara eased her away. “Don’t worry, Britta. I got this. It’s a job that requires fingers not paws.”
She applied a disinfectant which stung enough to make his eyes water though he didn’t cry out. “You sure you’re qualified?” he teased through gritted teeth.
She didn’t smile, but her frown eased somewhat. “My dad worked on an ambulance when he was young so he taught me about first aid. Every doll and teddy bear in my room sported some sort of bandage or sling.”
“Did you lose any patients, Doctor Mara?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Only the bunny and that was because the dog chewed her up.”
Britta’s head cocked at the word dog. Mara’s tiny sliver of a grin made him realize he was forgiven, mostly. He figured he’d test the waters. “When Britta was a puppy she used to whine at night so I gave her a catcher’s mitt because I didn’t have any stuffed animals. She still sleeps with Mitt when we’re home.”
Mara laughed. “Don’t worry, Britta. I’ll get you a proper dog toy when we get back.”
When they got back... It hit him then. What would there be between him and Mara when they returned to Olympia? But he knew already...they’d be colleagues, friends maybe, separated by that comfortable space that kept him afloat. Treading water, like he’d been doing for four years. A cloud settled over his heart. She snapped him out of his thoughts by smoothing on the bandage and pulling his shirt back into place, followed by the jacket.
She stowed the trash in a zippered pocket. “All right. Good as I can do for now. We’ll need to check soon and see if you’ve saturated the bandage.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“And I’ll drive for a while to spare you the movement.”
“I...”
She raised a finger again and he quieted under the ferocity of that gaze. “This is how it’s going to be. Snow’s falling harder now. I recognize that ridge of rock in the distance. We’re close to the camp, and I think I can get us there. I can drive a snowmobile as well as you can.”
He zipped his jacket, the chill penetrating his body down to the cellular level, but he was determined not to shiver in front of her. “Stopping is risky. We need to keep going, try and make the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Not with you losing blood. You need rest, food and water. And that’s exactly what you would tell me if I was injured so don’t bother arguing.”
He closed his mouth, the response dying on his lips. She was right. It was precisely what he’d have advised, insisted on, demanded even.
She got up and stood there, hands on hips. “Ready to move out?”
Against the pewter sky, her expression shone with determination and toughness. Yet he’d been privileged to have seen her tender side, her humor, her humility. He marveled at this woman who’d lived through a maelstrom and stood strong as the ancient trees behind her... He shall strengthen thy heart... The snippet came to him unbidden. Like Allie, she was her own woman, strong enough to march steadily forward no matter what came at her, to live her life on her own terms and accept the growth that came with the struggle. Her strength chimed a note inside he had not heard for years. Mara was ready to tackle the next challenge.
What about you, Tanner?
A falling twig broke his reverie. Here, in the forest, wounded and on the run was not the time to reevaluate. Whatever he was daydreaming about had to be brought to heel and quickly. Mara was not Allie, she was a protectee and right now, she was protecting him which was a maddening situation that could not be allowed to continue. The wolves were circling, and their little trio was alone in a great big wilderness. He got to his feet, hiding a grimace of pain. “How far do you figure to the camp?”
“At our speed, a couple of hours, maybe.” She climbed onto the driver’s seat. He slid on behind her, making room for Britta between them. The dog’s bony flank pressed against his ribs, compressing the bandage against the wound.
He clenched his jaw. Pain wasn’t a bad thing if it would keep him focused. At least he could keep watch for Eli and Vinny as Mara concentrated on driving. It took her only a few awkward lurches to get comfortable with piloting the snowmobile. Asher had told him one of the few positive memories he’d had of his father was snowmobiling. He’d heard Mara describing snowmobiling with their dad, as well. Strange how Mara’s father had cut himself off from Asher for years, embracing only his second family with Mara and her mother until God convinced him to make amends. His decision had kept the siblings apart, sealed off from each other when they could have been a source of support and love. Again, he wondered why his mind was spinning off into such deep philosophical places. The injury maybe, drawing energy away from his faculties where he really needed it.
The cold intensified along with the storm as the afternoon wore into evening. His wound ignited at each bump they encountered. The terrain had grown steeper, their progress sloughing off shelves of snow that disappeared behind them. The “couple of hours” stretched much longer as they had to circle around unstable areas and slopes that were too steep to tackle. When there was barely enough light to illuminate their path, he touched her shoulder, calling over the noise. “Too dark. Getting dangerous. We have to stop.”
“We’re almost there. I know it. Two more minutes.”
Two minutes spooled into five. “Mara, we have to find shelter.”
“Wait.”
The cold and his pain left his patience in tatters. He’d yank the key from the ignition if he had to. “No more. Time to stop.”
She eased the machine at the top of the ridge and over, halting so abruptly his ribs ached. Had she heard Vinny? Eli? He put a hand on his weapon and craned his neck.
“It’s camp.” She pointed.
He strained to see as she crested the high point and drove onto a heavily wooded plateau. It looked nothing like a camp in the dim light, until his eyes adjusted enough to pick out three platform tents protruding above the snow line, two with gaping holes in the canvas. The third appeared relatively intact. There were the ruins of a wooden structure nearby. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. Shelter. This oasis had no palm trees and balmy weather, but it would be a lifesaver nonetheless.
Without a word she drove straight for the most intact of the three tents and parked the snowmobile around the back. He helped cut down some pine branches which would at least screen it from view if someone didn’t look too carefully. Hopefully their tracks would be sufficiently blurred by the next wave of snowfall.
Mara flashed a weary smile. “How about we take the best room? Four-star accommodations, all the way.”
“It’s all going to be four stars if we can get out of this storm.” He stopped talking as Britta sniffed and circled the tent. Her body went stiff.
He unsnapped his revolver.
Mara shook her head, mouth slack. “Eli couldn’t be here. There’s no possible way.”
Not likely, certainly, but he wouldn’t put anything past the man. Eli had promised he would kill to prevent Mara testifying and he’d meant every last syllable. “We’ll check. One second.”
He eased up the wooden step, avoiding a rotted board.
Britta was excited, twitchy, not her usual on-duty behavior. “What’s inside, girl?” he whispered.
She flapped her ears. Not Eli. Britta would have signaled with a sit. Then who? What? Something rustled inside. He crouched low and unzipped the tent flap, turning on his light. Britta barked, tail wagging. Not a human...
He hadn’t finished the thought when his flashlight picked up a set of yellow eyes. Britta yowled and he was so relieved he forgot to give her a stay command. Taking advantage, she jetted inside, barking at the cornered raccoon who hissed with jaws open and sharp white teeth on display.
“Leave it,” he finally managed, after holstering his gun. Britta obediently scooted backward and sat, but her ears were still twitching at the masked rodent which was now scurrying through a hole in the warped floor.
With a sigh, he stuck his head out. “Britta has secured us a tent, but the evicted raccoon is disgruntled, to say the least.”
Grinning, she handed him his backpack and carried the other one inside with her. “I guess it’ll be putting up a bad review for this establishment. I’ve had a few encounters with raccoons lately. There’s a reason they wear masks. Very untrustworthy.” Once inside, she zipped the canvas flaps closed. “Not the Ritz, but better than nothing.”
“Much better.” The interior was excruciatingly cold, but the old canvas kept the wind and snow at bay. There were four wooden bed frames with no bedding or mattresses, a small freestanding cupboard and a set of crooked bookshelves covered with mold. He strode to the cupboard and picked it up, ignoring his complaining ribs.
She hurried to help him. “What are you doing? You’re going to reopen that wound.”
“Gotta put out the no vacancy sign for the rodents.” Together they dragged the cupboard to block up the hole where the raccoon had disappeared.
They were actively shivering, but there was nothing to be done about that. He settled onto one of the planked beds and she sat cross-legged on the other, rummaging in her pack. He produced a bowl of kibble and water for Britta, spilling some when his frozen fingers refused to cooperate.
Britta ate a few half-hearted bites before she quit.
He got out the two silver emergency blankets and handed one to Mara.
“Later,” she said. “I want to check your wound.”
This time he didn’t argue. She lifted his jacket and shirt and peered at the bandage. “Good. No saturation. I think we can leave it for now.”
He sighed, hauling himself to his feet, ignoring her protest. “Gonna check.” He went to the tent flap and stepped out on the landing, scanning through his night vision binoculars in all directions through the howling wind. When he returned, his cheeks burned and his eyes watered. He could not control the shuddering of his limbs. She handed him a tin cup.
His senses worked overtime to process. Warmth seeped through the metal into his numb fingertips. The scent of cinnamon and orange tea tickled his nostrils. He gaped at her. “Hot tea? How did you...?”
“If you can produce a snowmobile, I can rummage up some tea.” She laughed at his surprise and poured a cup for herself. “Told you this was a four-star accommodation. I bought a thermos in a secondhand shop along with this jacket. Fugitive life lesson. When I went on the run, I learned that some hotels and gas stations had complimentary coffee stations. Anytime I could find one I’d help myself to coffee and fill my thermos for later. After I boiled water this morning, I filled it and added a tea bag before Eli ambushed us at the trailer. I figured anything warm would be a bonus.”
He stared, letting the precious warmth seep into his body. “Mara, you are incredible.”
She pinked. “Just trying to keep up. If you think the tea is good, you’re really going to love this.”
Right before his eyes she withdrew a black pouch from her backpack and produced a tiny butane-powered camping burner. “I must be hallucinating.”
“No, you’re not. I found it in the trailer and I packed it.” She carried the contraption near one of the closed window flaps and set it up on the bookcase before she unzipped the flap to allow for ventilation. “Bummer to let the cold air in, but I don’t see how it could get much chillier in here.”
“For warm food, I’d say it’s worth it.”
“Can’t really cook too well, but we can heat up stuff, right?” While he sipped from his precious cup of tea, she set about popping the lid off a tomato soup can and setting it on the burner. On top of that, she carefully balanced a pile of pancakes.
Tea? Pancakes? A burner? What else could this woman come up with?
She pressed close to the glow of the burner and gestured him to join her. “I don’t know how much butane is left so we’d better get lots of bang for our buck.”
Agog, he joined her. They crowded shoulder to shoulder to soak in the meager warmth from the minuscule burner, savoring the smell of the tomato soup and pancakes.
She sighed. “I never really appreciated the comforts I had before, all the freedoms and the luxuries until they were taken away. Something as simple as clean, dry socks. I never paid a bit of mind to having them at my fingertips. Now I do.” Her eyes filled with tears.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.
Me too. Gratitude filled his every atom, for the spot of warmth, their momentary safety, Mara’s resourcefulness. He felt in that moment a rush of emotion he could not fully explain. A profound gratitude that he was standing with this woman, in a barren tent, surrounded by a raging storm, more appreciative than he’d ever been in his entire three plus decades.
With Mara? Not Allie? Guilt washed over him, but not strong enough to knock out the strange peace. They stood together, admiring the little blue flame until the soup was bubbling hot and the pancakes were warm to the touch. He finished his tea and she refilled the cup with soup.
She turned off the burner, rezipped the window flap and they carried their feast to the bed platforms. Not as limber as she, he couldn’t sit cross-legged, so he balanced the pancakes on one knee and held the tin cup in the other.
He gave Britta one of the pancakes. In a fit of canine delight, she licked it thoroughly before she devoured it in two bites. He poured a bit of the warmed soup in his palm for her. Britta didn’t care that it wasn’t standard dog supplies. She licked it up in a flash.
“That will warm up your tummy, Boo Bear.” He was pleased that she returned to her kibble and finished that too.
Mara chuckled. “So happy to see her gobble up her food. It reminds me of the bloodhound puppies. How are they?”
“They’ve had a tumultuous puppyhood.” He explained that the bloodhounds, gifted to the PNK9, had gone missing for months after being stolen from the facility where they were being trained.
Her eyes flew wide. “Unbelievable. And they were all recovered? How are they?”
“I can give you a good report. Asher and Peyton recovered them. They were being used by a drug runner to find his missing cocaine shipment. All three of those saggy, baggy bloodhounds have been brought back to the unit in good health. They’re being assessed, but hopefully they can be trained out of whatever problems they have and serve on the team.”
She sighed. “I forget time has passed. They aren’t roly-poly puppies anymore. They’re on their way to being two-year-olds by now. And the PNK9 candidates? Are Veronica, Parker, Owen and Brandie still competing for jobs? Was there any decision on that?”
“Turns out Owen was trying to sabotage the others, even pushed Brandie in the path of a van full of tourists. He was dismissed and might be facing charges.”
She goggled. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No, ma’am. I kid you not. There had been no decision when I left to find you on which of the three will get the two jobs.”
“I can hardly believe it. So much has changed. And I thought we were the ones going through the storm.” She cupped her palms around the warm soup and sighed. “That’s the name of the game, isn’t it? To find contentment in the midst of it all.”
He nodded. “Sounds so easy.”
“And yet it’s not.” She put her cup down. “Would you say grace?”
“I’d be honored.” He said a heartfelt thank-you to the Lord for the food, for their survival and for the contentment they’d found together in the midst of a storm. When he’d finished, he locked eyes with her.
Why is it that I feel content right now? And how will I feel when we return to civilization?