“We’re still looking for you and one other victim, over,” Grace answered.
“But I heard—” Sudden movement caught her eye. A body tumbled onto the trail below, landing maybe twenty feet from her tree. “I think we have a real victim, over.”
“He’s gotta be down there!” a man’s voice called from the distance.
Bree raised her lightweight binoculars and spotted two men heading down the trail.
One of them was carrying a gun.
Her heart raced as her mind clicked off possible reasons why a man would be carrying a handgun in the national park. Hunting was illegal here, and the last time someone was shot in the park it was a private investigator shot by a criminal involved in a theft ring.
Bree’s eyes darted from the two armed men to the unconscious one on the trail. She was torn between staying concealed and safe or helping him. Maybe if someone would have helped her when she was with her ex-boyfriend Thomas....
“Don’t be foolish,” she whispered. How could she possibly defend herself and an injured man against two men with guns?
“Grace, I’ve got a situation here,” she said into the radio. “We may need the police. There are two assailants, one is carrying a handgun, and a third man who is wounded, over.”
“Location?”
Bree gave her the coordinates. “I’m turning down the radio so they don’t hear you.”
“Stay hidden,” Grace ordered.
“Copy that.”
Bree took a slow, deep breath to calm her frantic heartbeat. She hadn’t felt this kind of adrenaline rush, this kind of fear since...
“Thomas,” she hushed.
No, she’d left that behind when she’d fled Seattle, returned to Echo Mountain and rebooted her life. She thought she’d erased the fear and trepidation from her mind. From her soul.
The wounded man groaned and managed to stand up.
And that’s when she saw the blood seeping between his fingers as he gripped his upper arm.
She glanced to her right. The gunmen were heading straight for him. She snapped her attention to the wounded man. He stumbled a few feet....
In the direction of the gunmen!
Her gaze snapped back and forth from the gunmen to the wounded man back to the gunmen. With a groan, the man fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground. Unconscious, exposed and so utterly vulnerable.
“No.” She flung her leg over the branch and climbed down from the tree, unable to sit here and watch a man be brutalized. She had to help him.
She must be out of her mind.
Hitting the ground, she called in. “Grace, the gunmen are headed my way. I need to help the wounded man, over.”
“Bree, don’t—”
“I can’t watch them kill the guy, over.”
She turned down the volume on the radio and rushed to the man’s side. He was in his thirties with brown hair and a slight beard, and wasn’t carrying a backpack. His shirt was ripped in spots and she noticed a nasty gash above his right eye.
She felt for a pulse. Strong and steady.
Now what? The man was solidly built and probably weighed close to two hundred pounds. His pursuers were five, maybe six minutes away.
“Sir, we have to move. Sir?” She gave him a gentle shake.
He opened his eyes. They were a dulled shade of blue that she suspected were more vivid on a normal day.
“I... Emily?” He blinked a confused expression at her.
“Come on, you’re not safe here.”
She encouraged him to get up and put his arm around her shoulder. Although worried about his blood loss, she couldn’t take the time to dress the wound until they were safely out of sight. Bree led him to the edge of the trail where she’d seen a plateau maybe five feet below. She’d noticed it from her spot in the tree, and made a mental note that it would serve as good cover if someone got caught out here in a storm.
She didn’t imagine using it to save a man’s life.
“We’re going to climb down there.” She pointed. “Think you can do it?”
He glanced down below, but didn’t answer. He seemed out of it. She touched his cheek and his gaze drifted to her eyes.
“Watch me.” She shifted onto her belly and grabbed a tree root. “Hold on to this and edge your way down. It’s not far.”
She dropped onto the plateau and motioned to him. “Your turn.”
At first he didn’t move. Instead, his gaze drifted across the lush forest in the distance.
“Hey, Blue Eyes.” She clapped her hands.
He looked at her.
“Come on, buddy. Please?”
He sat down and for a second she thought he’d given up. Instead, he shifted onto his stomach.
“That’s it, now grab the tree root—”
He dropped down and wavered. She grabbed his jacket, yanking him away from the ledge.
“Good job,” she said, releasing him and taking off her pack.
He leaned against the mountainside and sat down, his eyes half closed, his breathing quick and shallow. She wondered if he were going into shock.
“What’s your name?” she whispered, joining him.
“My...name,” he said, his eyes drifting shut.
Voices echoed across the canyon. She plastered herself as close to the mountain wall as possible to stay out of sight. The stranger leaned against Bree’s shoulder. Concerned that the men above might be able to see his legs sticking out, she encouraged Blue Eyes to sit parallel to the mountain wall, hidden from view. She sat cross-legged, and eased him back to cradle his head in her lap.
She stroked his hairline, assessing his head wound, trying to block out the fear and panic of being discovered.
It was at that moment she realized neither her friends nor police would make it here in time to save them. A familiar knot of helplessness coiled in her stomach.
She was the only one she could depend on, the only one this wounded man could depend on.
No, that wasn’t totally true.
Our Father, which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name, she thought, reciting the Lord’s Prayer in her head
