She took off into the forest. Had to get deep into the thick of it. She could make her way around to the cabin somehow. She had to warn her friends. There was no cell service out here, and her SAT phone was at the cabin. At least Laura always carried a weapon. She might have to use it. Cobie had been told there weren’t bears on the island, so she hadn’t worried about that kind of protection, but she hadn’t considered there might be the two-legged kind of predator to worry about.
There shouldn’t even be anyone else on this small island. Not until later in the day when other cavers were coming to map the cave for the forest service. That much she’d found out, at least, and she’d wanted to beat them to it. See the place the way her father had seen it. Now she was regretting that she’d ever come. And, worse, that she’d invited friends, possibly putting them in danger.
Why had he tried to kill her?
Cobie pressed through the thick forest, breathing hard, running as fast as she could. Hoping the man would forget about her. Consider her too much trouble to follow. Too much trouble to kill. Maybe he’d realize she wasn’t the person he was after.
Behind her, leaves rustled. Limbs and sticks crashed. Like Bigfoot himself was tracking her.
Panic engulfed her. Coursed through her veins and left her timid and shaking. Afraid she wasn’t going to survive this.
So many regrets.
Too many. Oh, God, please give me another chance to set everything right. Please give me a chance to let go. I know I have to forgive. So much bad had happened; she’d lost count of everything that she’d let sprout into bitterness and resentment.
Cobie pushed through the forest and stopped, leaning and flailing over the cliff’s edge, a good forty feet above the waterline. She caught herself and stepped back. The sea cliff could be where the other entrance to the cave was, somewhere at the bottom.
Covering her mouth, she let out a sob and turned to face the forest behind her. A dark cloud had moved over the sun, turning the sky somber. Muting the lush green of the forest. Even the water of the strait, connecting with the ocean to the southwest, had turned black. Violent.
She was trapped.
She could hear him coming for her.
See the leaves moving.
He was getting closer.
Cobie turned to face the water surrounding the island. A boat. She saw a trawler. She waved and yelled and screamed, trying to draw the boat’s attention. What did it matter if the man heard her calling for help? He was coming for her either way.
But the boat was too far away for anyone on board to hear her cries for help. Too far away to assist even if they did. Her knees buckled. She wanted to drop to the ground and beg for her life. But the killer wasn’t interested in her words. Of that she was sure. If she stayed here, the man would kill her for reasons unknown. He didn’t seem interested in giving or taking information from her.
Oh, God, I’m not ready to die. So much left to do yet. To figure out.
She couldn’t stay where she was. But she could jump. And if she jumped, she just might miss the rocks. Then again, she could meet with a rocky death, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of killing her.
Still, a plunge into the water below gave her a better chance of a survival.
Cobie sent up one last prayer. She took a running, flying leap off the sea cliff.
* * *
Adam Warren’s stomach churned as he leaned over the railing at the side of the trawler, struggling to get his sea legs. The waters of the strait to the southwest of Kessler Island had turned dark and rough as they flowed out of Chambers Passage, just one of the many waterways of the Inside Passage weaving through Alaska’s panhandle.
He rubbed his eyes. Squinted. Was motion sickness making him hallucinate? What had he just seen? “Guys?”
“I saw her, too.” Gary headed up the winding staircase to the bridge. Turned his parents’ trawler to starboard.
Though far away, they’d been close enough to see what looked like long brown hair whipping around, jacket flying up to reveal a trim figure as she jumped into the crashing waves.
Everyone rushed to the bridge with Gary, the highest point on the boat. “What do you think? Suicide?”
Nate and Jared, two of Adam’s caving buddies, scanned the depths with Adam as the trawler sliced through the rough waves.
“No.” A sense of urgency wrapped around Adam. Please, God, let her be okay.
He quickly shrugged out of his rain jacket, preparing to dive in after her, if needed. But where was she? He grabbed the life buoy and prepared to toss it out. But depending on how she hit the water, at that height, she could have a compressed spine, or any number of other injuries. She’d drown if they didn’t find her, if she wasn’t already sinking from cold water shock response.
Then Nate sucked in a breath. “I see her! There she is!” He pointed at the water, miles and miles of water.
Gary steered the boat toward where Nate pointed.
Adam searched the waters, too. A head bobbed. She waved. But then she went under again. “Get this thing closer, will you?”
He couldn’t swim faster than the trawler, so he’d have to bide his time. But if they didn’t make it soon, she was going under for good. Gary was experienced enough at handling the boat. Adam trusted him to do his best, but it was still taking too long. Adam and his siblings volunteered on the North Face Mountain Search and Rescue Team—it gnawed at him to stand back and wait when someone needed help.
They neared the last place they saw the jumper, and Adam bounded down the steps to the lower deck and tossed the lifesaving buoy into the water. But the woman didn’t surface again. Without hesitation he dived into the cold depths of the strait, then swam toward the ring he’d tossed.
He guessed the water temperature to be in the low fifties, maybe high forties. Brutal enough to send a person into cold incapacitation—the loss of control of hands and the muscles in the arms and legs. Before long, they would quit working altogether.
The water’s usual dark blue was almost an inky black, but as he dived beneath the surface it was crystal clear, so that he could see.
There.
He saw her well enough. She still had some fight in her, but her eyes were wide with terror as she fought a losing battle to the surface. Her limbs had become too cold and numb to make a difference. Soon Adam would also succumb. But she’d been in the water much longer than he had. He could do this. He could save her.
Had to save her. He couldn’t fail again. Couldn’t let someone drown again, though his best friend’s death would always be on his head.
His lungs burned as he thrust toward her, seized her arm and, with all his strength, swam them to the surface. He grabbed the life buoy and pulled her out of the bitingly cold water. Nate and Jared tugged them toward the boat, and Adam held on to the woman. Water poured from her mouth as she coughed and choked.
Fueled
