Читать книгу Witness Pursuit - Hope White - Страница 10

TWO

Nate had experienced his share of falls, and that experience taught him how to survive even in impossible situations. As he tumbled off the trail gripping the rope he’d secured to the trunk, his back smacked against the mountain wall. He clenched his jaw against the pain. He glanced up, but didn’t see his attacker peering over the edge.

“McBride!” he called out to his junior officer, as Nate clung precariously to the rope.

Silenced echoed back at him. He planted his boots against the mountain wall and lowered himself. A few seconds later, a splash of bright blue caught his eye below, in contrast to the rich green surroundings.

Cassie. It had to be. She usually wore bright colors, much like her bright personality.

Totally inappropriate time to be thinking about her fashion choices, Nate.

“Cassie?” he said, getting closer.

Nothing. He released the rope and dropped to the ledge. He was desperate to check on Cassie, but needed to alert his men.

“This is Chief Walsh,” he said into the radio. “The perpetrator is still on the premises, over.”

“Are you okay, over?” Red said.

“Affirmative. McBride, check in, over.”

Silence.

“Red, we need backup. Call County, over.”

“Ten-four.”

Although Ryan McBride was an exceptional police officer, Nate worried that the perp had surprised and attacked Ryan before coming after Nate.

The dog growled, protective of the woman he guarded.

Nate knelt beside Cassie. “Good dog. Now let me have a look.”

She lay on her side, unconscious. “Cassie?”

He hesitated before checking her pulse. Don’t be stupid. She’s a young, healthy woman. A fall like this wouldn’t kill her.

Pressing his fingers against her neck, he caught himself wanting to ask God for a favor, not for Nate, of course, because he knew better, but for Cassie.

Her pulse tapped steadily against his fingertips. He took a deep breath. With a trembling finger, he trailed golden-blond strands of hair off her cheek. Redness discolored her head above her right eye, but he didn’t see any lacerations. He wished she’d open her eyes.

“Chief, what’s your twenty, over?” Red asked.

“About a quarter mile south of the cabin off the trail on the right. We’ll need SAR to lift Cassie McBride off a ledge, over.”

“Aiden McBride is already here, over.”

“Of course he is,” Nate muttered to himself. “What about Officer McBride?” he said into the radio.

“He hasn’t checked in, over.”

“Be on the lookout, over.”

“Ten-four.”

Nate glanced across the mountain range. The sun had already started its descent. He wanted to get Cassie off this ledge so they wouldn’t have to do this in the dark.

“Am I in trouble?”

He snapped his attention to her. “You’re conscious.”

“Disappointed, huh?” she teased.

Nate ripped his gaze from her adorable face. “This isn’t funny.”

“No, it most certainly is not. I was just doing my job and found a body. Is she dead? Please tell me she’s not dead. At first I thought maybe she just collapsed and hit her head. I’ve passed out before from not remembering to eat.”

Her nonstop chatter convinced Nate she was okay. “Cassie, take a breath.”

Cassie and Nate couldn’t be more different. While many thought of Nate as a reserved enigma, Cassie was bubbly and upbeat. Her brother, Nate’s friend Aiden, said she’d drive any man crazy with her constant questions and observations about life, especially a man like Nate.

Drive him crazy? Sometimes, yet other times he enjoyed the pleasant sound of her voice.

“You’re angry with me,” she said.

“I’m not angry.”

“You seem angry. Why, because I’m down here? I was only trying to get away.” She hesitated. “That man, there was a man.”

“It’s okay, he’s not here now. You’re safe.”

“He was carrying a shovel and broke into the house and—”

“Cassie.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay. I’m here and your brother’s on his way with rescue gear.”

She sighed. “Great, Aiden and his lectures. Look, I’m fine.” She sat up and winced, gripping her head. “This must be what a hangover feels like.”

Of course, she wouldn’t know firsthand because she never drank, unlike Nate, who at one point found himself using alcohol to ease the sting of grief and the bitter taste of shame.

That was another reason he didn’t like spending too much time around Cassie—he worried he’d somehow sully her goodness.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

He snapped his attention to her, trying to read her expression. Was she teasing? Because he knew he often came off like a jerk, abrupt and cold.

She watched him, as if waiting for him to respond to her comment.

He had no response, fearing if he opened his mouth he’d give her a lecture about being out so late alone.

“Are you okay?” she said.

Something snapped.

“Am I okay?”

The dog jumped into her lap, and she stroked its fur. “Yeah, you look more worried than usual, and your shirt’s torn and you’re clenching your fist like you want to hit a punching bag at Bracken’s Gym. So it’s logical to ask if you’re okay, not that you consider my questions logical but—”

“No, Cassie, I’m not okay,” he interrupted. “What were you thinking coming out here so late?”

“It’s only eight o’clock.”

“But by yourself without protection?”

“What, like a bodyguard?” She smiled.

Which only frustrated him more.

“It’s Echo Mountain,” she said. “Besides, I have pepper spray in my bag, not that I could get to it because it was on the counter and I was hiding in the front hallway.”

“Pepper spray?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“You think pepper spray is going to protect you from guys like this?”

“Guys like what? I don’t even know who he was.”

“Well, he knows you.” He immediately regretted his words when her face went white.

“How is that possible?” she said.

“Didn’t you hear him calling your name from above?”

She shook her head. “How did you hear him?”

“You left your phone on. Dispatch put it through. Speaking of which, give me your phone.” He stuck out his hand.

The dog dived between Nate and Cassie, frantically barking.

“It’s okay, Dasher,” Cassie said. “He’s not really angry. That’s just Chief Walsh.” She restrained the dog with one hand and gave Nate her phone with the other.

“Dispatch, this is Chief Walsh. I’m with Cassie McBride. Rescue is on the way. I’m closing the line, over.” He handed it back to her.

“If you give me a boost I can climb back up and save search-and-rescue from having to come get me.”

“I’d rather you relax until they arrive.”

“This is silly.” She struggled to stand.

Since she wasn’t going to listen to him, Nate reached out to steady her. That’s when he noticed the blood smearing her sleeve.

“Cassie, did you touch the body in the cabin?”

“Only to feel for a pulse, why?”

“You’ve got blood on your jacket.” He motioned to her sleeve.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t see that before. You’d think I would have noticed, especially since it’s so...bright.” Her legs buckled.

Nate caught her as she went down, the dog wedged between them. He lowered her to the ground and examined the wound. It wasn’t bad, yet it had caused her to pass out. Concerned, he ran his hands over her clothes searching for other wounds, but found none.

Then he remembered her reaction when her brother had suffered a knife wound last year.

“Can’t handle the sight of blood,” he said under his breath.

It was okay; she was okay. He examined her wound closer. The four-inch gash didn’t look deep. She probably snagged her arm on a sharp branch on her descent.

He pulled gauze from the earlier rescue out of his jacket and wrapped her wound as the dog hovered close by. They hadn’t even discussed how she’d ended up with the dog. He knew she didn’t own a dog, because it would interfere with her travel plans. Which meant she’d rescued a dog while being stalked by a killer and rappelled down the side of a mountain with the pup in her arms. This woman was...

“Nate, the team’s here,” Aiden called from above.

“Great!” Nate called back.

* * *

Cassie awoke in an ambulance, confused and worried.

“Where’s Dasher?” she asked her cousin Madeline, the EMT.

“Who?”

“My dog.”

“You don’t have a dog.”

“I had him on the ledge with me. What happened to him? You didn’t just let him go, did you? He could get eaten by wild animals or—”

“I didn’t do anything but tend to the laceration on your arm and check your vitals. You were passed out cold. Didn’t even wake up when they strapped you to a litter and lifted you up the mountain.”

“I need to find Dasher.”

“Cassie—”

“Please Madeline, I need to find him!”

“Calm down. I’ll have Rocky call and check on the dog, okay?”

Cassie nodded, unsure why she was freaking out about a little dog that wasn’t even hers. But there was something about him—his protectiveness and vulnerability—that made her feel connected to the terrier mix.

Then there was the way Chief Walsh interacted with Dasher, how Nate’s tone softened when he praised the dog for protecting Cassie.

Good dog. Now let me have a look.

She’d heard him speak, although she thought she was dreaming at the time. Then she cracked open her eyes and saw Chief Walsh’s intense expression studying her. With a gentle touch, he brushed hair off her face. Who would have guessed such a hardened man could be so caring?

She blinked away a tear. She was being ridiculous, yet the truth was she’d felt safe when he touched her. All the trepidation that flooded her system had dissolved in the very instant she felt the warmth of his fingertips against her cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Madeline asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re crying.”

“Allergies.”

“Cassie,” Madeline said in that motherly tone, the tone everyone in Cassie’s family used when speaking to her.

That’s why she needed to get out of town, to explore other places in the world where people didn’t know her as Baby McBride with the strange autoimmune disease.

“Cassie?” Madeline pressed.

“I’m fine,” she said, closing her eyes.

“You’re not fine. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Finding a dead body—”

Cassie’s eyes popped open. “So she was dead?”

“You didn’t know?”

Cassie shook her head.

“I’m sorry.” Madeline patted Cassie’s shoulder.

It was just the beginning, Cassie thought, the beginning of her family and friends smothering her until she could no longer breathe.

God, please help me cope.

She suspected all the prayer in the world wouldn’t change the way people looked at her: like a fragile doll, a sick little girl who could barely manage on her own. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore, and she’d outgrown her illness, although the technical term was remission.

That fact wouldn’t change the way people treated her. She decided to take the offensive.

“Have you assessed my injuries?” she asked her cousin.

“Your arm will need a few stiches, and the ER doc will probably order a CT scan of your head.”

“I didn’t hit my head.”

“You might not remember hitting your head, but you’re exhibiting symptoms of head trauma.”

“Like what?”

“Obsessing over a random dog.”

“An orphaned dog.”

“And you’re anxious.”

“Rocky’s driving too fast.”

Madeline shook her head and bit back a smile. “Rocky, this is base, over,” a voice said over the radio.

“Go ahead.”

“Chief Walsh has the dog, over.”

“You hear that, Cassie?” Rocky said over his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay?” Madeline said.

Cassie nodded and closed her eyes, wanting to avoid arguing with her cousin. She’d save her energy because she knew there’d be more discussion, more arguments about her choices today as she defended herself to her mother, older brother, sister and whoever else jumped on the “help Cassie” bandwagon.

She thought about her bank account, now up to two thousand dollars and change. It wasn’t enough to support herself for six months to a year overseas, even if she stayed in hostels. After tonight’s fiasco, she might lose the awesome-paying property manager job. At the very least, her family would forbid her from going anywhere by herself for a while.

They reached the hospital, and Rocky and Madeline wheeled Cassie inside. Once transferred to an ER bed, Madeline slid the curtain closed.

“The doctor will be here shortly. I think Dr. Rush is on duty. You’ll like her,” Madeline said.

“I need to speak with Chief Walsh.”

“Oh yeah?” Maddie said with a raised eyebrow.

“Stop fooling around. It’s important.”

“I think he’s at the cabin managing the investigation into the woman’s death.”

“Oh, right.” Cassie wanted to call and give him a description of Shovel Man. She reached into her pocket. “Where’s my phone? Can you check the ambulance?”

“Sure, if you promise to stay here and wait for the doctor.”

“As opposed to going dancing?”

“See? Sarcastic. That’s not like you, which is why I suspect a head injury. So relax. I’ll be right back.”

Cassie laid her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. She knew she didn’t have a serious head injury, and was upset that her cousin wasn’t listening to her. Cassie needed to call Chief Walsh and describe the man who’d stalked her. She could still picture those heavy eyebrows and thin lips. He reminded her of Mr. Gruner, a curmudgeon who used to yell at Cassie and her friends whenever they’d pass by his boat at the Emerald Lake Pier. They were terrified of him, until the day he saved Izzy Bingham. No one knew Izzy couldn’t swim. After the save, the kids had changed their opinions of Mr. Gruner. He was just lonely, not mean.

She had a feeling Shovel Man didn’t fall into that same category.

A shiver snaked down her arms. She slipped into her jacket to get warm. The more agitated she appeared, the more her family would close ranks and suffocate her. She had to show them she was strong, healthy and capable, that she wasn’t that sick little girl anymore.

The curtain slid open.

“Did you find it?” she said, assuming it was Madeline.

“I’m here to take you for a CT scan,” a male voice said.

“Oh, okay.”

She opened her eyes, but he stood behind her as he pushed her bed out of the examining area.

“I was hoping you were my cousin with my phone,” she said.

“Nope, sorry.”

“How long does a CT scan take?”

“Not long.”

She knew they wouldn’t find anything, but she couldn’t fault the doctor for being cautious. They entered the elevator, and he pressed the button for the bottom floor.

“How did you get injured?” he said.

She glanced at the orderly, who wore a surgical mask. A surgical mask?

“I’ve got a cold,” he said in explanation.

Yet even behind the mask she recognized the thick eyebrows of the man who’d been carrying the shovel.

The elevator doors closed.