Mountain Hostage Read online

  “Wait, I think she’s moving,” Leslie said.

  He snapped his gaze to the plateau. The victim started to get up.

  Jack whipped out his binoculars. Peered below. He had to try to get a read on her expression even though that wasn’t his particular strength.

  A bruise formed across her right cheek and blood seeped from her lip. Her eyes rounded with fear as if she suddenly realized she was in a vulnerable, dangerous spot.

  “Don’t move!” he called. “I’m with Mt. Stevens Search and Rescue!”

  She acted as if she didn’t hear him, as if she were disoriented beyond rational thought, which meant she could accidentally fall even farther...

  To her death.

  “Medics are on the way!” he tried.

  Ignoring him, she dropped to her knees and glanced over the edge of the plateau. What on earth was she doing? It seemed like she was trying to figure out how to climb down. A decision that was both unrealistic and potentially deadly.

  Then again, she could be dazed from a concussion and not know what she was doing.

  “I’m going down,” Jack said.

  “Wait, shouldn’t you—”

  “He’s right,” Leslie interrupted Bea’s protest. “Who knows what she’ll do? Besides, Jack’s done this before.”

  He had done it before, although not with favorable results.

  Pulling rope off his pack, he anchored it to a nearby tree root jutting out from the mountain. Romeo shot him a look, like, Don’t go without me.

  “Stay,” Jack said, in case the dog got any crazy ideas. He shouldered his pack, gripped the rope with gloved hands and let himself drift so he’d land gently on the plateau, about a hundred feet down.

  He wouldn’t be too late this time, wouldn’t let any harm come to the woman in the blue ski jacket.

  A few moments later he landed on the small ledge. Her back was to him and she acted as if she hadn’t heard his landing. “Miss?”

  Startled, she turned quickly, her eyes wide with fear. “Don’t touch me!” She stepped back, precariously close to the edge.

  He instinctively reached out to grab her arm.

  “No, don’t—” She stumbled backward over the edge of the cliff.

  TWO

  Jack dove and caught the woman’s arm. It wasn’t too hard, considering she waved both of them like a helicopter trying to take off, or in her case, a woman trying to stop the momentum that would catapult her down a mountainside.

  He landed on his chest, and air rushed from his lungs, but he didn’t let go. He grabbed her arm with his other hand, as well. Considering his size versus the petite victim’s, he calculated a more than 50 percent chance of hoisting her safely up.

  “Don’t! Don’t hurt me!” she cried, thrashing about.

  If she kept squirming, his chances dropped way below 50 percent. “Stop moving or I won’t be able to pull you up.”

  “Why, so you can kill me?”

  Kill her? At this point he had to assume she’d hit her head and was suffering from delirium. At the very least she was irrational, which meant she was unpredictable and potentially dangerous. Especially if she kept shifting and broke free of Jack’s grip, or even pulled him over the edge with her.

  Jack scanned his brain for information on overly excited people and how to manage them. Something he’d read in a psychology book surfaced: An irrational person’s meaning of a situation is different than ours.

  For some reason the woman in the blue jacket thought Jack wanted to harm her. She was stuck in that reality and he needed to yank her out of it. He decided to go completely random.

  “My dog needs me!” he shouted.

  She stopped squirming and looked up. Her wide brown eyes sparkled with unshed tears of fear. “What?” she said.

  “My dog needs me.”

  “Your dog?”

  “If you fall, chances are I’ll go with you, because I won’t let go of your arm. Then I’ll die, or at the very least I’ll be injured, and Romeo will be all alone.”

  “Romeo?” she repeated.

  Make a personal connection and/or connect the irrational person back to reality.

  “Romeo Albert Garrett Monroe,” Jack said.

  She frowned, as if trying to figure out what he was talking about.

  “I know,” he said. “I’ve been told that’s a lot of names for a dog. I’m Jack Monroe. Just two names.”

  She blinked and was no longer squirming.

  “I’m going to pull you up now.”

  He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t want to take the chance she’d drift back into hysteria. In one swift motion he yanked her up and her lithe body slid across his and landed on the other side of him.

  Flat on his back, an uncomfortable position considering his backpack, he took a deep, relieved breath. Snow started falling again, a little more insistent than today’s earlier dusting of flurries.

  The woman sat up and scooted away from him. “Who are you?”

  He’d just told her his name. Had she forgotten already?

  “I’m Jack Monroe,” he said. “I’m a volunteer with Mt. Stevens Search and Rescue, K9 unit.”

  Romeo barked from above, frustrated that he wasn’t a part of the action.

  She glanced up.

  “That’s Romeo,” he said. “You know my name and his name. What’s yours?”

  “Zoe. Zoe Pratt.”

  “Is she okay?” Leslie called down.

  “Yes!” Jack responded, although he suspected she wasn’t totally okay. He wasn’t sure how serious her injuries were.

  “Did you find Shannon?” Zoe asked.

  “Who is Shannon?”

  “My friend.”

  “Did she fall, too?”

  “No, she was...” Zoe hesitated and hugged herself “...taken.”

  “Taken, you mean...?”

  “A big guy attacked us and grabbed her and...” Her voice hitched.

  Jack was supposed to do something here, something that would make her feel better. But what?

  “They’re sending a team to treat your injuries and bring you safely down the mountain,” he offered.

  She pinned him with intense brown eyes. “No, I’m not leaving without Shannon.”

  He searched his mind for a logical response. There was none, since staying out here, injured and cold, wasn’t sensible. He didn’t want to upset her, so he tried something he’d heard before. “I understand.”

  Although he didn’t. This woman might be helpful in the search for her friend, but delaying treatment of her injuries could make her condition worse. At least, her physical condition. He had no idea how to assess her mental condition.

  “Because of Romeo?” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You understand because you love your dog, Romeo?”

  “Sure.”

  He’d initially said he understood her desire not to leave the mountain because that was the appropriate response. Now that she connected her situation to his dog, it actually made some sense.

  He didn’t like the fact that this irrational and highly emotional woman was making sense to him.

  He took off his gloves and pack, and dug for the first aid kit. “You have a cut on your cheek.” He tore open an antiseptic wipe and reached out to treat her wound.

  “Don’t.” She jerked away and started shivering. Not from the cold.

  Although he wasn’t an expert at reading emotion, he knew fear when he saw it. His gut clenched. “I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  She glanced at him with those expressive eyes, hugging her knees to her chest. Her body still trembled.

  Although he’d talked her out of her hysterical response to falling, she might still be processing that trauma, or the trauma of seeing her friend kidnapped, or t
he trauma of... Oh. Something clicked in his brain.

  “The man who took your friend,” he started, “did he hurt you, too?”

  She pinched her eyes shut and nodded.

  “Did he push you off the trail?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “Zoe?”

  She opened her eyes.

  “He’s not here now. He can’t hurt you.”

  “He’s got Shannon. Please call someone, the police, and tell them what happened.”

  Jack wouldn’t be able to tend to her injuries unless he did as she requested. He clicked on the radio. “Command, this is Jack Monroe.”

  “Go ahead, Jack.”

  “The victim says her friend was taken by a stranger, the same man responsible for the victim’s fall, over.”

  “Taken, as in kidnapped?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I’ll notify the sheriff’s office. Which way are they headed?”

  Jack glanced at Zoe.

  “Up toward Prairie’s Peak,” she said.

  He shared the information with base.

  “Sheriff’s office might radio back for details,” Command responded. “This changes things. Be careful.”

  “Roger, out.” Jack hooked the radio to his belt. Unfortunately, making the call didn’t seem to ease Zoe’s anxiety. “They’ll do their best to find her,” he said, but stopped before giving her the statistics on such a rescue. Given the criminal element of the situation, combined with weather reports calling for heavy snowfall... They wouldn’t be encouraging.

  She reached up and fumbled for where her scarf would be.

  “We found your red scarf on the trail. Leslie has it above,” Jack said. “You can use mine.”

  “My necklace, where is my necklace?” She unzipped her blue jacket and searched her neck with trembling fingers. “It’s a silver dove. It represents the Holy Spirit. I need to hold it, to pray and...and... Shannon’s mom gave it to me when I was thirteen.” She shifted around, as if it had fallen off and was lying beside her.

  She was growing more agitated. He had to calm her down. “‘Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go,’” Jack said.

  Zoe’s fingers froze, and she slowly lowered them. “‘...The Lord your God is with you wherever you go,’” she repeated. “You know the Bible?”

  “I read everything in my aunt Margaret’s house growing up, including the Bible.”

  She sniffed, a tear trailing down her cheek. Jack needed to do more.

  “I will find your necklace,” he said, unsure how he was going to make good on that promise. Yet his words seemed to calm her. “I’d like to treat the cut on your head so it doesn’t become infected. It might take medics a few hours to get here.”

  She nodded, hugging her knees tighter to her chest.

  He tentatively reached out with one hand and brushed dark hair off her cheek. She closed her eyes as if he was hurting her, although he knew he wasn’t. Maybe she didn’t like to be touched, especially after everything that had happened today.

  Lightly pressing the wipe against her skin, he said, “Did you have a hat?”

  “Yes.”

  She must have lost it when she fell.

  Her wound wasn’t deep, which was good. It would be a shame if she ended up with a scar on her perfect skin, a reminder of the trauma she’d endured today. Yet she’d survived the fall and apparent kidnapping in fairly decent condition. At least from what he could see.

  He took off his own knit hat and placed it on her head to keep her warm. “How about other injuries? Legs, arms, does anything else hurt?”

  “My heart.”

  That concerned him. Was she having breathing issues relating to a collapsed lung? “A pinching feeling or dull ache or...?”

  “All of the above.” She pinned him with those soulful brown eyes. “I may never see Shannon again.”

  He exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay. I thought you’d sustained a serious injury like a punctured lung or cracked ribs.”

  “What I’m feeling is very serious.”

  As he studied her expression, an image flashed across his mind.

  His parents driving away from Aunt Margaret’s house, Jack standing on the porch holding his Lego lunch pail, a peanut butter and honey sandwich with chips tucked inside.

  He didn’t want to drift back there, didn’t want to remember how he’d felt when his parents had abandoned him. He’d spent the last twenty-plus years shoving that persistent ache down where it couldn’t hurt him anymore.

  Yet here it was.

  “I apologize,” he said. “What you’re feeling is serious, but it’s not what I was referring to.”

  She broke eye contact and glanced up at the sky. “Will they keep searching for Shannon at night?”

  “The sheriff’s office will make that decision based on weather conditions.”

  She frowned as a few flurries landed on her dark eyelashes. “You mean snow?”

  “Snow and wind and available law enforcement personnel to accompany the teams.”

  “Won’t they have a better chance of finding her tonight than if they wait until tomorrow?”

  “The decision to proceed with a rescue is determined by both recovery of the subject, and safety of the team. If team members are hurt, that adds to the burden of the rescue. Not to mention this rescue is more complicated because of the kidnapping element.”

  At the mention of the kidnapping, she hugged her knees even tighter.

  Wanting to pull her out of her fearful state, he decided to make an attempt at small talk. “Are you from the area?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. City girl.”

  “Which city?”

  “Portland.”

  “And your friend, Shannon?”

  “She lives in Mt. Stevens and works at the resort.”

  “Is she an experienced hiker?”

  “Yes. She’s the activities director at the resort and part of her job involves taking guests on hiking adventures.”

  “And she chose to take an inexperienced hiker like yourself out on a winter hike?”

  She shot him a look. He must have overstepped.

  “You probably want to save details of today’s incident for the authorities,” he said.

  “I, well... It sounded like you were being critical.”

  There was truth to her assessment. Jack had little tolerance for people who didn’t use their good sense, and he was ill equipped to mask his judgment. Another reason why he’d struggled to make and keep friends: his brutal honesty. It comes with your brilliance, Jackie boy, his aunt used to say.

  Some days, being smart was overrated. As he sat with Zoe Pratt, waiting for help to arrive, he wished he had less smarts and more compassion or understanding or some other characteristic that would ease that tense frown off her face.

  Instead, he only had facts.

  “Since your friend is an experienced hiker, she will have an advantage over her kidnapper. Unless she’s injured,” he offered.

  Zoe’s eyes widened. Perhaps he should have left out the part about her friend being injured.

  “Did she have a personal locator beacon?” he asked, trying to recover from his mistake.

  “Yes.”

  “Then her priority will be to activate it.” Now he was making stuff up. “Experienced hikers know how to make a fire and stay warm throughout the night.”

  “Unless she’s unable to get away from that jerk.” She paused. “Or she’s hurt.”

  Once again, Jack had done more harm than good. He thought it best to keep his thoughts to himself during the remainder of his mission. One thing he knew for sure, the sooner he distanced himself from Zoe Pratt, the better
off they’d both be.

  * * *

  Now she knew how her teenage clients felt when they claimed no one was listening to them.

  Zoe told rescue workers she wanted to stay in the mountains until her friend was found.

  Search and Rescue had denied her request. Their job was to rescue Zoe and bring her to the hospital. If she denied their assistance, she’d be putting the SAR volunteers at risk.

  After being checked out by medics at the scene, she’d been assisted down the mountain. God, please take care of Shannon.

  As she waited in the ER to be officially released, a police officer in his forties joined her in the examining area.

  “I’m Sergeant Peterson with the sheriff’s office,” he introduced. “Are you up to answering some questions?”

  “Sure.” She shifted into a better position and winced.

  “How do you know Shannon Banks?”

  “She’s my best friend from childhood.”

  “And you two were up in the mountains because...?”

  “A winter hike, to clear our minds.”

  “Was she upset or concerned about anything in particular?”

  “I think she and her boyfriend were having trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “She didn’t go into detail.”

  “Where were you headed?”

  “Prairie’s Peak Overlook.”

  “Could you identify the kidnapper if you saw him again?”

  “Absolutely.”

  His nodded and checked his phone. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

  Zoe leaned back, still trying to wrap her head around it all. This was not how she’d planned to spend her time in Mt. Stevens: Shannon kidnapped by a stranger; Zoe bruised, terrified, and rescued by an enigmatic man named Jack.

  He was an odd sort of fellow, asking random questions, then going completely silent as they waited on the plateau for help. Yet when she’d inquire about his work as a search-and-rescue volunteer—how a dog is trained, how many hours of training it takes for a person to be qualified as a handler—to distract herself from her worry, Jack Monroe was Mr. Chatterbox. It seemed like he was more comfortable talking about facts, figures and percentages of lost hikers rescued in the Cascade Mountains than dealing with Zoe’s panic about Shannon.