RaeAnne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer\Woodrose Mountain\Sweet Laurel Falls (7 page)

He didn't recognize the voice and couldn't make out the man's features from this angle. “I've done that already,” he shouted back. “Keep an eye out and direct the ambulance.”

Until he had a chance to assess the scene, he didn't want another civilian down here for him to worry about.

“Should I go check on the other guys?”

He paused in the act of shoving his flashlight into his waistband and removing his Glock 9 mm and holster. “Other guys?”

“Yeah. The pickup truck. He spun out and crashed into a tree just around the curve.”

Riley's gut clenched. He'd been so preoccupied watching in horror as this car sailed into the water that he hadn't seen or heard the other vehicle's collision.

For a second he was torn about what to do, then he yanked off his other boot. As far as he was concerned, the suspects could rot while they waited for help. If Charlie Beaumont hadn't been such an asshole to run, none of this would have happened. Innocent victims got first dibs on rescue, that was his philosophy.

“Yeah, go check on them,” he answered the man
he now recognized as Harry Lange, although what the wealthiest man in town might be doing spying on intruders at his neighbors' house and responding to accidents in the middle of the night was anyone's guess. “Does your cell work this far up the canyon?”

“It's spotty but I might get lucky.”

“Call 9-1-1 and tell the dispatch we've got two accidents to deal with and we're going to need all available units up here.”

“Got it.”

He was taking too long with this, while the occupants of the vehicle in the water needed rescue. He just had to trust Lange would be able to reach dispatch to send more help. With a deep, steadying breath, he braced himself and headed into the water.

The shock raced through his nerve endings like ice blocks clamping hard around his feet and calves. He ignored it, pushed past it and waded out.

By the time he had crossed ten yards, the brutally cold water had reached his waist. Snow and wind whipped any exposed flesh and every breath seemed to slice at his lungs like tiny switchblades. He was aware of the bitter cold on some level, but mostly he forced himself to focus on what had to be done.

“Help us. Please, somebody, help us.”

The desperate cry chilled him worse than the elements. By the sound of it, that was a kid's voice, a young girl, wet, cold, possibly injured.

Kids. Damn it.

“I'm coming. Hang on.”

In the cloudy moonlight, he could finally make out
the vehicle was a small SUV, a Toyota, by the look of it. He saw at least a couple of heads and now could hear other young voices crying. The sound of those desperate voices pushed him even faster and he finally just dived in and swam the remaining distance.

With icy hands, he pulled his flashlight from his waistband and aimed it into the vehicle window. He saw a form slumped over the steering wheel where a now-deflated air bag had deployed. He moved the light to the backseat and saw three pale faces staring back.

He tried to pull the doors open but they wouldn't budge because of the water pressing in. “Can you wind down the window?” he yelled.

“No, we tried. They won't work.”

Power windows tended not to be real cooperative when the car's battery was submerged in four feet of water. He pulled out the crowbar, grateful for whatever instinct had prompted him to grab it. “Look, I need you to move away from the window and cover your face with your hands. I'm going to break the window, okay?”

“Okay.” He heard the muffled response from inside.

“Are you all clear?”

“Yes.”

Urgency lent him added strength and he slammed the crowbar into the window. It shattered and he brushed at the glass with his wet sleeve.

“I didn't think anybody saw us. I thought we would be here all night,” the girl whimpered. He knew that
voice, but he couldn't see her features very well. He aimed the flashlight to get a better look at possible injuries and everything inside him froze.

Macy Bradford.

One of the little figures she cuddled was her brother, Owen, and the other was the freckled, red-headed kid who had been with them at the pageant. Jordie something or other.

He jerked his attention to the motionless form in the front seat. “Claire? Claire, honey? Answer me.”

She didn't respond, although he thought he heard a slight moan. He checked quickly for a pulse and found one there, a little thready but strong. He wanted to do a full assessment but his gut was telling him the first priority was to get the terrified kids out of the reservoir and back to shore, where he could now see other rescuers coming down the slope toward the water's edge.

“Are you guys hurt?”

“I'm cold. I cut my face,” Jordie said through his scared sobs. “And my shoulder hurts.”

“My arm hurts,” Owen whimpered. “I think it's broken.”

“I'm okay,” Macy said, but Riley was pretty sure she was lying. He couldn't wait for stretchers to get here. Not in these conditions. It could be fifteen minutes or longer before the paramedics managed to make it up the canyon and he had no idea what was happening with the other accident.

He was going to have to trust his instincts and go against every stricture he'd ever learned about not moving accident victims who had been injured.
Sometimes removing a victim from further injury was the only option and right now hypothermia and shock were both grave concern.

“Macy, I'm going to carry the boys to shore first and then I'll come back for you, okay? There are people who will help you make your way up to the road and get you all warmed up. Got it?”

“Is my mom gonna be okay?” Her voice shook with fear and his chest ached from more than just the effort it was taking to breathe through the bitter cold.

“I promise you, I will do my best to make sure of that. Hang on while I take care of the boys first. You keep talking to your mom while I'm gone, okay? You ready, boys?”

“Uh-huh.” Owen sniffled as he slid across the seat. Riley scooped him up over one shoulder and then took the other boy over the other in a double fireman's hold, careful as he could manage of possible injuries.

The trip back through the water was surreal in the moonlight with snow swirling around the inky water. He almost fell once and would have dunked them all but he somehow managed to keep his footing. When he was almost to the shore, several people waded the rest of the way to take the boys from him.

“My wife's a nurse,” the man who took Jordie said. “She's waiting on the shore.”

“I think they mostly need to be warmed up, although one is complaining of arm pain and the other says his shoulder hurts.”

Two of the rescuers carried the boys to shore, but
the other one turned to Riley. “Is there anyone else out there?”

He was just a kid, Riley realized. “Two more, one with undetermined injuries.”

“I'll help you get them.”

He didn't want to endanger anyone else, but the kid was strong, muscled, like a bulldogger. Probably a rancher's kid, who bulked up by hefting hay bales and wrestling steers. “That would be great. If you can carry the girl to shore, I can check on her mom.”

Riley hadn't been able to feel his feet for some time now and the snow was falling more heavily, joined now by a vicious wind that churned the water and blasted through his wet clothes. He didn't care. Not when Claire needed help.

“What's your name, kid?” he asked as they made their way back to the SUV.

“Joe Redmond.”

There was a coincidence. Redmond was a common name around here, but he was quite sure the kid was somehow related to Lisa, his old girlfriend.

When they reached the SUV, Riley aimed the flashlight into the backseat and the kid made a sound of astonishment. “Mace? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Hey, Joey.”

“My mom's gonna
freak
that you guys were the ones hurt.”

“How's your mom?” Riley asked Macy.

“I think she might be waking up. I was trying to get her to talk to me and she moaned a few times.”

“You did great, honey. Let's get you warmed up,
okay, and I'll take care of Claire from here. Joe, are you sure you can carry her?”

“You bet. Come on, squirt.”

He made sure Macy looked secure in the kid's arms before he focused all his attention on Claire while they headed for shore. “Claire? Honey, can you hear me?”

She moaned again, an encouraging sound.

“I need to break another window. I'm going to cover your face, okay?” He had to hope she could understand and wouldn't come back to full consciousness in a panic that she was being suffocated.

He grabbed her scarf and managed to protect her face as best he could before he hefted the crowbar and half waded, half dragged himself around to the passenger side across from her. This window was already cracked and it took only a hard smack to shatter it completely. He was guessing by the way the vehicle was tilted toward the driver's side that the vehicle had landed on that side. Her body would have absorbed most of the impact and it made sense that her injuries would potentially be more severe than the children's in the backseat, who probably hadn't braced against the crash like Claire would have done.

The water inside the car was up to her waist and she was shaking violently despite her unconscious state. Guilt crashed over him, colder and more vicious than the waves. He should never have started the pursuit under these conditions. He should have just waited and set up a roadblock at the mouth of the canyon to take care of it.

When he pulled the scarf away, she blinked at him and her huge, dilated pupils and pale features ripped at his heart.

“Cold,” she moaned.

“I know, honey. I know. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can figure out if it's safe to move you. Where do you hurt?”

She squinted at him, then closed her eyes and he saw blood oozing from her temple.

“What…happened?”

“Accident. You went off the road to avoid a head-on. You probably saved your kids' lives.” He batted away the deflated air bag and worked on her seat belt.

A second later, she opened her eyes and started moving frantically. “My kids?”

“Hold still while I get this. They're okay. A little banged up, but they're over on dry land getting warm right now. They're going to be okay.”

Her agitation subsided and she sagged against the seat. His radio squawked static and he fumbled with fingers that felt icy and useless to turn it down so he could talk to her.

“Where do you hurt, Claire?” he asked again, more firmly this time.

“Legs. Wrist. Um, head. Everywhere.” The last word came out a whimper.

“I don't want to move you until we can get a stretcher out here, unless I absolutely have to. The ambulance should be here soon. We just have to wait it out here a few more moments.”

“My kids. I need to take care of my kids.”

“They're okay. Someone else is with them.”

“Promise. Promise you'll make sure.”

“I'll stay right here with you until you're out of the water and then make sure all of you are okay.” He brushed a hand over her hair and saw blood oozing from a cut on her forehead. “Just hang on, sweetheart.”

“This isn't fun.”

Her ragged words somehow managed to shock a laugh out of him in spite of everything. He had never been so frigging cold in his life and he could barely breathe around the icy guilt pressing in on his chest. “No, I can't say that it is. I don't think it's supposed to be.”

“First my store, now this.”

“I know. You've had a pretty rough day. Got to rank right up there with the worst day ever.”

“Stupid horoscope,” she muttered, for reasons he didn't understand. He would have asked her, but nothing else mattered except making her safe.

CHAPTER FOUR

W
HERE THE HELL WERE
the paramedics?

Riley glared at the shore and the noticeable absence of flashing lights besides his own. He could see the flurry of activity as those on shore helped the children, but the ambulance was nowhere in sight. If this was the way the Hope's Crossing paramedics responded to emergencies, he was going to have to have a serious discussion with the fire chief about the response time of his crews.

“C-cold,” Claire whimpered.

“I know, sweetheart. Hang on.” He adjusted the blanket around her more snugly. Time was definitely not on his side. The longer she stayed out here in these frigid conditions, the greater the chance of hypothermia.

He'd forgotten how bitterly cold spring storms could turn in the high Rockies. It was the third week of April, for crying out loud, but the temperature had to be in the twenties, with a windchill making it feel much colder.

Claire was already shocky. She seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness and the wound just above her left temple where she must have hit the window was bleeding copious amounts. She needed to get the hell out of the water fast. All his protective instincts were
urging him to pluck her out of the car and haul her to safety and it was killing him to just stand here helplessly. But given the extent of her injuries, he couldn't take the risk of injuring her worse. The best thing, the only thing, was to offer whatever comfort he could until the ambulance crew arrived with a gurney to transport her safely.

Her eyes closed again, and he grabbed her scarf for a makeshift compress to the cut on her forehead. “Claire, honey, you've got to stay with me. A few more minutes, that's all.”

She moaned a little and he brushed her hair away again. “I know, sweetheart. I'm going to get you out of here. Just hang on.”

He thought of how bright and lovely she had looked in her store earlier, even amid her distress at finding her store burglarized. Seeing her like this—scared and injured, like a frightened child—was heartrending.