“I know. I know!”
Dawson headed to the office and pulled up the radio. Turned it on and switched the frequency to the one he’d used at the cache cabin. “Echo, come in. This is...” He looked at the call sign on the base. “This is AL7BRP. Come in, Mayday, Mayday.”
Static. He tried again.
A male voice answered. “AL7SKY, I read you loud and clear. Who is this and what is your Mayday?”
“It’s Dawson Mulligan. I’m at the Bowie Outpost, and I think...” What? Please let him not sound crazy. “I think my girlfriend has been kidnapped.”
So much in that sentence, but he let it sit.
“Come again, AL7BRP. Kidnapped?”
“Yeah. Listen, Moose was supposed to fly into Woodcrest and get a little girl, but my, um, girlfriend, Keely, called him, and he said he was coming here. But I don’t think so—”
“That’s a negative. Moose is enroute in my Beaver for the community.”
His Beaver. “Dodge?” Moose’s Air One Rescue team had a branch in Copper Mountain, run by local bush pilot Dodge Kingston. So, yes, that made sense.
“Yeah, Daws, it’s me. Moose left about an hour ago, maybe more, for Woodcrest. Took my heavy plane, in hopes the weight helped. The wind had died, for the moment, but it’s slated to pick back up—”
“I need...” What? A plane? A chopper? A SWAT team? “Listen. I think one of the Sorros brothers—maybe more than one—grabbed her. I think he was on a plane with her that went down before the blizzard and has been hunting her since.” Although why would he take her instead of simply killing her?
That question sat in his gut and gnawed.
“They grabbed her, and they had snow machines.”
“Which means they can’t get far, not in this storm,” Dodge said.
Right. “I think they were camped out at the cache cabin on the edge of Bowie land. Maybe they took her there.”
“All right, listen. If they’re smart, they’ll hunker down while the last of this storm blows out. You do the same. I’ll be in at first light to pick you up.”
He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the mic. “Dodge—”
“Dawson. We can’t land a plane on Sully’s land—it’s too forested, and the riverbank isn’t wide enough. But, if you hang tight, I can get my chopper in. First light. I’ll do everything I can to get there.”
Dawson ran a hand over his forehead. “Maybe I should go after her.”
“You won’t be any good to her dead.”
Caspian came over, set his muzzle on Dawson’s knee.
He put a hand on the dog’s soft fur, clenched his jaw.
His heart said go. His gut agreed with Dodge.
“Fine. First light. AL7BRP out.” He set down the handheld, rubbed his hands on his jeans. Then got up.
Dodge gave his final “AL7SKY, clear,” and the line cleared.
His knee ached, his gut churned, and he just barely stopped himself from punching Sully’s office wall.
He headed to the kitchen, stared at the soup, still simmering.
How could you let this happen,God?
The thought punched him, and his throat burned. But really—“When is it enough? I get it—I do. I get it. Life happens. But—c’mon.” He shook his head, then turned off the heat.
