“It looks that way.” River pulled the walkie-talkie off his belt that he’d gotten from the search and rescue team. He knew the pilot of the chopper by name. “Ansel, can you touch down over by the river? I need to get across.”
“Can do,” said Ansel. “I think I see you on the ground there.” The chopper banked and then drew closer to them, its beating blades growing louder.
Even though they were spread out, none of the searchers or police officers had spotted the tan SUV. The glint of something shiny on the rocks caught River’s eye. He bent over and picked up a spent rifle shell. He saw another not too far from the first.
The shell could have been there from a long time ago, but he’d heard those shots. He stared off into the dark flowing water. Fear gripped his heart. Had she been shot and fallen into the river?
The idea made his breath catch. He couldn’t imagine a world without her. The chopper touched down, and he and Frankie got in. Another nose and set of eyes would be nice, but there was no room in the chopper for another K-9 and handler.
The chopper lifted off.
River spoke above the mechanical hum of the engine. “Stay close to the river for a bit. Then we’ll search farther away on the land.”
The pilot nodded.
The searchlights illuminated the dark flowing water below. When the pilot dropped elevation, River could see details on the trees and brush growing close to the river. He feared he would see Lydia’s body being pulled by the current or lying face down on the shore.
After they’d gone a sufficient distance without seeing anything, the pilot turned back around.
River continued to search while Ansel flew in a serpentine pattern, getting farther and farther away from the river. A white spot on the ground caught River’s attention.
“There.” Lydia had been wearing a white shirt. Her jacket and yoga pants were a darker color.
“I see it.” The chopper dropped down even more and moved toward the light-colored object. It was a shirt draped over a bush.
“Let Frankie and me out.”
“Give me a second here,” said Ansel. “I need to find a flat area to touch down.”
While he waited for the pilot to find a safe landing spot, River felt like an anaconda was wrapping itself around his chest, crushing all the air out of his lungs. Lydia had to be down there. She had to be alive. Yet if she was around here, she must’ve heard the helicopter. Why hadn’t she come to an open area and waved her arms?
The chopper landed. River and Frankie jumped out. Frankie took the lead as they moved in the direction River had seen the white shirt. Everything looked different once he was on the ground. Frankie seemed to know where she was going. He’d trust her nose over his eyes. They entered a patch of brush. It took some circling around to find the white shirt. It was still wet, and it looked like the one she’d been wearing. She’d put the shirt out as a signal.
River shouted Lydia’s name as Frankie dashed ahead of him, disappearing into the brush. Frankie’s intense barking filled the air. Pushing through the thick brush, River ran toward the sound. He came to an open area. Frankie paced around Lydia, who lay on her side, not moving.
He let out the breath he’d been holding. They’d found her.
River dropped to the ground. Her skin was cold to the touch, but she had a pulse. She was alive.
She said something so quietly, he couldn’t understand it. He leaned closer to her mouth.
“You came for me,” she whispered.
He brushed a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. “’Course I did.” He pulled his walkie-talkie to speak to the pilot. “I found her. She’s in late-stage hypothermia. We need to get her to a medical facility ASAP.”
“I can’t move in any closer.”
“We’ll come to you.” He secured the walkie-talkie on his belt and leaned to help Lydia to her feet. Once she was standing, her knees buckled. He lifted her into his arms and carried her.
Her head rested again his chest.
She spoke in a soft voice. “I think I love you.”
River blinked. Where was that sentiment coming from? People with advanced hypothermia often hallucinated. He wondered if that was what was going on.
When they stepped through the brush, he could see the pilot running toward them, holding a litter. He laid Lydia in it and the two men carried her to the chopper, securing her in the back seat and covering her with a blanket. River sat in the copilot seat with Frankie squeezed in at his feet.
As the chopper took off, he craned his neck to look at Lydia. Pale and motionless, she looked more like a porcelain doll than a person. Lydia had been coherent enough to recognize him. She’d had the presence of mind to put out the shirt as a signal before putting her jacket back on and collapsing.
