Through his monocular, Gabriel saw a car was sideways in the road. A deer at the bumper, an electrical line sparking, and Sommer—very clearly, Sommer—sitting very still in the passenger seat, her window open.
As they ran forward, Gabriel calculated the thirty feet required for electrical safety and added another ten feet of cushion as he moved up the slope and closer to the car.
Damn Sloane, you nailed it.
When he was within Sommer’s easy view without moving her neck, lest she have whiplash, Gabriel cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sommer?” he called.
“Hey! Stay away! Electricity!”
“Got it. Are you alright?”
“I’m hanging in. I could use some help.”
“That’s quite the situation. Sit tight.”
“Sitting!”
“I have a sat phone. I’m calling for help.”
“Thank you. You have no idea. Can you tell them the driver is dead?”
“Dead?” Gabriel turned to Whiskey. “Down, stay,” he said, and she immediately complied. Gabriel walked forward to the point where he could see around the open driver’s door. A woman lay, unmoving, on the ground. And from the setup, it was clear what had happened.
“Is this one of your friends?” he asked.
“No, oh thank god, no. Marna and Abbie are at the summit, very ill. We think norovirus. They need help.”
Gabriel waggled his sat phone at her then started the connections.
Knowing that emergency services were already in the field, Gabriel thought his best chance of getting help here fast was for him to reach back out to Reaper.
Reaper expected Gabriel’s check-in.
Using his sat phone and going back and forth, Gabriel explained the two emergencies. Reaper said he’d use the Iniquus switchboard to get paramedics and a line truck heading their way. Then Gabriel went back within view of Sommer to tell her the plan.
“I’m Gabriel, by the way.” And then to make her feel safer, he pulled his badge from his thigh pocket and said, “Special agent, FBI.” Though sure, she couldn’t see it from his distance.
He’d brought his ID in case anyone was blocking the trails during the manhunt. Tamra’s Pump and Go wasn’t in this section of the mountain range, but Gabriel didn’t know what Finley’s team had found after he handed over the address.
It didn’t hurt to have some clout.
“You called me Sommer. You didn’t find me by happenstance.”
“No, I came here looking for you. My dog tracked you here.” Gabriel sat down beside Whiskey and gave her scritches.
“She tracked me even when I was in the car?” Sommer’s brow furrowed.
“She lost you on the road, and I thought you might have caught a ride. I was hoping to hitchhike back to the ranger station and see if you made it there safely.”
“You said FBI.”
“I’m not here in my official capacity,” he reassured her.
“Whew. Okay then. You should probably lead with that next time.” She tipped her head. “But you were looking for me.”
“Sloane was out front of your house trying to find where you’d hidden your key under your garden rocks. She was pretty frantic, so I broke in to get your hiking itinerary.”
“Broke in?”
