Going Gone Read online

  Wanting to see what she was facing, she got up, moving quietly through the cabin toward the cockpit to look out. Just as she reached the doorway, two huge wolves suddenly leaped up onto the nose of the plane and begin digging at the cracked windshield, trying to get to the pilot’s body. The sight was so startling that she screamed.

  The unexpected sound took the wolves by surprise, and they spun about and leaped out of sight. Though she knew they would be back, it was the first visual she had of how truly trapped she was. Even if she wanted to try to walk out, she would never be able to outrun them.

  In a panic, she slammed the cockpit door shut. She couldn’t make the wolves go away, but she didn’t have to see them again. As she turned to walk away, she heard a click and turned around just as the door swung open on its own. Once again she was faced with a new fear.

  Logically, she didn’t think they could break through the windshield, but just in case, she needed to know there was a boundary between them and her that they couldn’t breach. She tried to push some of the loose debris in front of the door to hold it shut, but it wasn’t substantial enough, and the seats, which were heavy enough, were bolted to the floor.

  When the two wolves jumped back up on the nose of the plane and began digging at the windshield again, she screamed and slammed the door, then used her body weight to keep it closed.

  “Oh, God, oh, God, please! Don’t let this be the way I die,” she cried, sobbing hysterically.

  Her fingers were so cold she could barely feel them as she buried her face in her hands. Her sister slid through her mind as she choked on a sob. What if she never saw Sarah again?

  And Cameron—there was no way she could describe what he meant to her. She’d been enchanted with him almost from their first meeting, and as the months went by, she’d begun dreaming of a happily ever after with him. Now she didn’t know if she would see tomorrow.

  She could hear the wolves still outside the cockpit and more that were surrounding the plane, digging and yipping and whining. She grabbed a piece of metal and began beating it against the inside wall.

  “Stop! Get away! Get lost! Leave me alone!” she screamed.

  The noise silenced them again, but she knew it wouldn’t last. She was looking around for an answer to her latest dilemma when her gaze fell on Dan’s body.

  He was a big man and less than three feet away from the door. He, or at least his body, could hold the door shut. At first she hesitated, uncertain how to go about it and leave him any dignity, then realized that couldn’t matter, not when her life depended on it. Without looking at his face, she grabbed him by the arms and began dragging his body backward toward the door. Pain racked her chest and legs as she strained against his weight, while the wolves continued to circle the plane, howling and growling.

  Finally it was done.

  Exhausted and so shaky she thought she would faint, she turned around and went for Marcy, dragging her body up beside Dan’s. When she was done, she fell to her knees beside them. Her chest was on fire, and there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t hurt, but the deed was done. The door was shut and wasn’t about to come open.

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she sobbed, as she patted Marcy’s arm, then picked up Dan’s hand and laid it across his chest. “Please, forgive me. Just know that your last physical act on this earth will be protecting me, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  She scuttled backward like a crab, and as she did, she realized the wind was rising. Just as she stood, a gust buffeted the plane, strong enough to actually rock it.

  She grabbed hold of a seat to steady herself while it dawned on her that in fact she had no concept of how precarious her situation really was. If they hadn’t landed in a fairly level area, and if the wind got too strong, it could dislodge the plane, which would slide off the mountain with her trapped inside.

  The notion gave her pause, and for the first time, she realized it might be to her advantage to limit her movements. She gave her coworkers one last look and then made her way to the back of the plane to the minuscule bathroom.

  When she came out, she cleaned her hands on another wet wipe, ate half an energy bar, washed it down with two small sips of water, crawled back into her nest, pulled up her makeshift covers and cried herself to sleep.

  * * *

  Moonlight came through the cabin windows, bathing the bare skin of the two lovers caught up in the simple act of love. That the joining of one body to another could cause such an intense, physical reaction was understood, but at the same time, for them it was a new and wonderful thing. When Laura began to climax, the satisfaction on Cameron’s face was nothing short of bliss. She was still riding the high of her own pleasure when she slid her hands between their bodies. Moments later he was spiraling out of control. Her heart was still hammering from the aftershocks when he brushed his mouth across her lips.

  “I love you most, Laura Doyle...so, so much.”

  * * *

  Laura woke up with a gasp, then grabbed her chest and tried to stop the shock wave of pain that ripped through her. It was getting dark inside the cabin. Had she been asleep that long? She glanced toward the windows. They were nearly covered with snow.

  Oh, dear Lord, not that, too. “Stop the snow. Please, stop the snow.”

  She crawled out of her makeshift bed, but her leg buckled when she tried to stand. Something was very wrong. The more time passed, the stiffer her whole body became, but the pain in her leg was different. She leaned against a seat and slowly pulled up her pant leg, then moaned when she saw the size of the gash.

  It was about a half inch deep, running from just below her knee to her ankle, and the only reason she hadn’t found it sooner was that the extreme cold had been as successful as cauterization, and what blood there was had soaked into her black slacks unnoticed, and then into her shoe.

  She fumbled around in the first-aid kit for the bottle of disinfectant and poured it into the gash. The burn was intense, but it was better than getting infection and having gangrene set in. Once the burn began to fade, she got a couple more pain pills and chewed them up, then washed them down with another sip of water.

  Her belly growled, but putting food in her mouth was more than she could handle. She crawled back into her bed and began to pray. She didn’t want to die, but unless a miracle occurred, it would happen.

  When she closed her eyes, she thought of Cameron. He belonged to the FBI. They found bad guys who murdered people, and good people who were kidnapped. Surely they could find this plane.

  “Please, find me,” she whispered as she started to shake.

  She pulled the covers up over her head.

  The wolves were still circling. She could hear their whining and digging, and every so often the sounds of a quarrel as one trespassed on another’s space. The first time she heard one on top of the fuselage, she realized they were getting braver. Would this nightmare never end?

  * * *

  Once Cameron had given the director a quick explanation of what had happened, he headed home. After packing for cold weather, he caught a ride on a government jet flying a team of forensic specialists to the West Coast after the pilot agreed to drop him in Denver on the way. After takeoff, there was nothing to distract him from the fact that the woman he loved might be dead. The passengers he was traveling with were otherwise occupied, which suited him fine. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

  It was late afternoon and only hours away from nightfall when they landed. He had a text from the assistant director giving him the location of where search and rescue had set up, and after renting a car, he wasted no time getting there.

  The search-and-rescue station was in a small community center in a suburb on the outskirts of Denver. When he pulled up and began looking for a place to park, a local police officer flagged him down.


  “I’m sorry, sir. This area is closed to the public.”

  Cameron flashed his badge. “Special Agent Winger, FBI. Who’s in charge here?”

  The officer immediately relaxed.

  “That would be Lieutenant Clark. You can park in that lot just ahead. The lieutenant should be in that long building behind it.”

  “Thank you,” Cameron said, and a few moments later he parked and killed the engine.

  The sudden silence inside the vehicle made him shudder. Then his phone rang. It was his friend and fellow agent Tate Benton.

  “Hello.”

  “Cameron...I just heard about Laura. Do you know anything yet? Have they located the plane?”

  “I don’t know. I just arrived at the main search-and-rescue site.”

  “Is there anything the rest of us can do?” Tate asked.

  It was the sympathy in his friend’s voice that did him in. Breath caught in the back of Cameron’s throat as he swallowed a couple of times to keep from crying.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said quickly. “If I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Will do,” Tate said.

  Cameron pocketed his phone and got out. He had a large duffel bag over one shoulder and a hiker’s backpack on the other as he headed for the building.

  Inside, the place was a hive of activity. Maps of the mountainous area around Denver were taped to the walls and marked up with search grids. Radio communication was at the other end of the room, and, from the static and squawks of intermittent traffic, it was obvious that they were already in search mode.

  He stopped a young woman hurrying past him.

  “Is Lieutenant Clark in here?”

  She pointed at a tall, stoop-shouldered man with graying hair near the com center.

  “That’s him on the phone.”

  “Thank you,” Cameron said, dropped his gear against a wall and quickly moved in that direction. Once the lieutenant hung up the phone, Cameron flashed his badge as he introduced himself.

  Clark frowned. “What interest does the FBI have in this?”

  Cameron pocketed his badge. “It’s strictly personal, sir. I’m involved with Laura Doyle, one of the passengers.”

  Clark’s expression cleared. “Ah. Sorry.”

  “Is there any news?” Cameron asked.

  Clark’s shoulders slumped a little more, as if weighed down by his responsibilities.

  “Not really. We have a general idea of where the plane most likely went down, but it’s snowing heavily up in the mountains today, so the search planes are grounded.”

  Cameron’s heart sank. “I want to help. Assign me to a search team. I have all the necessary training.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Please,” Cameron added. “I can’t just sit by and wait when I have the skills to help.”

  Clark eyed Cameron, who knew what the lieutenant was seeing: a big man, twenty-eight or twenty-nine, and obviously fit. He wasn’t the type to slow anybody down.

  “I brought clothes and equipment,” Cameron added.

  Clark relented. “Very well. We have cots set up in the adjoining room and a temporary kitchen beyond that. Find a place to bunk. You can go out in the morning.”

  Cameron groaned inwardly. So close and still he had to wait.

  “Yes, sir, thank you,” Cameron said, grabbing his gear.

  Two

  The snow stopped at midnight, but Laura continued to slip in and out of consciousness, unaware of her surroundings, alternately freezing and burning up with fever. Once when she woke up, she saw wolves standing in the doorway, snarling. Before she could panic, she passed out again. The next time she woke up, her sister was peering in through one of the small windows.

  “Wolves, Sarah. Run,” she mumbled, then slipped back into her mental abyss.

  The next time she came to, it was pitch-black, and her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth.

  “Water,” she muttered, and felt around in her bed until she found her stash, knowing she had to hydrate so her internal organs would not shut down.

  Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the bottle, but she drank until it was gone.

  Easy, honey. Too much, too fast.

  She tried to sit up, but didn’t have the strength. “Cameron? Is that you?” When no one answered, she dropped her head and closed her eyes.

  “I’m lost, Cameron. I’m so lost. Please, find me.”

  She passed out with the empty water bottle still in her hand.

  * * *

  Cameron was up and dressed for the task ahead long before daybreak. When he went to the kitchen in search of coffee, the first thing he heard from the even earlier risers was that it had stopped snowing in the mountains. That meant the search would move into the air as well, which was a positive. Now they just needed to find the wreckage. He picked up a sweet roll and a cup of coffee, and sat down at an empty table to eat.

  Lieutenant Clark walked in and spotted him. He, too, got a sweet roll and a cup of coffee, then walked over.

  “Good morning, Agent Winger. I see you’re ready.”

  Cameron wiped his mouth as he stood.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I have planes about ready to go up. You can go with the air search, or with a ground crew. It’s your choice.”

  “I choose ground.”

  Clark nodded. “As soon as you’ve finished, I’ll—”

  Cameron interrupted. “I’m ready now. Let me get my gear.”

  Once Cameron returned, Clark headed for the back door.

  “Follow me,” he said, and took a big bite of his sweet roll on the way out.

  Large four-wheel-drive vehicles were coming into the parking lot every few minutes to unload cold, weary searchers who’d been out since the day before. Two big trucks were loading up on fuel, while other vehicles were waiting to take new crews of searchers out.

  Clark flagged down one of the drivers, who was standing beside an older-model Suburban.

  “Hey, Wilson, got room in there for one more?”

  The driver, a heavyset woman with a shock of crimson-red hair, turned around. She eyed Cameron’s gear and backpack, and then nodded.

  “Get in, but you may have to sit on that pack.”

  “I don’t mind,” Cameron said, and climbed in.

  The men inside shifted enough to give him legroom as he shoved the backpack in a corner, and then sat down in front of it, using it for a backrest. A few minutes later the doors slammed shut, and the vehicle began to move.

  Cameron nodded cordially at the men but had no desire to visit. Still, one of them was more curious than the others and took away his decision to remain under the radar. The man leaned over, his hand extended in welcome.

  “Reno Brown,” he said as he shook Cameron’s hand.

  “Cameron Winger.”

  “You’re not a local,” Reno said.

  Cameron shook his head. “No, I’m from D.C.”

  The other men in the vehicle eyed him curiously, but it was Reno who asked the pertinent question.

  “That’s a far piece to come to look for a downed plane.”

  Cameron nodded, but Reno wasn’t satisfied.

  “Do you work for the FAA or something?”

  “No,” Cameron said.

  Reno waited for more, but when he figured out he wasn’t going to get it voluntarily, he smiled, shrugged and shut up.

  Cameron shifted focus to a large clod of dirt beneath a seat that was turning into mud from the snowmelt next to it. They rode for almost an hour before the vehicle began slowing down.

  “I guess we’re there,” Reno said.

  A few moments later the doors opened.

  “Leave
your sleeping gear in the big tent, and if we’re lucky, you won’t need it,” Wilson said as the searchers began getting out.

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” Reno said, and strode toward the waiting snowmobiles.

  Cameron was right behind him.

  “We ride in pairs,” Reno said. “The driver makes sure we don’t fall off the mountain. The rider looks for wreckage.”

  Cameron stopped. He was anxious to search but didn’t want to waste time watching where they were going. He wanted to watch for signs.

  “I know the area. Want to ride with me?” Reno asked.

  Cameron nodded as he followed the men inside.

  The on-site quarters consisted of a very large tent with at least three dozen cots set up. Another radio operator was on-site to monitor updates from the air searchers and pass info on to the ground crew. Extra food and fuel were stacked in any available free space.

  The terrain was heavily wooded, with at least four, maybe five, inches of fresh snow, and it all looked alike. He left his gear beneath one of the cots and was second-guessing his decision to go with the ground search when Reno arrived carrying a handheld GPS.

  “I’ve got our search coordinates entered in here. They said the temps went down to five below last night. If we don’t find the wreckage today, we’ll go from rescue to retrieval.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Cameron said shortly.

  Reno blinked and then gave Cameron a closer look.

  “Sorry, man.”

  Cameron sighed. “No, I’m sorry. Look, this is personal. My girlfriend is one of the missing passengers.”

  Reno frowned. “Well, hell, I’m sorry all over again. So let’s get going. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  Cameron held out his hand. “Can we start over?”

  Reno smiled. “I’m Reno Brown.”

  “Cameron Winger.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cameron. You know what to look for out there?”

  “Yes.”

  Reno handed Cameron a helmet.