Mountain Hostage. Hope White
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a scar on her perfect skin, a reminder of the trauma she’d endured today. Yet she’d survived the fall and apparent kidnapping in fairly decent condition. At least from what he could see.
He took off his own knit hat and placed it on her head to keep her warm. “How about other injuries? Legs, arms, does anything else hurt?”
“My heart.”
That concerned him. Was she having breathing issues relating to a collapsed lung? “A pinching feeling or dull ache or...?”
“All of the above.” She pinned him with those soulful brown eyes. “I may never see Shannon again.”
He exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay. I thought you’d sustained a serious injury like a punctured lung or cracked ribs.”
“What I’m feeling is very serious.”
As he studied her expression, an image flashed across his mind.
His parents driving away from Aunt Margaret’s house, Jack standing on the porch holding his Lego lunch pail, a peanut butter and honey sandwich with chips tucked inside.
He didn’t want to drift back there, didn’t want to remember how he’d felt when his parents had abandoned him. He’d spent the last twenty-plus years shoving that persistent ache down where it couldn’t hurt him anymore.
Yet here it was.
“I apologize,” he said. “What you’re feeling is serious, but it’s not what I was referring to.”
She broke eye contact and glanced up at the sky. “Will they keep searching for Shannon at night?”
“The sheriff’s office will make that decision based on weather conditions.”
She frowned as a few flurries landed on her dark eyelashes. “You mean snow?”
“Snow and wind and available law enforcement personnel to accompany the teams.”
“Won’t they have a better chance of finding her tonight than if they wait until tomorrow?”
“The decision to proceed with a rescue is determined by both recovery of the subject, and safety of the team. If team members are hurt, that adds to the burden of the rescue. Not to mention this rescue is more complicated because of the kidnapping element.”
At the mention of the kidnapping, she hugged her knees even tighter.
Wanting to pull her out of her fearful state, he decided to make an attempt at small talk. “Are you from the area?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. City girl.”
“Which city?”
“Portland.”
“And your friend, Shannon?”
“She lives in Mt. Stevens and works at the resort.”
“Is she an experienced hiker?”
“Yes. She’s the activities director at the resort and part of her job involves taking guests on hiking adventures.”
“And she chose to take an inexperienced hiker like yourself out on a winter hike?”
She shot him a look. He must have overstepped.
“You probably want to save details of today’s incident for the authorities,” he said.
“I, well... It sounded like you were being critical.”
There was truth to her assessment. Jack had little tolerance for people who didn’t use their good sense, and he was ill equipped to mask his judgment. Another reason why he’d struggled to make and keep friends: his brutal honesty. It comes with your brilliance, Jackie boy, his aunt used to say.
Some days, being smart was overrated. As he sat with Zoe Pratt, waiting for help to arrive, he wished he had less smarts and more compassion or understanding or some other characteristic that would ease that tense frown off her face.
Instead, he only had facts.
“Since your friend is an experienced hiker, she will have an advantage over her kidnapper. Unless she’s injured,” he offered.
Zoe’s eyes widened. Perhaps he should have left out the part about her friend being injured.
“Did she have a personal locator beacon?” he asked, trying to recover from his mistake.
“Yes.”
“Then her priority will be to activate it.” Now he was making stuff up. “Experienced hikers know how to make a fire and stay warm throughout the night.”
“Unless she’s unable to get away from that jerk.” She paused. “Or she’s hurt.”
Once again, Jack had done more harm than good. He thought it best to keep his thoughts to himself during the remainder of his mission. One thing he knew for sure, the sooner he distanced himself from Zoe Pratt, the better off they’d both be.
Now she knew how her teenage clients felt when they claimed no one was listening to them.
Zoe told rescue workers she wanted to stay in the mountains until her friend was found.
Search and Rescue had denied her request. Their job was to rescue Zoe and bring her to the hospital. If she denied their assistance, she’d be putting the SAR volunteers at risk.
After being checked out by medics at the scene, she’d been assisted down the mountain. God, please take care of Shannon.
As she waited in the ER to be officially released, a police officer in his forties joined her in the examining area.
“I’m Sergeant Peterson with the sheriff’s office,” he introduced. “Are you up to answering some questions?”
“Sure.” She shifted into a better position and winced.
“How do you know Shannon Banks?”
“She’s my best friend from childhood.”
“And you two were up in the mountains because...?”
“A winter hike, to clear our minds.”
“Was she upset or concerned about anything in particular?”
“I think she and her boyfriend were having trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“She didn’t go into detail.”
“Where were you headed?”
“Prairie’s Peak Overlook.”
“Could you identify the kidnapper if you saw him again?”
“Absolutely.”
His nodded and checked his phone. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”
Zoe leaned back, still trying to wrap her head around it all. This was not how she’d planned to spend her time in Mt. Stevens: Shannon kidnapped by a stranger; Zoe bruised, terrified, and rescued by an enigmatic man named Jack.
He was an odd sort of fellow, asking random questions, then going completely silent as they waited on the plateau for help. Yet when she’d inquire about his work as a search-and-rescue volunteer—how a dog is trained, how many hours of training it takes for a person to be qualified as a handler—to distract herself from her worry, Jack Monroe was Mr. Chatterbox. It seemed like he was more comfortable talking about facts, figures and percentages of lost hikers rescued in the Cascade Mountains than dealing with Zoe’s panic about Shannon.
Once she had come down from her emotional spin, she surmised that Jack was highly intelligent and socially challenged, perhaps even on the spectrum. He and his dog with the four names had stayed close to her when