Buried. Elizabeth Goddard
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breath, Leah Marks ran for her life, working her way through the deep snow from last night’s winter storm, the semiautomatic in her pocket pressing into her side. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of snowshoes.
How had Detective Snyder found her here?
At least she’d seen him from a distance, giving her a few more precious seconds to make a run for it. She had to escape. She wouldn’t use her weapon against him unless she had no other choice. Shooting a police detective, even if he was a dirty cop and a killer, wouldn’t win her any points no matter which way you looked at it.
Approaching Dead Falls Canyon, she left the tree line and took the biggest steps she could, her hips aching with the effort. She couldn’t outrun him this way, but she reassured herself with the fact that he struggled with the same obstacles.
The deep snow would hide the hazards, and Leah counted on that. As she made her way, a snowcapped Mount McCann loomed in her peripheral vision. She’d spent enough time on the ski patrol in the Cascades during her college days to recognize the avalanche risk was high.
As she entered the danger zone, a glance over her shoulder told her Snyder was gaining on her. As strong as she was, she couldn’t keep up this pace, and as if to confirm the thought, she stumbled headlong into the powder. Leah grappled and fought her way out, gulping panic with each breath.
With her fall, she’d have to turn and face him much sooner than she’d hoped. Leaving town and hiding in an off-grid cabin in Alaska hadn’t bought her enough time. Hadn’t bought her safety.
“Leah!” he called, his voice much too close.
Heart hammering, she turned to stand her ground. Stared into his stone-cold eyes. Breathing hard, he flashed a knife as he approached; smirking because he’d finally cornered her.
Dressed to kill, he was in black from head to toe—a dead giveaway against the white-carpeted mountains.
So that’s what death looked like.
Funny that she’d worn white camouflage hoping to remain hidden, for all the good that had done.
Cold dread twisted up her spine. She thrust her hand into her pocket to reach for her weapon.
It was gone.
No! She must have lost it when she’d fallen. Snyder now stood between her and the snow she’d crushed with her tumble. Between her and her gun.
“Give me what I want, Leah.” His dark eyes flashed from the opening in his ski mask.
“Why? So you can kill me like you killed Tim?” She had no idea what Snyder wanted from her, what he thought she had, but she’d witnessed him commit murder. No way would he let her live.
A thunderous snap resounded above them.
A crack appeared in the white stuff beneath Leah Marks’s boots.
The ground shifted.
Before she could react, before she could think, the avalanche swept her away—swept Snyder away, too—along with everything she’d been taught about how to survive. Carried away by a daunting, crushing force, heavy and swift to kill, she was helpless to stop the power that gripped her with icy fingers.
Roared in her ears.
Terror seized her as the megaton of white powder ushered her along to a frozen grave, an untimely death, as though she was nothing more than a twig. One brutal way to die had been exchanged for another.
And then...
Her body slowed before easing to a stop. The snow settled and held her inside.
Frozen silence encased her, shrouded her in muted gray light.
Think. What did she do now? Something. There was something she must do and she must be quick. To act before the snow compressed around her.
Fear temporarily gave way to determination as survival tactics filled her thoughts. She took in a breath to expand her chest, give her breathing room. With her left hand near her face, she scooped snow away from her mouth and nose before it hardened completely. These things she did while thrusting her arm toward the surface in what she thought was the right direction. If only she could breach the packed snow and force her hand through. Before she could complete that one last task, increasing her chance of survival, it was all over. There was no more give to the snow—it had locked into place.
Buried alive. She couldn’t move.
Icy grayness weighed on her.
She wouldn’t dig her way out of this one. She hadn’t planned for things to turn out this way. Panic the likes of which she’d never known choked her, compelling her to gasp for air.
That would kill her faster. She had to conserve her oxygen.
Inhale...exhale...
Minutes. She had minutes, if that, thanks to the small air pocket she’d created. She’d been given another chance to live, one small chance in a million. Or maybe she would die, but at least Snyder wouldn’t be the one to kill her.
Calming her breaths, she prayed someone would find her in time.
But if that prayer was answered by the wrong someone...
She was dead anyway.
* * *
From the helicopter, Cade Warren stared at the northeast face of Mount McCann, struggling to remember the innocence and joy of a carefree childhood spent in the mountain’s shadow. But the images from two days ago still haunted him.
Snowboarders out seeking a thrill. Kids who believed they were invincible. By the time they’d called him to assess the avalanche danger for a search and rescue team, the victims were already dead.
Beside Cade, his friend and coworker Isaiah Callahan flew the helicopter deep into the hidden mountain crags.
Cade scraped a hand over his rough jaw. They did more searching than rescuing.
He pushed the thought away, reminding himself that that wasn’t what they were there for this time. Today they were supposed to forecast the mountain, assess the avalanche threat in their roles as avalanche specialists.
“I don’t get it,” Cade said. “Why don’t people read the forecasts?”
“They read them.” Isaiah directed the helicopter to the right, angling a little too sharply for comfort. “They think it won’t happen to them.”
People didn’t want to pay attention, which was why Cade’s father had always struggled to get enough funding for the Mountain Cove Avalanche Center he’d founded. With his death, his father’s frustration had now become Cade’s.
The death tolls this week had been brutal, making Cade even more determined to do his job. He turned his attention back to the mountain. In the distance he could see the glaciers spilling from the Juneau Icefield.
Strange that in spite of all his expertise, his father had died in an avalanche, trying to rescue someone. Cade was still trying to make sense of it all.
The one thing he knew was that his father had a reputation with the town of Mountain Cove as a real hero—a reputation that Cade strived to earn for himself. But he doubted he’d ever come close to being the hero his father had been.
“So far we have what—two hundred potential snow slides?” Isaiah asked.
Before he could answer, Cade’s pager went off. He pulled it from its clip and looked at the screen.
This is a callout for SAR on an avalanche in Dead Falls Canyon...two victims. Meet at Crank Point. Respond on Code One frequency... Case No. 5547.
Cade stiffened. Not another one. He glanced at Isaiah. “Dead Falls Canyon. We can get there in time.”
His pulse ratcheted up.
Maybe today he could make a difference.
Isaiah