Buried. Elizabeth Goddard
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THREE
“I need to get a brief medical history, ma’am.” The medic sat next to Leah inside the helicopter. “Take your vitals again. They’ll do a full assessment at the hospital. Your name and age?”
“Twenty-nine.” She didn’t want to give her name; didn’t want it surfacing in the computer system. She wanted to be invisible. To disappear. “But I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
He frowned, but didn’t push her on that or her name. He went through a list of questions, which she answered, portraying a healthy medical history. When he cuffed her for blood pressure, Leah sighed.
Please, just leave me alone.
She needed space. Time to think about what had happened. About what to do next. She inhaled a breath to calm the turmoil rising inside.
I’m alive.
She should be grateful for small things. For this moment. That she was alive, thanks to God. And to the man who had believed he’d find someone beneath the snow on a backcountry strip of a lost canyon.
“Looks good.” The medic packed his equipment away. “Still, you should go to the hospital for a complete exam. Make sure I didn’t miss anything. Internal bleeding or a concussion could be serious.”
“Thanks. I’m fine.”
He promised to return in a few minutes and hopped from the helicopter.
Maybe he was going to check on the other victim. See if the helicopter was free to whisk her off the mountain. Had they recovered Snyder? Leah’s heart stammered at the thought of Snyder, alive or dead. The whole situation filled her with fear.
She strapped herself into the seat, as though it would protect her from whatever would come of it all, the events of the past few hours—past few days—blowing through her thoughts and twisting into a tight knot. For this moment in time—this one moment—she was safe inside this helicopter.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
The deafening whir of the medevac’s blades started up. A familiar voice resounded over the obnoxious sound. Leah opened her eyes to see Cade—the man had stepped from her thoughts into the helicopter. He sent an assessing glance her way and spoke to the pilot, who nodded. Cade closed the door and took the seat next to her, strapping in. A few moments later the medic climbed aboard and sat next to the pilot.
Cade looked at her, that concerned yet calm, soothing expression she’d seen when he was digging her out now gone, replaced by something she couldn’t read. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said.
Closing the helicopter’s door had turned down the volume of the rotors, but not by much. Did the relative quiet mean she might have to talk to Cade? What did he want from her? Had he seated himself next to her to gather more information such as, say, her name? Or for some unrelated reason?
“You never told me your name.”
Leah sighed and looked out the window, away from him. She would only make him suspicious if she didn’t answer, didn’t give him at least this much of the truth. “Leah. Leah Marks.”
She would be forever grateful to him, but she reminded herself not to take his rescue too personally—that was part of his job. He was likely a volunteer as most were. Men and women from all walks of life who gave up their time and their own hard-earned dollars to rescue people who too often made life-endangering mistakes while hiking, climbing or skiing.
Her knowledge from her ski patrol experience had made her aware of the avalanche risk today, but she’d had no choice but to run straight into the danger zone. The way things had unfolded seemed surreal. The avalanche had prevented Snyder from harming her.
She wanted to relax and breathe, but she couldn’t think she was home free yet.
The helicopter lifted up and away. Leah shifted in her seat to peer out the window, the sun beginning its dive toward the horizon. Darkness would overtake the rescuers soon. Cade leaned over her, a little too closely, to look out the window on her side. She smelled the faded remnants of a musky aftershave overshadowed by the outdoors—evergreens and mountain air and something entirely masculine.
It made her uncomfortable. She wanted him to move away.
He pointed out the window. “Look, you can see displaced snow from the crown and the path. That’s the avalanche that took you down.”
The width and breadth... The whole side of the mountain appeared to have caved in, flattened by snow. Looking like ants from this distance, people were searching for the other victim. For Snyder.
Her ribs contracted. Feeling her lips tremble, Leah slid her hand over her mouth. How had she ever survived that? She knew...she knew exactly how.
She knew exactly who.
Slowly she turned her eyes to look into Cade’s. His face was still much too close, making it hard for her to remember to breathe. The burn started behind her eyes and she blinked at the moisture. That same look of concern she’d seen when he’d first pulled her from the snowy depths pulsated there again.
“Thank you.” The whisper creaked from her lips.
His half grin spread wider. “You’re very welcome.”
The sound of his voice was comforting—too comforting. She knew better than to trust anyone, especially now. Besides, men were louses. She’d seen the way they’d treated her mother, learning that much at an early age. Every person was only out for themselves. Even someone like Cade.
He eased away from her and Leah breathed easier.
“About the other victim, what are his chances?” With this question, Leah’s pulse thundered in her ears.
She already knew, of course, but she needed to hear it from Cade. Wanted to know that she was at least free from Snyder. And yet part of her knew she should hope and pray he survived. That she could somehow bring him to justice. But the thought of Snyder alive and well, tracking her down, plotting the best way to kill her and leave no trace, terrified her.
Her question had apparently affected Cade, as well. He leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands. Then, just as abruptly, he sat up, wiping them down his face. Obviously losing someone to an avalanche upset the guy. As though he felt he was somehow responsible.
Leah didn’t know what came over her, but she slipped her hand over his. “You did what you could. Maybe they’ll find him in time.” Oh, why had she said that?
Though he left his hand in place under hers, Cade relaxed his head into the seat back. “His chances aren’t very good. I’m sorry.”
He was sorry—she could hear it in his voice, see it in his expression.
He didn’t know what she knew. The victim was a murderer. How she hated to see Cade suffer through the agony of believing he’d let someone down because he hadn’t saved a man today. Maybe she could ease that pain by telling him the man had stalked her, wanted to kill her. Then again, Cade didn’t seem like the kind of guy who wanted to play God, deciding who should live and who should die.
Regardless of Cade’s answer, fear that Snyder or someone involved with him was still out there waiting to kill her clawed across her thoughts.
* * *
For a moment Cade had felt like some sort of superhero or something, filled with elation that he’d rescued Leah. Her question had knocked him back to earth.
Leah finally took her hand back from where she’d covered his. Showing him compassion, she’d only meant to help, but she couldn’t understand how her simple touch had moved him.
He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to be moved. Didn’t think it could happen.