Chapter Two

      Cassie pulled out her cell phone and tried again to reach her brother. She had one single bar of service but maybe that was enough. When Austin didn’t answer, she punched in 911 once more. Before the call could connect, she heard the wail of a siren.

      She almost melted in relief. Thank You, Lord.

      “They’re here, Heath.” She patted his shoulder. “You’ll be okay now. Hang tight. I’m going up to the road to direct them down to you.”

      She didn’t know if the handsome stranger heard her or not, but she shoved the door open and raced up the steep incline, heedless of the brambles that were every bit as relentless on the ascent as they were coming down. Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to hurry.

      She saw Austin’s truck first and though light rain peppered her skin, she rushed toward her parked car and flipped on the headlights. Austin wheeled in next to her and leaped out of the truck.

      “You okay?” Her tall, cowboy brother was a born protector.

      “Soaked. Cold but all right. The guy in the SUV isn’t doing so hot, though.”

      “You look like a drowned rat.” Austin reached back inside the truck and pulled out a jacket, handing it to her. “Put this on.”

      Grateful for the warmth, she slid her arms into his oversize fleece.

      About that time, the Whisper Falls’s volunteer fire and rescue truck arrived. The crew varied, but tonight was not the usual group of volunteers. As the siren died away, Mayor Rusty Fairchild, a fresh-faced Opie look-alike hopped out of the cab in a warm-looking yellow slicker and rain boots, accompanied by Evangeline Perryman and paramedic Creed Carter.

      The police chief pulled in right behind the rescue truck. Suddenly the dark night was bright with vehicle lights and people carrying brilliant halogen spotlights.

      With a sense of profound relief, Cassie had never been so glad to see human beings in her life. People she knew and trusted. Good people, who made up in love and commitment what they lacked in fancy equipment.

      “Where’s the patient?” Creed Carter asked. She was especially glad to see Creed. The husband of her close friend Haley the chopper pilot was medic trained in the military and often ran medi-flights out of the mountains. He was cool as ice water in an emergency and always seemed to know what to do.

      “Down there.” She pointed her flashlight. “His leg is trapped. Not sure how bad, and I think he has a head injury. He was talking but—”

      “Trapped?” Creed whirled toward Evangeline, a large, rawboned hill woman who lived with a pig. Literally. Cassie should know, she painted the pig’s toenails for special occasions. “We’ll need the ram.”

      The crew grabbed a tackle box of gear, a length of hose, and something that looked like a small generator and followed Cassie through the damaged brush and trees to the accident site.

      In seconds the crew, along with Austin and JoEtta, swarmed the still-running SUV. Cassie realized she was shaking all over, an adrenaline flush, she supposed, in addition to the cold and wet. She wanted to climb back into the car with Heath and make sure he was all right but there didn’t appear to be room. Evangeline was in the front seat, taking vital signs while Creed shined a penlight at Heath’s pupils.

      She wasn’t needed now, though she’d developed an odd kind of bond with the stranger and was reluctant to leave. So she stood a few feet away, shivering, and watched as the rescuers did their work.

      A boom of thunder shook the earth. Rain started to fall again, peppering her and the rescuers.

      “Go to the car,” Austin called, looking up from his spot next to Creed. The two men, both strong and fit, were wedging some sort of long, metal tool between the door post and the dash.

      She wasn’t leaving. Not until she knew Heath would be all right. They were in this thing together. And she owed him a pedicure. “Is he okay?”

      “He’s still with us.”

      That was something anyway.

      “Did you call Moreburg for an ambulance?” The town of Whisper Falls had no hospital and had to depend on a nearby town or Creed Carter’s helicopter for medical transport. She doubted he could fly in this storm.

      “’Course I did.” The police chief pushed away from the SUV where she’d been shining her light on the impact site and clumped to Cassie’s side, gear rattling. Over fifty and gruff as a Rottweiler, JoEtta Farnsworth was a career police officer with more quirks than this road had curves. Dressed in her usual leather vest and brown boots, tonight she was minus the aviator goggles and helmet she normally wore on her scooter patrols through Whisper Falls. Instead, she’d wisely worn a flat-brimmed hat. “They may be a while.”

      “Creed can’t fly in this weather.”

      “Nope. Don’t worry, we’ve handled emergencies up here before. Problem though, we’ve got our hands full in town, too.”