Carla Neggers - Cold Ridge

Carine knew he didn't believe her. He was doing to her what he'd done to Louis with the pictures-pretend to cooperate, then he'd pounce. She held Eric more closely, feeling how cold he was. He was shivering uncontrollably. He kept raising his shoulders and his head, fighting for air. The sand had run out of the hourglass. She had to get him out of here.

She concentrated on what she had to do. "See the small evergreens? They're balsam firs. Stay out of them. You'll fall. Instead, go backward a few steps and up to your right."

They were the proper instructions, but, just as she'd hoped, he did the opposite and went for the fir trees, losing his footing almost immediately. He swore dropping his rifle as he grabbed onto weak branches that couldn't support his weight. It was a precipitous twenty-foot drop, and he yelled all the way down.

Manny appeared up on the ledge, and Ty bounded out of nowhere, getting to Turner just as he landed five feet from where Carine was hidden with Eric. She heard his head hit rock, then saw him sprawl forward onto his left wrist, which snapped under the impact of his fall. But he was conscious, moving-going for his nine-millimeter in his belt.

Ty kicked him in the head, then swooped in, snatched the handgun and pointed it at Turner. "Hands where I can see them. Don't move."

Turner sneered at him. "Fuck you." But his voice was weak, his head bleeding from where he'd struck the granite, never mind where Ty had kicked him and Carine had earlier pelted him with her rock.

Manny dropped silently onto the rocks next to Carine and collected Turner's rifle, handing it to Ty, then dropping down next to Eric. Carine, shivering herself now, was still holding the boy. "I tried to keep him warm. I didn't know what else to do. Turner told me there was peanut oil in an energy bar he made him eat. I don't know if it's true."

Manny quickly examined his son and injected the epinephrine, then shook his head. "Christ. This isn't just asthma. His epiglottis is inflamed from the peanut oil. His airway's getting obstructed-North, I've got to do a crike."

Ty tossed over his med kit. "Want me to do it?"

Manny shook his head. "I've got it."

He got out what he needed-a small scalpel, gauze, first aid tape, a breathing tube. Carine moved out of the way, but she could see Manny was in trouble. He blinked blood out of his eyes from his own head wound. "Manny…"

Ty, keeping the nine-millimeter leveled on Turner, eased in next to his friend. "Manny. Come on. Your head's a mess. I'll do it."

Manny gave a curt, reluctant nod, not speaking as he stood up and took the guns from Ty, letting him get to work on Eric.

Turner was unconscious, not that Manny took any chances-he kept the gun pointed at him, the rifle cradled in one arm. Carine offered to take the rifle, but he shook his head. "You're shivering. You'll end up shooting someone."

"He wanted us all in the hut. He was going to set fire to it and let us burn to death, set right what he did to his wife last fall. She was badly burned when he blew up the shack and ended up dying. It was an accident. He didn't mean to kill her. He didn't listen to her. She wanted him to shoot us all that day and disappear. That's what he planned to do this time. Kill us all and disappear."

"Better late than never, I guess. Bastard. He tell you all this?"

"Most of it. Some-not in as many words."

By unspoken agreement, she knew, they were trying to focus on something besides Eric's condition, but Manny glanced back as Ty made a small incision in the boy's neck-it bled like crazy, but he quickly stanched the blood with gauze.

"What's a crike?" Carine asked, hoping that talking helped.

"Cricothyroidotomy. It's like a tracheotomy, except you use the cricothyroid space. It opens up the airway. It's a-" Manny paused, swallowing, obviously struggling to control his fear for his son. "It's a simple procedure."

"What happened to your head?"

"Flying rock. Mine got me worse than yours got you last fall." He glanced at her, and she thought he might have tried to smile. "Lucky for you."

Ty inserted a breathing tube into the airway, secured it with tape and packed it with more gauze. "He's got mild hypothermia. We need to get him out of here."

Manny peeled off his coat and covered his son with it, craddling his son against his big body. North took over guard duty, handing his cell phone to Carine. She managed to get hold of Gus, but she was shivering uncontrollably. Her head was fuzzy. She managed to get out the basics of their situation.

"They're stuffing me into an ambulance," Gus said. "A rescue team's on its way on foot."

"Eric's in bad shape. There's no time."

Ty looked at her, his concern for his patient evident. "Tell him we need to get a helicopter up here. Winds are tough, but it'll be okay. They can ask Hank. He'll tell them."

Carine repeated his words to Gus, who grunted at her. "You freezing?"

"More or less."

She clicked off, and Ty eased his leather jacket over her shoulders. "I'm sweating from hoofing it up this goddamn mountain," he said. "You did say you liked a sweaty guy-"

"Covered in wood chips. A key ingredient."

"What if Turner had believed you and did what you said?"

"I had another rock picked out."

"That's the spirit."

She nodded at Turner. "What about him?"

"Broken wrist, concussion. When Manny gets done with Eric, he can hold a gun on Turner and I'll treat him. There's not much I can do."

"Is he-"

Ty read her thoughts. "Nah. He'll live."

She could feel the warmth of his jacket, her shivering slowly subsiding. "He would have killed you, me. Hank. Manny. Eric. Gus. All of us. He waited to get us together, at the right moment-it was like he got satisfaction from manipulating us, playing us."

But Ty didn't answer, edging closer to her. He tucked the nine-millimeter into his waistband and held on to the rifle with one arm, slipping the other around her shoulders. "You need to stay warm. Gus'll have a fit when he sees you up here in cotton. He'll recommend to Fish and Game that you pay for your rescue."

"I did the rescuing. Some of it."

North smiled at her. "Damn, babe. You do have the prettiest eyes."

Nobody could get Manny into a litter. He carried one end of his son's litter and climbed into the National Guard rescue helicopter with him. They took Gary Turner, too. He'd regained consciousness, but was incoherent.

A Cold Ridge police officer, part of the rescue team that arrived on foot after the helo took off, relieved North of Turner's rifle and handgun. He was freed to argue with Carine about getting her ass in a litter and letting the rescue team carry her off the ridge.

He didn't win that one, either.

She was determined to walk. North went with her. The rescue party provided them with warm clothes and warm fluids, but Carine had had a hell of a few hours- so had he. By the time they got back down to the Rancourt house, Gus and Hank had already been transported by ambulance to the hospital. All hell was breaking loose over a United States senator turning up in a hut on a New Hampshire mountain with a madman.

Except Gary Turner was stone-cold sane. North had no doubt about that.

Antonia Winter Callahan, M.D., met them at the hospital. She was in trauma-doctor mode, checking on her husband, her uncle, her sister, the entire Carrera family. Val was in surgery. Eric was responding rapidly to treatment for a severe allergic reaction, asthma attack and mild hypothermia. He'd helped save himself. There was no question about it. He'd conserved his Albuterol as best he could and consciously tried to lower the level of his anxiety. If he hadn't responded the way he had, he'd have been dead before Carine found him on the ridge.