Hope White - Christmas Undercover

She broke into a slow jog. Had to get away from him. Get help.

Breathing through the pain, she stepped onto the rocks to cross the creek. One foot in front of the other. She could do it.

But she slipped, jerking forward. She put out her hands to break her fall.

And landed in the water with a splash.

The man’s shouts echoed in the distance.

She feared he would somehow free himself and finish her off.

She crawled through the creek, her soggy clothes weighing her down. Pain bounced through her head like a pinball.

With a gasp, she surrendered—to the pain, to her own failure—and collapsed into the cold, bubbling water.

TWO

“Ma’am!” Will shouted, pulling on the rope binding his wrists. She was down, unconscious in the creek. Was her head even above water?

“Hey!” He realized he didn’t even know her name. “Ma’am, get up!”

She didn’t move.

“Argh!” he groaned, pulling violently on his wrists. This was not going to happen. He was not going to sit here and watch a woman die in front of him.

“Get up!” he shouted.

She didn’t move.

He yanked on his wrists and dug the heels of his boots into the ground, trying to get leverage. This craziness wasn’t going to do him any good. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm.

“Think,” he said. He remembered that his pocketknife was clipped to the side of his backpack.

He stretched out, making himself as long as possible, practically dislocating a shoulder in the process. With the toe of his boot, he caught the strap of his pack and dragged it across the soft earth. In a low crouch, he kicked it behind him until his fingers could reach the knife.

He flicked it open and sawed away at his bindings, unable to see what he was doing. A sharp pain made him hesitate when the blade cut his skin. He clenched his jaw and continued.

“Ma’am!” he called out. “Ma’am, answer me!”

She didn’t move.

He continued to dig at the rope with the blade, and accidentally cut his skin again. Didn’t matter, he had to get free and—

Snap! He jerked his wrists free, reached around and started working on the rope that bound him to the tree.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered. The parachute cord he kept in his pack was meant to be strong, which was why it felt as if it was taking forever to cut himself loose.

Please, God, help me get to her in time.

He finally sliced through it, pocketed the knife and grabbed his pack. Racing across the property, he focused on the woman, who was only partially submerged in the creek. What if she’d swallowed water and it blocked her airway?

He rushed to her side, looped his forearms under her armpits and dragged her out of the creek.

He leaned close. She wasn’t breathing.

“No,” he whispered.

With one hand on her forehead, and the other on the tip of her chin, he tilted her head backward. He hoped it was only her tongue blocking the airway. He pinched her nose and administered two deep breaths.

She coughed and a rush of relief whipped through his chest. Will rolled her onto her side. “It’s okay. You’re okay now,” he said, although his heart was still racing at breakneck speed.

He had to call for help, get Echo Mountain Search and Rescue up here and quick. He spotted his smartphone, partially submerged in the creek. He snatched it out of the cold water. It would dry out and be usable at some point, but until then Will was on his own.

The shiny glint of metal caught his eye. The woman’s gun lay mere inches away from him. He wasn’t a fan of guns, but couldn’t leave it here for a random stranger to pick up. He shoved it into his pocket.

The woman coughed. “P-p-please don’t hurt me.”

He snapped his attention to her shivering body. She was clutching her jacket above her heart, terrified.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said. “I’m going to help you.”

She closed her eyes, as if she didn’t believe him. He wondered if she saw him pocket the gun and assumed the worst.

“Do you think you can get up?” he said.

“Yeah.”

He extended his hand. She ignored it and shifted onto her hands and knees. A round of coughs burst from her chest. That didn’t sound good. He feared the water in her lungs might lead to something worse.

She stood, but wavered. Her eyes rolled back and he caught her as she went down. Hoisting her over his shoulder, he marched to the cabin. He had to get her dry, tend to her head wound and then determine what other injuries she’d sustained. It was obvious she had a severe headache, and most likely suffered from dehydration. He could treat those easily enough, but didn’t have the ability to treat internal bleeding from her fall, or other, more serious injuries.

He’d do his best. The rest was in God’s hands.

Taking quick, steady steps, he made it to the cabin and laid her on the single bed. He grabbed logs and started a fire to warm the room. Once he got it lit, he refocused on the woman.

The woman. He wished he knew her name.

He pulled her into a sitting position, leaning her head against his shoulder to remove her jacket. He noticed it was water-resistant.

“Smart girl,” he whispered.

Most of her clothes, except for her jeans, were dry thanks to the jacket. She could remove her jeans to dry out when she regained consciousness. He wouldn’t do anything that would make her feel uncomfortable.

He adjusted her on the bed, covered her with a wool blanket and pulled the bed closer to the fire.

Rushing into the kitchen area, he grabbed more first-aid supplies from the cabinet. Her groan echoed across the small cabin. Cracking an ice pack a few times to release the chemicals, he grabbed a kitchen chair and slid it close to her.

“Let’s get a better look.” He analyzed the lacerations on her face, retrieved an antiseptic wipe from the first-aid kit, and pressed it against the scrapes scarring her adorable face.

Adorable, Will? Really?

Shaking off the thought, he cleansed the debris from her head wound, and then placed a bandage over the cut. He pressed the ice pack against a lump on her head that was sure to swell and probably leave her with at least one black eye, if not two.

“Uh,” she groaned.

“I’m sorry, but this will reduce the inflammation.”

She pinched her eyes shut as if in extreme pain, which indicated a concussion.

“Where else are you hurt?” he said.

She didn’t answer. He noticed she gripped her left wrist against her stomach.

“Your wrist?” he said. “May I see it?”

She buried it deeper into her stomach. Yeah, it was injured, all right. Her reaction was similar to Marissa’s when she’d broken her wrist after falling off her bike last spring.

The mystery woman wasn’t making this easy, but he wouldn’t force the issue. He suspected that dehydration intensified her confusion and fear, and he wouldn’t risk making it worse.

He grabbed a water bottle out of his pack. “You need to hydrate.”

Supporting her with his arm, he sat her up and offered the water. Slowly, her eyes blinked open.

“You really need to drink something,” he encouraged.

She pursed her lips, and her blue eyes clouded with fear. Ah, she thought he’d put something in the water.

“It’s filtered water, see?” He took a swig, and made sure to swallow so she could see him. “Delicious.”

He sounded as though he was trying to convince five-year-old Marissa to eat her broccoli.

The woman nodded and he held the bottle to her lips. He tipped it and she sipped, but coughed. He pulled her against his chest and gently patted her back. How long had it been since he’d comforted a woman like this? Lord knew Megan wouldn’t accept his comfort during the last months of her life.