Hope White - Mountain Hostage

“Of course.” Zoe sighed. “I wish I knew why this was happening to us.”

“Maybe your friend got involved with the wrong people.”

She snapped her attention to him. “Excuse me?”

“Your friend got involved—”

“I heard you the first time. Why would you even think that?”

He shrugged.

“Well, it’s not true.”

“People aren’t usually randomly kidnapped without cause.”

“How dare you malign Shannon. You haven’t even met her.”

He just looked at her.

“Well, say something,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re sorry for starters.”

“You posed the question, so I assumed you wanted—”

“It was a rhetorical question, thank you very much.”

A puzzled frown creased his forehead. His suggestion bothered her more than it should, which meant...she sensed potential validity to his comment.

“I’m feeling exceptionally vulnerable and I need people around me that I can trust,” she said. She was a jumble of emotions and feared she might completely lose it in front of this stranger. She wanted privacy. She wanted counsel with God.

She needed her friend back.

A man in a dark suit joined them. “Miss Pratt, I’m Detective Perry.” He narrowed his eyes at Jack. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on Zoe.”

Zoe felt anxious and confused, both by Jack’s accusation and her own visceral response.

“I need to question Miss Pratt,” Detective Perry said.

With a slight nod, Jack left her alone with the detective.

“Any news about Shannon?” she asked.

“No, ma’am. I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened.”

“Oh, okay.” She wondered how many police officers she’d have to repeat her story to.

“Why were you out hiking today?”

“To clear our minds of stress. Prairie’s Peak is a favorite spot of Shannon’s and she wanted to share her special place with me, you know, to cheer me up.”

The detective waited for more.

“I broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago,” she explained.

He nodded, wrote something down in a small notebook. “Can you describe the assailant?”

“A large man, over six feet tall, with an angular face and dark eyes. He was in his thirties with a scar above his left eye.”

“You think you could identify him?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have you get with a forensic artist. What did the assailant say, exactly? Did he seem to know your friend or call her by name?”

“No,” Zoe said. “He didn’t say much only...” She reflected back on the moment she decided to catalog every detail about the man. “When he got close, I smelled cigarettes on his breath. I tried to help Shannon and he said, ‘This is not your fight.’”

“So, he was specifically targeting Shannon.”

“I don’t know. I guess it seems that way.”

“Then what happened?”

“When I wouldn’t let go of Shannon, he said...” the memory resurfaced in a flash “...that I would die with her.” She eyed the detective. “You’ve got to find her.”

“We’ll do our best. Specialized training is needed to go after a violent criminal in the mountains. We’re putting together a few teams, including police officers, that will be on standby for when the weather breaks. We can’t let search-and-rescue teams of civilians head up there without police officer escort. It’s too dangerous.”

She didn’t like his answer, but she understood it.

Zoe spent the next fifteen minutes answering the detective’s questions about Shannon. It was only then, when Zoe didn’t have the details that he seemed to be looking for, that she realized she didn’t know as much about the adult Shannon as she should.

Why hadn’t Zoe asked questions of her friend? Why hadn’t she found out more about what happened between Shannon and Randy, about her job, her social life? She felt helpless and utterly alone.

An hour later Zoe was officially discharged and for some reason she wished Jack would have returned. How silly.

“You are a fortunate woman,” the nurse said, then explained how to wrap her bruised ribs and manage the concussion. “Your injuries could’ve been much worse.”

Zoe didn’t feel fortunate. Her friend was still out there, cold, vulnerable and probably hurt.

Hopefully still alive.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change ... She recited the prayer silently.

Shannon had been violently kidnapped. Zoe couldn’t change that fact, but she wasn’t powerless. She could pray for her friend’s safety. Zoe didn’t believe Shan had gotten involved with the wrong people; she might find clues at Shannon’s house to assist with the investigation into her kidnapping.

As she waited outside the hospital for a ride to take her back to Shannon’s modest home, she considered her next move. Yeah, like what move? Hike up a mountain in the dark with a concussion and bruised ribs to find her friend?

For half a second, she wondered if the concussion was, in fact, affecting her good sense.

A squad car pulled up and a deputy got out. “Are you Zoe Pratt?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Deputy Ortman. Sergeant Peterson asked me to give you a ride.”

Once inside the cruiser, she decided to press Deputy Ortman for news about her friend. “What’s the status of the search?” she asked.

“Three search teams are ready to deploy once the storm passes.”

Well, three was better than one. Still...

“How is Shannon going to survive?” she said softly.

“If the kidnapper wants something from her or her family, it’s in his best interest to keep her safe.”

She kept circling back to the same question: Why Shannon? And who was going to get the ransom call? Her parents were stable financially, but not wealthy.

She wished she had a sounding board, someone to process it all with.

An image of Jack standing at the foot of her hospital bed flooded her thoughts. The unique man who’d saved her life. She had either been brusque with him, or an emotional tornado. She assumed he’d feel safest keeping his distance.

But who could blame her for being an emotional basket case in her situation?

She wondered if Jack was on one of the search teams standing by to look for Shannon.

They had to find her. Zoe wouldn’t accept the alternative. Few people other than Shannon knew the real Zoe, understood and loved her, faults and all.

The deputy turned into Shannon’s snow-dusted driveway leading to the charming, two-bedroom house. The snow hadn’t accumulated nearly as much down here as it had up on the mountain.

Zoe spotted a lone figure standing on the front porch. From this vantage point, it could almost be... Shannon. Hope flared in Zoe’s chest.

The deputy parked the cruiser and Zoe thanked him for the ride. As she approached the house, she said, “Shannon?”

The woman pulled the scarf off her face.

“Oh, sorry,” Zoe said. “I thought you were Shannon.”

The visitor extended her hand. “I’m Kelly Washburn, Shannon’s friend. We work together.”

“Zoe Pratt.”

“No offense, but I was hoping it was Shannon in the back of the squad car,” Kelly said. “I heard what happened and had to come over. I don’t know why. I had to do something.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I even brought sloppy burgers, her favorite, from the resort’s restaurant.”

“That was thoughtful, thanks.” Someone with a positive attitude. Zoe liked that. She scanned the porch. “I wonder where she keeps the spare key?”

“It’s probably unlocked,” Kelly said. “People out here rarely lock their doors. If not, she keeps the spare under the mat.”