Chapter 6

Please let her be right. To have heard the truth and not just what she hoped.

Please let her not have been followed as she struggled off the mountain, only to collapse here in the dirt for the shooter to finish her off.

She couldn’t die here?—

“Sparrow, just calm down—calm down!”

Flynn hadn’t even realized she’d been thrashing, pushing Axel’s hands away from her as she came back to herself.

One second she’d nearly shot the man standing on her porch, the next she’d been trying to grapple with his voice—so wonderfully familiar—while the world spun.

“What happened?”

She opened her eyes to find herself tucked into her sleeping bag on the porch, Axel bent over her with a wet cloth, dabbing it to her head with one hand while the other held her wrist.

Her hand was balled into a fist.

“Did I punch you?”

He bore the faintest hint of red on his cheek. “It’s nothing. You were a little confused. I think you might have had a seizure.”

She remembered nothing except—“Axel.”

“That’s right.” He met her eyes. Blue eyes, just like she’d imagined. Almost brown hair, except for highlights that turned to deep bronze in the sun, and a smattering of golden-brown whiskers across his face, as if he hadn’t shaved in his hurry to get to her.

Oh yeah, she’d hit her head, and hard, careening down that mountain.

“What happened to you?” He leaned away, his eyes on the wound on her head. “That needs a stitch or two.”

“I fell down a mountain.”

“You did what?”

“After someone shot at me.”

His frown deepened.

“I thought . . . I thought maybe he’d followed me back to the cabin. Then I heard your bike and I hid and . . .” She winced, her head really starting to bang now. “Sorry I shot at you.”

“Please tell me you were trying to miss.”

She closed her eyes, but her mouth tweaked up one side. “Yep.”

“Okay. Listen, I need to take a look at your wrist, and did you hurt your leg too?”

“Yeah, I sprained my knee. Landed pretty hard on it. And it’s not my wrist—it’s my shoulder.”

“Hence the sling. How far did you fall?”

“All the way?” She opened her eyes.

Now he narrowed his eyes at her. “Smarty pants, huh?”

“Listen, Mr. I-Scare-People-To-Death-And-Don’t-Answer-My-Ham-Radio, I think you had it coming—oh, ah. Okay, no more talking.”

“Agreed. And I only went dark because a wave took out the ham. Yeah, your knee is really swollen.” He’d zipped open her sleeping bag and now put his hand on her leg gently, moving it around the joint. “As for your shoulder, lemme see how bad it is. I don’t want to try to put it back into place if your shoulder is broken.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, kneading gently.

“I don’t think—oh, oh, that hurts. Okay, that’s good—that—oh.” She grabbed his wrist. “Thank you so much, doc, but I think let’s leave it to the professionals.”

“I am a professional.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re a professional swimmer. Not shoulder-setter.”

He leaned back. “Okay, from what I can tell, it’s an anterior dislocation. It can be reset. And the longer we wait, the more damage you’ll do to it. How long has it been?—”

“About three, maybe four hours. I don’t know. I fell about twenty feet, onto a ledge, and then sort of worked my way down the mountain. There might have been more falling. I was pretty . . . well, I did mention the shooting, right?” She tried to sit up and he caught her, one strong arm behind her back as she eased up.

The world started to spin again. She grimaced.

“I think I need to get a chopper in here.”

“No . . . no, I just need to rest.”

“Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind? You need a hospital!”

She looked at him. Smiled.

He frowned at her. “What?”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in a hospital, recovering from hypothermia.”

“You can’t figure that out?” He leaned close to her, those blue eyes on hers. Then he smiled.

Oh wow. And just like that, she felt like she could fly.

Sheesh.She’d been knocked harder in the head that she thought. For Pete’s sake?—

“Now, let’s set that shoulder.”

Oh.

“Listen, there’s an old cowboy trick I know—a guy I used to swim with taught me. He was from Oklahoma—had an itch to live by the ocean. But he rode bulls for a while too and showed me how to self-set a dislocation.” He hopped off the porch, eased her legs out of the bag, grabbed her by the hips and turned her. “I’m going to help you stand up. Don’t fall.”

She nodded, wincing as her knee bent. But she let him pull her forward so her feet touched the ground.

“Okay, I got you.” He tucked an arm around her waist. “Now, lean forward and let your dislocated arm dangle down.”

“That’s going to hurt.”

“Yes, yes it is.” He leaned down. “But you’re tougher than you think.”

“Oh, I see where we’re going with this.”

“Lean over. I won’t let you fall.”

She grunted, grabbing her arm to ease it down until it dangled.

“Okay, bend your knees and tuck your fingers beneath your foot.”

“My knee is swollen. I can’t bend it.”

“Right. Okay, um . . .” He knelt in front of her, his face near hers. “I’m going to slowly pull down on your hand. Don’t stand up. Brace your other hand on me.”

She put her hand on his back—he had wide, firm shoulders—and closed her eyes as he started to apply pressure. Gritting her teeth, she bit back a moan.

“Almost there.”

Her muscles stretched and then—pop. Her shoulder moved back into place. She let out a gasp, then a whimper, and opened her eyes.

His gaze fixed on hers, so close, too close maybe, and truthfully, all these feelings probably had way too much to do with the last twenty-four hours of panic, then relief, and now rescue than actual attraction, so hello. Wake up and calm down.

But oh, Axel Mulligan was a handsome man.

“It’s back in the socket?”

“Yeah.” She straightened, then swayed, and he grabbed her waist.

“Hokay, I think it’s time to close up that cut on your forehead and head back to Copper Mountain.”

He picked her up and set her back on the porch, just like that. He moved her onto the sleeping bag. “Lie back. Let me see what you’ve got around here for first aid.”

“I bought a kit in town, at the outfitter’s,” she said. Probably. At least she said it in her mind.

He emerged holding the bag and now crouched beside her and opened it. “Yep. Butterfly bandages. Perfect. That’ll get us started.”

She let him doctor her cut, adding ointment, then taping it shut. Then he wrapped her knee with an instant ice pack and an ACE bandage.

“You’re a regular Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman.”

He looked at her.

“Except you’re a guy.”

“Thanks for noticing.” He tucked the kit away. “Do you think you can ride on my bike?”

“I can try.” She pushed herself up. “I did manage to walk down the mountain by myself.”

He considered her a moment. “Okay. Let me pack up your gear. Or is it Peyton’s?”

“Peyton! Oh, we need to call her?—”

He held up his hand. “Where’s the radio?”

“I . . . think it might be in my pack?”

He found the pack and pulled out the radio. “You didn’t think to use this?”

“You remember the shooting part, right? The last thing I wanted was to bring Peyton into that.”

He considered her for a long moment, then nodded.

“Channel sixteen,” she said.

He stood up and went into the cabin, and she heard him call up Peyton. Tell her that he was bringing Flynn into Copper Mountain.

He also mentioned the shooter, then someone named Hank—oh, right, she knew Hank—and as she closed her eyes, she heard him say he’d called Nash.

How could she have thought he might be a killer . . .

“Don’t sleep!”

His voice jerked her back, her eyes open. He stood over her, the pack over his shoulders. “Don’t sleep, Sparrow.”

Sparrow. She should tell him her . . . name . . .

“Okay, that’s enough. We’re going. But I don’t trust you to hang on.” He whipped off the pack, stepped into the cabin, and in a moment he’d returned with the empty pack, her supplies gone.

“Let’s go.”

What—

And then he simply bent and swept her up into his arms.

He smelled good. Like the woods, and maybe soap, and something tough and durable and determined.

“Sparrow!” He jostled her hard.

Her eyes opened. He’d reached the bike.

“Okay, I’m hoping this works—I need you to sit behind me, and then I’m going to put the pack around both of us.”

Huh?

He settled her on the bike, put a helmet on her, then pulled off the pack and loosened the straps. “Put this on.”

“Sure.”

But he helped because her arm still hurt, and frankly, the world wasn’t quite right either.

He got on in front of her, reached down, gripped her thighs, and pulled her up against him. Then he reached back and put his arms through the straps, pulling her tight against him. She put her arms around his waist, tucked in tight, the helmet thumping against his shoulder blades.

Yeah. She wasn’t going anywhere.

He reached down and put her right foot on a peg that he flipped out.

Then he took hold of her leg with the damaged knee and carefully lifted it, holding her knee against his thigh. “I know this isn’t ideal. But we need to get you to help, and soon, and this will be faster than bringing in the Air One team. I promise to go easy.”

She probably made a sound of agreement, because he started off. Easy, navigating with one hand while working the throttle.

Her arms tightened around him, and despite her helmet, and against her will, her cries of pain leaked out, even over the sound of the engine. They motored down the shoreline, then through a river, and she closed her eyes again as they hit the other side and he drove a little faster.

Breathe. She gritted her teeth, stealing herself, but the pain cascaded through her, took hold. She bent her head, closed her eyes.

He reached the dirt road and opened up the bike a little, kicking up dust.

And then, suddenly, they were sliding, the bike almost spilling out beneath him.

She gasped, gripped his waist.

He braked and righted it. “You okay?” She breathed out. Not even a little. But as she lifted her head, put her hands to his back, she discovered he was sweating. “Axel?”

“Yeah. Just . . . give me a second.”

She lifted the visor and spotted a rabbit on the side of the road. “Did we almost hit a rabbit?”

“The rabbit almost hit us, but—yeah. I think . . . this might have been a bad idea. Once we get on the highway, I’m going to need both hands. Unless . . .” He breathed out. “Okay, I got this.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell. “Good. We finally have service.”

She closed her eyes, but in a moment she heard?—

“Hey, Moose, I found her.”

His voice, his words just . . . well, she was definitely concussed, because they simply settled inside her, bathing her insides with a sort of warm goo. “I found her.”

“Okay. Meet me at the highway.”

He hung up. Looked over his shoulder. “Put the visor down. It’s going to get dusty.”

She did, and he motored up the bike, still holding her leg, and pushed off.

They crawled along, stones and rock pinging off the tires, his body taut, clearly trying to keep them from sliding.

And all the while he kept a firm grip on her leg.

She closed her eyes again, surrendered to the buzz of the motor, the sense of him, stalwart, in front of her.

She didn’t know how long they’d traveled before she heard the engine cut down. He stopped, his legs bracing them.

She lifted her head and spotted a pickup on the side of the road. A man, dark hair, a canvas jacket, and jeans walked over to Axel. “This is your fifty-year-old bush woman?”

Huh?

“She did show up with a gun, so you weren’t wrong there. Help me get her off the bike. Easy. She fell down a mountain.”

“You two are a pair.”

He eased out of the pack and leaned up, still holding her leg. “Sparrow, I’m going to put your leg down and lift you off the bike.”

He looked at Moose. “Take her helmet off. Then catch her because she’s in and out of consciousness.”

Yeah, well, if she’d been sleeping before, she woke when Axel got up, trying not to jostle her leg. Her knee must have swelled six sizes since getting on the bike, and a noise that she’d never heard before came out of her body.

“Okay, okay—” Even he sounded panicked. He came around and scooped her up again into his arms. “Listen, I’m going to put you in the back seat of the truck, and Moose is taking you to the Copper Mountain hospital. They’ll assess you, and if you need it, we’ll fly you down to Anchorage.”

She looked at him, dust on his skin and his clothing, his eyes holding a fair amount of worry, and she couldn’t stop herself. “You’ll be there, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, Sparrow. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Then he stepped up to the back seat and placed her inside. She slid back onto it and let her leg lie straight.

The big guy got into the driver’s seat. “I’m Moose, Axel’s brother.”

“The one who called him Lugnut.”

He considered her for a moment. Then chuckled. “Don’t you worry, Sparrow. I’ll take good care of you.”

“Stay alive,” said Axel as he stood at the door. Then he winked and shut it.

Fear not. Because her sister’s murderer was in those mountains; she just knew it.

And she wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

“You did hear the part about someone trying to shoot her, right, Deke?”

Axel didn’t mean to raise his voice, and despite the lingering late-evening sun, a nurse had walked by twice with a finger to her mouth to shush them.

He didn’t care when visiting hours ended, he wasn’t budging. Not until Sparrow came out of a CT scan for her head, her MRI for her knee, and X-rays for her shoulder.

And not until he got some answers about who might have been shooting at her on a mountaintop in the middle of a national forest.

So there was that.

The moment Axel had arrived at the Copper Mountain hospital—a five-bed hospital attached to the clinic and the new maternity ward—and discovered Sparrow getting a head and knee CT, he’d left to track down the sheriff.

“I did hear you, Axel,” Deke said. He was out of uniform, Axel having dragged him out of the Midnight Sun Saloon. He’d gotten a takeout box from Vic, the owner, for the man’s hot wings, so what was he complaining about?

Now Axel, Deke, and Moose stood in the waiting room of the ER, and Axel wanted answers. Or at least . . . some action from the sheriff’s office. A BOLO maybe or . . .

“What exactly do you want me to do, Axel?” Deke said. “You know that area is near Bowie land. Could have been a stray bullet?—”

“It’s fishing season, Deke. No one should be shooting anything, let alone a person.”

“People have a right to bring a gun into the bush any time of year. You know that. And they can shoot an animal in self-defense.”

“You really think that woman in there could be confused with a grizzly bear?”

“Take a breath, Axel,” Moose said, stepping between him and Deke. “No one is saying that this is okay. And yes, Deke—and Hank, really—will get to the bottom of this. But let the man finish his wings.”

They did smell good. Maybe he should have picked up an order too. “Does that have Vic’s special bacon sauce?”

“Yeah. Ribs, too. And I’ll bet they’re cold.”

“Sorry.”

Deke nodded. “Listen. I’ll talk to Hank, see who’s picked up any permits for fishing in the area. Sully should know too—he’s out on a fishing trip with his uncle right now. He’ll be back any day.”

Axel nodded. “Okay. Can you stay and get a statement from her?”

Deke had picked up the container. “Of course.” He went over to the sofa and opened the container.

“You want me to go over to the Midnight Sun, get you some ribs?” Moose asked.

Axel pressed his empty stomach, churning. “No. Did Mom make pasties?”

“She was midroll when I left, so probably.”

He walked to the window. A haze, what might be considered night this time of year, had started to settle over the valley. The hospital sat away from Main Street, overlooking it at a distance. From here, he spotted the airport, the train station, and the Bowie lodge along the river.

And the RV parking lot, jammed with tourists, hikers, and fishermen here for the summer of the eternal sun.

Yeah, Deke was right. Could have been anyone. And . . . maybe Sparrow wasn’t even the target.

“By the way, I know your girl.”

He looked over at Deke, who was finishing off a rib. Deke took out a wet wipe that came with the dinner and cleaned his hands, then his face. “Her name is Flynn. Flynn Turnquist. She’s a cop from Minneapolis.”

Huh.He sort of liked Sparrow better. But why hadn’t she told him her name?

And he knew about her being a cop. Still, “How do you know that?”

“She has a sister who went missing here three years ago. Kennedy Turnquist. She worked with Peyton, studying wolf patterns. Went out on a hike one day and never returned.” He picked up another rib. “They found her belongings—her pack and other items—scattered near one of the research sites. Peyton reported her gone, and we issued a search warrant, but nothing ever came of it, and she just disappeared into the system. Hank thought she might have been attacked by a rogue grizzly we had roaming around at the time, but—” He bit into the rib.

“But what?” Moose said, sitting on the opposite sofa.

“We found a victim in the Copper River—maybe one of the Midnight Sun victims—about a year or more after she went missing. The girl was wearing a necklace that supposedly belonged to Kennedy. Flynn flew out here, and we went through the evidence. I was a deputy at the time, and I remember her being like a dog with a bone. But we just . . . came up empty. Couldn’t even connect it to the Midnight Sun Killer. So we released the necklace to Flynn, and she left.” He took another bite of the rib.

“Why’s she back?” Moose said.

“I know,” Axel said, looking up as the elevator opened. “It’s because of me.”

A nurse wheeled Sparrow—er, Flynn—out of the elevator and down the hall to her room. He headed to follow.

Moose blocked his way. “What do you mean it’s because of you?”

He held up his hand. “Because I let the Midnight Sun Killer get away in the river two months ago.”

“Please. That is not true.”

“You don’t know that.” Axel stepped past Moose. “And then he struck again. And now Flynn is here, hurt and . . .” He lifted his hands. “Just sayin’.”

“That’s a pretty big blame leap there, bro.”

“I’m a pretty athletic guy. Not hard to make.” He turned and headed down the hallway, then followed the nurse into the room.

Flynn was awake, her head wound stitched and bandaged, her arm in a real sling, and her knee on ice and elevated. An IV ran into her vein, probably painkiller along with fluids, and she gave him a wan smile. “Hey. You’re here.”

The nurse rounded on him. “No, he’s not.”

He didn’t recognize her. “Aw, c’mon. I’m the one who rescued her.”

“It’s past visiting hours?—”

“Please.” He gave her his best local-hero smile.

It worked. The woman—he put her in her early forties, short brown hair—shook her head. “Celebrities,” she said, but smiled. “Five minutes.”

“She can’t sleep anyway, right?”

The nurse sighed, stuck her hands into her pockets. “Fine. But no trouble from you.” She pointed at him.

“Me?”

She rolled her eyes and left the room.

“Really, she means me?” He looked back at Flynn.

Oh, shoot, she was lovely, even with all the wounds. And sure, maybe she’d left an imprint on his heart over the radio, and only in his wildest dreams would it belong to someone who wasn’t fifty and in bearskins. But nope, she had pretty copper hair, burnished by the fading sunlight, and now that he could see them clearly, beautiful green eyes, a petite nose, pert lips, and a crooked smile that now creeped up one side.

“I don’t think she means me,” she said.

“What—I’m not the one sitting in a hospital bed, having taken a flying leap off a tall mountain.” He came over and sat in the bedside chair. “What, did you think you could fly?”

She leaned her head back in her pillow. “I wish I could. I just . . . ran. Down the mountain, at break-my-neck speed.” She sighed, her gaze on him.

Silence.

“So, I need to tell you something,” she said quietly.

“Shoot.” He leaned back, propping his ankle on his knee, folding his arms.

“Now you’re being weird.”

“Go on.”

“Fine—I was going to tell you before you almost drowned the second—or wait, was that the third—time.”

“Only the one time there, skipper. What were you going to tell me?”

And he didn’t know why, but he held his breath, hoping?—

“My name is Flynn.”

And there it went, his last reason for not really liking her full out. He sighed and leaned forward. “So, Flynn . . . Sparrow is, what, your call sign?”

“My sister’s nickname.”

Oh.

“She went missing three years ago, and I . . . I’m here to find her.”

He pressed his hands together, then touched them to his lips. “I know.”

Her eyes widened.

“Deke told me.”

She leaned back. “Right. Deke. You two know each other.”

“Pretty well, yeah. He told me about the case. And how it went nowhere.”

“Yeah. Until a few days ago when I saw a newscast about a woman who was shot in the woods near Copper Mountain Ski Resort. I don’t know . . . I just . . .” She looked out the window. “I’ve never been able to get it out of my head that Kennedy’s still alive. But my parents want to declare her dead and have a memorial service. And I . . . I can’t. Not until I know.”

“You think she was killed by the Midnight Sun Killer.”

“I think she could have been. She matches the profile of his victims. Young—between the ages of seventeen and thirty. Independent. The kind of woman not afraid to hike alone, drive alone, or even stop to help someone on the side of the road. And she was camping near the Copper River where?—”

“All the bodies were found. Or most of them. The girl at the ski resort was found away from the river, up the hill, frozen.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Mm-Mmmhmm. I was there for that.”

“Oh.”

Maybe, since she’d come clean, he should too. But . . . somehow, looking at the price she’d paid to discover the fate of her sister, he just couldn’t tell her that he’d been the guy who had . . . possibly . . . let . . . Okay, yeah, maybe Moose was right—it was a gulf of a blame jump there.

Still. “Not long ago, Air One rescued a woman who we think might have been picked up by the guy.”

“What?”

“Yeah. They were in an accident in a river. We rescued the woman. The man . . . got away.”

She nodded, swallowed. “He’s still out there.”

He lifted a shoulder.

“Twenty years is a long time to be killing women.” She looked at her hands, closed them. “So many victims. So many untold stories. So many people waiting for answers.”

Aw, she had no idea that his family might be some of those people waiting.

She looked up. “I need to find the guy who was shooting at me.”

“You . . . what?”

“I need to find the shooter. I don’t know why he was shooting, but . . . what if he knows something about Kennedy?”

A beat.

“Okay, I know that sounds crazy, but listen, here’s my working theory. What if he lives around there, or maybe hunts in that area every year, and he saw me? And . . . you know, I am Kennedy. We’re identical twins. And maybe he thought . . . I was a . . .”

“Ghost?”

That seemed to take the wind out of her. She frowned. “Okay, you’re right. That’s nuts. I just . . . I got nothing here.” She leaned away and closed her eyes. “Maybe this is a crazy wild-goose chase. Maybe I should just take my hits, learn my lesson, and go home.” She opened her eyes, met his, relaying so much grief that the pain reached in, twisted everything inside him. “Tell my parents to have that service, bury my sister, so to speak, and move on with my life.”

She looked away, her eyes filling, and man, he couldn’t stop himself?—

“I’ll help you.”

She turned back.

“You’ll . . . help me?”

And maybe yes, it had to do with a little blame leaping, and maybe a dose of seeing that frustration and grief on her face, but really . . . he didn’t want her to leave.

Not yet.

Because somehow Sparrow, the girl on the other end of the radio, still had ahold of him, was still keeping him from drowning.

And he wasn’t ready to let go.

“Yeah, I’ll help you find Kennedy, or the serial killer. Both. Whatever. Maybe we start with talking to Ashley, the girl who got away.”

She smiled, wide and bright and full, her eyes shining. “Thanks, Phoenix.”

He’d forgotten he’d told her that nickname.

But maybe he didn’t mind.

Maybe, in fact, it was time for him to rise from the ashes.

The nurse poked her head in. “Okay, superstar, it’s time to go home.”

“I thought?—”

“Listen, we’ll take care of the mountain climber. I’ll be in every hour to annoy her. Go home.”

He got up. “What’s your name?”

“Aw, Axel, c’mon, don’t you remember me?”

He shook his head.

“Right. Okay, it’s probably better that way.” She smiled at Flynn. “Say goodbye to Mr. Rescue, and I’ll be in to check on you soon.”

She left and he stood there, looking at Flynn.

And she looked at him.

“Right, then. See you in the morning.”

“I’ll be here.”

Another beat. Then he took a breath, nodded, and fled the room before he did something really stupid.

Then again, stupid seemed to be his MO.

He met Moose in the hallway. Deke was there, waiting.

“She’ll give you a statement in the morning,” he said. “It’s late and she’s not going anywhere.” At least, he hoped not.

“Seriously?” Deke shook his head. “I ate cold wings and ribs for nothing?”

Axel grinned and followed Moose out to the truck.

And was asleep before Moose pulled out of the parking lot.