Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SUSPENDED BY A single cable some thirty feet above the raging, freezing Mississippi River, Dani began to swing herself back and forth.

“I don’t know, Dani,” Frankie called as she pumped her legs harder.

“Dani. C’mon, wait,” Levon said. “Let’s just—Dani! Just hold on.”

Dani ignored them, continuing to swing herself back and forth, her fingers just missing the inside of the van every time she swung that way.

“Give me a little slack,” she yelled to R.J., angling back around awkwardly in the swaying harness.

“Honey, you’re doing things even I’m too stupid to think’s a good idea,” he hollered back.

Dani kept swinging, harder and harder each time, but it didn’t matter. She still couldn’t make it. She didn’t have enough line. But that didn’t stop her—and Levon knew it wouldn’t stop her.

“Give her more cable,” Levon called to R.J.

R.J. shook his head. “I really don’t think—”

“Just do it!”

R.J. made a disapproving cluck with his teeth but did it anyway. The cable extended, dropping Dani down a foot or two. She pumped her legs again, swinging like a pendulum. trying to increase the arc a little bit each time.

It was clear now that she would have enough line to reach the van, but the extra length had dropped her too low.

“Lift her up,” Levon called to R.J., but he was already one step ahead. Hand on the controls, he waited to sync up the lift to her swinging. As Dani’s body reached the apex of its backswing, he lifted the boom just enough, and Dani was lined up perfectly with the door’s opening. She swooped toward the van, and everyone held their breath. Her outstretched fingers grabbed at the upholstered seat just inside the open door—but it slipped through her gloved hands. Her body jerked, swaying uncoordinatedly.

From inside the flames under the bridge came another metallic screech, this time lower in pitch, stronger in intensity. Boggs dropped to a squat and Frankie swore under his breath. Levon was frozen in place, watching, trying to figure out a way to back her up.

There wasn’t one.

Dani held on to the cable, waiting for the herky-jerky motion to still enough that she could start the process over. When it did, she pumped her legs to create a smooth arc. This time she was confident she knew what she was doing and that it would work, so she pumped harder, going higher, and just when it looked like she couldn’t go any higher, she swung over into the van, hooked her arm around the seat’s armrest, and held on tight.

The bridge might have creaked again, but the firefighters didn’t hear it; they were screaming too loud, cheering on their girl while she pulled her legs in and got to her feet.

Inside the van, Dani stood on shaky legs, refusing to look at the thirty-foot drop behind her. When she turned to Connor, she saw the little boy’s eyes were open wide in disbelief. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said in a soft voice, the dampening acoustics in the small space a disorienting contrast to the megaphone she’d grown accustomed to. What wildly different perspectives they’d both had that day. Connor had looked out and down on them for hours, like peering through a peephole, everything expanded, distorted. By contrast, to Dani, the van felt cramped and closed.

An eerie sense of claustrophobia came over her as she realized it wasn’t just herself and Connor in here; there were other people with them. Three bodies. His family. And he’d been alone with them the whole time. Her heart broke all over again.

“We’re going to get out of here together, okay?” she said.

And for the first time that day, Dani actually heard his sweet little voice.

“Okay,” he said.

She looked around the van, forming a plan. “Can you stand up?”

Slowly, Connor got to his feet.

“Good. You’re doing great. Now, can you come to me?”

He hesitated.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Just take it one step at a time.”

After a moment, Connor took one tiny step toward her outstretched arms. Then another. He went for a third—and a low groan came from outside the van, from somewhere inside the flaming wing. Connor panicked. Gasping, he retreated, his back pressed flat against the opposite door.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Dani said, ignoring the urgent screams from Levon and the guys telling her to hurry up and get out of there. “We’ll do it together and do it fast,” she said, unclipping the cable from her harness and clipping it to the doorjamb.

Dani took one careful, small step toward the center of the van. Connor did too. Dani took one more. Connor did too. Inch by inch, they moved together as Dani shifted her balance as slowly and carefully as she could.

“Reach your arms out, baby. Like me.”

Connor’s skinny little arms reached toward her, his hands shaking. The bridge creaked.

“No, look at me!” Dani cried out. “Look in my eyes, Connor. Stay with me. We’re okay.”

Connor didn’t blink. His blue eyes stayed glued to hers, trusting her. Needing her.

He was right there. Their fingertips were touching.

Dani reached out. Connor leaned in. She stepped forward one more inch and took him under the arms, lifting him up to her body. She wrapped her arms around him, and he clutched her tight, squeezing so hard—as with a loud crack, the bridge gave way and began to collapse into the freezing Mississippi River below, taking the wing, the van, and the woman and child down with it.