Going to Extremes

Her best option was to keep climbing, Kaitlyn decided. At some point, she was bound to get a cell phone signal, and then she could call for help. And if she kept walking, she would eventually reach Eagle Falls, a small logging community seven miles north of the highway.

Striking out alone through the wilderness with dangerous convicts on the loose normally wouldn’t have been her first choice, but the prisoners had been on the run for nearly twenty-four hours. It was doubtful they were even still in the area, and besides, Kaitlyn wasn’t so sure she’d be any safer sitting on the side of a deserted road. She had no idea how long it would take for the water to go down, and even then, her vehicle would be inoperable. No one would miss her until morning so it was likely she would be sitting there all night. If she wanted to reach Eagle Falls before dark, she’d have to leave now.

Taking one last glance at her submerged vehicle, she squared her shoulders and began to climb.

TWILIGHT FELL early across the mountain, but Kaitlyn resisted the temptation to use her flashlight as she trudged along an old hunting path. She needed to conserve the batteries because, if she didn’t reach Eagle Falls soon, her flashlight could very well be the only thing standing between her and the coyotes and mountain lions that prowled the area. Not to mention the grizzlies.

Lions, coyotes, and bears, oh, my, she thought with a nervous laugh. She’d definitely been out in the elements too long.

Ever since she’d left the highway, she hadn’t seen one single sign of human life. Even the animals had taken to high ground, and it was as if she was alone in a watery universe. Kaitlyn had never realized how profound complete silence could be, nor had she grasped the vastness of the Montana wilderness. She now had a new appreciation for the frontier men and women who had been able to navigate their way through the mountainous terrain with nothing more than their own keen sense of survival.

Even though she had yet to reach the top of the summit, the ground had leveled off a bit. The going was easier now, but Kaitlyn’s spirits had plummeted. She was wet, exhausted and freezing. All she could think about was a hot bath and a warm bed, preferably in that order.

She’d been hiking for the better part of two hours when she finally saw a glimmer of light through the trees.

Civilization! At last!

Kaitlyn’s heart leaped in anticipation.

She stumbled over a tree branch in her excitement and forced herself to slow down. A twisted ankle—or worse, a broken leg—was the last thing she needed.

As she emerged from a thicket of ponderosa pines into a small clearing, she realized the light came from what appeared to be an old hunting lodge.

She scanned the area immediately surrounding the rustic building. There were no utility poles or wires that she could see, and she couldn’t hear a generator. Someone had probably lit a lantern. Another stranded motorist perhaps who’d arrived at the lodge before her.

Kaitlyn doubted the cabin was equipped with a phone line, either, but whoever was inside might have a working cell phone or even a short-wave radio. At the very least, they might be able to offer her a warm, safe place to spend the night.

Her first instinct was to rush up the rickety steps and pound on the door as hard as she could until someone answered. But her impulses had already gotten her into trouble once that day. She was alone, unarmed, and too exhausted to put up much of a fight should she need to. Her best bet was to approach the cabin with extreme caution. Do a bit of reconnoitering before she made her presence known.

Slipping across the wet ground, she flattened herself against the log wall and eased toward the window. She could hear voices inside. Loud, angry voices that sent a chill up her spine.

Taking care not to be seen, she inched toward the window and peered in, then jumped back, her heart flailing at what she’d seen.

A half-dozen or so men milled about inside the cabin. They were dressed in fatigues and were armed with what appeared to be automatic weapons, but Kaitlyn didn’t think they were soldiers. One of the men stood so near the window that she’d glimpsed a tattoo on the bicep of his left arm beneath his dark green T-shirt.

An upside-down burning American flag…the symbol used by the Montana Militia for a Free America.

She’d seen that same tattoo on Boone Fowler’s arm when he’d proudly displayed it at his trial.

And on Jenny Peltier’s arm when she’d come to Kaitlyn for help.

Kaitlyn had stared at the symbol in horror when Jenny had shoved up her sleeve. “Those people are murderers, Jenny. Terrorists! Why would you get involved with a group like that?”

“Because of Chase,” Jenny whispered. “I owed him that much.”

Jenny’s older brother had died in a war she and her family had always considered unjust and illegal. Her stepfather had railed against the government for years, and Chase’s death had only added fuel to the fire. Jenny had been so torn up with grief that her stepfather’s rants must have colored her perception of what had really happened. But Kaitlyn would never have guessed that she would have taken her hatred so far.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Kaitlyn willed away the memory. Boone Fowler had killed her best friend, but she couldn’t afford to lose control now. She had to get out of there before they saw her. She had to find a way to contact the authorities. Fowler and his cohorts were armed and dangerous. It wasn’t just her life on the line.

Clutching her cell phone, she prayed that she would be able to get a signal and summon help. But as she started to slip away from the cabin, a scream from inside drew her back to the window.

She tried not to make a sound, but what she saw sent a gasp to her throat. The man nearest the window had moved away so that she had a clear view of the interior. The convicts had taken a hostage. They’d stripped him and bound him to a wooden chair. He was bleeding profusely from his wounds and seemed barely conscious as his head lolled forward, chin on chest.

As Kaitlyn watched in horror, one of the MMFAFA members approached him. Grabbing the man’s hair, he pulled back his head, exposing his throat as he slipped a knife blade along the delicate skin, drawing even more blood.

The man groaned and began to babble. He spoke in what sounded to Kaitlyn like German. “Gotthilife mich. Gotthilfe uns alle, wenn Sie gelingen.” He muttered it over and over. Kaitlyn tried to translate, but her high school German was too long ago and she was so terrified she couldn’t think straight. But she could tell from his demeanor that he was begging for mercy.

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Someone shouted, “For the Cause!” and they all took up the chant as the knife whipped across the hostage’s throat.

The gush of crimson sent Kaitlyn into a momentary state of shock. She stood paralyzed at the window, hand clapped to her mouth to suppress her own scream. She couldn’t move. She hardly dared to breathe. If they saw her…

She must have made an involuntary sound, or perhaps some instinct told him she was there. Boone Fowler had been standing with his back to the window, and now he turned slowly, his gaze meeting Kaitlyn’s through the window.

Bloodlust glinted in his eyes.

Kaitlyn had never seen such a cold, demonic expression. His lips twisted cruelly as he acknowledged her presence and then he sprang like a panther across the room to the window.

At that moment, Kaitlyn knew she was a dead woman walking, but her instinct for survival was stronger that she’d ever imagined and, whirling, she sprinted for the woods.

She heard the glass shatter behind her as Fowler leaped through the window, and then the more immediate sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underneath his feet as he pursued her.

Kaitlyn ran like the devil himself was behind her. She was young, fit, and had the advantage of fear-induced adrenaline spurring her through the wet twilight. For a moment, she thought she might actually have a chance of getting away, and then she came to a dead stop as she found herself teetering on the brink of a canyon.

She spun, her gaze darting about for another way out, but Fowler had already found her. He was perhaps twenty yards away and closing in on her as he took in her predicament. Then his steps slowed. No need to hurry. He had her cornered.

Kaitlyn’s heart pounded as she watched him. Would she be better off to fling herself from the cliff…or wait for Fowler to seal her fate?

“Who are you?” he asked in a voice that gave nothing away of his past. He might have been a fellow traveler that she’d stumbled upon in the woods. Not the remorseless killer who had the blood of two hundred innocents on his hands.

Kaitlyn didn’t answer him. Her breath was coming so hard and fast she couldn’t speak.

Fowler took a menacing step toward. “I asked you a question, girl. Who are you?”

“Kaitlyn Wilson.”

His gaze narrowed. “Do I know you?”

“I’m a reporter for the Ponderosa Monitor.”

“A reporter?” He took another step toward her. “Who told you where to find me? Answer me!”

Kaitlyn jumped at the rage in his voice. “No one. I didn’t come up here looking for you. I got stranded in a flash flood on Route 9. I kept walking until I could get a cell-phone signal.”

“Who knows you’re up here?”

No one, Kaitlyn thought in despair. Not a single soul. “The police. I called 9-1-1 for help. They’ll be here soon—”

“You’re lying. You can’t get a cell-phone signal up here for miles.” He started toward her again, and Kaitlyn backed away, gasping when she wobbled too close to the edge of the cliff.

Fowler laughed. “Careful. That’s a long fall.”

He was obviously enjoying himself, like a cat playing with a mouse. Even in the gathering darkness, Kaitlyn could see the gleam in his eyes. The feral grin that made her blood run cold. He was going to kill her as he’d killed Jenny. Maybe it was destiny catching up with her after all these years.

Maybe it was nothing more than her imagination, but Kaitlyn could have sworn she felt Jenny’s presence in the wind that swept through her hair. In the rain that fell like teardrops on her face.

Come on, Kaitlyn! You’ve always been able to think on your feet. You can talk your way out of this if you try.

Kaitlyn tried to beat back her panic as she moistened her lips. “I didn’t come up here to find you, but now that I have…I can help you. I can give you a public platform. Arrange for you to tell your side of things—”

Before Fowler could reply, a voice said from the darkness, “I’m afraid we can’t allow that.”

Kaitlyn couldn’t see the newcomer. He remained hidden in the woods behind Fowler, but there was something familiar about his voice. She’d heard it before.

If he knew her, maybe he’d help her somehow…

“Who are you?” she asked, sounding far more desperate and frightened than she would have liked.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. You’ve stumbled upon the story of a lifetime, it seems. I’m sorry you won’t live to tell it.”

Kaitlyn’s stomach churned at his words. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t even know who you are.”

“You’d put it together sooner or later. I truly am sorry, but in times like these, sacrifices have to be made. Our Cause is far too important to risk letting you go.”

Oh, God…

“Kill her and make it quick,” he said to Fowler. “Have your men dispose of both bodies and make sure they clean up inside.”

“Whatever you say. You’re calling the shots.” For now, Fowler’s tone implied. “For the Cause!” he shouted in triumph.

“For the Cause,” the disembodied voice agreed.

Fowler lifted his weapon, but in the split second before he pulled the trigger, the ground gave way beneath Kaitlyn’s feet. Loosened by all the rain, the edge of the canyon broke free and slid downward, carrying Kaitlyn with it.

She screamed as the bullet whizzed past her cheek, and then she plunged backward into nothing but darkness.

Chapter Two

Wednesday, 1600 hours

The storm had let up overnight and the early part of Wednesday morning, but as the afternoon slipped away, a new front moved in, bringing rain bands that slammed across the JetRanger’s path. Cruising at an altitude of three hundred feet beneath heavy cloud cover, the chopper rose and fell like a roller coaster as wind gusts of up to twenty-five knots batted it to and fro.

No problem, Aidan Campbell thought as he kept his eyes pealed out the window for the missing woman. The JetRanger III was a reliable machine, and the pilot, Jacob Powell, had nearly twenty years of experience under his belt. Plus, he was trained to fly in thirty-knot and above winds. Aidan had seen the guy navigate through near-hurricane conditions—and while they were taking heavy fire, to boot. Comparatively speaking, this search-and-rescue mission was a piece of cake.

The request for assistance by the county sheriff’s office had come into Big Sky Bounty Hunters headquarters at approximately 1300 hours, and Cameron Murphy had immediately notified his teams—already in the field searching for the escaped prisoners—to be on the lookout for a Ponderosa woman whose abandoned and submerged vehicle had been spotted on Route 9. Presumably, she’d taken to high ground during the storm, but the fact that she hadn’t been heard from in over twenty-four hours didn’t bode well for her safety.

Aidan and Powell had started their search in the area where her vehicle had been seen and then gradually widened the perimeter. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Their only hope was that the woman would somehow be able to signal them when—and if—she heard the engine.

To fight off the strong headwinds, Powell swerved the chopper’s nose and tail back and forth like a scampering sand crab. The maneuver helped, but the altimeter was still going crazy. Nausea tugged at Aidan’s stomach as he lifted the binoculars and scanned the scenery below them. They’d flown out of the heavy rain, but visibility was still poor and they were losing the light. He could make out little more than the treetops.

Flying at low altitudes in mountainous terrain was dangerous under the best of conditions, but in bad weather, it was a particular dicey operation. But Aidan knew there was no turning back, for him or for Powell, until they absolutely had to. If the woman was still alive, she might not survive another night in the wilderness.

Aidan didn’t say it aloud, but for the past half hour or so, he’d been plagued by the nagging worry that despite their best efforts, they might come up short this time. SAR operations didn’t always have happy endings. He knew that better than anyone.

His headset sputtered to life.

“See anything?” Powell asked him.

He shook his head. “Negative.”

“Damn.” The frustration in Powell’s voice mirrored Aidan’s concern. Darkness was falling and they were rapidly reaching the point at which the helicopter wouldn’t have enough fuel to return to base. A decision would soon have to be made.

He glanced at Powell. “What do you think?”

Powell’s mouth was set in a grim line. “One more circle and then we’ll have to head in.” He turned south, putting the wind at their tail and the JetRanger sprinted forward.

As they passed over a gorge cut deep into the side of the mountain, Aidan pointed out the window. “I’ve been rock climbing in that canyon. It’s at least a hundred-foot drop to the floor.”

Powell shrugged. “Devil’s Canyon. What of it?”

“If memory serves, there’s an old hunting lodge around here somewhere…yeah, just through that break in the trees. See it? It’s a long shot, but she could be holed up inside, waiting for the weather to clear.”

“I doubt she would have made it up this far, but hold on,” Powell said. “We’ll drop down and see if we spot movement.”

As he swung around, something twinkled in the deep recesses of the canyon, drawing Aidan’s attention. He watched for a moment, thinking it might have been his imagination, but then it came again. A flicker of light.

Couldn’t be a campfire in the rain…

“Did you see that?” Aidan pointed excitedly toward the canyon. “I saw a light down there.”

Powell executed a one-eighty spin, turning his nose straight into the headwind. The helicopter shuddered, as if a giant hand had smacked it across the hull.

The rim of the canyon was nothing but rocks and marshy ground. If they set down, the chopper was likely to sink in the mud and they’d never get it out. Landing on the floor of the narrow ravine was not an option, either, and a rescue party could take hours to get there.

The light kept blinking. It might have been Aidan’s imagination, but the signal seemed more rapid now. More desperate.

“I’ll go down and have a look,” he shouted into the mouthpiece.

“Too windy,” Powell responded. “You’ll get hammered on the rocks before you’ve gone ten feet.”

“Not if you get low enough. The canyon will act as a buffer.”

Powell cut him a look. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you, Campbell?”

He shrugged. “Is there any other way?”

Powell grinned and grabbed the joystick with both hands as he took the chopper down and tried to establish zero airspeed. After several minutes of bucking and pitching, the helicopter was finally situated over the mouth of the canyon.

Throwing off his headset, Aidan climbed into the back and fastened his harness. The JetRanger was specially fitted with an electric hoist that could be operated by the pilot, but until they knew the situation below, a quick insertion into the canyon was the safest bet.

Slipping his radio into his shoulder holster, Aidan opened the jump door to a blast of wind and rain. Balancing himself in the doorway, he threw down a rope and, then snapping his figure eight onto the cable, fast-roped down into the canyon.

Rappelling was the easy part. The canyon walls shielded him from the wind, but the moment he spotted the woman lying on a ledge about fifty feet down, Aidan knew they were in trouble.

She didn’t appear to be conscious, although he knew she had to be on some level in order to have sent the signal. She lay beneath a narrow outcrop of rock that wouldn’t have offered much in the way of protection from the storm. Her clothing was in tatters, her face covered in mud, and her hand, where she gripped the flashlight, was raw and bleeding. She must have tried to grab on to anything she could find to halt her momentum as she fell.

Aidan glanced up, his attention scaling the canyon wall. How she’d managed to survive a fall from that distance was a mystery. And a real testament to her will to survive.

Maneuvering over to the ledge, he unclipped from the rope and quickly knelt beside her. She opened her eyes when he touched her, and by the look of terror on her face, would have screamed if she’d had the energy. Instead, she tried to huddle even deeper into the overhang.

“It’s all right,” Aidan said to her over the rain. “I’m here to help you.”

When she didn’t respond, he said gently, “I’m not going to hurt you. But I have to find out how badly you’re injured before I can get you out of here. Can you move?”

After a moment, she nodded and, uncurling herself, scooted toward him.

“Good. Excellent.” He eyed her carefully. “Can you stand?”

“I…don’t know.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and she sounded so frightened and hopeless that it made Aidan want to wrap his arms around her right then and there. She was small, only about five-four or so, and he doubted she weighed much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her hair was matted with mud, but he thought she was a blonde. Her eyes were dark blue and very intense.

He had the impression that she was an attractive woman, but he could see very little of her features through the mud and grime. Not that it mattered. Getting her out of the canyon and to a hospital was his only concern at the moment.

She tried to stand but couldn’t quite manage it even when he helped her. Her knees collapsed and he eased her back onto the ledge.

“Okay, no problem. We’ll do this another way.”

He turned and said into the radio, “Powell? I’ve got the woman, but she’s in pretty bad shape. I’m going to get her into a harness, and then you’ll have to hoist us out.”

“Copy that. Make it quick, Campbell. If we get caught in a down draft, we’re all dead meat.”

As quickly as he could, Aidan slipped leg rings over the woman’s thighs and tightened the harness belt around her waist. Grabbing the cable, he used another figure eight to fasten her harness to his, then he radioed Powell.

“All set! Take us up!” To the woman, he said, “Put your arms around my neck. Don’t worry. I’ve done this before,” he assured her when they lifted off the ground and she gasped.

The first moment of dangling in midair was always the worst. “Don’t look down,” he advised.

To answer, she tightened her arms around his neck.

He could feel her muscles tense even beneath her layers of clothing. She was very light in his arms, but he had a feeling she was a lot stronger that she looked. She would have to be, to survive what she’d been through.

They were about thirty feet from the mouth of the canyon when a gust of wind buffeted the chopper, knocking it forward. The hoist cable shrieked and went taut as it lashed against the JetRanger’s hull.

The woman screamed. The hoist moaned. And Aidan swore.

“It’s okay!” he yelled above the roar of the blades. “I’ve got you! Just hold on tight!”

Overhead, Powell forced down the helicopter’s nose to stabilize the aircraft, but the maneuver caused the cable to swing away from the hull, and all of a sudden, Aidan saw the wall of the canyon rushing to meet them.

He tried to twist around so that he would take the brunt of the collision. His left shoulder smashed into the rock, and as pain shot down his arm, he momentarily released his hold on the woman and they were jerked apart by the impact.

To Aidan’s horror, he heard the figure eight snap, and the woman screamed again as she began to slip free. For a moment, her arms clutched at him wildly, and then Aidan grabbed her. As their eyes met, he recognized the terror in her eyes. He’d seen it before, in another woman’s eyes, a split second before she slipped from his fingers and fell to her death.

He blinked, willing away the memory as he clung to the woman’s arm. Elena had struggled blindly in her terror. She’d twisted and flailed and begged him not to let her fall.

“I don’t want to die. Please, Aidan…”

That same plea was in this woman’s eyes, but amazingly, she didn’t panic, which would have made Aidan’s job that much more difficult. When he shouted for her to grab his other hand, she had the presence of mind to do exactly that.

“Just hold on, okay?”

She nodded, her focus never leaving his.

They dangled over the canyon for what seemed an eternity, but she never once lost her cool. She had to be in pain, not just from the fall, but from the way he clutched her arm. She didn’t so much as flinch.

When they were finally hoisted up to the chopper, Aidan hauled her onto the ski and then boosted her through the jump door. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

He climbed in behind her, slid the door closed and turned. She’d collapsed on the floor and gone into convulsions. Throwing off the harness, he knelt beside her.

“Get us out of here!” he shouted up to Powell.

“I’d love to do just that,” Powell shouted back. “Unfortunately, we’ve got a little problem.”

They were trapped in a wind shear that kept dragging the helicopter downward. As the tail slewed about, it came dangerously close to the wall.

“Come on,” Aidan said under his breath. “Come on!”

Powell practically yanked the joystick out of the floor to give them lift power. For a moment, he was forced to ride the wind backward, getting closer and closer to the wall until he could maneuver the chopper around and fly with a tailwind out of the canyon.