Denali Dreams (30 page)

They made it past Washburn’s Thumb, watching the terrain, watching the distance.
God, help me find her. Let her be alive. Please.

Another forty minutes, they crested and started along a ridge. Something glinted to his right. Logan squinted. Heart in his throat, he spotted a hint of—

“There!” Josh shouted. “Down on the glacier!”

Red. The tail of the plane peeked out from behind a jagged upshot of granite. The front end tucked behind it, as if to shield Logan from the awful truth. Was the plane compacted or was there room back there for it to rest? What a miracle. If she’d hit a few feet to the left, it’d be like picking up LEGO pieces from a white carpet. As they traversed the incline, roped up and picketing as they went, Logan radioed to the ranger station that they’d located her plane.

“It’s upside down. Missing a wing. Can’t tell anything else. Partially hidden.” Breathing hurt. The thought of finding her injured sucked the life from him. “Approaching it now.”

“Zack just got clearance to lift off. He’s en route to your coordinates.”

“Good. Knox out.” Logan stowed the phone. Within five hundred feet, his gut churned as the snow crunched beneath his crampons. Pieces of the plane littered the flat surface of the glacier. What he thought merely the glittering snow was, in fact, glass from the Otter.

Locked on the plane, Logan had to force himself to act with caution and wisdom. Probing for crevasses—
especially
on a glacier—with each tromp forward. Though it only took minutes, it felt like hours. He hurried along. As he closed in, he realized the plane had cartwheeled into its present position. How it hadn’t broken up was beyond him. But he was grateful. Because it gave Deline a shot at surviving.

Once clear of the frozen glacier, he unhooked from Josh and Dr. Malcolm and climbed the jagged rock and peered over it. The right wing had hooked on rock. “Deline!” He peeked into the cabin.

Pilot’s seat sat empty.

“She’s not there.”

“Look around,” Dr. Malcolm shouted. “She might’ve been thrown.”

Then Logan noticed the blood. On the seat. On the hull. Gulping panic, he pulled himself up on rock, leaned against the hull, and looked at the—“Here! She’s here. Help me.”

On his knees, he pried the door open and had to crawl into the tail of the Otter. Glass and debris littered the space. “Deline,” he said, his voice firm but quieter.

Blood streaked across her forehead, nose, and lip. Her head sat an awkward angle. Was she even breathing? “Deline!” Logan pressed two fingers against her carotid. Barely beating. “Give me a neck brace,” he shouted.

On one knee and with the other stretched awkwardly over her because of the lack of room and the position of her body, Logan checked for breathing. “Deline, c’mon. Deline. Talk to me.”

Her eyebrows rippled in a half frown. A small moan. As if trying to wake from a bad dream.

A noise behind him alerted him to Dr. Malcolm’s insertion into the plane. An inflatable brace appeared over his shoulder. “Breathing?” Dr. Malcolm asked.

“Shallow.” Logan slid the neck brace on and inflated it. Touched her face as he scooted aside so the medical professional could do his work. “Deline. Deline, I need you to wake up.” He held the sides of Deline’s face to make sure her neck didn’t shift as the doc began assessing her.

“Her leg’s broken. Possibly her arm.” Experienced hands searched her abdomen.

Deline moaned. Then whimpered.

“Deline, you there? Deline!” Logan angled, half-bent over another seat, so he could see her face. “Deline, let me see those beautiful eyes.”

Her eyelashes fluttered.

“That’s right. Fight your way out.”

Malcolm probed her side.

Deline arched her back with a yelp. Then slumped down.

“Deline. Deline, you okay?”

A tear slipped free from her closed eyelid.

“Hey,” came a warm, calming voice. Logan’s. She could feel his hand wrapped around hers as he lifted it.

A pinch plucked the top of her hand.

She hissed, but that pinprick—an IV?—was the baby of the pains ravaging her body. “Hurts,” she gritted out. “Hurts.” Hot tears streaked across her cheeks.

“I know, but you’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

Deline forced her way past the black wall of pain that competed against Wickersham Wall. She’d struggled with the plane to avoid that monster.

Monster.

Bender.

Her eyes shot open. She stared into eyes the color of the sky. “Bender.”

Logan frowned. “Shh, relax.”

“He told me you were up here,” she managed, ignoring the fire licking through her side. “Told me you were dying.” A flood of tears washed her face.

“I’m here. I’m fine—now that I know you’re alive.” The worry gouged into his face told her the story. He’d never been in danger. Bender wanted her out here.

No. Not out here.

Out of the way.

“He tried to kill me.” She wrinkled up her nose and fought the sobs that were pulling against whatever agony took over her abdomen.

Logan squatted closer, touching her face. “Deline, take it easy. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen.”

Brave words. So sweet.

A bolt of fire and then ice stabbed through her. She howled.

“Sorry,” an older man with dark skin—Dr. Malcolm—eased into view. “I had to stabilize your leg.”

She looked down and saw the makeshift splint.

“We need to get you out of here,” the doctor said with an expression of sorrow. “But there’s not enough room to bring a board in here.”

She understood and gave a nod. She’d have to get herself out before they could secure her.

“I’ll help you,” Logan said. “We need to turn you, so I can support your weight as you exit.”

Together, they made the position switch. Sweat beaded on her brow and nausea cinched her stomach at the pain. The incredible pain. As they worked their way out of the plane, down, and into the snow, her hearing hollowed.

Logan hooked his arms under hers and drew her out. White-hot fire erupted through her torso.
I’m going to pass out.
Her vision grayed as she vaguely became aware of Logan lifting her into his arms.

Her head lobbed.

Seconds later, the suffocating constriction in her abdomen and pounding in her head eased. Cold—terrible cold—snapped through her body. “I’m dying.”

A laugh massaged her worry. “Not if I can help it.”

Opening her eyes, a blinding sheet of white stabbed her corneas. She flinched. Then felt something slide along her temples. When she looked again, the world was … less bright.

And Logan didn’t have sunglasses anymore. He knelt beside her, gently adjusted a belt that held her neck and head in place. Ah, that explained the cold—lying on the ground, being strapped to a board.

“Chopper!”

“I’m a pilot,” she mumbled.

“Not this time,” Logan said with a smile.

She caught his hand with her uninjured arm.

Wind gusted and whipped the loose snow into a powdered frenzy.

Logan’s gaze flickered to hers.

She wanted the gap bridged. She wanted to apologize for panicking when he’d kissed her. “The thought … of life without you …”

The left side of his mouth quirked. “Don’t say something you’ll regret later.”

“Let’s go!” the doctor shouted.

The litter lifted into the air and within a few minutes, she was secured to the chopper and flying thousands of miles over the mountain that nearly claimed her soul.

I
have a broken rib, not a broken head.”

“One might think you had both,” her father groused.

“What were you thinking, flying up there without a flight plan, without—”

“Mr. Tsosie, she followed protocol. The tower communicated with her and gave her clearance. There was a lot of miscommunication that went into this—”

“You going to sit there and tell me Bender
miscommunicated
his attempt to kill my daughter?”

Sheriff Wellesley tipped his head down. “No, sir. Bender is under arrest and charges are pending. We’ve got evidence that places him at the scene of the fire that burned down your home, and”—his gaze cut to Deline, who sat on the sofa, her leg elevated with pillows—“we’ve learned from the mechanic that the oil line on your Otter had been tampered with from the first time you had to make that emergency landing. There’s video footage that shows Bender out there.”

“What about this time?”

“The Chinook is scheduled to retrieve your plane tomorrow. We’ll do a full investigation on the plane once it’s back on level ground.”

“I just don’t understand why he’d do this. It’s insane.”

“Well, he had a mountain of bills and debts he had to pay off. When he lost his last job and opened up his air taxi business, every last dime went into the air taxi. He was losing thousands every month and couldn’t keep up. With you out of the picture, I reckon he thought he could save his financial future.”

The sheriff stood and waved the papers. “Thanks for your time, Deline. If I need or hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.” Pushing off the cushions, she grimaced.

“Don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.”

Deline watched out the door, strained to see up and down the street.

“He’s not coming,” her father muttered. “Told you he has to finish out his month at High Camp. There’s no rescue for a ranger.”

“There’s always a rescue.” Just not for a broken heart. She slumped back into the cushions.

“Why you so worried about this boy now anyway? You didn’t seem to care none when he was hovering over you and paying you all that mind.”

“I’m not worried about Logan.”
I miss him.
She wanted to talk to him.

Antsy from a week on the couch, she pushed herself up. Wobbled, then righted herself.

“What’re you doing?”

“Going to cook myself some sourdough pancakes.”

“That’s what you always make when you’re worried.”

Deline groaned as she moved into Jolie’s kitchen. With the wedding this weekend, Jolie had opted to stay with her family in Anchorage. David was out there, too, doing last-minute preps. Which gave Deline and her dad time to find a new home. “Oh, hey. I heard the McClellans are selling their home.”

“Too close to the highway.”

Highway—in a town this small, to call it a highway was crazy.

Deline grunted. He’d found something wrong with just about every place she’d suggested. “We have to find someplace, Daddy.” She drew the fry pan from beneath the cabinet, set it on the Viking stove, then dug through the drawer for a spatula and fork. Once she had those, she opened the pantry door and rifled through to find the ingredients, careful not to aggravate her injuries.

“I like Logan’s place,” her daddy announced. “Think he’d sell it to us?”

“Logan likes his house just fine. I’m sure he isn’t interested in selling it to us.” Armed with a box and some spices, she closed the door with her toe. “Besides, I think he’s forgotten about me.” She turned.

And found herself staring into blue eyes. “Logan,” she breathed.

“Is this part of your ‘life without me’ plan?”

Afraid she’d drop the contents in her arms, she set them down. Her insides quivered as she felt his gaze on her. Intense gaze. This wasn’t just a social call. She braved a glance.

Hand on the granite island, Logan leaned in. “I need to know, Deline.”

She brushed the curls from her face and folded her arms, hiding a cringe at the pain.

Logan tugged her closer. “Do you want life without me?”

Whistling, her dad sauntered out of the living room and into the hall. She couldn’t resist the smile at his “told you so” posture as he vanished into the back room.

Logan’s hand traced her cheek. “Finding you on that mountain, unconscious—” He bit off his sentence.

She let the bravado drain out and looked up at him. “I’ve never needed anyone, Logan.” With a bob of her head she indicated her father in the other room. “I’ve taken care of him and Enli since I can remember, even though I was the youngest and Mama was around—until, well, you know.”

Defeat deflated Logan.

“But when Roger told me you were dying, that they needed someone to fly you out—” She gulped the memory back. “I realized I needed you more than I ever realized.”

His expression shifted to one of surprise, then joy.

“When I woke up in the Otter with you there, seeing you … when I thought I’d never see you again …” Tears threatened. “Stupid tears.” She stomped her foot, cringing as tingles ran up her casted leg. “I think … I think hope is taking flight.” She placed her hands on his abdomen. “I’m not good at this stuff, so just—as I tried and failed to say that night at the lake—give me room
to adjust.
“

“I’ll give you the rest of my life.”

“Easy there, cowboy. That’s a little fast, don’t you think?” She smiled at him. “Maybe a few more flights up with me?”

He flinched. “If I have to.”

“What … don’t you like flying with me?”

“I
love
doing anything with you.”

“But?”

He looked like a sheepish schoolboy. “I
hate
flying.”