Flashover (16 page)

Mitch, Ivy and Tim exchanged a look of despair. They thanked the boy and returned to the truck to call Detective Greenly.

Mitch made a phone call as well before he retrieved another bottle of water. “Where are we going to look now?”

“I'm not sure.” Ivy sank onto the front bumper. “I'm open to suggestions.”

“I just talked to Charlie and filled him in. He's going to see about taking his personal chopper up and check things out. I said I'd go over and help him.”

Ivy felt a surge of guilt, remembering how she'd accused Charlie the last time they'd met and for her rampant suspicion of the man. “Wow. That is really kind of him. Would you tell him I said thank you? I'll tell him myself when I can.”

“Sure. So where are you two headed while we're up in the air?”

Ivy looked at Tim.

He shrugged. “Well, I still think he'd stay off the main highway so let's go north toward Two Pines for a while. What do you say?”

“I say it's better than any idea I can come up with.” Ivy hugged Mitch and they parted company.

She was buckling her seat belt when the dispatcher's calm voice on her radio pager cut through the air.

Caller reports victim is a young male, Caucasian.

The last words hit the hardest.

Unresponsive at the bottom of the ravine.

I
vy's heart was in her throat. They drove as fast as the law would allow to Rock City, a small area of a much larger wilderness park that featured rugged boulders heaped in a pile. The formation seemed to attract amateur climbers the way flowers beckoned hummingbirds. Many a time her crew had responded to various falls and rescues of people who didn't realize climbing boulders without any training or equipment could be dangerous. Or fatal.

The memory flooded in before she could stop it.

Teen male, cut school to climb with his buddies. Fell twenty feet.

They bagged him, pulled on gloves to protect against blood that covered seemingly every inch of him.

Preassessment.

Eyes wide, pupils dilated. Skin ashen.

No pulse or respiration.

Put on the C-collar.

Five compressions, two ventilations, five and two, five and two.

Shock on the faces of his friends.

Keep trying while they hook up defibrillator.

Keep trying.

Haul him up and load him in the ambulance.

Run the tape to check for life.

The captain's voice, strong but sad. “We've got a straight line. Let's call it.”

Straight line.

No life left.

No hope left.

With great effort, she shook off the memory, realizing that she had Tim's hand in a death grip as they drove.

“You okay?”

She managed a nod.

By the time they arrived, the firefighters were hauling up the victim, strapped to a board, using a winch powered by the engine. She noted with displeasure that Denise was waiting, paramedic box at the ready, to treat the victim.

Adrienne Strong talked on her radio, then waved to Ivy and Tim. “What brings you by?”

Ivy cleared her throat. “Um, we thought the victim might be the man we're looking for.”

One eyebrow lifted in surprise. “The kid? I didn't think you knew him. You're helping with the search?”

I've got to do something to keep busy while I'm barred from work,
she thought.
Control yourself, Ivy. Keep your sour grapes where they belong.
“Yes, he's a friend of ours and a neighbor, too.”

She nodded. “Okay. We're bringing him up now.”

The guys guided the backboard up and over the edge of the ravine.

Ivy's breath froze.

How could she tell Madge? After all the woman had been through. How could she tell her Moe was dead?

When Ivy saw the bundled victim's head, she sagged against Tim in relief. Red hair, shocking curly red hair, poked out from the man's head as it was secured to the backboard. A redhead, it was not Moe.

Denise set to work on the victim immediately, and Ivy grudgingly had to admit the woman was competent. Ivy was further relieved to hear that the man had a pulse. It comforted her to know that someone else's mother would not receive devastating news.

Her own mother's face surfaced in her mind. She thought for a moment what she must have felt when she got the news about Sadie. She had to have been broken, crushed by grief, yet she had never once let go of her faith.

Tim reached an arm around her shoulders. “What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking that my mother is a strong woman, much stronger than I could ever be.”

“Mothers are like that.”

She thought, too, about how her own rejection of God for many long years must have further saddened her mother. Her breath caught. “I could have been a much better daughter.”

He brushed a kiss across her temple. “Your mother wouldn't trade you in for anything, and neither would I.”

She snuggled into his strong chest for a moment, allowing herself to be comforted. Then the firefighters began to clamber up over the edge of the ravine. “Let's go.”

“Don't you want to say hi to your guys?”

She shook her head. “They've got work to do, and so do we.”

“The search is still on?”

She nodded. “You better believe it.”

She followed him to the truck without a word.

 

Tim phoned Madge to check on her and listened intently for a few minutes before hanging up. “She's got a houseful coordinating the next phase of the search. My mom and dad are there.”

“I didn't know your folks knew Moe.”

“They don't, but Madge attends our church sometimes so they've mobilized to help a fellow member of the flock.”

She laughed. “Your parents are great.”

He was ridiculously pleased that Ivy got along so well with his folks. “Yes, they are. My mother is probably creating a flowchart to track the whole business, and Dad is more than likely whipping up his spaghetti to keep everyone fully carb loaded. Should we go over and pool our info before we continue the search?”

“Absolutely.”

It wasn't spaghetti but lasagna that Mr. Carnelli was pulling hot from the oven when they arrived. He greeted Ivy with a tight hug, squashing her against his chest hard enough to make her wince. His cheeks were shiny from the oven's heat, eyes black and sparkling under a mop of unruly hair.

Tim hugged his dad and grabbed a pot holder to help with the food before he and Ivy wandered into command central.

Mrs. Carnelli stood at the table, her slender form bent over maps and pages of computer printouts. She gave Ivy and Tim a peck on the cheek and pointed to the map. “The areas in red are places we've covered at least once.” She sighed. “It was a real wake-up call when you told us Moe probably had access to a motorbike.”

Tim looked over the search grids. “We've got a plenty big area left to cover.”

She nodded, her freckles vivid against her pale skin. “Yes.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I'm not sure how much longer the county is going to be able to keep up a full-scale search.”

Tim feared the agency was stretched plenty thin. “Has anyone reported finding a trace of him?”

She shook her head. “No. It's as if he evaporated into thin air.”

They broke off the conversation as Madge joined them. Tim thought she looked a decade older than she had a few days earlier. Without a word she embraced them with trembling arms. Tim hugged her back and led her to a chair.

“How are you holding up?”

“I don't know. I feel numb. That's better than what I feel when I think of him out there, alone.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

Ivy squeezed her shoulder. “We'll find him.”

Her head sagged forward against her chest. “Every minute, I expect the phone to ring, to hear his voice.” Suddenly her eyes flew open. “Wait a second. I remembered what I wanted to tell you. A man called here the day Moe disappeared. He asked me about some package.”

Tim leaned forward, riveted. “What man? What did he say exactly?”

Madge screwed up her face in thought. “He said he was a friend of Cyril's and Cyril was taking care of some papers for him. He saw Cyril around town with Moe and wondered if he had given Moe the papers to look after.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him Moe didn't have any papers. When I tried to ask the man what his name was, he hung up.”

Tim's skin prickled. “Was his voice distinctive? Did he have an accent or anything?”

“Not that I can remember. Do you think he knows something about my Moe?” Her face drained of color. “Do you think he…did something to Moe?”

Tim hastened to reassure her. “I'm sure he didn't, but I think you'd better call Detective Greenly and tell him what you just told me.”

When Madge hung up with the police, her face had an even more ghastly pallor. Mrs. Carnelli insisted that she go lie down.

Tim, Ivy and the Carnellis sat at the table, picking at plates of lasagna. Even the robust Mr. Carnelli seemed to have lost his appetite. Tim put his fork down with a clank. “I can't shake the feeling that this is connected to Medsci somehow. I've searched the Internet as thoroughly as I know how and I can't figure it out. How would Moe get information about an experimental drug?”

His mother cocked her head. “From Cyril, but the question is, how did he get it and why is it significant? Seems to me Roger Smalley's name and connection to the drug are fairly public information. Not worth killing anyone.”

“That's my take, too, but Smalley is involved in something, Mom.”

Ivy nodded. “He wanted to be anywhere but talking to us, that's for sure.”

Mr. Carnelli frowned. “Maybe the drug is something other companies would love to get their hands on.”

Tim sighed. “That occurred to me also, but there was no crucial information about the chemical formulas in Moe's message, nothing that would help another company duplicate the compound. I can't figure out the connection.”

Ivy could not suppress a yawn as the room slipped into predusk shadows.

Mrs. Carnelli smiled. “Look at you two, completely exhausted. You should go home right now and get some rest.”

Ivy shook her head. “We were going to cover more ground today.”

She pressed her lips together. “It's getting dark. You won't be any good to anybody if you wear yourselves out completely.”

Tim smiled at his mother. Seeing the weariness on Ivy's face, he knew it was sound advice. “That's her ‘I mean business' voice. We'll start the search again tomorrow.”

Ivy let Mr. Carnelli ply her with a foil-wrapped plate of lasagna and Tim did the same.

“Better take it, Ivy,” Tim whispered, “or Dad will sneak it into your bag when you're not looking.”

Mr. Carnelli gave him a fake punch. “You should be so lucky to find my lasagna in your bag.”

“True.” Tim waved goodbye and drove them home, eyeing Ivy as he drove.

“What time do you want to kick things off tomorrow?” she asked around a yawn.

His heart dropped. “I'm sorry to say, I've got to work. I took a few days off, but there's no one to cover for me on Fridays. Can you survive until I get off work at five?” More important, could she stay safe and out of trouble?

She grinned. “It won't be easy, but I'll do my best.”

He walked her to her door and waited until she was safely inside. “Good night, Ivy.” The sight of her there, framed against the soft apartment light, head tilted slightly, was so very beautiful. He wanted to extend the evening for just a little longer, to let his true feelings out of the cage he'd tried to confine them to. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“What were you going to say?”

His face warmed. “Oh, never mind. It's nothing you'd want to hear, I think.”

“Go on, tell me.”

He looked down at his shoe. “I was going to say that even though we didn't find Moe, I sure am glad I got to spend the day with you.”

“Glad? To go tramping through wilderness parks in the blazing heat?”

His eyes locked on hers. “Yes.”
Don't you know that when I'm with you, everything is better? No matter where we are or what we're doing. My life is better with you in it.

Even though his brain told him not to, he couldn't restrain the urge that coursed through him like a fast-moving stream. He kissed her, a long slow kiss that she returned in kind. When he pulled away, they were both speechless.

“Tim, I…”

“I know,” he said, turning down the hallway, ignoring the pounding in his chest. “I told you it wasn't what you'd want to hear.”