Ricochet

Knowing it, she steeled herself to follow him down the canyon, toward the sound of other searchers’voices calling for the missing girl.

Lizzy…Li-zzzy. The cries overlapped in mournful echoes, making the canyon seem alive. Making it seem as though something—or someone—was out there. Waiting. Watching.

Alissa held back a shiver, knowing that it wasn’t even certain the girl was nearby. The note could be nothing more than a hoax.

Or a trap.

The feeling of watching eyes intensified, and Alissa scrambled to catch up. As though sensing the same scrutiny, McDermott glanced back over his shoulder. “Hurry up, partner.”

She ignored his tone and quickened her step—

And she saw it.

She couldn’t have said why the crevice caught her attention, but something about it seemed off. Some might call it instinct, but she preferred to think of it as a highly developed sense of color and shape. Something was wrong with this picture.

She stopped dead and stared at a shadowy, snow-shrouded cleft in the canyon wall. Her mind took a snapshot of the scene. Then she did one better. She pulled out her slick camera and took a few shots, carefully overlapping them so she could reassemble the panorama later on her computer.

“You see something?” McDermott asked, but his voice seemed distant as she walked toward the cleft, her every instinct on alert.

It was a tunnel of sorts, an ice-and-snow overhang undercut by the trickle of a sluggish tributary that had long since frozen over. Totally focused on the scene, on her job, she snapped several pictures, then drew a small flashlight from her pocket. She crouched down and shone the light into the forbidding darkness.

At the furthest reaches of the yellow illumination, she saw a bare, motionless foot and the ragged hem of wrinkled blue jeans.

Excitement slapped through her, mixed with apprehension that the foot wasn’t moving. “I see her!”

Alissa heard Tucker shout something, but she couldn’t wait for him. Her heart thundered in her chest. If Lizzie was alive, every second could be vital. That was the protocol—administer necessary aid first, then protect the crime scene.

Nearly shaking with anticipation, Alissa pulled off her gloves and shucked off her bulky parka so she could fit into the narrow tunnel without disturbing evidence. She jammed the small flashlight in her mouth to leave her hands free and dove in headfirst.

Tucker shouted, “Wyatt, wait!”

“I’m fine,” she called back, her flashlight-muffled words bouncing back from the ice and snow. “I’ve almost got her!”

Blood pumping, she crawled forward, careful to avoid a line of scuffs and boot prints preserved in the blown snow near the edge of the tunnel. Almost there! The girl’s bare ankle looked more gray than flesh toned, except where raw places stood out in bloody slashes. She was curled on her side facing away from the tunnel entrance. She wasn’t moving.

Alissa said a quick prayer, reached out and touched the motionless ankle. She felt the faintest hint of warmth. The flutter of a pulse.

“She’s alive!” she shouted. “Get the MedVac helicopter down! I’m going to pull her out. When you see my feet, give a yank!” She reached forward and felt for the girl’s other foot. There was something tied to it, maybe a length of the rope she’d been bound with.

Alissa yanked on the twine.

A bright white light flashed. An earsplitting crack reverberated through her skull.

And the tunnel collapsed on top of her.

Chapter Two

Ice, snow and dirt landed atop Alissa, pressing her down, squeezing the breath out of her. She screamed and tried to scramble back, but her arms and legs were pinned. Panic clawed at her throat, and her heart hammered in her ears. The weight increased, as though the whole canyon had come down on top of her.

She thrashed, squirmed and cried out with what was left of her breath. “Help! Help me!”

The tiny flashlight fell from her mouth, illuminating a small air pocket that had formed around her head. She saw dirt and ice six inches from her on all sides. Saw it shift a little closer as the cave-in settled.

“Help!” she whispered when she ran out of breath to scream. Cold, salty tears streamed down her face and ran into her mouth, and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart.

Calm down, she told herself. She had to calm down. Think! She tried to count her breaths, but she couldn’t breathe, so instead she counted her heartbeat, which was too loud, too fast.

McDermott had been right behind her. He would get her out.

But what if he can’t? asked a scared little voice in her soul. What if he’s too late?

The panic crested again, and she moaned, wishing she could be anywhere else. Out with the girls for a round of Friday-night drinks. Visiting her mother, even. They weren’t really close anymore, hadn’t been since Alissa’s father had left and her mother’s middle name had become Bitter. In that moment Alissa wished she could see her mother now and say she was sorry for having been a snotty teenager and a distant adult. Sorry for having blamed her mother because her father had never come back for that promised visit. And in a crazy way, she was sorry she’d never searched for him, if only to tell him that he was a rotten jerk.

Her tears dried to cool wet tracks on her cheeks. The air inside the small pocket warmed and grew stale. She thought she heard a shout and dull thuds, but they were too far away. And she was all alone.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said aloud, her voice strengthening as the debris allowed her an inch of breathing room. “They’re going to get you out of here.”

She felt a hint of movement beneath her outstretched hand. Not shifting soil this time, but living flesh. Then she remembered. She was holding the girl’s ankle!

“Elizabeth? Lizzie, is that you?” she called, not knowing whether her voice would carry far enough, but devastatingly grateful that the girl was alive. “If you can hear me, wiggle your foot a little.”

The foot moved.

“Okay. Hold on for me, okay? They’re going to get us out of here.” Alissa bit her lower lip and forced her voice to be even. “I want you to stay calm and relaxed, okay? I’m a police officer, and my friends are digging us out right now.”

She’d meant Cassie and Maya, who had been on the search team farther up the canyon and who must be frantic with worry. But her brain fixed on a picture of McDermott. She pictured him digging down toward her, eyes as dark as they’d been when the two of them danced.

Incredibly, the image brought a measure of calm.

Alissa drew a shallow breath to keep talking, more for her own sake than the girl’s, but her words were cut off by a roaring shift of dirt. A far-away shout of panic.

The air pocket collapsed. Icy cold weight bore down on her.

And she couldn’t breathe at all.

FASTER. HE HAD TO DIG faster, spurred by the knowledge that it had been a damn trap all along. The anger of it burned through Tucker’s gut as exertion flamed in his muscles. He got his fingers around a chunk of rock and frozen soil and heaved it aside.

He cursed as he worked, cursed Alissa for not waiting for backup, cursed himself for not being close enough to stop her. Cursed the bastard who’d left a note with his name on it, then ambushed an officer.

A female officer.

Her sex shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Or maybe it wasn’t just that she was a woman. Maybe it was this particular woman. Ever since that night at the bar, she’d been at the edges of his mind, tempting him to forget his own rules.

“It’s settling!” shouted a tall blond woman he recognized as one of Alissa’s friends. Cassie something. The other searchers had all converged on the spot, drawn by the small, deadly explosion and Tucker’s bellow of shock and rage.

“We’ve got to get them out of there.” Chief Parry scraped at the snow and dirt with gloved hands. “There can’t be much air!”

Alissa’s image flooded Tucker’s mind, all honey-colored hair and warm blue eyes. Her remembered taste lingered on his tongue, though he’d told himself to forget it.