Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
“W
illow!” Tripp shouted, his knuckles white from clenching the steering wheel.
She didn’t answer. There was no sound at all on the other end, her shrill scream cut off as though it had been severed by a blade.
“Fuck,” he snapped, feeling completely helpless as he raced the final quarter mile to the turnoff. He quickly used voice commands to call 911. Curtly reported what was happening before he reached the turn.
The back end of his truck fishtailed as he swung hard left around the corner, barely touching the brake. Ahead of him the road curved out of view, preventing him from seeing what was around the bend. But when he did, his heart shot into his throat.
“Oh, Jesus, no,” he breathed, slamming to a halt near where Willow’s car was balanced precariously on the edge of the drop off.
There was no sign of the white pickup. The driver must have made it to the highway before Tripp had reached the turnoff.
He jumped out and ran to the precariously angled car, shoving his phone into his back pocket. Maybe the dispatcher on the other end would hear what was happening. “Willow!”
“Help me!”
The stark terror in her voice ripped through him like a shotgun blast. He could see her sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning slightly over into the passenger side.
When he got closer Tripp could see Willow’s face through the front passenger window, pale and pinched, her eyes huge and full of panic as they locked on him. Rufus was in the back right seat, staring at him through the half-open window.
“It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you out.” He quickly assessed the situation. The edge of the shoulder the tires rested on was soft and unstable. Any movement on the left side could destabilize the vehicle.
“Oh my God, Tripp,” she choked out.
“I know. I’m here, just try to stay calm. Help’s on the way.” He hoped.
“Hurry,” she begged.
Rufus moved in the backseat. The car rocked slightly.
“Rufus, no,” Willow snapped. The dog froze, his ears going back as he stared up at Tripp in uncertainty, licking his lips.
There was no time to get the rope from the back of his truck and try to tow her car back onto solid ground.
If it shifted even another foot to the left, the front end of it would slide over the edge and take her and Rufus with it.
“I need you to lower this window,” he said in a tone far calmer than he felt.
She stared up at him, shook her head tightly. “I can’t. I can’t move—”
“Just move slow, reach your hand over and lower the window so I can get to you.”
His guts constricted at the tears that flooded her eyes.
“It’s okay, Will, I’m right here. Just move slow.
You have to get the window down.” He couldn’t get to her through the back window.
If she moved into the back seat she could upset the balance enough to tip the vehicle past the point of no return.
Willow hesitated for a moment, still staring up at him with tear-filled brown eyes. Then slowly, so slowly it was agony, she extended her left arm toward the button on the windowsill. He could see her fingers shaking as she stretched them out. Gingerly pressed the button.
The window slid open. The car stayed still.
“Okay, I’m gonna reach through. You’re going to lean toward me, slow as before, and grab my forearm with your right hand. Tight. Got it?”
She nodded, tears rolling down her face when she blinked.
He moved in close, careful not to touch the car for fear of shifting it even an inch, and reached his right arm through the window.
“Slow. No, slower,” he ordered, and she froze even though he could tell from the desperation on her face that she wanted to lunge for him.
“That’s it. Slow and steady, grab hold of me.
” He stretched out his hand, reaching, reaching, his muscles coiled and ready to lock on her.
Finally her hand closed around his forearm. He grabbed hold of her arm in turn, clamped his fingers around it in a bruising grip. Dug his heels into the ground and leaned back. “Got you.”
He wasn’t letting go no matter what happened. If the car slid over the edge now, they would go over together.
Willow choked back a sob, eyes locked with his. Her cheeks were wet, her fingers icy against his skin. She was still strapped into her seat.
“Now slowly reach your left hand down toward your seatbelt buckle, but don’t undo it until I say.” He would have only a second or two to time this right. The moment she undid the seatbelt, her weight would shift. He prayed it wouldn’t shift the vehicle.
“What about R-Rufus?”
He couldn’t look at the dog, trapped in the backseat. His priority was Willow. “I’ll get him out after.” If there was still a chance once Willow was safe.
She darted a tortured look back at Rufus.
“No, keep looking at me.” The slightest shift in her weight now could jeopardize everything. “That’s it. Now, when I tell you to, you’re going to unbuckle the seatbelt and grab my other arm. Understand?”
“Yes,” she blurted, eyes huge in her pale face.
“Okay.” He watched her lower her free hand to the buckle. Waited until her fingers were on the button. Shifted his stance for maximum power, getting ready to pull her with every ounce of strength in his body.
Her fingers dug deep into his forearm. He was her lifeline. And he wouldn’t let her down.
“I’m going to count it out,” he said in a low voice. “On three, you’re going to press the button and grab my arm.”
He reached his left hand through the window, careful not to touch the door, the muscles along his spine and across his shoulders already protesting the awkward position. “Ready?”
She gave a tight nod, staring into his eyes.
“On three.” He took a breath, dug deep for every last bit of calm and strength. “One.”
Willow’s throat moved as she swallowed.
“Two.”
Her lips trembled.
His heart pounded in his ears. “Thr—”
Rufus suddenly scrambled partway through the window.