Chapter 34
The ride to the mining camp was silent except for the grinding of tires against packed snow and the occasional grunt from one of her captors as the truck lurched over rough terrain.
Janice sat in the front, her body rigid with tension, her mind racing through possibilities that all ended badly.
With one miner driving, the other two goons she’d come in contact with were in the back seat.
She wanted to scream—the urge built like pressure ready to blow, desperate for release. But there was no one to hear her out here. No passing cars, no hikers, no one who might intervene or call for help. Screaming would only waste energy she might need later.
If there was a later.
Thankfully, the cloth gag was gone, but her silence felt just as suffocating. She had no idea whether Cole knew she was missing yet, whether the tracker in her pendant was working, or whether anyone was monitoring it.
Her fingers found the lighthouse pendant at her throat, clutching it like a lifeline. Please work. Please let them know where I am.
The truck hit a particularly deep rut, and because she was pressed against the door, her shoulder took the brunt of the slam. Pain shot down her arm, but she bit back any sound. She wouldn't give these men the satisfaction of knowing they'd hurt her.
Through the window, she watched the landscape change.
They'd left the main roads miles ago, following tracks that were more suggestion than actual path.
The snow here was deeper, piled in drifts that would have made travel impossible for her cabin's old truck.
But this vehicle was larger, with heavy-duty tires and four-wheel drive.
It proved its efficiency as it made progress through the snow and ice.
The road was better maintained than the lane to her cabin had been, and Janice understood why.
The mine had equipment such as bulldozers, snowplows, and tractors that could clear paths even through Alaska's worst storms. They needed year-round access for their operations and to move supplies and workers regardless of weather.
Ancient spruce trees crowded close to the track, their branches heavy with snow that hadn't been disturbed by wind or warmth. The forest looked pristine, untouched, beautiful in the way Alaska wilderness always was.
Finally, the truck slowed and stopped. Through the windshield, Janice could see a cluster of buildings.
They looked like temporary structures, more like construction-site trailers than permanent installations.
Some were outbuildings for equipment storage, a few larger structures that might be bunkhouses or offices.
None were very large, just like she remembered from when she and Cole had come.
Once they came to a stop, she was roughly hauled out of the truck, her feet hitting packed snow that someone had obviously worked to clear. Without outerwear, the deep, bone-penetrating cold hit her immediately.
Janice wore jeans, a T-shirt, Cole's flannel shirt, and slip-on sneakers.
Her clothing had been perfectly adequate for the heated hotel room but was woefully insufficient for standing in the Alaskan wilderness.
No coat, no boots, no gloves, no hat… nothing to protect against the freezing temperature.
She was cold, hungry, and exhausted from the adrenaline crash following her kidnapping. And frightened in a way that went beyond physical fear into something more primal. The terror of being completely at someone else's mercy with no clear path to safety sliced through her.
But she wouldn't let them see that fear. Wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
"Move," one of the miners ordered, pushing her toward a small hut that sat slightly apart from the other structures.
Janice walked, her legs stiff from the truck ride, her body already shivering despite her efforts to control it. The hut was maybe ten feet square, made from prefabricated panels that didn't quite fit together properly. She could see daylight through some of the gaps.
The door swung open, revealing a dim interior. There was equipment inside, as well as coils of rope, a stack of metal pipes, and what looked like drilling components scattered across a dirt floor. Nothing comfortable. Nothing that suggested this space was meant for human occupation.
Nothing that could work as a weapon against multiple armed men. She almost snorted at the thought of her swinging a metal pipe at one of them. Might not take out more than one, but I could give one a headache!
They shoved her inside, and Janice stumbled, catching herself against one of the pipes before she fell. The door slammed shut behind her, followed by the sound of something being wedged against it from outside.
She was trapped.
She moved to the door immediately and tested it.
She was barred from the outside. At least it wasn’t a lock.
The door didn't budge when she pushed, and there were no windows.
But with the light coming from between the panels, she wondered if escape was still possible.
But then what? She was miles from the main road, with no coat and no proper footwear.
Even if she somehow got out of this hut, where would she go?
She'd die of exposure before she made it back to civilization.
The cold crept in through the gaps in the walls, and even through the dirt floor beneath her inadequate shoes.
Janice wrapped her arms around herself, trying to conserve body heat, and realized with growing horror that hypothermia was a very real possibility.
Not immediately. Certainly not in the next hour or even two, but if she were left here overnight and the temperature dropped the way it did in the wilderness after dark, she might not live to see the morning.
Fear crept in alongside the cold, insidious and paralyzing.
Stop it, she told herself fiercely. Panic won't help. Think. Observe. Stay alive.
She forced herself to assess her surroundings more carefully.
The equipment scattered around might not work as weapons, but it could serve other purposes.
The coils of rope could be used for warmth if she wrapped them around herself, creating insulation.
The metal pipes, if she could move them, might be used to block the gaps in the walls.
Janice got to work, moving with purpose because movement generated heat and gave her something to focus on besides her fear. She pulled the rope coils into a corner, creating a nest of sorts. Then she carefully moved some of the lighter pipes, wedging them against the largest gaps in the walls.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
Outside, she could hear the sounds of the mining operation in the rumble of heavy equipment, the beeping of something backing up, voices calling to each other across the site.
Her hands clenched. Even now, while she was fighting for her own survival, that sound made her furious.
They were still doing it. Still dumping toxins, still poisoning the land, still destroying wildlife with complete disregard for the consequences.
She moved to one of the gaps and peered out, trying to get a sense of the camp's layout.
From this angle, she could see two of the larger buildings and part of the mining operation itself.
Men moved between structures, some in Northern Summit jackets, others in plain work clothes.
Maybe eight or ten people were visible, though there could be more inside the buildings.
Too many to fight her way through, even if she had a weapon and training. Which she didn't.
The sound of boots crunching through snow made her step back from the door. Someone was approaching. Janice's heart raced. Was this it? Had Penson decided what to do with her? Were they coming to—
The door creaked open, and Janice braced herself for whatever came next.
But instead of miners or Penson's goons, Cheryl stood in the doorway, holding what looked like an extra coat and gloves.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Janice felt betrayal and anger surge through her chest. This woman had seemed so kind in that tavern bathroom, and all along, she'd been working for Penson, engaging in the unethical and unlawful mining site, not to mention being a party to kidnapping.
"I know you hate me," Cheryl said quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "I would too, in your position."
"Get out." Janice's voice was cold, flat. "I don't want anything from you."
"I'm not here to hurt you." Cheryl held out a heavy work jacket that would actually provide real warmth. "I'm here to help."
"Help?" Janice laughed, the sound bitter. "You work for Penson. You probably told him about me. How exactly is that helping?"
"I've been documenting what they're doing here for months.
" Cheryl's voice was urgent, low enough that it wouldn't carry outside.
"Taking photos, recording conversations, gathering evidence.
But I'm nobody. I’m just another employee stuck in a position I hate.
Even if I went to the authorities, Penson would bury me in legal challenges and make sure nothing stuck. "
Janice stared at her, trying to determine whether this was another trick. "So what, you were waiting for someone like me to show up? Someone who could be your witness?"
"I was waiting for someone who might actually be believed.
A scientist with credentials, with documentation, with evidence that couldn't be dismissed.
" Cheryl took another step closer. "When I saw you in that tavern bathroom, I knew you might be that person.
But I also knew that if Penson found out you were documenting the contamination, he'd do whatever it took to silence you. "
"Yet here we are." Janice gestured at the hut, at her imprisonment. "So much for your help."