Chapter Three
Carter accelerated up the steep slope leading to the top of Dixon Pass.
For once he wasn’t leading a tour group into the mountains.
He’d borrowed a Jeep from the rental pool at Alpine Jeep Tours and Rentals, the family business, and headed out for a solo trail run.
There was plenty of daylight left. He wasn’t interested in anything too extreme, just a chance to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.
A white Toyota SUV with a solitary driver was just ahead of him on the otherwise deserted road.
The car’s tires squealed as it took a curve a little too fast. Carter wasn’t known for being an especially cautious driver, but working search and rescue had given him a healthy respect for these mountain roads.
Probably the most common type of call he had responded to in his short time with Eagle Mountain SAR was traffic accidents.
He lost sight of the Toyota on a series of S curves as it surged ahead, and shifted his attention to watching for the turnoff to the trail he wanted to check out.
Another half mile or so to go, he estimated.
The directions to the trailhead said to take the first left after an old mine tram.
He slowed for a particularly sharp curve and hit the brakes even harder at the sight of fresh skid marks on the roadway, leading over the edge.
He craned his neck, trying to see if someone had gone over the side, but the angle was too steep.
He slowed further, then pulled onto a narrow shoulder, shut off the engine and switched on his emergency flashers.
He hurried to stand on the edge of the road and peer down below.
The drop wasn’t straight down from here, but a series of rock ledges.
The white Toyota was on its side on the first ledge, about ten feet down, wedged against a stout pinion pine.
He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hello! Can you hear me?”
He listened, but the only sounds were the pinging of the Jeep’s engine cooling, and the gravel beneath his feet as he shifted his stance. He pulled out his phone, saw that he had a signal, and punched in 911.
“Rayford County Emergency Services. What is your emergency?”
“I’m here on Dixon Pass and a car just went over the side. It’s wedged on a ledge about ten feet down. I can see someone in there, but they’re not moving or responding to my shouts.”
“What is your name and location?”
He did his best to describe his position, gave his name, then added, “I’m a volunteer with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue. I’m going to try to get down to the vehicle.”
“Assistance will be there soon,” the operator assured him. “Please wait where you are.”
“Right.” He hung up, then studied the scene.
The slope down to the SUV wasn’t that steep, and there were plenty of small shrubs and outcroppings to serve as handholds.
He returned to his car and donned his Eagle Mountain SAR high-vis vest, slipped on a pack filled with first aid supplies and emergency equipment, and started down.
It only took a few minutes to reach the ledge.
He approached the Toyota slowly, wary of causing it to shift, or even fall farther.
But the vehicle was wedged tight. Even when he was close enough to touch it, it didn’t move an inch.
He looked up toward the driver’s door. “Hello!” he called. “Are you okay?”
“Help me!” The voice—a woman’s—was clear but filled with fear.
“Hang on,” he called. “I’ll be right there.”
He boosted himself over the tire and lay across the driver’s-side door and looked in.
All the windows of the vehicle were shattered, sheets of green glass fragments like beaded curtains hanging from the frame.
He carefully pulled away this debris and looked in at the Toyota’s driver.
She had been thrown sideways, held up by the shoulder harness and lap belt, the deflating airbags settling around her like rising dough.
As he leaned in, she turned her head to look at him and he was shocked to recognize the bloodied face. “Mira!”
She stared, clearly trying to place him. “It’s Carter Ames,” he said. “We met at the search and rescue training session last night.”
“I remember.” She licked her bloodied lip. “What are you doing here?”
“I was driving behind you. I saw the skid marks where you went off the road. What happened?”
She tried to raise her hand, but the seat belt and her awkward position prevented her from lifting it more than a few inches. “I was distracted. Didn’t realize I was going so fast. Lost control.”
She closed her eyes.
“Stay with me, Mira.” He brushed broken glass from her shoulder. “Does it hurt anywhere? Do you think anything is broken?”
“My neck is sore.”
“You got thrown around in the fall, I imagine. What about your head? Did you hit it? You’re bleeding a little.” A line of blood as thick as a pencil trailed down one side of her face.
“I don’t think I hit my head. Maybe the glass…”
“Can you move your feet?”
“Yes. Can you get me out of here? It’s really uncomfortable.”
“Let’s wait until help gets here. We want to make sure we don’t do any damage trying to move you.”
“Will they be here soon?”
“They will be.” Depending on how far away the first responders were, it could take as little as fifteen minutes up to a full hour to reach an accident victim.
But he wasn’t going to tell her that. His job now was to keep her calm.
“What distracted you?” he asked. “Did an animal run out in front of you? Or did you see something that took your attention from the road?”
“I was upset about the note.”
“The note?”
“I got a note from whoever is writing everyone letters.”
“No kidding? I’m almost jealous. Seems like everyone is getting those things. A friend of mine got one complaining about the way he speeds down this one road in his neighborhood. Like going a few miles over the speed limit is a capital offense. What horrible crime did yours accuse you of?”
Silence. He wondered if she had lost consciousness. “Mira? Are you still with me?”
“Yes.”
“So what did the note say?”
“Oh. It accused me of jaywalking.”
“Jaywalking?”
“Yeah. They said I was setting a bad example for my students.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry. It’s just so ridiculous.” But she wasn’t laughing with him. He sobered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of your situation. Obviously, something like that is really upsetting. Is that why you were driving so recklessly?”
“I was not driving recklessly!”
He was glad she couldn’t see the smile he quickly hid. Maybe she wasn’t too badly injured if she was angry with him. “I was driving behind you and you were going pretty fast.”
The sound of sirens rose in the distance. “Hey, I think help is on the way. I’m going to move away for just a minute so I can talk to them. But I’ll be right back. I promise.”
The siren stopped almost directly overhead. Caleb moved away from the car and looked up. “Hey!” he shouted. “We’re down here!”
Deputy Jamie Douglas looked down at him. “What’s the situation?” she asked.
“Single female driver. Mira Veronica. She’s banged up—says her neck hurts—and has some cuts from broken glass. She doesn’t report any other injuries. The car is stable—it’s wedged tight against this tree.”
Jamie glanced up the highway. “The ambulance is just pulling up behind me,” she said. “Search and rescue should be here soon. What happened?”
“I think she took the curve a little too fast and lost control. Easy enough to do on this road.”
Jamie said nothing, but disappeared from view. Moments later Search and Rescue Captain Danny Irwin appeared and Carter repeated the story for him. “Sit tight,” Danny said. “We’ll get some people and equipment down to get her out.”
Carter returned to the car. “We’ll have you out in a few minutes and the paramedics will check you over,” he said. “Is there someone you want us to notify?”
“No,” she said. “And don’t tell anyone what I said about those notes. I mean, the note. Please.”
“Okay, but why not? You should tell the sheriff. You’re being harassed.”
“No. Please!” She clutched at the seat belt and shifted, until he was afraid she would injure herself further.
“It’s okay.” He tried to soothe her. “I won’t say anything, I promise. Just hang on another few seconds.”
He turned to see Danny, Ryan, Harper Vernon and his own sister, Bethany, descending to the ledge.
He stepped back to allow Danny, a nurse, to climb up and assess Mira’s condition.
While Danny was talking to Mira, Carter helped assemble the litter and unpack the hydraulic extraction tool—more commonly known as the Jaws of Life.
“If we cut away the pillar between the two side windows it makes it easier to load her onto the litter and bring her out without risking further injury,” Ryan explained.
Danny rejoined them. “Bethany, you’re the smallest,” he said. “It will be easier for you to climb into the car with Mira and brace her neck and back. Keep her calm and shielded while we cut away the pillar, then we’ll get her on the litter and bring her out.”
“What can I do?” Carter asked.
“You already did a good job keeping her calm,” Danny said. “You can help get the litter up to the road.”
Bethany eased her way into the car. Conversation ceased shortly thereafter as the extractor screamed through the metal car body. Minutes later, Mira was free of the car, strapped into the litter. “My pack,” she said, and tried to sit back up.
“I’ll get it,” Carter said. He returned to the car and spotted the black day pack half under the front passenger seat. He leaned in and, with a grunt, managed to pull it free. He returned to the litter. “I’ll carry it up for you,” he said. “You lie back and enjoy the ride.”