Chapter 16
“YOU SURE you don’t want me to go in with you?”
Flynn turned into the parking lot of the Copper Mountain clinic.
“Just drive me up to the entrance,” Dawson said. The last thing he needed was Flynn seeing him lose it, but the pain in his knee had bled into his brain, taken over.
He might not even make it to the snowbank.
She pulled up to the ER entrance. Glanced back at him, then at Caspian, who’d ridden the entire way with his head on Dawson’s chest as he lay in the back seat.
“He’s so sweet,” Flynn said as she put the car in park. “Shasta said that he sat at her feet the entire time, until I showed up. Then he escaped out of the building, sniffing my car. Clearly he loves you.”
He glanced down to see Caspian looking at him, worry in his big brown eyes. “I thought he just liked me because I rescued him.”
“Please. This dog is obsessed with you. What does he have to do to prove it?”
Funny, despite the grasp of pain, a warmth swelled inside him. Maybe it was just that easy. Show up and never give up.
“Should I keep Caspian?” Flynn asked. The plows were out cleaning the hospital parking lot, the snowbanks nearly over his head.
Dawson only debated a second. “He’s a service animal. Let him out.”
Probably it had nothing to do with the fact that the dog, in fact, seemed to keep his world from completely spinning off its axis.
Caspian got up, and as Flynn opened the door, bounded out.
Flynn headed inside as Dawson eased himself out of the seat, holding on to the door.
Caspian did his scouting circle, returned, and sat next to Dawson, whined as Dawson grimaced.
“What you said, buddy.”
Flynn emerged from inside the ER with a wheelchair. Oh, this was fun.
But he eased himself into it. “I got it from here.”
She cocked her head.
“Go to the sheriff’s office and get yourself into that interrogation. Find out if Conan knows where Mars is.”
“You got it, boss. But call if you need a ride. Moose is headed back to Anchorage later today.”
Maybe he should be on that plane.
“Go catch bad guys,” he said to Flynn, then rolled himself through the automatic doors, Caspian at his side.
A nurse met him at the entrance. A woman in her mid-forties.
“No dogs, sir.”
“He’s a service dog. My service dog.”
“He isn’t wearing a vest.”
“And I’m not wearing my badge. But I can promise you we’re both legit.”
She looked him over. “He needs a lead, at the least.”
He reached for his belt, pulled it off, and wrapped it around Caspian’s collar. “I’m blaming you if I lose my trousers.”
The nurse rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you into the ER.”
He lay on the table, trying not to wince.
Or call out for pain meds. And, of course, it didn’t help that Keely’s words kept playing through his head.
He had to find her before she left town.
The sense of it ground into him, his bones.
Yeah, she’d given him a stiff arm, clearly angry about Vic—and maybe she had a right to be.
“Why don’t you call a press conference, tell the rest of my secrets.”
Ouch. But if he looked past that, he could see her fears behind the persona. Maybe he had been blind to what he might be getting into with her.
But maybe that blindness—the blizzard, the circumstances—had been the only way to really know her.
And for her to know him, past the dark funk, as Flynn called it.
An hour later, ice wrapped around his knee, plenty of prodding from the intern, he had an MRI scheduled down in Anchorage, had traded out the wheelchair for a pair of crutches, and might be a little less edgy with the flow of painkillers in his system.
Such a hero. But at least he wasn’t curled into a ball.
“You have someone picking you up?” This from the intern, who’d taken off his gloves and was petting Caspian, whose tail swished on the floor.
Hopefully. “Actually, I’m looking for a woman who stopped by here. About five foot four, blond hair, really pretty.”
The intern grinned. “Yeah, she was here. A couple hours ago, maybe. She wasn’t admitted.”
He sighed. “She left?”
“I saw her go upstairs. But didn’t see her leave.”
Upstairs? He frowned, then nodded and headed for the elevator.
It opened onto the second-floor lobby. A woman with copper hair, long and flowing, who wore a pair of leggings and an oversized hand-knit sweater, sat in a wheelchair, holding a couple of parkas in her lap.
Kennedy Bowie, Flynn’s sister.
Sully stood behind her, leaning on the push handles, his mouth pinched. He wore a wool cap, his hair falling out of it in the back, and a good week’s growth of beard.
The image of the bloody cabin flashed through Dawson’s brain as he maneuvered out of the elevator. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Sully said. He stepped up to catch the door, but it closed on him, so he shrugged and held out his hand to Dawson. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I, uh . . .” He glanced at Kennedy. She seemed pale and wan, and his heart bled out for her. “I’m sorry about your loss.”
Caspian came up to her and put his head on her lap. Kennedy jerked, then ran her hand over his head. She looked up, offered a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Thanks.”
His chest hurt. He turned to Sully. “We were at the outpost. Keely, uh, cleaned everything up.”
A beat.
Then Sully nodded, followed by a frown. “Are those my jeans?”
Oh, right. “Yeah. And socks. And I really like this flannel shirt—”
“I got it at Bowie Mountain Gear. It’s a Pendleton.”
Another beat. “Right. I’ll get it back to you.”
Sully laughed, not quite clear of pain, but he put a hand on Dawson’s shoulder. “Just messin’ with you, bro. It looks good on you.”
Kennedy took Sully’s other hand. “Thank you for . . . for . . .” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for cleaning up.” Her eyes filled.
“It was Keely, really. She also fixed your ham radio.”
“Wow. Skills,” Sully said. “She seems . . . different than when we found her.”
Dawson gave a wry smile. “She is.”
“Tell her thanks,” Sully said. The elevator opened again, and he moved around behind Kennedy to push her in. Dawson held the door.
“You haven’t seen her up here, have you? The intern said she came upstairs.”
Sully turned Kennedy around inside the elevator. “Nope. Sorry, man. But Donald and Wren Cooper are here, from the community. I think they’re transporting Wren down to Anchorage.”
Dawson frowned but let the door go, then crutched over to the nurse’s station. “I’m looking for Wren Cooper’s room?”
The nurse looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her. “Down the hall, third door to the right. They’re waiting for the chopper to get here.”
“What’s going on?”
“You’ll have to talk to Donald.” She gave him a smile.
Right. He headed down the hall and nearly bumped into a gurney emerging from the room. Wren lay on a transport board, belted in, under a blanket, on oxygen, a nurse carrying an IV bag.
Caspian whined and pressed against Dawson’s leg. “I know, buddy.”
Donald came out behind them, clearly fraying, his expression drawn. He startled at Dawson, then held out his hand. “I already talked to Keely, but I should thank you too. If you hadn’t been there . . .”
Dawson met it. So this was where Keely had gone. “What’s going on?”
“Wren’s got an obstructed bowel, from the splenectomy. Emergency flight to Anchorage.” He followed the gurney down the hall. Dawson crutched next to him.
“That’s rough.”
“Yeah.” He dropped his voice, glanced at Dawson. “We don’t have insurance.”
Oh.
Donald’s mouth tightened, and he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They just need to save her life.” His eyes brimmed, and he looked away, blinked hard. Took a breath. Then he turned back. “You just never know when . . .” He ran his hand behind his neck. “I can’t lose her.”
Dawson nodded. Next to him, Caspian jerked forward. The belt slipped through his grip.
Wren wiggled free of her bonds and dropped her hand through the gurney rails. Caspian ran up, licked Wren’s hand as they waited for the elevator.
“She loves that dog,” Donald said. He turned to Dawson. “Pray for us.”
The elevator doors opened, and he should have guessed that London Brooks and Boo Fox from Air One Rescue might be the transport team. They came out, wearing their red rescue jumpsuits. Boo glanced at him, the crutches, frowned. “You okay?”
“Twisted my stupid knee.”
Boo grimaced, as if sympathetic. “You want a ride back to Anchorage?”
He almost said yes, but . . . something made him shake his head.
Regret, maybe. Or hope?
Boo nodded, then leaned down to address Wren. They wheeled her into the elevator.
Donald followed, and Dawson grabbed the belt, holding back Caspian before the dog could join them too.
Caspian sat, whining as the elevator went to the bottom.
“You just never know when . . .”
When life would find you at the wrong place, the wrong time.
And he was just so done with it. Done with darkness winning.
Not today. Not on his watch.
The feeling in his gut solidified, took form. “Under the aurora’s glow, can we dare to dream so far?”
Yes, maybe they could. He could.
He found the stairwell, Caspian on his heels.
He hadn’t forgotten how to use the stairs with crutches and got down them faster than he’d imagined possible. Down with the bad—
He reached the landing and pushed his way out of the building, dropping Caspian’s lead.
The team was still wheeling Wren to the helipad out in the lot. No wonder the plows had been out. They’d cleared a space for the red Bell 429 chopper with Air One Rescue imprinted on the side.
Caspian ran ahead, barking—good dog.
“Donald!” No chopper wash yet, and Donald turned. Waited for him to catch up. Sweat ran down Dawson’s back.
“Do you know where she went?”
Donald raised an eyebrow.
“Keely. Where did she go?”
“Oh.” He glanced at his daughter, the team, then back to Dawson. “She mentioned wanting to call someone to get a ride back to Anchorage. I think she was going home, man. Sorry—”
Home.
The word punched him. But of course she was.