The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(84)

He’d never felt as helpless as he did right that moment. He’d promised to protect Carlise, to keep her safe, and he’d failed. Big time.

When she’d needed him most, he hadn’t been there. If he hadn’t made that last stop at the lumberyard—he’d picked up some lumber to make Baxter a doghouse—he would’ve been at the cabin when Susie arrived. If he’d been faster at the police station, if he hadn’t had that cup of coffee with JJ, if he hadn’t spent so much time at the grocery store . . .

So many what-ifs. So many regrets.

“Chappy?”

He heard his name being called, and for a split second his heart soared. Carlise! She wasn’t under the snow. Baxter was wrong! He was digging for nothing.

But then his brain kicked into gear. The voice he’d heard was male. It wasn’t Carlise.

“Here!” he yelled back.

“We’re comin’!”

Chappy recognized the voice now. Bob. His friends had come. Had made damn good time getting up to his cabin. He had no doubt they’d driven way too fast and recklessly to get here . . . he just didn’t think it would be enough.

Turning, he looked across the snow and saw Bob, Cal, JJ, and Chief Rutkey jogging toward him. The rocks and uneven snow kept them from moving very quickly, but they were here. Even better, they were each carrying a shovel.

“JJ told us about the avalanche, and we figured these would come in handy,” Bob said, his grave expression no doubt mimicking Chappy’s.

“Shit, mate. Your hands,” Cal said with a frown after the men had scaled the tall snowbank.

“I’m fine,” Chappy said quietly, holding out his hand for one of the shovels.

JJ shook his head. “We’ve got this. Move.”

Chappy was about to tell his friend off, but Alfred, the police chief, took hold of his arm and hauled him to his feet, pulling him away from the hole Baxter was still frantically trying to dig.

“We’ve got this, son. Hold the dog so we can widen this hole and find your woman.”

This time, Chappy took hold of Baxter’s scruff and pulled him away from the hole. Surprisingly, the dog let him. Chappy knelt by his side and held his breath as his friends threw snow and rocks away from the hole. It widened and deepened quickly as they dug.

But still, there was no sign of Carlise.

With every shovelful of snow and debris they took out of the hole without finding her, the lower Chappy’s hopes sank.

“Are we sure this is the right spot?” Bob asked.

“Yes,” Chappy answered before anyone else could. “Baxter came straight here and started digging. She’s here somewhere.”

The threesome dug a little longer before Chief Rutkey said, “Damn, there’s a pine tree doubled over. We’ll have to dig around and free it before we can get to the snow underneath.”

Something about his words clicked in Chappy’s brain—and for the first time in almost an hour, hope soared inside him once again.

“The bunker!” he exclaimed, going over to the hole and looking into its depths.

“What? What bunker?” the chief asked.

“There’s an old prepper bunker out here,” JJ told him.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Alfred said. “That old guy who owned the cabin that was swept away in the last avalanche we had out here. He was a paranoid son of a bitch. Not friendly in the least. I only found out he had a bunker when his wife got locked inside and he needed help to get her out. Came to my house personally and swore me to secrecy. By the time we got her out, she was a wreck but physically just fine. I’d forgotten all about it.”

“The pine trees,” Chappy said. “That’s the landmark I use to locate the bunker when I’m out and about. They’re the only ones around here. The bunker was at the base of them.”

“The trees we’re digging around could’ve been swept down the mountain,” Cal warned.

But Chappy shook his head. “She made it to the bunker. I know she did. I showed it to her last week. And before the footprints were wiped away by the slide, she was headed right for it. And Baxter led us here. She has to be down there!”

“And the friend?” Cal asked, one brow raised.

Chappy met his gaze, instantly knowing what Cal was thinking. “I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe they’re both in there.”

“Damn,” JJ said and started digging again, a little faster now.

Minutes later, the men had reached the forest floor. The hole they’d dug was at least six feet deep and several feet wide, and the tops of their heads just peeked over the edge. They’d uncovered the door to the bunker, right under where Baxter had first started digging.

JJ pulled, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s stuck,” he said in frustration as he tried to pull harder.

“Move,” Chappy said. “Let me down there.”

He and Alfred helped pull Bob and Cal out of the hole, making room for Chappy to jump in. “It’s not stuck. It’s locked,” he said, relief nearly making him collapse.

It could be locked only from the inside.

“That’s right,” Alfred said from above, reading his mind. “After the guy’s wife got stuck inside, he reconfigured the door to make it easier to open, but as a safety precaution, it could only be locked from inside. The last thing he wanted was some scavenger—his words, not mine—coming along and trapping them in there.”