Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(45)

The rain slowed back to a fine drizzle.

Mac doubled back. Bareheaded, his blond hair was soaked, but he didn’t even look cold. “Hey, where’s Lee?”

“He was behind me.” Shivering harder, Hannah scanned the trail behind them. When had she seen him last?

“Shit.” Grant turned and hurried back down the path, Hannah and Mac close behind. “Where is he?”

The trail was empty.

Fear blasted Hannah with a surge of energy. Jogging next to Grant, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “Lee!”

“He was behind you. Didn’t you notice that he disappeared?” Grant asked.

“I couldn’t hear anything over the rain.” But it was her fault. She should have been watching out for him. But she’d been so obsessed with keeping up with Grant, she’d forgotten about Lee. “Damn it.”

Twenty minutes later, Mac came to a sudden stop. He pointed down the trail. “I see him.”

In a shallow trailside ditch, Lee’s bright blue jacket stood out among the brown autumn colors.

The path dropped off sharply for a few feet. Lee sat in a six-inch puddle of muddy runoff. Grant jumped down to land next to his brother with a splash. Hannah and Mac scrambled down the embankment.

“What happened?” Grant squatted next to Lee.

“I slipped. T-twisted my ankle.” Lee’s teeth chattered. His lips were blue. He’d been sitting in a cold puddle of water for at least forty minutes.

“Let’s get you out of the water.” Grant lifted him from the ditch.

Lee groaned, and his face went paper-white.

Grant set him on the ground. “We need a fire.”

“I’ll find some dry wood.” Mac scampered off into the woods.

“I’m going to take off your boot.” Grant loosened the laces. “Ready?”

Lee nodded, his eyes shining with moisture.

“One, two, three.” Grant slid the boot off. A moan escaped from Lee’s lips.

Hannah stared. Lee’s ankle was more than twisted. It was bent at a sharp angle—sideways.

“Shit.” Grant stood and rocked back on his heels.

“I’m sorry,” Lee said.

“Not your fault,” Hannah said. It was hers.

Mac came back with an armload of dry shrubbery. Hannah cleared a place for him to build a fire.

“We’re going to splint your ankle and call Dad.” Grant opened his pack and pulled out his first-aid kit. “Hannah, I need a straight stick about six inches long.”

“On it.” Hannah rooted through Mac’s pile of twigs and found one with the right diameter. She pulled the folded knife from her cargo pocket and sawed the stick to the correct length, then passed it over.

Grant handed Mac the map. “Find the closest possible pickup location.”

Hannah took over fire building, layering the dried brush over the bark scrapings he’d likely taken from the underside of a fallen tree. There was always dry timber somewhere if a body knew where to find it. She dug her waterproof matches out from inside her pack. In a few minutes, she was coaxing a tiny flame to life.

“Thanks.” Lee leaned closer to the small heat source.

“This is going to hurt,” Grant said.

The sky was darkening.

Squatting like a monkey, Mac tapped on the map. “This is the closest logging road. The terrain looks fairly flat. How are we going to get him there?”

“Going to be a hell of a hike, but I can carry him.” Grant glanced at Lee. “Good thing you’re skinny.”

Lee nodded, pain pushing him past where laughter was possible.

Hannah rooted through Lee’s pack for extra layers of clothing. She helped him take off his jacket and tug a fleece crewneck over his head. Then she zipped him back into his waterproof jacket in case the rain started again.

“Can you eat something?” She held a candy bar toward him. “The calories will help with body temperature.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“OK.” She repacked her bag.

“We have a plan.” Grant unhooked the walkie-talkie from the side of his belt. They all stared at it for a solid minute, dread transmitting between them as if on a sibling frequency, before Grant radioed their father and broke the news. Concern—and disappointment—came across loud and clear in his voice as they discussed the pickup point.

“Are you ready?” Grant asked.

Lee nodded. The color had returned to his lips, but his body was trembling.

“Can you get on my back?” Grant asked. “It’s the easiest way to carry you.”

“I guess so.” Lee’s voice shook. Hannah helped.

They trudged through the mud. It took them a full hour to travel the single mile to the logging road. The Colonel waited in the SUV for Grant to load Lee into the passenger seat, then he checked the splint. “Nice job, Grant. What the hell happened?”

“I slipped.” Lee rested his head on the window.

The rest of the kids piled their packs in the cargo area and climbed into the backseat. Sitting down never felt so good to Hannah. Her leg muscles went lax.

“I should have canceled the trip. The weather turned out much worse than predicted,” the Colonel said in a rare moment of self-doubt. “But you all reacted well. I’m proud of the way you handled yourselves out there. You worked as a team, and you used your heads to get out of a bad situation.” His eyes caught Hannah’s in the rearview mirror. “But maybe now you see why women don’t belong in combat. If Grant hadn’t been there, you couldn’t have carried Lee out.”