Deliver Us from Evil Page 12

  This time, as he took the cooler from Lincoln and set it on the stone floor, he noticed the temperature had dropped even lower. His body shivered, and he blew into his hands. His gaze scanned the small space. They had to find a way out, or they’d die.

  The four walls closed in on him.

  “We need to get some heat going,” Lincoln whispered. “She’s doing better, but I think she’s in shock. She needs to rest a little and refocus. If she doesn’t, I don’t think she’ll be able to make it. Once she’s resting, we can try to find a way out.”

  “I don’t see a fire pit anywhere.”

  Lincoln chuckled. “There’s moss on some of the stalagmites. We can use that to start the fire. I have matches in my pack.”

  “But won’t a fire smoke us out?”

  “Nah. Using just the moss and any twigs that dropped in the fall, the fire won’t be big enough. The little bit of smoke it’ll produce will go straight up and out where we fell through.”

  Roark rubbed his hands together. “Then I’d better get busy collecting moss and twigs.”

  Lincoln grinned and went back to Brannon’s side. Her face lit up brighter than the flashlight beam as her partner sat beside her and reached for her arm.

  Again Roark’s stomach twisted with an emotion he couldn’t name.

  Or wouldn’t.

  Saturday, 10:18 a.m.

  Underground

  Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

  SITTING WITH HER BACK against the rock wall, Brannon’s nerves returned to normal even though exhaustion weighted every limb. Roark continued to collect moss and twigs off the formations and cave’s sides. Lincoln finished bandaging the gash she’d incurred in the fall and patted her knee. “You did just fine, girl.”

  “No, I didn’t. I panicked, Lincoln.” She fought against the tears. “I let fear get the best of me. All I could think was that I was hurt, alone, and possibly going to die.”

  Lincoln made clucking sounds and stood. “Don’t beat yourself up, hon. ‘Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.’” He turned and shoved the first-aid supplies into the backpack.

  Psalm 34:5. Lincoln had done it again—read her heart and mind and reminded her that God was in charge, not her. She considered her partner as he zipped the backpack and wondered for the umpteenth time what great thing she’d ever done to have gotten such an amazing friend.

  Lincoln was an attractive man with his dark eyes, dark hair, and trimmed mustache. Physically he looked like a Greek god. Inside, Lincoln loved the Lord with all his heart and soul. His spirit was as gentle as a lamb’s. And that spirit had been what pulled her back from the ledge when Wade had died.

  Wade . . . handsome and charismatic Wade. The man she’d intended to marry. The man who’d brought her to Tennessee and introduced her to Lincoln Vailes.

  The man who’d died in a hiking accident and left her all alone.

  Roark let out a whoop, his face red and raw, as a little flame rose from his small pile. She couldn’t help but grin.

  The marshal raised her awareness of physical attraction. Why did she have to be drawn to a man who was a control freak and sometimes obnoxious? It just wasn’t fair. The many facets of Roark Holland confused her. What perplexed her the most was why she would be attracted to such a man in the first place. He was nothing like Wade.

  Maybe that’s why she was attracted to him.

  She tilted her head as Roark and Lincoln engaged in an animated discussion. Several times Roark pointed, and Lincoln would shake his head. She should get up and join the discussion, but she just didn’t have any fight left in her. Her emotions were too raw right now.

  Suddenly the subject of her scrutiny spun around and locked gazes with her. Roark hitched up a single brow. Heat shot up the back of her neck, spreading across her face.

  “You should rest a little.” His voice didn’t tremble as he bent and set the moss and twigs in a pile nearby. Maybe he was unaffected by her.

  The thought disappointed her more than it should. She licked her lips. “I can go on.”

  “But we aren’t going anywhere real soon.” Roark gestured around the cave. “Why don’t you rest, and I’ll try to raise someone on the satellite again?”

  “He’s right, Brannon. I need you at 100 percent to get us out of here. I’ll use the radio and see if we get anything.” Lincoln squeezed her shoulder.

  She shook her head. “We need to figure out a way to get out of here.”

  “Look.” Lincoln squatted beside her. “We’ll get some heat in our bones, and we can all rest a little. Humor me, okay?”

  She didn’t want to admit how heavy her eyelids were. “For you.” She gave a weak smile, then closed her eyes.

  THIRTEEN

  Saturday, 10:45 a.m.

  Underground

  Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

  THE LITTLE FIRE CRACKLED beside Brannon as she slept. Roark leaned against the wall of the cave, studying her partner who tended the flames. “Can I ask you something? Personal, I mean?” The question slipped out before Roark could stop it.

  Lincoln shrugged. “I guess.”

  How to word his juvenile question without sounding like . . . well, a juvenile? “You and Brannon seem really close.”

  A silence hung heavier than the warmth keeping out the iciness of winter.

  The ranger cleared his throat. “We are. She’s my best friend, but that isn’t a question.”

  Unexplained relief swelled in Roark’s chest. “I’m just curious why . . . well, why you two aren’t involved.”

  Lincoln’s quiet chuckle echoed off the cave’s walls. “I’ve never seen her in that light. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty and great, but I love her like my little sister.” His eyes darkened at their subject of conversation, still in slumber. “She almost was.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

  Roark recognized the pain in the ranger’s words. “What do you mean?”

  A soft sigh sounded over the popping of the fire. “You heard her mention Wade, right?”

  “Yeah, and her parents.”

  “Wade was my older brother.” His voice hitched. “And Brannon’s fiancé.”

  Roark’s mouth went dry.

  “She was flying SAR choppers for the Coast Guard, based out of Florida. Wade, well, he was always an adventure junkie. Addicted to the adrenaline rush.”

  Roark remained silent but knew just what Lincoln described. At one time he’d sought out thrills just for the excitement, too.

  “Wade met her at a survivalist seminar the Coast Guard put on. He was instantly attracted to her. He called me the night he met her and told me he’d found my future sister-in-law.” Lincoln chuckled. “That was Wade—knew what he wanted as soon as he saw it. Told me that night he just had to convince her he was the man for her.”

  What would it feel like to be able to make such decisions so spontaneously? Roark couldn’t imagine. Then again, his entire life had been planned to the T. But somehow he’d gotten sidetracked.

  No, the incident with Mindy had sidetracked him.

  “Wade proceeded to woo Brannon. It’s a wonder she didn’t get caught up in the whirlwind of his romancing.” Lincoln’s eyes held that faraway glossiness of being lost down memory lane. “She held out, taking it slow. But finally, after almost two years, she agreed to marry him. Boy, was he jazzed.”

  “I can imagine.” Roark’s gaze shot to Brannon, still curled up by the fire.

  “By that time she’d fulfilled her obligation to the Coast Guard. She put in for her release, planning to move here and marry Wade.” Lincoln paused, as if searching for the words. “He brought her home, and I was wowed as soon as I met her. So down to earth and strong. A good Christian woman.”

  “And she app
lied for the ranger job?”

  “Not right away. I don’t think she planned anything at first. Wade loved taking her around the park, introducing her to his friends, and going to church. I really don’t know if she’d have even wanted to work if they’d gotten married.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Wade and his buddies always took a hiking trip every year. The guys kept it up through college and well after. That year they’d planned to go to the Grand Tetons in Wyoming.”

  Beautiful country. Roark had hiked there once upon a time.

  “Off they went. Brannon and I were looking at some property Wade had fallen in love with. They wanted to build a house.”

  Roark had a feeling where this was going but couldn’t stop Lincoln in his tale. He just had to know.

  “We got a call two days into their trip from a park ranger. An avalanche had hit, and their hiking group was missing.” Lincoln scrubbed a hand over his face. “For two more days we waited for word. Nothing.”

  Leaning forward, Roark noticed the raw pain in Lincoln’s expression.

  “And then we heard. They’d gotten stuck in the avalanche and couldn’t get out. They died because no one could reach them.”

  How horrifying. Roark couldn’t imagine the pain Lincoln felt over the loss of his brother. And poor Brannon . . .

  Lincoln looked at Brannon. “She came undone. She’d lost both her parents at seventeen to a yachting accident. To lose Wade . . . well, it almost did her in.”

  The words lodged in Roark’s throat. He gave a cough. “What happened then?”

  “I stayed on her hard. She lost her will to live, everything. I wouldn’t give up on her. Got angry. Yelled. Got in her face.” Lincoln shook his head as if to erase the memory. “It was a long haul, but she finally came around. Faith got her through.”

  Faith. Why had it failed Roark when he needed it most? It’d disappeared like a wisp when he was trapped in the burning elevator with Mindy.

  “Since she’d left the Coast Guard and her parents were dead, Brannon decided to stay here and build a life. I was the only person she had.”

  Roark couldn’t imagine how she’d gone on.

  “She decided to apply to the NPS. With her college and military history, she was able to get on rather quickly. She worked for a couple of years as a regular ranger, then the super was able to get funding to buy her a helicopter and upgrade her as the pilot.”

  “She seems happy enough now.” An unfamiliar lump sat sideways in Roark’s stomach. She’d been through so much—he could easily forgive her attitude at times.

  Before Lincoln could reply, Brannon struggled to sit. She blinked several times, then focused on Lincoln. “Hey. Were you able to raise anybody on the radio?”

  He moved beside her. “Glad you got some rest. How’re you feeling?”

  She sat up. “Fine. Good to go.” Her eyes met Roark’s. “Did you reach anyone on your phone?”

  Roark shook his head. “Still no service.”

  “I got some static on the radio,” Lincoln said. “The blizzard’s pretty much passed.”

  “We should try again. Toss me my backpack. Maybe with the weather calming, Steve can pick up my distress call.” She nodded to Roark. “Use your satellite phone again—with the clouds gone, you should be able to get some type of reception.”

  Roark handed her the pack, then dug in his pocket and pulled out his SAT phone. Back to all business now. But that was okay. He understood her a little better.

  And it only made her more appealing.

  Saturday, 11:50 a.m.

  Underground

  Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

  ROARK’S MOVEMENTS, WHILE EFFICIENT, appeared graceful. Brannon shook her head to rid her mind of the fanciful thoughts. Maybe the fall had knocked her in the head. She jerked the radio from the pack and flipped it on. After giving her call sign, she tried to hail Steve back at base.

  A squawk of static filled the air, then a crackling noise. Her heart jumped. Finally!

  “Brannon, that you?” Steve’s voice had never sounded so good.

  “It’s me. We’re okay, but we need some help.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She closed her eyes, recalling the fear she could still taste. “Listen, we need you to get in touch with the National Guard to come get us. I’ve twisted my ankle so hiking out of here isn’t feasible.”

  “I’ll get right on it. What’s your location?”

  Brannon looked at Lincoln. He answered without hesitation. “We’re about a mile north of Rainbow Falls. In an unmarked cave. SAR will have to bring equipment to get us out.”

  She relayed the information to Steve, along with how many were in their party and their condition. Unbelievable that a SAR team would have to rescue her. The irony smacked her square between the eyes, and it stung.

  “Take care, you and Lincoln both.”

  “Thanks, Steve.” She shoved the radio back into her pack and looked at Lincoln. “At least help is on the way.”

  “That is something.” Lincoln brushed off snow from his shoulder. “But we’re the best SAR team in the park, and you know it. The Guard will have to hunt for us.”

  Brannon touched his arm. “‘The LORD will guide you always.’”

  “Isaiah 58:11.” He smiled. “No fair using the same Scripture you have posted in the Dolphin.”

  “All’s fair in love and war, my friend.”

  Lincoln shook his head.

  “So what’s that?” Roark asked.

  “What’s what?” Brannon gazed at Roark.

  “The book whatever for that saying. What is it?”

  “Huh?” She had no idea what he was talking about. He made no sense.

  Lincoln chuckled. “That wasn’t Scripture—that was just an old adage.”

  “Oh.” Roark’s face flushed and he lowered his head. A long moment passed before he spoke again. “Why do you guys do that?”

  “Quote Scripture?” Lincoln asked.

  “Yeah. You guys do it back and forth. A lot.”

  “I don’t know.” Lincoln shone the light along the floor of the area. “Just something that keeps us focused on what’s really important in this life.”

  “It’s something we just started doing. Challenging each other on Scripture memorization, but it also comforts us.” It was what Lincoln used to reach out to her years ago. What brought her back from the brink of deep depression. She ran her gaze over the top of the stone walls. “Why?”

  “I was just curious.”

  “Are you a Christian, Roark?”

  “Do I believe in God?”

  “Yes.”

  A heavy pause settled. Brannon kept her mouth closed, refusing to push him for an answer. Her heart beat so hard, she was sure he and Lincoln could hear it.

  “I believe in God.” Roark’s voice could barely be heard over her racing pulse.

  “But?”

  “Well, let’s just say me and the Big Guy upstairs haven’t been communicating much lately.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from asking yet another question. “Why’s that?”

  “I was raised with a mom who was a Christian—took me and my sisters to church and all that. But once I got out on my own, well . . . I just had a couple of bad experiences with so-called Christians.”

  Brannon bit her tongue so she wouldn’t keep prying, but his stance screamed there was more to his story. She nudged Lincoln.

  “Uh, that happens sometimes,” her partner said.

  How profound! She could have done better than that. “There are a lot of people who profess to be Christians, Roark, who talk a good game but don’t live the life. Is that what you meant?”

  He glanced over to her, his eyes care
ssed her. “Kind of.” A cloud dropped over his eyes, masking further expression, like a door slamming shut. Roark stared straight ahead, not looking at her.

  How had she offended him this time? Her prying questions? Had she been too nosy? Maybe she had, but only because she felt as if she had a vested interest in Roark’s spiritual standing. Not that she did, but her heart told her to push, so push she had. Now he seemed to be ignoring her.

  Brring!

  Roark pulled his phone from his coat pocket, then pressed it against his ear. “Demott? Holland here.” Roark shoved snow around with the toe of his boot. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

  Lincoln crossed over and lowered himself to the boulder beside Brannon. Both of them kept their eyes glued to Roark.

  “No, we’re okay.” He paused for a moment. “We don’t have to worry about the shooter anymore. I took him out.” He lifted his eyes to settle on Brannon’s face.

  She averted her gaze but kept his movements in her peripheral vision.

  “The heart is safe and sound. It got an injection before the flight medic was shot.” Roark checked his watch and shook his head as if the person he spoke with could see him. “The rangers have contacted the station, and they’re working to get another helicopter out here to pick us up.”

  Brannon crossed her arms over her chest and snuck another look at him.

  He paced as he talked. “No, I don’t know the exact coordinates. The chief at the ranger station knows our location.” He sighed, glancing at Lincoln and Brannon. “What’s the landline number to your station?”

  Lincoln rattled off the numbers, which Roark repeated into the phone. “Yeah, you can try that. The chief’s name is Steve.”

  Roark snapped the phone shut and slipped it into the backpack. He shook his head as he stood and slung the pack over his shoulder. “I hate to do this, guys, but we gotta try to find a way out of here.”