Page 100 of High Frequency

“Dan! Give me a hand!”

I whip my head around and see Wolff trying to drag a dead tree across the clearing. I immediately rush to help him. I have a good idea what he has in mind. Between the two of us, we’re able to lift the tree and run with it toward the cabin.

It only takes two hits before the door swings in. I don’t hesitate and drop the tree, rushing through the opening, even as I pull my shirt over my mouth as makeshift protection for the smoke. The heat of the flames singes the hair on my body.

My eyes are watering from the smoke as I try to take in the scene before me.

The flames seem to be contained to the front and halfway down the sides of the cabin and leaking across the ceiling. The fire hasn’t gotten to the back wall yet, where I see two figures huddled together on a mattress on the floor.

I have no trouble recognizing Sloane, her walking boot gives her away, and I immediately reach for her. The only thing on my mind is getting her out of here before the ceiling comes down on us. But as I grab for her arm, she shakes me off.

“Help me,” she forces out in a raw voice.

It’s only then I pay attention to the second figure. It takes me a moment to recognize the screaming, half-naked woman is Shelby. She’s cuffed to a length of rusty chain hooked into the wall. Sloane is desperately trying to work the lock on the iron cuffs around Shelby’s wrists with a length of wire, while the other woman appears to be fighting her all the way.

I grab the fold-up axe I hooked on my belt and push Shelby closer to Sloane.

“Hold her still,” I bark, lifting the axe.

I aim where the chain hooks onto the bracket on the wall, hoping there’s a weakness in one of the links. But before I can swing, the axe is plucked from my hand

“Take Sloane out, I’ve got her,” Wolff orders me.

I don’t hesitate and pull Sloane up off the floor. Then I wrap one arm around her waist, and with my other hand force her head in my neck as I half-drag her with me.

The flames have almost blocked the entire doorway and all I can do is hold my breath as I leap through. I don’t stop moving until I no longer feel the heat and sink down on my knees on the ground, still clinging on to Sloane. When I look over my shoulder, I just see Wolff jumping clear of the fire, carrying Shelby.

“You’re okay,” I rasp against Sloane’s singed hair. “You’re both okay.”

Then I release the back of her head and notice my hand is covered in blood.

Twenty-Nine

Sloane

“It’s a scratch.”

Wolff grins and shakes his head at my challenge, but I’m clearly pissing off Dan.

“It’s a gash,” he returns sharply.

I roll my eyes.

“Not anymore,” I remind him. “The stitches fixed it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a visit to make.”

I’ve been lucky, I know that. Things could’ve been a hell of a lot worse than fourteen stitches on my scalp, a concussion, and some smoke inhalation. The baton he apparently hit me with could’ve easily cracked my skull, but it turns out, I have a hard head.

What is more painful than anything else is the feeling of betrayal. Of all my new colleagues, he was the one I felt most closely connected to. That I could’ve misjudged him so put a serious dent in my confidence.

Jason Heany had been apprehended right there on the trail.

Sheriff Ewing had the foresight to put together two teams, each comprised of sheriff’s deputies and several High Mountain Trackers, and sending them up the trail in both directions of the loop. Ironically, the person who ultimately placed him in handcuffs, was none other than Deputy Frank Schmidt. Which only goes to show my judgment of character is off.

Schmidt was the deputy Sheriff Ewing had tasked with reviewing the Exxon security tapes, but when confronted, he admitted he’d passed on the job to Jason Heany when he offered to do it. When Junior heard that, he accessed the deputy’s personnel file and pulled Jason’s mandatory employee fingerprints. Those turned out to match the ones taken from the bullet shell and paint can.

While we were all packed off to the hospital with varying injuries, the FBI, led by SAC Bellinger, arrived in town to take over. We weren’t here long before Wolff, Dan, and I were separately interviewed by the feds but, apparently, they haven’t been able to get Shelby to talk. She is somewhere else in the hospital being treated and, as Bellinger was just here to explain, is in a state and unwilling to talk to anyone other than me.

The agent came in to request I talk to her. He hopes it will give us a better idea how the individual pieces fit together into a bigger picture. My, “Hell yes,” to the request did not go over well with Dan. His protective instincts have gone into overdrive, and even though part of me loves him for it, even understands it, I’m not about to sit the conclusion of what started asmyinvestigation out on the sidelines.

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