Page 80 of One Last Promise

Moose moved the collective and increased the pitch angle on the blades, and the chopper rose, just in case one of the houses teetering upstream on the edge of the washed-away bank took a plunge. He’d already watched one house go in, crumbling away from its moorings, into the flood, to be swept into the dirty, frozen river.

He held the chopper steady now as Shep and Boo helped pull the basket into the deck and the two parents piled out, shivering, sopping wet, probably a little hypothermic.

Axel, dressed in his thermal jumpsuit, also climbed into the bird. He unhooked and held on to the basket while Shep closed the door.

“Back to the CESS,” London said, picking up the radio to update the Central Emergency Services Station about their approach. The fire station already had units out, rescuing people in more accessible areas.

Twenty minutes later, they touched downin the parking lot, the area cleared and cordoned off for Moose’s chopper. He turned off the rotors before Shep opened the door. A couple firemen ran out to help, but Boo had given the family a check over—no major injuries. Still, the hospital in Soldotna would confirm.

“Any more callouts?” He looked at London, who was on the radio with the local rescue coordinator. He could hear their conversation, but again . . .

Tillie still crept around his head and?—

“Nope. We’re clear. And we’re nearly at Bingo, so . . . ”

“Roger. Shep, get us tucked in back there. We’re leaving in five.”

Although he’d done his preflight check before taking off, he gave everything a once-over as Shep and Axel secured the basket and Boo finished handing off the family to the EMS. Fuel gauges, instruments and radio, altimeter, trim—it kept his mind off what he might find back at his house.

As in, Tillie, gone.

Boo climbed back in, and Moose waited until everyone was strapped in, then lifted the Bell 429 into the air.

The sun hung low, just above the mountains, which cast deep shadows into the basin of the Alaska Range. The rains had churned up the waters of the Cook Inlet, frothy and dark, and the lights of Anchorage glittered in the distance.

He called in clearance to Merrill Field as they drew closer, then set down on the tarmac, near the Air One garage.

Shep opened the door and they piled out; then he and London shut down the bird. Axel and Shep strapped the chopper down, and Moose got out and checked their work.

The sun had fallen, the sky turning bruised and dark as Moose headed into the Tooth, located in a separate building away from the Quonset hangar that housed their vehicles, the four-wheelers, the snowmobiles, the rescue truck, and, tied down nearby, his Cessna, caught in theshadows of the night.

Boo and London had already flipped on the lights, their voices emerging from the locker room past the main area.

Home. Not really, but his timber home on the river always felt . . . borrowed. He hadn’t earned it. Hadn’t built it. Didn’t deserve it. And perhaps he didn’t deserve Air One, either, but Moose had designed the Tooth, from the parachute hanger in the back to the workout room, the bunk room, the lavatories, the locker room, his office, and the main area, all focused around team building and function. He’d overseen the construction, painted the walls, purchased the secondhand leather sofas that faced the flatscreen, installed the kitchen cupboards, designed the massive island, and found the long table that served as their meeting area. He’d tacked the maps of Alaska on the walls and purchased the lockers and benches in the locker room from an old school. Found preowned weight equipment. And poured everything he had into building this place.

Building his legacy.

Strangely, he hadn’t given a thought to the lawsuit since Tillie had shown up at his doorstep, but now, as he headed into the office, the manilla envelope still sitting on his desk, a sickness pooled in his gut.

He couldn’t lose this place. In a way, he knew how Tillie felt—he’d do anything to protect what he loved. His team. His family.

Tillie and Hazel?He didn’t know what to do with the churn of feelings.

Savior complex?No. He didn’t have to save someone to feel complete. He just needed to know he hadn’t failed them.

He waited until the women walked out of the locker room, then followed Axel and Shep in and changed out of his jumpsuit and into his street clothes. He’d shower at home.

Axel had changed too and now pulled his phone from the top of his locker. “I have five missed calls from Flynn.” He turnedon his voicemail.

Moose sat on the bench, lacing up his boots. Stopped at the expression on Axel’s face.

Shep shut his locker door, and Moose flinched, clearly on edge. He slowly stood up.

Axel lowered the phone. Took a breath. Looked at Moose, his face stricken. “Moose, I think you should sit back down.”

“Just tell me.” And suddenly, yes, he should sit down, because if Rigger had found Tillie and Hazel while he was out?—

“Tillie has a warrant out against her for kidnapping.”

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