Mountain Hostage

He landed on his chest, and air rushed from his lungs, but he didn’t let go. He grabbed her arm with his other hand, as well. Considering his size versus the petite victim’s, he calculated a more than 50 percent chance of hoisting her safely up.

“Don’t! Don’t hurt me!” she cried, thrashing about.

If she kept squirming, his chances dropped way below 50 percent. “Stop moving or I won’t be able to pull you up.”

“Why, so you can kill me?”

Kill her? At this point he had to assume she’d hit her head and was suffering from delirium. At the very least she was irrational, which meant she was unpredictable and potentially dangerous. Especially if she kept shifting and broke free of Jack’s grip, or even pulled him over the edge with her.

Jack scanned his brain for information on overly excited people and how to manage them. Something he’d read in a psychology book surfaced: An irrational person’s meaning of a situation is different than ours.

For some reason the woman in the blue jacket thought Jack wanted to harm her. She was stuck in that reality and he needed to yank her out of it. He decided to go completely random.

“My dog needs me!” he shouted.

She stopped squirming and looked up. Her wide brown eyes sparkled with unshed tears of fear. “What?” she said.

“My dog needs me.”

“Your dog?”

“If you fall, chances are I’ll go with you, because I won’t let go of your arm. Then I’ll die, or at the very least I’ll be injured, and Romeo will be all alone.”

“Romeo?” she repeated.

Make a personal connection and/or connect the irrational person back to reality.

“Romeo Albert Garrett Monroe,” Jack said.

She frowned, as if trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve been told that’s a lot of names for a dog. I’m Jack Monroe. Just two names.”

She blinked and was no longer squirming.

“I’m going to pull you up now.”

He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t want to take the chance she’d drift back into hysteria. In one swift motion he yanked her up and her lithe body slid across his and landed on the other side of him.

Flat on his back, an uncomfortable position considering his backpack, he took a deep, relieved breath. Snow started falling again, a little more insistent than today’s earlier dusting of flurries.

The woman sat up and scooted away from him. “Who are you?”

He’d just told her his name. Had she forgotten already?

“I’m Jack Monroe,” he said. “I’m a volunteer with Mt. Stevens Search and Rescue, K9 unit.”

Romeo barked from above, frustrated that he wasn’t a part of the action.

She glanced up.

“That’s Romeo,” he said. “You know my name and his name. What’s yours?”

“Zoe. Zoe Pratt.”

“Is she okay?” Leslie called down.

“Yes!” Jack responded, although he suspected she wasn’t totally okay. He wasn’t sure how serious her injuries were.

“Did you find Shannon?” Zoe asked.

“Who is Shannon?”

“My friend.”

“Did she fall, too?”

“No, she was...” Zoe hesitated and hugged herself “...taken.”

“Taken, you mean...?”

“A big guy attacked us and grabbed her and...” Her voice hitched.

Jack was supposed to do something here, something that would make her feel better. But what?

“They’re sending a team to treat your injuries and bring you safely down the mountain,” he offered.

She pinned him with intense brown eyes. “No, I’m not leaving without Shannon.”

He searched his mind for a logical response. There was none, since staying out here, injured and cold, wasn’t sensible. He didn’t want to upset her, so he tried something he’d heard before. “I understand.”

Although he didn’t. This woman might be helpful in the search for her friend, but delaying treatment of her injuries could make her condition worse. At least, her physical condition. He had no idea how to assess her mental condition.

“Because of Romeo?” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You understand because you love your dog, Romeo?”

“Sure.”

He’d initially said he understood her desire not to leave the mountain because that was the appropriate response. Now that she connected her situation to his dog, it actually made some sense.

He didn’t like the fact that this irrational and highly emotional woman was making sense to him.

He took off his gloves and pack, and dug for the first aid kit. “You have a cut on your cheek.” He tore open an antiseptic wipe and reached out to treat her wound.

“Don’t.” She jerked away and started shivering. Not from the cold.

Although he wasn’t an expert at reading emotion, he knew fear when he saw it. His gut clenched. “I won’t hurt you,” he said.

She glanced at him with those expressive eyes, hugging her knees to her chest. Her body still trembled.

Although he’d talked her out of her hysterical response to falling, she might still be processing that trauma, or the trauma of seeing her friend kidnapped, or the trauma of... Oh. Something clicked in his brain.

“The man who took your friend,” he started, “did he hurt you, too?”

She pinched her eyes shut and nodded.

“Did he push you off the trail?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Zoe?”

She opened her eyes.

“He’s not here now. He can’t hurt you.”

“He’s got Shannon. Please call someone, the police, and tell them what happened.”

Jack wouldn’t be able to tend to her injuries unless he did as she requested. He clicked on the radio. “Command, this is Jack Monroe.”

“Go ahead, Jack.”

“The victim says her friend was taken by a stranger, the same man responsible for the victim’s fall, over.”

“Taken, as in kidnapped?”

“Affirmative.”

“I’ll notify the sheriff’s office. Which way are they headed?”

Jack glanced at Zoe.

“Up toward Prairie’s Peak,” she said.

He shared the information with base.

“Sheriff’s office might radio back for details,” Command responded. “This changes things. Be careful.”

“Roger, out.” Jack hooked the radio to his belt. Unfortunately, making the call didn’t seem to ease Zoe’s anxiety. “They’ll do their best to find her,” he said, but stopped before giving her the statistics on such a rescue. Given the criminal element of the situation, combined with weather reports calling for heavy snowfall... They wouldn’t be encouraging.

She reached up and fumbled for where her scarf would be.

“We found your red scarf on the trail. Leslie has it above,” Jack said. “You can use mine.”

“My necklace, where is my necklace?” She unzipped her blue jacket and searched her neck with trembling fingers. “It’s a silver dove. It represents the Holy Spirit. I need to hold it, to pray and...and... Shannon’s mom gave it to me when I was thirteen.” She shifted around, as if it had fallen off and was lying beside her.

She was growing more agitated. He had to calm her down. “‘Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go,’” Jack said.

Zoe’s fingers froze, and she slowly lowered them. “‘...The Lord your God is with you wherever you go,’” she repeated. “You know the Bible?”

“I read everything in my aunt Margaret’s house growing up, including the Bible.”

She sniffed, a tear trailing down her cheek. Jack needed to do more.

“I will find your necklace,” he said, unsure how he was going to make good on that promise. Yet his words seemed to calm her. “I’d like to treat the cut on your head so it doesn’t become infected. It might take medics a few hours to get here.”

She nodded, hugging her knees tighter to her chest.

He tentatively reached out with one hand and brushed dark hair off her cheek. She closed her eyes as if he was hurting her, although he knew he wasn’t. Maybe she didn’t like to be touched, especially after everything that had happened today.

Lightly pressing the wipe against her skin, he said, “Did you have a hat?”

“Yes.”

She must have lost it when she fell.

Her wound wasn’t deep, which was good. It would be a shame if she ended up with a scar on her perfect skin, a reminder of the trauma she’d endured today. Yet she’d survived the fall and apparent kidnapping in fairly decent condition. At least from what he could see.

He took off his own knit hat and placed it on her head to keep her warm. “How about other injuries? Legs, arms, does anything else hurt?”

“My heart.”

That concerned him. Was she having breathing issues relating to a collapsed lung? “A pinching feeling or dull ache or...?”

“All of the above.” She pinned him with those soulful brown eyes. “I may never see Shannon again.”

He exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay. I thought you’d sustained a serious injury like a punctured lung or cracked ribs.”

“What I’m feeling is very serious.”

As he studied her expression, an image flashed across his mind.

His parents driving away from Aunt Margaret’s house, Jack standing on the porch holding his Lego lunch pail, a peanut butter and honey sandwich with chips tucked inside.

He didn’t want to drift back there, didn’t want to remember how he’d felt when his parents had abandoned him. He’d spent the last twenty-plus years shoving that persistent ache down where it couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Yet here it was.

“I apologize,” he said. “What you’re feeling is serious, but it’s not what I was referring to.”

She broke eye contact and glanced up at the sky. “Will they keep searching for Shannon at night?”

“The sheriff’s office will make that decision based on weather conditions.”

She frowned as a few flurries landed on her dark eyelashes. “You mean snow?”

“Snow and wind and available law enforcement personnel to accompany the teams.”

“Won’t they have a better chance of finding her tonight than if they wait until tomorrow?”

“The decision to proceed with a rescue is determined by both recovery of the subject, and safety of the team. If team members are hurt, that adds to the burden of the rescue. Not to mention this rescue is more complicated because of the kidnapping element.”

At the mention of the kidnapping, she hugged her knees even tighter.

Wanting to pull her out of her fearful state, he decided to make an attempt at small talk. “Are you from the area?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. City girl.”

“Which city?”

“Portland.”

“And your friend, Shannon?”

“She lives in Mt. Stevens and works at the resort.”

“Is she an experienced hiker?”

“Yes. She’s the activities director at the resort and part of her job involves taking guests on hiking adventures.”

“And she chose to take an inexperienced hiker like yourself out on a winter hike?”

She shot him a look. He must have overstepped.

“You probably want to save details of today’s incident for the authorities,” he said.

“I, well... It sounded like you were being critical.”

There was truth to her assessment. Jack had little tolerance for people who didn’t use their good sense, and he was ill equipped to mask his judgment. Another reason why he’d struggled to make and keep friends: his brutal honesty. It comes with your brilliance, Jackie boy, his aunt used to say.

Some days, being smart was overrated. As he sat with Zoe Pratt, waiting for help to arrive, he wished he had less smarts and more compassion or understanding or some other characteristic that would ease that tense frown off her face.

Instead, he only had facts.

“Since your friend is an experienced hiker, she will have an advantage over her kidnapper. Unless she’s injured,” he offered.

Zoe’s eyes widened. Perhaps he should have left out the part about her friend being injured.

“Did she have a personal locator beacon?” he asked, trying to recover from his mistake.

“Yes.”

“Then her priority will be to activate it.” Now he was making stuff up. “Experienced hikers know how to make a fire and stay warm throughout the night.”

“Unless she’s unable to get away from that jerk.” She paused. “Or she’s hurt.”

Once again, Jack had done more harm than good. He thought it best to keep his thoughts to himself during the remainder of his mission. One thing he knew for sure, the sooner he distanced himself from Zoe Pratt, the better off they’d both be.

Now she knew how her teenage clients felt when they claimed no one was listening to them.

Zoe told rescue workers she wanted to stay in the mountains until her friend was found.

Search and Rescue had denied her request. Their job was to rescue Zoe and bring her to the hospital. If she denied their assistance, she’d be putting the SAR volunteers at risk.

After being checked out by medics at the scene, she’d been assisted down the mountain. God, please take care of Shannon.

As she waited in the ER to be officially released, a police officer in his forties joined her in the examining area.

“I’m Sergeant Peterson with the sheriff’s office,” he introduced. “Are you up to answering some questions?”

“Sure.” She shifted into a better position and winced.

“How do you know Shannon Banks?”

“She’s my best friend from childhood.”

“And you two were up in the mountains because...?”

“A winter hike, to clear our minds.”

“Was she upset or concerned about anything in particular?”

“I think she and her boyfriend were having trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“She didn’t go into detail.”

“Where were you headed?”

“Prairie’s Peak Overlook.”

“Could you identify the kidnapper if you saw him again?”

“Absolutely.”

His nodded and checked his phone. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

Zoe leaned back, still trying to wrap her head around it all. This was not how she’d planned to spend her time in Mt. Stevens: Shannon kidnapped by a stranger; Zoe bruised, terrified, and rescued by an enigmatic man named Jack.

He was an odd sort of fellow, asking random questions, then going completely silent as they waited on the plateau for help. Yet when she’d inquire about his work as a search-and-rescue volunteer—how a dog is trained, how many hours of training it takes for a person to be qualified as a handler—to distract herself from her worry, Jack Monroe was Mr. Chatterbox. It seemed like he was more comfortable talking about facts, figures and percentages of lost hikers rescued in the Cascade Mountains than dealing with Zoe’s panic about Shannon.

Once she had come down from her emotional spin, she surmised that Jack was highly intelligent and socially challenged, perhaps even on the spectrum. He and his dog with the four names had stayed close to her when SAR helped her down the trail.

Away from Shannon.

Would she ever see her again?

“Hello?” a voice said from the other side of the curtain.

“Yes?”

Jack stepped into the examining area and stood at the foot of her bed.

“Shouldn’t you be out looking for Shannon?” she said. Then a horrible thought seized her. “Unless...”

“We’ve cleared the section of trail up to Prairie’s Peak,” Jack answered.

“And you haven’t found her?”

“No.”

“So that’s it? You’re giving up?” She realized she was being awfully hard on the man who’d saved her life.

“They’ve temporarily called off the mission due to weather,” he said. “If there was any way to continue the search, I would be out there.”

“Of course.” Zoe sighed. “I wish I knew why this was happening to us.”

“Maybe your friend got involved with the wrong people.”

She snapped her attention to him. “Excuse me?”

“Your friend got involved—”

“I heard you the first time. Why would you even think that?”

He shrugged.

“Well, it’s not true.”

“People aren’t usually randomly kidnapped without cause.”

“How dare you malign Shannon. You haven’t even met her.”

He just looked at her.

“Well, say something,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re sorry for starters.”

“You posed the question, so I assumed you wanted—”

“It was a rhetorical question, thank you very much.”

A puzzled frown creased his forehead. His suggestion bothered her more than it should, which meant...she sensed potential validity to his comment.

“I’m feeling exceptionally vulnerable and I need people around me that I can trust,” she said. She was a jumble of emotions and feared she might completely lose it in front of this stranger. She wanted privacy. She wanted counsel with God.

She needed her friend back.

A man in a dark suit joined them. “Miss Pratt, I’m Detective Perry.” He narrowed his eyes at Jack. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on Zoe.”

Zoe felt anxious and confused, both by Jack’s accusation and her own visceral response.

“I need to question Miss Pratt,” Detective Perry said.

With a slight nod, Jack left her alone with the detective.

“Any news about Shannon?” she asked.

“No, ma’am. I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened.”

“Oh, okay.” She wondered how many police officers she’d have to repeat her story to.

“Why were you out hiking today?”

“To clear our minds of stress. Prairie’s Peak is a favorite spot of Shannon’s and she wanted to share her special place with me, you know, to cheer me up.”

The detective waited for more.

“I broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago,” she explained.

He nodded, wrote something down in a small notebook. “Can you describe the assailant?”

“A large man, over six feet tall, with an angular face and dark eyes. He was in his thirties with a scar above his left eye.”

“You think you could identify him?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have you get with a forensic artist. What did the assailant say, exactly? Did he seem to know your friend or call her by name?”

“No,” Zoe said. “He didn’t say much only...” She reflected back on the moment she decided to catalog every detail about the man. “When he got close, I smelled cigarettes on his breath. I tried to help Shannon and he said, ‘This is not your fight.’”

“So, he was specifically targeting Shannon.”

“I don’t know. I guess it seems that way.”

“Then what happened?”

“When I wouldn’t let go of Shannon, he said...” the memory resurfaced in a flash “...that I would die with her.” She eyed the detective. “You’ve got to find her.”

“We’ll do our best. Specialized training is needed to go after a violent criminal in the mountains. We’re putting together a few teams, including police officers, that will be on standby for when the weather breaks. We can’t let search-and-rescue teams of civilians head up there without police officer escort. It’s too dangerous.”

She didn’t like his answer, but she understood it.

Zoe spent the next fifteen minutes answering the detective’s questions about Shannon. It was only then, when Zoe didn’t have the details that he seemed to be looking for, that she realized she didn’t know as much about the adult Shannon as she should.

Why hadn’t Zoe asked questions of her friend? Why hadn’t she found out more about what happened between Shannon and Randy, about her job, her social life? She felt helpless and utterly alone.

An hour later Zoe was officially discharged and for some reason she wished Jack would have returned. How silly.

“You are a fortunate woman,” the nurse said, then explained how to wrap her bruised ribs and manage the concussion. “Your injuries could’ve been much worse.”

Zoe didn’t feel fortunate. Her friend was still out there, cold, vulnerable and probably hurt.

Hopefully still alive.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change... She recited the prayer silently.

Shannon had been violently kidnapped. Zoe couldn’t change that fact, but she wasn’t powerless. She could pray for her friend’s safety. Zoe didn’t believe Shan had gotten involved with the wrong people; she might find clues at Shannon’s house to assist with the investigation into her kidnapping.

As she waited outside the hospital for a ride to take her back to Shannon’s modest home, she considered her next move. Yeah, like what move? Hike up a mountain in the dark with a concussion and bruised ribs to find her friend?

For half a second, she wondered if the concussion was, in fact, affecting her good sense.

A squad car pulled up and a deputy got out. “Are you Zoe Pratt?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Deputy Ortman. Sergeant Peterson asked me to give you a ride.”

Once inside the cruiser, she decided to press Deputy Ortman for news about her friend. “What’s the status of the search?” she asked.

“Three search teams are ready to deploy once the storm passes.”

Well, three was better than one. Still...

“How is Shannon going to survive?” she said softly.

“If the kidnapper wants something from her or her family, it’s in his best interest to keep her safe.”

She kept circling back to the same question: Why Shannon? And who was going to get the ransom call? Her parents were stable financially, but not wealthy.

She wished she had a sounding board, someone to process it all with.

An image of Jack standing at the foot of her hospital bed flooded her thoughts. The unique man who’d saved her life. She had either been brusque with him, or an emotional tornado. She assumed he’d feel safest keeping his distance.

But who could blame her for being an emotional basket case in her situation?

She wondered if Jack was on one of the search teams standing by to look for Shannon.

They had to find her. Zoe wouldn’t accept the alternative. Few people other than Shannon knew the real Zoe, understood and loved her, faults and all.

The deputy turned into Shannon’s snow-dusted driveway leading to the charming, two-bedroom house. The snow hadn’t accumulated nearly as much down here as it had up on the mountain.

Zoe spotted a lone figure standing on the front porch. From this vantage point, it could almost be... Shannon. Hope flared in Zoe’s chest.

The deputy parked the cruiser and Zoe thanked him for the ride. As she approached the house, she said, “Shannon?”

The woman pulled the scarf off her face.

“Oh, sorry,” Zoe said. “I thought you were Shannon.”

The visitor extended her hand. “I’m Kelly Washburn, Shannon’s friend. We work together.”

“Zoe Pratt.”

“No offense, but I was hoping it was Shannon in the back of the squad car,” Kelly said. “I heard what happened and had to come over. I don’t know why. I had to do something.”

“I know the feeling.”

“I even brought sloppy burgers, her favorite, from the resort’s restaurant.”

“That was thoughtful, thanks.” Someone with a positive attitude. Zoe liked that. She scanned the porch. “I wonder where she keeps the spare key?”

“It’s probably unlocked,” Kelly said. “People out here rarely lock their doors. If not, she keeps the spare under the mat.”

Zoe twisted the door handle and it opened. Small towns were so different than urban areas. She would never leave her apartment door unlocked. They entered the modest home and Kelly proceeded to turn on some lamps.

Shannon had decorated the open floor plan with simple, comfortable furniture, plenty of throw blankets and insulated drapes. Each of the two bedrooms had its own heater and thermostat, as did the main living area, although Shannon said she relied on the fireplace to warm that space.