Holiday Homecoming Read Online Free PDF Page B

compartment as he slammed the door shut. The night and storm stole him from her sight.
    The box came loose. It was a first-aid kit, as she’d hoped it would be. Relieved, Kristin twisted back onto the seat, dug her mittens out of her coat. Her door swung open. Ryan stood just outside the light, shadow and substance as she held up the kit for him to see.
    He took it from her. “Do you know how close we are to the next town?”
    â€œI’m guessing maybe twelve, thirteen miles.” Kristin sank to midcalf in drifting snow. “It might be quicker heading back. We went, what, ten miles?”
    It all added up to potential disaster. He ignored the bitter wind and the sting of flakes needling his face. All that mattered was helping the people in that car.
    If he could. If it wasn’t too late.
    He yanked his cell out of his pocket. Lord, please let this thing work out here. He hit auto dial and prayed for a signal.
    There were no other sounds but the rapid-fire beat of his heart, the tap, tap, tap of snow and the howl of the wind through the trees. He shook his phone, not that it would do a lick of good. C’mon. Connect.
    He heard the squeak of leather shoes in the compact snow behind him. One glance told him Kristin was managing. He kept in front of her, taking the brunt of the blizzard hiking along the tire tracks as they rolled through a jagged hole in the guardrail and into the darkness.
    His phone beeped. He froze in place. He had a signal! There was a ring, and an emergency operator answered. It sounded like a small county station; he could hear the buzz of activity in the background. It was a busy night for the sheriff’s department, and about to get busier.
    â€œI have a single-car accident on highway 84.” He squinted at the milepost marker hanging from a jagged arm of the guard post and reported the number to the operator.
    What was he going to find? His guts twisted as heswept the miniflashlight on his key ring through the darkness. Nothing. Only horizontal snow in a black void.
    Please, Lord, be with whoever is in that vehicle. Or was. Ryan steeled his spine. Prepared for what he might find, he took a step and skidded down a nearly vertical slope.
    Not a good sign, either. He dug his heels in before he crashed into a tree. With pine needles cold against his face, he flashed the small light through the underbrush. Nothing. No, wait. There was a faint something. Squinting, Ryan swept the area again. Sure enough, there it was. The edge of a broken taillight reflecting some of the light back at him despite the heavy downpour and thick foliage.
    It was enough of a miracle on this brutal night, that Ryan gave thanks as he crashed through limbs and over dormant blackberry bushes, following the ragged trail of tracks that led to a small sedan. The vehicle was dark and still. A very bad sign.
    Help me, Father, he prayed as he snapped limbs and tore branches out of his way, sidling along the quiet car.
    Too quiet. That couldn’t be good. Between shock, trauma and the freezing cold, he didn’t expect to find anyone alive.
    â€œHello?” Calm, focused, he broke the icy layer of snow off the driver’s window with the side of his hand. The glow of his flashlight showed a lone driver with a mass of dark curls slumped behind the wheel.
    He tried the door and the handle gave. The passenger compartment was cool, but not yet cold. He began talking, calm and steady, in case the young woman could hear him. So she wouldn’t be afraid.
    He wasn’t aware of Kristin crowding close to see if she could help or the snow slicing between his neck and his coat collar or the wind as he worked.
    Wow, he’s sure something. Kristin’s heart hitched as she watched him work, methodical and skilled. He pressed two fingers to the woman’s jugular and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. She was alive.
    Kristin leaned against the car. She’d never felt so helpless in her life.