LITMIR.BIZ

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was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Their only hope was that the woman would somehow be able to signal them when—and if—she heard the engine.

      To fight off the strong headwinds, Powell swerved the chopper’s nose and tail back and forth like a scampering sand crab. The maneuver helped, but the altimeter was still going crazy. Nausea tugged at Aidan’s stomach as he lifted the binoculars and scanned the scenery below them. They’d flown out of the heavy rain, but visibility was still poor and they were losing the light. He could make out little more than the treetops.

      Flying at low altitudes in mountainous terrain was dangerous under the best of conditions, but in bad weather, it was a particular dicey operation. But Aidan knew there was no turning back, for him or for Powell, until they absolutely had to. If the woman was still alive, she might not survive another night in the wilderness.

      Aidan didn’t say it aloud, but for the past half hour or so, he’d been plagued by the nagging worry that despite their best efforts, they might come up short this time. SAR operations didn’t always have happy endings. He knew that better than anyone.

      His headset sputtered to life.

      “See anything?” Powell asked him.

      He shook his head. “Negative.”

      “Damn.” The frustration in Powell’s voice mirrored Aidan’s concern. Darkness was falling and they were rapidly reaching the point at which the helicopter wouldn’t have enough fuel to return to base. A decision would soon have to be made.

      He glanced at Powell. “What do you think?”

      Powell’s mouth was set in a grim line. “One more circle and then we’ll have to head in.” He turned south, putting the wind at their tail and the JetRanger sprinted forward.

      As they passed over a gorge cut deep into the side of the mountain, Aidan pointed out the window. “I’ve been rock climbing in that canyon. It’s at least a hundred-foot drop to the floor.”

      Powell shrugged. “Devil’s Canyon. What of it?”

      “If memory serves, there’s an old hunting lodge around here somewhere…yeah, just through that break in the trees. See it? It’s a long shot, but she could be holed up inside, waiting for the weather to clear.”

      “I doubt she would have made it up this far, but hold on,” Powell said. “We’ll drop down and see if we spot movement.”

      As he swung around, something twinkled in the deep recesses of the canyon, drawing Aidan’s attention. He watched for a moment, thinking it might have been his imagination, but then it came again. A flicker of light.

      Couldn’t be a campfire in the rain…

      “Did you see that?” Aidan pointed excitedly toward the canyon. “I saw a light down there.”

      Powell executed a one-eighty spin, turning his nose straight into the headwind. The helicopter shuddered, as if a giant hand had smacked it across the hull.

      The rim of the canyon was nothing but rocks and marshy ground. If they set down, the chopper was likely to sink in the mud and they’d never get it out. Landing on the floor of the narrow ravine was not an option, either, and a rescue party could take hours to get there.

      The light kept blinking. It might have been Aidan’s imagination, but the signal seemed more rapid now. More desperate.

      “I’ll go down and have a look,” he shouted into the mouthpiece.

      “Too windy,” Powell responded. “You’ll get hammered on the rocks before you’ve gone ten feet.”

      “Not if you get low enough. The canyon will act as a buffer.”

      Powell cut him a look. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you, Campbell?”

      He shrugged. “Is there any other way?”

      Powell grinned and grabbed the joystick with both hands as he took the chopper down and tried to establish zero airspeed. After several minutes of bucking and pitching, the helicopter was finally situated over the mouth of the canyon.

      Throwing off his headset, Aidan climbed into the back and fastened his harness. The JetRanger was specially fitted with an electric hoist that could be operated by the pilot, but until they knew the situation below, a quick insertion into the canyon was the safest bet.

      Slipping his radio into his shoulder holster, Aidan opened the jump door to a blast of wind and rain. Balancing himself in the doorway, he threw down a rope and, then snapping his figure eight onto the cable, fast-roped down into the canyon.

      Rappelling was the easy part. The canyon walls shielded him from the wind, but the moment he spotted the woman lying on a ledge about fifty feet down, Aidan knew they were in trouble.

      She didn’t appear to be conscious, although he knew she had to be on some level in order to have sent the signal. She lay beneath a narrow outcrop of rock that wouldn’t have offered much in the way of protection from the storm. Her clothing was in tatters, her face covered in mud, and her hand, where she gripped the flashlight, was raw and bleeding. She must have tried to grab on to anything she could find to halt her momentum as she fell.

      Aidan glanced up, his attention scaling the canyon wall. How she’d managed to survive a fall from that distance was a mystery. And a real testament to her will to survive.

      Maneuvering over to the ledge, he unclipped from the rope and quickly knelt beside her. She opened her eyes when he touched her, and by the look of terror on her face, would have screamed if she’d had the energy. Instead, she tried to huddle even deeper into the overhang.

      “It’s all right,” Aidan said to her over the rain. “I’m here to help you.”

      When she didn’t respond, he said gently, “I’m not going to hurt you. But I have to find out how badly you’re injured before I can get you out of here. Can you move?”

      After a moment, she nodded and, uncurling herself, scooted toward him.

      “Good. Excellent.” He eyed her carefully. “Can you stand?”

      “I…don’t know.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and she sounded so frightened and hopeless that it made Aidan want to wrap his arms around her right then and there. She was small, only about five-four or so, and he doubted she weighed much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her hair was matted with mud, but he thought she was a blonde. Her eyes were dark blue and very intense.

      He had the impression that she was an attractive woman, but he could see very little of her features through the mud and grime. Not that it mattered. Getting her out of the canyon and to a hospital was his only concern at the moment.

      She tried to stand but couldn’t quite manage it even when he helped her. Her knees collapsed and he eased her back onto the ledge.

      “Okay, no problem. We’ll do this another way.”

      He turned and said into the radio, “Powell? I’ve got the woman, but she’s in pretty bad shape. I’m going to get her into a harness, and then you’ll have to hoist us out.”

      “Copy that. Make it quick, Campbell. If we get caught in a down draft, we’re all dead meat.”

      As quickly as he could, Aidan slipped leg rings over the woman’s thighs and tightened the harness belt around her waist. Grabbing the cable, he used another figure eight to fasten her harness to his, then he radioed Powell.

      “All set! Take us up!” To the woman, he said, “Put your arms around my neck. Don’t worry. I’ve done this before,” he assured her when they lifted off the ground and she gasped.

      The first moment of dangling in midair was always the worst. “Don’t look down,” he advised.

      To answer, she tightened her arms around his neck.

      He could feel her muscles tense even beneath her layers of clothing. She was very light

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