Page 17 of Unexpected Danger (Mountain Justice #2)

Brodie turned onto the shortcut on Highway Three on his way to the ranch for an early dinner. After a hectic day, it would be good to connect with his family and eat a delicious meal. Just when he thought the day’s craziness was over, a call came in over his radio.

“Accident on Highway Three, milepost nineteen.”

Brodie’s windshield wipers failed to keep up with the heavy rain that alternated with bouts of hail, but he knew from driving this stretch so many times that he was near that milepost. He reached for the radio. “Brodie here. I’m in the vicinity and can take it.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. An ambulance and fire truck are on the way.”

Brodie continued down the highway, the lights of an occasional oncoming vehicle making it even harder to see on the rainy afternoon.

A truck had pulled over with lights flashing.

Brodie did the same, ensuring he was far enough over to avoid causing a traffic obstruction.

He backed up and reparked so his truck’s bright lights were angled perfectly on the vehicle in the borrow pit.

From what he could see, it was an SUV pulling a small cargo trailer.

He put the hood of his coat on his head, grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment, and exited the truck.

The rain pummeled him the second he left the shelter of the truck.

“Can’t tell if the driver is okay or not,” said an older man who emerged from the other truck and shuffled Brodie’s way.

“Are you the one who called it in?”

“Yes, sir. Was driving along and thought I saw something in the borrow pit. Turns out I was right. I’ve been up here praying for the driver.”

From the man’s appearance, it was clear he would be physically unable to traverse the rough terrain down the side of the embankment and into the borrow pit without great difficulty.

“Thank you for calling it in and for praying. I’ll check on the driver.

The ambulance and firetruck should be here soon. ”

“Want me to stay here?”

“Yes, I’d appreciate the extra set of lights.”

The man rubbed his hands together. “All right. I’ll do that. Gonna climb back in my truck.”

Without waiting any longer, Brodie hurried off the asphalt and into the tall weeds.

The vegetation hampered his efficient movements and slapped against his pant legs.

He’d be drenched before he even reached the vehicle.

The light from his flashlight bobbed along the uneven ground as Brodie moved as swiftly as possible while remaining vigilant.

The poor visibility made it a struggle to be watchful for rock chuck or snake holes. It wouldn’t do to twist an ankle.

He detested car accidents, detested what he might find inside the cab of a vehicle that had lost control on the winding roads. Detested the heartache of the family when he had to deliver the news about their loved one perishing in a wreck.

Or being on the opposite side of things and hearing from a fellow law enforcement officer that his dad had died in a head-on collision when a drunk driver crossed the center line.

Keep your wits, Brodie. This was no time for him to regress into the horrible memory of losing Dad.

Seconds later, he neared the SUV, which had come to rest on all four tires, despite having rolled.

A perusal told him it was as stable as could be given the circumstances.

The sight rattled him, and he forced a lung-filling inhale.

Brodie raised the flashlight to get a better look, and his heart froze mid-beat.

The pale-colored SUV was not just anyone’s vehicle.

It was Londyn’s.

He tore through the remaining distance, his heart pounding in his ears and his chest heaving with the exertion. “Londyn!” His cries echoed in the night and competed only with the thrum of the trucks’ engines and the occasional semi’s thundering roar on the freeway several miles away.

Brodie shone the light inside. Londyn’s head rested against the airbag—unmoving. Lord, please let her be okay. Please. Brodie prided himself on reacting calmly in desperate and at times, volatile situations. It was one of the things that made him an effective sheriff.

But there was no calmness in him today. He pivoted and peered up at the road.

Where was the ambulance? Where was the firetruck?

How long had she been trapped inside the SUV?

Returning his attention to Londyn, he knew he’d need to remove her from the vehicle as soon as possible.

The dented door would not make it easy to open.

“Hang on, Londyn. I’m right here.” Panic surged through him.

Spring weather in Pronghorn Falls varied greatly.

It could be seventy one day and fifty degrees the next, with nighttime temps hedging in the freezing range.

The last time he’d looked at the temperature indicator in the truck, it was forty-two.

With the wind, that was cold enough to cause hypothermia.

Where is the ambulance? He craned an ear for the wailing sounds indicative of its pending arrival.

Nothing.

Rain splattered him in the face, followed by an abrupt onslaught of hail. Lightning flashed across the dark sky, and the sound of thunder boomed. Dodging the hail and mindful of the uneven ground, Brodie dashed again to the truck to retrieve a crowbar.

“Everything okay?” The man rolled down his window just inches.

“Can you call 911 again? Tell them we need an ambulance as soon as possible.”

“Will do, Sheriff.”

Brodie pulled the crowbar from the toolbox in the back of the truck and bolted to the SUV once again. He shone his light inside and noticed she hadn’t changed her position. Was she alive?

Lord, please, please…

So much he needed to tell her. So much he needed to say.

So much love for her.

Brodie stuck the crowbar into the crack of the door and used it as a lever. In one swift movement, he tossed the tool aside and leaned into the SUV. He felt for a pulse.

She was still breathing.

Thank You, God!

Indecision weighed briefly on him. If she had spinal injuries, it was best not to move her.

But he couldn’t leave her here. He waited a few more minutes for the ambulance to arrive before offering another quick prayer for wisdom and direction, before unhooking Londyn’s seat belt.

Brodie removed his coat and wrapped it around her as best as he could. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said.

It had to be okay.

The hail stopped, and a steady pitter-patter of rain replaced it. Another crash of thunder sounded, but no sirens.

Had the man gotten through to 911?

Gently, Brodie extracted Londyn from the SUV and held her close to his chest, hoping to temporarily warm her somewhat during the trek to his truck.

The elderly man exited his truck. “Want me to get the door?”

“Yes, please.”

The man opened the passenger side and Brodie rested Londyn inside, then turned on the heated seat.

“I called 911 again. They said the ambulance was on its way.”

Brodie clapped the man on the shoulder. “Thank you. I appreciate all your help.”

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“Keep praying.”

“I’ll do that.”

Brodie needed to increase the heat in the truck and make his own call to dispatch. He collected the man’s contact information before adding, “Sir, you can go ahead and go home now. Please drive safely, and thank you again.”

“You bet.”

Brodie climbed back into the truck and cranked the heater. He grabbed the emergency blanket from the back seat, removed his wet jacket, and draped the blanket across her.

Bruises and scratches marred her face. Long lashes fringed her closed eyes, and her breathing was shallow.

Lord, I’ve loved her for so long. Please don’t take her from me.

A thought popped into his head about why she had returned to Pronghorn Falls. Obviously, she was moving back if she had a cargo trailer. But why? Dare he hope it was to reestablish their relationship?

He couldn’t think of all that now, but later, after he ensured she was all right, he’d ponder it.

“Dispatch, this is Sheriff Brenneman. I am on Highway Three, milepost nineteen, at the scene of the rollover. What is the ETA of the ambulance?”

“This is dispatch. Sheriff, there was a four-car pileup on the interstate, so there is a brief delay.”

“Is everyone all right?”

“I do believe there was a fatality.”

Brodie closed his eyes and leaned his head on the headrest. That was never news he wanted to hear. “I’m going to take the victim of the crash at milepost nineteen to the hospital. She’s breathing, but I’m not sure of other injuries.”

“I’ll let EMS know.”

Brodie didn’t hesitate a moment longer. He ensured Londyn was belted in, then fastened his own seat belt and started to Pronghorn Falls Memorial.

He’d driven this route through town and up the hill to Pronghorn Falls Memorial so many times, yet this evening it took twice as long as usual.

Londyn groaned, agony written on her face. “We’re almost there.” He wanted to take her into his arms and erase any of the pain she was undoubtedly feeling from the wreck. Driving the distance from the accident to the hospital offered him time to think.

About Londyn. About why she was here. About how close he’d come to losing her. About all the years he’d loved her. And still did.

When she’d left, he’d been broken. Yet through it all, he knew there would never be anyone else for him.

His family and law enforcement coworkers had attempted to set him up with women over the past months, but Brodie hadn’t been interested.

Roarke would tell him he was a romantic softie at heart—and maybe he was.

He’d prayed mightily prior to the night he’d proposed, asking that if it was God’s will, that Londyn become his wife. Loving someone since sixth grade and planning to love her for at least another eighty years was the main plan on the agenda he’d laid out for his life.