Forgotten Secrets (31 page)

READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM ROBIN PERINI’S
GAME OF FEAR

The whir of the circling Bell 212 helicopter rotors echoed through the cockpit. New Mexico’s Wheeler Peak, barely visible in the dusk, loomed just east, its thirteen-thousand-foot summit laden with snow. Deborah Lansing leaned forward, the seat belt straps pulling at her shoulders.

Far, far to the west, the sun was just a sliver in the sky.

“It’s almost dark, Deb. We have to land,” Gene Russo, her local search and rescue contact, insisted.

“The moon is bright enough right now that I can still see a little, and we have the spotlight. Those kids have got to be here somewhere!”

Deb squinted against the setting sun; her eyes burned with fatigue. They’d been at it for hours, but she couldn’t give up. Not yet.

“All the other choppers have landed, Deb. This is too dangerous. Besides, do you really think your spotlight’s going to find a snow-covered bus on the side of the mountain with all these trees?”

“Five more minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

A metallic glint pierced through a thick carpet of snow-packed spruce.

“There! I saw something.” Deb’s adrenaline raced as she shoved the steering bar to the right and down, using the foot pedals to maintain control.

“Holy crap, Lansing. What are you doing?” Gene shouted, holding on to his seat harness. “You trying to get us killed?”

He didn’t understand. The bird knew exactly what Deb wanted, and she didn’t leave people behind to die. Not after Afghanistan. She had enough ghosts on her conscience. She tilted the chopper forward and came around again, sidling near the road toward Taos Ski Valley, where the church bus had been headed before it had vanished.

She dipped the chopper, scouring the terrain with the spotlight. A metallic flash pierced her gaze once again. “Gene, did you see that? Just south?”

The gray-faced spotter shook his head. “No, I’m too busy trying not to puke all over your windows.” He swallowed deeply and adjusted his microphone. “Could you fly this thing steadily for a while?”

She sent him a grimace. “Sorry. I really think I spotted something. I had to go closer. I didn’t want to miss it. I need to swing by one more time. Really look this time, OK?”

Gene groaned. “Deb, I know you’re used to Denver terrain, but you can’t treat the Sangre de Cristo Mountains this way. These gullies and drafts can buffet a chopper, especially in some of the gorges. Your lift will disappear, and you’ll fly into the mountain.”

A peak rose toward them, and Deb pulled up on the collective control stick. The Bell followed her lead easily, but the sun was gone now. The near-total darkness made flying treacherous. The moon was the only thing making the deadly terrain remotely visible outside the spotlight’s range.

“At least there aren’t Stingers or RPGs shooting at us,” she said.

Gene shot her a look. “You were in the military?”

“Flew rescue missions,” Deb said. She shifted the steering bar. “I know I saw something down there, too. I’ve got that buzz. Come on, baby,” she urged the chopper.

Below, a blanket of snow covered a valley peppered with spruce, fir, and pines. The frigid temperatures, blowing snowdrifts, and icy roads had made the ground search difficult.

If Deb couldn’t find them tonight . . .

“Return to base, Search Ten.” The order crackled over the radio. “It’s too dark. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Negative,” Deb said. “I have a possible.”

“This is Search Command. Give us the location. We’ll add it to the coordinates to check first thing in the morning.”

“By morning, those kids might freeze to death,” Deb said. “If it’s them, the least I can do is drop supplies.” She flipped off the microphone.

“Uh, Deb,” Gene said. “They can pull your license for this.”

She shifted in her seat. “I know. Keep an eye out. I’m going in as close as I can.” She rounded another hill. “Come on, baby, come on,” Deb begged the machine.

She skirted the tops of the trees directly next to the road, flying a lot closer than was sane. Suddenly, down the slope, a hint of dark blue appeared. She hovered, sweeping the area with the searchlight. The beam glinted off broken glass and chrome. Several figures stood on and near a big school bus, waving. Others lay on the ground, some suspiciously still.

“Damn it,” Gene said in a stunned tone. “You were right.” He radioed in the location and stared at her, his expression awestruck. “You’re good.”

“I was lucky,” she said.

“No, that was dogged determination. You just wouldn’t give up. You might be crazy, Deb Lansing, but you’re a hell of a chopper pilot.”

All-too-familiar guilt twisted inside her. “I have my moments.”

She hovered over the downed bus, and Gene dropped blankets, first-aid supplies, and food. Below, figures scrambled to the drop zone.

Banishing the haunting image of the desperate soldier she’d been forced to leave behind from her mind, Deb turned to Gene. “I can land in that valley we passed earlier. It’ll be tight, but if there are any kids seriously injured, we may be able to transport some of them to the helicopter with the sled.”

“What the hell. You’ve already pulled off one miracle tonight.” Gene grinned. “Go for it.”

Deb eased down the control stick and, with careful precision, her feet adjusted the back rotor. Just as she was guiding the helicopter down, another glint of silver reflected in the spotlight, far enough away from the bus that it wasn’t likely to be debris from that wreck.

“Do you see that reflection?” she asked. “Is it another vehicle?”

Gene peered through the windshield. “I don’t know. I saw something, though. I’ll call in the position for that, too. They can check it later.”

The chopper touched down, and Deb jumped to the snow-packed ground, ignoring the cold around her. For now, she had people to save. As Deb and Gene yanked out the sled to transport the wounded, two men ran toward her, one with his forehead caked with dried blood.

“Please, we need help. Some of the kids are hurt badly. They need a hospital.”

Deb scanned the inside of the chopper. How many could she fit and safely make it back? If she left equipment behind, she could carry someone extra. Her boss would be furious she’d taken the risk, but she’d worry about her job later.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2013 Kyle Zimmerman

Internationally bestselling and award-winning author Robin Perini is devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes adventures with a love story sure to melt their hearts. A RITA Award finalist, she sold fourteen titles to publishers in less than two years after winning the prestigious Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award in 2011. An analyst for an advanced technology corporation, she is also a nationally acclaimed writing instructor and enjoys competitive small-bore rifle silhouette shooting. Robin makes her home in the American Southwest and loves to hear from readers. Visit her website at
www.robinperini.com
.