If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [132]
“I see him.” Patrick stopped the truck as quickly as he dared on the icy road. He turned on his emergency lights and they both got out of the car. The icy, damp air hit Lucy’s lungs before it registered on her skin. She trudged to the back of the SUV and grabbed the first aid kit, then followed her brother, fighting the wind-driven snow.
Above them, the man grabbed at a sapling, caught it, and stopped. He was still twenty feet from the road.
“That’s Steve,” Lucy said, recognizing the lodge owner’s twenty-year-old son now that they were closer. It seemed to be getting darker by the second, the blinking lights in the front and rear of the car turning the snow alternately red and yellow.
Patrick called out, “Lie on your back and slide!”
At first Lucy didn’t think Steve had heard, but then he turned around and lay back. The snow was stained red where his head had rested. She couldn’t see an injury, but as she watched, blood seeped from his scalp.
“Let go!” Patrick commanded.
Steve complied and slid down until he hit the slush on the roadside. He tried to stand, but stumbled and fell, unmoving.
Patrick reached him first. “Lucy, get the first aid kit—it’s in the back.”
“Got it.” She knelt next to Steve and unlatched the red emergency kit.
“What happened?” Patrick asked Steve, brushing the snow from his face.
“I’m okay,” he said.
“We saw you hit your head on that tree up there. Lie still a minute.” Patrick began inspecting the young man’s body for breaks. “Tell me if it hurts anywhere.”
The cold could send him into shock, especially if he had internal damage. Lucy wanted to get Steve inside as quickly as possible, but they had to make sure moving him wouldn’t make any injuries worse.
“I’m fine,” Steve repeated.
“Can you move your legs and arms?”
“It’s just my head.”
Lucy handed a thick gauze bandage to Patrick, who pressed it on Steve’s still-bleeding wound. “Head injuries can be serious,” Patrick said. “You need to lie still for a moment. I’ll tape this up, then we’ll get you in the truck.”
Lucy handed Patrick pieces of tape and he affixed the bandage. Steve didn’t protest. Other than the gash on his head from hitting the tree, he had only a couple of minor scratches on his face. His body was well protected with a GORE-TEX jacket and pants over layers of clothing.
“I’m freezing my ass off,” Steve said. “Let me up.”
Patrick helped Steve sit up, watching his eyes carefully. “Just hold it right here for a minute. Are you dizzy?”
“I was just stupid.”
“What were you doing going up that slope?” Lucy said. “It’s too steep.”
“I didn’t walk up the slope,” he said, as if she were an idiot for asking. “I slipped at the top.”
“So you decided to take the fastest way down to the road?” Patrick joked, helping Steve to his feet.
“Ha-ha.” Steve rolled his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t in pain, but his hand clutched his stomach.
Lucy said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he snapped. “Are you going to give me a ride or do I have to walk?”
Patrick helped Steve to the truck, and Lucy put the supplies back. She made sure the heater was at maximum, and handed Steve a blanket while Patrick started back down the mountain.
“I don’t need it,” he said.
“Humor me.” Lucy smiled. Steve probably felt stupid and clumsy, which contributed to his foul attitude. He grumbled, but took the blanket and closed his eyes.
They’d met Steve briefly yesterday afternoon when they first arrived at the Delarosa Mountain Retreat. He was young, didn’t talk much, and seemed conscientious in his considerable duties running the lodge. It didn’t seem likely that he’d make a dumb mistake like getting too close to an unstable ledge.
“Steve,” Lucy said, “what were you doing up there?”
“I was coming back from inspecting our outlying cabins—we close them in the winter—and checking for animal tracks. We have been having some problems with four-legged predators, and I wanted to make sure they hadn