Race Against Time: A Novel Page 2
Would we win?
Just thinking about the upcoming events sent a thrilled shiver down my spine. Yes, we would. Mom was a champion. Dad was a champion. I would be a champion. The dogs were champs already. Everybody knew we could do it.
Newspaper articles and TV interviews flashed in my mind . . .
“Thirteen-year-old, Zoya Naltsiine, wins Junior North American Championships . . .”
“Thirteen-year-old, Zoya Naltsiine, wins Junior World Championships . . .”
What would the reporters say then? And all those people who gossiped about Mom and Dad? Who disapproved of them?
Like the terrain flying passed, my imagination went wild. I could see myself racing across the professional trails that only the best of the best got to traverse. I could feel the excitement of finally winning the race I’d always dreamed of winning. I could almost hear the cheers as I won . . .
First place.
The dogs whined, bringing my attention back to the present. Ibuprofen and Aspirin panted. Morphine barked. We approached a clearing. My eyes widened.
BANG!
The sound echoed through the trees. Slow-motion pictures sailed by . . .
An old man fell to the ground. His head surrounded by a pool of blood.
Three men turned to me. One of them grabbed something out of the victim’s pocket. Another reached for a gun. Pointed it at me.
Another gunshot.
Sharp pain shot through my neck and up into my head. I gasped and grabbed my shoulder, holding back a scream. “All right!” My command sent the dogs into full-speed. They barked and growled, looking over their shoulders.
“Morphine, RUN!” I blinked. Fog closed in. No . . . Unconsciousness? “All right! All right!” I turned to face the front of the sled. I could hear the men shouting behind me.
The dogs gained speed.
I grasped the sled handle and steadied my weight onto one of the runners, kicking the snow behind with one foot. We couldn’t go fast enough.
The fog lifted. Then returned.
Pain. As if a thousand arrows had been stabbed into my neck, shoulder, back . . .
Blurry shapes . . .
I blinked. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
God, help us!
Another bullet zinged passed.
I screamed and ducked. Then everything from my neck down my spine went numb. I winced and tried to stay upright.
We rounded a corner. Keep going, keep going! Oh, please, keep going!
I sucked in short gasps. Air . . . the pain . . . My eyes squeezed shut. Don’t pass out!
Adrenaline pumped throughout my veins. Dizziness took over.
No! I couldn’t pass out. Needed to keep going. My heart beat faster. Faster. Faster. I thought it might explode.
I needed to keep going . . .
Reality wasn’t listening.
Zoya, stay focused!
We rounded another corner. Then another. Then another.
Had we lost them?
My knees almost gave out. I straightened my elbows, trying to hold myself up. “Whoa!”
The Painkiller Litter stopped. Glanced back at me as if I were crazy.
My entire body shook. Fuzzy, spinning images floated around me. I staggered over to the front of the sled and fell. Morphine whined and walked over to me. Licked my face.
Would those men come after me? Could I get to safety before they caught up?
Spots danced in front of me. Trees swirled above. The cold wind filled my lungs.
The scene replayed . . .
An old man fell to the ground. His head surrounded by a pool of blood.
Three men turned to me. One grabbed something out of the victim’s pocket.
Another reached for a gun. Pointed it at me . . .
My eyes popped open. Blue sky, white fluffy clouds . . .
The blood sliding down my shoulder and the thumping of my pulse made me sit up with determination.
I blinked. Stood.
We had to get out.
Now.
* * *
ANESIA
January 2
Naltsiine Kennels
North Pole, Alaska
1:56 p.m.
Dog feces flew through the air as Anesia cleaned the kennel and prepared it for fresh straw. Dozens of champion sprint racers sure could make a mess.
Not that she was much better. Why did she want to go and mess up her life?
Because she was lonely. That’s why.
Watching Jenna and Cole the past few months had fanned the loneliness embers inside her into flames. Her best friends loved her. She knew that. They wanted what was best for her. She knew that too. But did they know how much the ache inside grew every time she saw them together?
Man, she was a bad friend. She should be rejoicing in the fact that Jenna had found love again after Marc’s murder. So how was she supposed to know it would open old wounds and make her desire someone for herself?
Anesia thrust the shovel into another snow-crusted pile of poo. On a normal day she loved mucking the kennel. Hard labor invigorated her. Today?
It gave her too much time to think.
Jenna’s words after church yesterday forced their way into the forefront of her mind. “Anesia, you are amazing. You deserve to be loved. Why won’t you even give yourself the chance?”
Sure, Jenna meant well. But Anesia couldn’t help it. She’d bristled. Crossed her arms over her chest. But Jenna wasn’t deterred. She just stuck her finger in Anesia’s frowning face.
“I’m not saying you’re not independent and fully capable of taking care of yourself, so don’t go getting yourself riled up. But you know as well as I do that Zoya could use a dad. And you could use someone to walk this journey of life with you. You have a beautiful heart. Now open it up.”
Mint and Basil from the Herb Litter nosed up to her leg and cocked their heads. Could her dogs be in on the conspiracy as well?
Her laughter filled the frozen air as she loved on the dogs. Funny, how open and loving she was with them. Why couldn’t she be like that with people? God, could You please help me? I want to be open to loving someone again, but I don’t want to mess up. Like the last time . . .
Even so she couldn’t stop the longing. So. Time to face the music. It scared her spitless. No doubt about it.
Maybe she should spill her guts to Jenna and get it all out in the open. There’d be no turning back once her best friend heard the words from her lips. That was the best part of their friendship—accountability. They’d promised each other decades ago that they’d hold each other’s toes to the fire.
Decision made, Anesia put her tools away and pulled a small bag of smoked and dried salmon from her pocket. Popping a few strips of the natsagga into her mouth, she savored the flavor and headed to the house.
She rehearsed her words for Jenna as she walked—
“Anesia!” Beth, one of her employees, ran toward her from the house. “Anesia! The hospital is on the phone.”
The urgency in Beth’s voice and her complete abandon of coat and shoes set Anesia’s pulse racing. Could something have happened to Jenna and Andie again? Oh God, please no!
Her heart raced in rhythm to her feet as she barreled into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. “Hello? This is Anesia Naltsiine.”
“Ms. Naltsiine, we need you to come to the emergency room as quickly as possible—”
“What’s happened?”
“Ms. Naltsiine, your daughter, Zoya, is being treated. It isn’t life-threatening, but she’s been shot . . .”
The woman’s words slurred into random noise in her ear. Zoya? Shot? How could this happen? Anesia’s knees collapsed and she sank to the floor. Her baby—
The voice brought her attention back to the phone in her hands. “Yes, yes, I’m here. Is she okay? Who shot her?”
“I don’t know the details, it was relayed to me that her injuries are not life-threatening. Ma’am, how soon can you be here? Your daughter is asking for you.”
She grabbed the counter, pulled herself up, and stiffened her spine. Zoya needed her. “I’m on my way.”
* * *
COLE
January 2
North Pole, Alaska
2:23 p.m.
Cole Maddox swiped chocolate chips from the bag on the counter as his stepdaughter, Andie Tikaani-Gray, stirred cookie dough.
Without blinking an eye, she swatted him with the wooden spoon. “No cookies for you, Cole, unless you stop stealing all the chocolate.” She turned to him, wiping her other hand on her apron and planted her feet in a fencing position. “En garde!” The spoon slashed through the air.
“So that’s how it’s going to be!” He shot her his best scowl.
“You don’t fool me, Echo.”
He grinned. The kid loved using the nickname she’d given him when they were trapped on the side of Sultana.
He loved it too.
With lightning reflexes, he reached for a spatula. “You ready to get trounced again?”
“Not a chance, old man. You’re losing your touch.” She smacked the back of his hand with the spoon. “See?” She hopped around the kitchen wielding the spoon like a sword. “Gotcha again.”
“Old man? Seriously? You’re not living up to your call name, Einstein, with all that trash talk.” He approached her with the spatula, settling into his own fencing stance. “It’s time for the student to learn from the master.” Family could heal a world of hurt. His first wife, Amanda, and their three-year-old daughter, Chloe, had been killed in a tragic accident more than a decade ago. Nine long years he’d hardened himself. His heart. His mind. Then he met Jenna and Andie. And they introduced him to God. The same God his Amanda had believed. The one true God.
Spoon and spatula clacked together in rhythm as they fenced their way around the giant granite-topped island. The stress on his shoulders eased as his stepdaughter took his mind off the AMI facility and test coming up.
Andie lunged, smearing sticky dough on the side of his face. “Oh really? I think you’re goin’ down—”
Jenna appeared out of nowhere and plucked the spoon from Andie’s hand. “No one will be going down today, I’m afraid.” She grabbed his spatula. In one swift move, the utensils clattered into the sink where Jenna tossed them and she wiped her hands together in the air. “That’s that, you two.”
“Awww, Mom!”
“Awww, hon!”
Cole erupted into laughter at the whine duet he and Andie produced.
Andie waggled her brows at him. “You should thank her.” She snitched a piece of cookie dough out of the bowl and popped it into her mouth. “’Cause you would’ve lost.”
As if anticipating his next move, Andie shot out of the kitchen.
He was in full chase mode and already around the island when Jenna caught the back of his T-shirt.
“Honestly, babe. It’s like having two toddlers.”
“And you love it.” He winked at his bride of four months.
The twinkle in her eyes gave him all the encouragement he needed. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her neck.
Andie appeared and swiped another chunk of cookie dough.
“Nope, no way. Think you can just worm your way back into my good graces with—” Jenna glanced at her teenager then pulled back and crossed her arms over her chest. Trying to look all stern.
Too bad it didn’t fool him.
She took another step back. “You”—she pointed a finger in Cole’s chest—“are a stinker.”
Andie hopped up to sit on the counter. “Or a very tall toddler.” She chucked a chocolate chip at him, laughing.
“And you”—Jenna continued, her gaze fixed on Andie’s blue eyes—“need to clean up this mess. Have you seen my red duct tape? All I can find is purple, teal, and plaid . . .”
The ringing of the phone saved them from Jenna’s scolding and search for the tape. As she headed to answer it, Cole reached over and flicked Andie’s nose.
Giggles permeated the air around him as Andie defended herself with flying chocolate chips.
“So you think you can distract me with the chocolate, huh?”
Andie climbed off the counter. “Yep. It worked, too!” She darted back around the island, challenge in her eyes.
“As much as I want to win this war, you heard your mom, we need to clean it up.” He could hear Jenna’s reprimand that someone needed to be the adult. Too bad that someone had to be him.
“You’re right. Would you put those cookies in the oven for me? You know how well hot ovens and I go together.”
Good ol’ Andie. Always finding a way to laugh her way through her rare disorder. “No problem, Squirt.” Even at thirteen years old, the intelligent, independent, young lady still had to be careful. Cole learned more each day about things to watch out for, and how he could protect this precious kid without smothering her. Jenna was gifted at protecting and guiding. Giving Andie her space to grow into an adult, yet always cautious and vigilant about Andie’s surroundings. Showed him how inadequate he was at this whole father thing. But he was learning. He often tried to put himself into Andie’s shoes. Being unable to feel pain and unable to regulate your own body temperature could be a real bummer. Not to mention life threatening.
After sliding the pans into the convection oven, Cole spotted Jenna as she barreled into the kitchen. Her face a pasty-white, eyes brimming with tears.
She chewed on her bottom lip. Jenna’s eyes darted to their daughter and then back to his face. “We need to get to the hospital.”
Andie nestled up against his side. “What—”
“It’s Zoya. She’s been shot.”
CHAPTER TWO
SEAN
January 2
North Pole, Alaska
3:25 p.m.
The black of the sky at such an hour in the afternoon amazed him. Sean Connolly had been in Alaska since the day before Christmas, but the lack of daylight for the majority of the day still mesmerized him. What would it be like when it was reversed in the summer? His brain wasn’t quite sure he could fathom it.
After working his way across the country on foot, he’d reached Canada, then the ALCAN highway. The lone weeks of trudging through the wilderness in freezing temperatures had given him plenty of time to think. And plan.
For the first time in his life, he was living by his rules.
He’d left Fairbanks that morning and headed southeast down the highway toward North Pole. Why he chose North Pole, Alaska, as his final destination could only be explained by his desperate need to get as far away as possible from—
Sean shook his head. No. He wouldn’t let his mind dwell on it. He did the right thing.
An exit ramp veered off the highway. A Carr’s grocery store and the Hotel North Pole were to his right. Without another thought, his feet took the exit and he headed into the small town he hoped would become his home.
A sigh left his lips as he walked along the roundabout and headed for the hotel. Interesting. The streetlights were decorated as giant candy canes. Christmas decorations covered each post, sign, and window. The decorations appeared permanent. Giant light posts on the main street were painted red and white. The short posts on either side of a fire hydrant were painted the same. Surely they didn’t repaint after the holiday season. Well, with a name like North Pole, maybe that was the city’s calling card. Christmas year-round in North Pole, Alaska?
A quir
ky little town to be sure for this Eastern city boy. His family would’ve looked down their noses at everyone here.
All the more reason to like the place.
He dropped his pack in the parking lot and worked the aches out of his muscles. He’d walked more than 6,000 miles the last seven months. Part in anger, part in stubbornness, but mostly to disappear.
Time to find a place to stay. Soon he’d find a job he loved, learn all about it, and then live his days out in joy and solitude. His past would fade away. He no longer lived under his father’s thumb. At thirty-seven years old, he was finally his own man.
About time.
Sean picked up his pack and with a lightness in his heart that he hadn’t felt since he was a child, he headed to the front door of Hotel North Pole.
* * *
DETECTIVE SHELDON
January 2
North Pole Police Department
3:34 p.m.
Detective Dave Sheldon shut the door to the office he shared with the three sergeants and took a deep breath. Who would shoot at a little girl?
A murderer. That’s who. One who knew that child was a witness.
He gathered what little information they had so far and scanned his notes. They’d need to interview the teen as soon as the doctor called him. Didn’t give him much time to piece together more than the bare facts: a murder of an alleged homeless man, and the attempted murder of a thirteen-year-old sprint racer.
A knock at the door brought his attention up.
“Detective Sheldon, I’m Agent Philips with the FBI.”
Dave tried not to bristle as he shook the man’s hand. Were the feds stepping in?
Agent Philips held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to take over. But there is some sensitive information you need to be aware of.”
“Have a seat.”
“As you know, your office was exemplary in helping the FBI with the Gray case last year.”
“Thank you. We were happy to assist.”