“Have you met the new police chief yet?”
Zoe had been asked this same question at least twice a day for a week.
This time it was her best friend Rose posing the question with the same level
of eager anticipation as Rose’s five-year-old daughter when asking about Santa
Claus. “Not yet,” Zoe said.
“I hear he’s handsome.”
“Better not let Ted hear you talking about other men like that.”
“Ted knows I’m only interested in other men for you.”
“I heard the new chief’s married.”
“Really?” Rose couldn’t have looked more disappointed if she’d learned
Ted hadn’t been able to buy the diamond earrings she’d been hinting about for
the last three months.
Truthfully, Zoe had no idea if the new police chief was married, single,
handsome, homely, or even if he was straight. All she knew was what everyone
else knew. Long time Vance Township Police Chief Warren Froats had retired the
first of November. Interim Chief Jimmy Romano had neither the interest—nor the
support of the township supervisors—to move into the job in more than a
temporary capacity. In fact, he’d only agreed to lead the small, rural
department until the first of December. Now it was Christmas Eve and he was
still holding the position. The final thing Zoe knew was the supervisors had
tapped a police sergeant from Pittsburgh to take over the job on January first.
Happy New Year.
Rose eyed the two shopping bags Zoe deposited on the kitchen table and
the brightly wrapped packages poking out of the top. “You didn’t have to bring
these over today. You could’ve brought them tomorrow.”
“I’m working.”
“On Christmas?” The disappointment of the new man in town being married
took a back seat to the disappointment of Christmas not panning out as Rose had
planned.
“The ambulance is gonna have a skeleton crew as is. A bunch of us single
folks volunteered to man the station tonight and all day tomorrow so the
happily marrieds could be with their families.”
“You worked on Thanksgiving too.”
“That was my regular shift.” Catching the disapproval in Rose’s eyes, Zoe
added, “I’ll have New Year’s Eve off though.”
“Oh, whoopty-do. Are you gonna go out?”
“Maybe.”
Rose gave her an all-knowing, skeptical glare.
Zoe had no intention of spending New Year’s Eve out on the town. For one
thing, she’d sworn off men after her last of several disastrous relationships. For
another, every penny she earned with Monongahela County EMS went to rent a tiny
apartment above a vacant storefront on Dillard’s Main Street and to pay board
at a local farm for her horse. That didn’t leave anything extra for a frivolous
night of horns, noise-makers, watered-down drinks, and sloppy drunks kissing
her at midnight.
“Wish Ted and the kids a merry Christmas for me.” Zoe gave her friend a
hug and beat a hasty retreat out the door.
Rose’s words trailed after her. “You need to get out and have some fun.”
***
The crew lounge at the ambulance garage boasted way more Christmas
decorations than Zoe’s apartment. Some overly happy and eager paramedic/elf had
decorated a tree and strung garland and red ribbons everywhere.
Everywhere.
“Have you met the new police chief yet?” This time the question came from
her partner for the holiday shift, Barry Dickson, but at least he didn’t make
the new chief sound like fresh dating-meat up for grabs.
“No. Have you?”
“Uh-uh. But I saw a moving van down on Second Street in Dillard. I
thought you might have bumped into him.”
Second Street—there was no Third or Fourth or Fifth Streets in
Dillard—was Ted and Rose’s street. Zoe had spotted a moving van at a house a
couple blocks down when she’d left but didn’t realize it was the new chief’s
house. “Nope. I haven’t.”
Barry made a humming noise in this throat. “I wonder what he’s gonna be
like. He’s from the city, you know?”
“I heard.”
“Couldn’t the stupid supervisors find someone local?”
“The township police force consists of three cops. Of those, the only one
remotely qualified is Jimmy and he doesn’t want the job.”
“Not that local. Certainly
there’s a cop somewhere in the county who’d be willing and able.”
Zoe shrugged. “I have no idea.” Nor did she care. As a paramedic, most of
her interactions with the police department involved the cops directing traffic
at emergency scenes. The old fart who’d just retired liked to drop in at the
ambulance garage to either mooch a cup of bad coffee or scare the daylights out
the junior crew members with threats of tossing them in jail if he caught them
misbehaving in “his” township. Several of them had gone out to celebrate when
Froats finally hung up his badge.
The sound of the emergency tones drifted back to the lounge from the
office. Zoe glanced at the clock on the wall. Four fifteen p.m. on Christmas
Eve. She and Barry exchanged looks. No time was good for needing an ambulance,
but she knew this would be especially bad.
A moment later, Tony DeLuca’s voice called out. “All hands on deck. We
have a missing kid.”
***
The missing kid in question was twelve-year-old Frankie Walker, who
apparently had run away from his home on the edge of the Pennsylvania State
Game Lands. Police, fire, and EMS had been ordered to a staging area set up in
a parking area used by hunters. Zoe and Barry arrived at an already crowded lot
by four-thirty. The heavy gray sky of an early dusk had started to shed fat,
lazy snowflakes with the weather forecast calling for three to six inches by
morning. Everyone had been ecstatic. A white Christmas! But with a pre-teen out
there somewhere, Zoe and the rest of the crew tasked with finding him greeted
the news with considerably less enthusiasm.
Emergency personnel gathered in a mass circle around a state trooper,
Vance Township Acting Chief of Police Jimmy Romano, Phillipsburg’s chief of
police, and Vance Township Fire Chief—and Rose’s husband—Ted Bassi. A fifth man
wearing jeans, a hooded Carhartt jacket, and a Vance Township PD ball cap,
stood with them.
Barry elbowed her. “That’s the new chief.”
Even in the gathering dusk, she could tell the new guy held a commanding
presence. And she could imagine Rose whispering in her ear, “He’s really good
looking.”
Ted took a step forward and called out. “Quiet. Everyone quiet down,
please.”
The rumbled conversations faded until the only sound was the hiss of the
wind through the dead grass and bare tree branches surrounding the parking lot.
Ted made quick work of introducing the men with him, including Pete Adams
whom Ted referred to as “incoming chief of police” and then got down to the
business at hand.
“We’re looking for a twelve-year-old male, four foot ten, approximately
one hundred pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes. According to his mother, he’s
wearing a black winter jacket, jeans, and snow boots. He left tracks in the
snow behind his house indicating he’d walked into the game lands, but his mom
lost the trail and called us. The boy is familiar with the area and is
reportedly despondent over the recent split between his parents.
“We’re going to be in total darkness in very short order, so make sure
you have your flashlights and extra batteries.”
At that point, he ordered the assembled search party to break into teams
and to spread out.
Barry slung a backpack filled with basic first-aid and survival supplies
over his broad shoulders. Zoe carried the oversized Maglite and clipped the two-way
radio to her belt. Loaded down, they strode toward the search area they’d been
assigned with just enough gray daylight lingering to not yet need the
flashlight. Around them, teams called out the boy’s name over and over.
Acres of rolling reclaimed strip mines surrounded the parking area. For
the first few minutes, other teams remained in view although appearing as
ghostly silhouettes through the veil of snow. Soon, Zoe lost visuals on the
other searchers. Haunting voices calling “Frankie” carried, barely audible,
over the rising howl of the gale. Every few strides, Zoe and Barry took turns
adding their own voices to the wind.
“You’ve ridden horses out here, haven’t you?” Barry asked between shouts.
“Yeah.”
“So you know the terrain.”
As if demonstrating the inaccuracy of his statement, she stumbled. Caught
herself. And flipped on the Maglite. “Not in the dark.” And not on foot.
“Frankie!”
Barry grunted. “Well, Ted assigned us this area because you’ve been out
here before.”
Night had enveloped them, the black of the tree line in front of them a
couple shades darker than the black of the dried grasses poking up through the
lighter gray of the snow. Flakes streaked through the beam of the flashlight
like tiny and numerous shooting stars.
“Frankie!”
In the distance, Zoe thought she heard something other than the wind and
the echoes of the boy’s name. She stopped, and Barry slammed into her from
behind. She staggered but didn’t go down.
“Use your brake lights,” he chastised her, as if his inattention was her
fault.
She shushed him. “Listen.”
They stood in silence, listening to the moaning wind, the muffled patter
of snow settling on their hats and shoulders, the distance calls of “Frankie”
from the other teams.
“What’d you hear?” Barry asked.
“I don’t know. I thought someone yelled.”
They listened again. And then the radio crackled. “This is Pete Adams. I
have an officer down. I repeat. Officer down.”
Zoe and Barry looked at each other in the thin illumination of the
flashlight beam. “Officer down?” she said.
“Adams and Jimmy Romano started out directly to our left,” Barry said, turning
in that direction.
Zoe unclipped the radio. “Chief Adams, this is Paramedic Zoe Chambers.
Where are you and what’s the emergency?”
There was a moment’s silence. “Chief Romano has fallen down a hillside
and may have broken his leg.” Another pause. “I’m not sure where we are.
There’re trees and a rocky trail.”
“I think I know your general vicinity.” Zoe made a left turn and trudged
toward a shadowy band of trees. She’d ridden her horse along a rocky trail down
a wooded hillside about a quarter mile from her current location last summer.
“We’re on our way.”
The snow pelted her face, stinging like a thousand icy bees. Each step
seemed to carry her farther away rather than closer. Once they reached the
woods and plunged into it, the trees blocked some of the wind, but roots and
downed limbs created extra obstacles in the dark.
Ahead, a faint light bounced through the trees.
Zoe and Barry adjusted their path and picked their way around a large
deadfall. Within a few minutes, they reached a ravine. She’d miscalculated the
location of the path by about a hundred feet so she led the way, lurching over
rocks and through vines, until they reached the narrow trail. Below, the
flashlight beam waved.
“Hello,” the new chief called.
The trail had been easier to negotiate from the back of a horse. The
rocks were glazed with ice, and snow camouflaged the slick leaf-mold beneath.
No wonder Jimmy had fallen. Zoe’s flashlight revealed the mushy smear of snow
and mud where he’d fallen and slid. Twenty or so feet below, the new chief
waved his flashlight like a semaphore. Zoe skidded and staggered the rest of
the way down with Barry crashing along behind her.
Jimmy sat with his back against a sapling, one leg stretched out in
front, the other bent at the knee with his foot bracing him from taking a
sledless ride to the bottom of the hill. “It’s my ankle and it’s not broken.
It’s just sprained,” he groused.
Not that it mattered. Both injuries received the same
treatment—immobilization and transport. They had the splints in Barry’s
backpack to handle the first. The latter might be a problem.
Zoe handed her flashlight to the new chief and knelt beside the offending
ankle. She reached for the laces of Jimmy’s boot, but he grabbed her arm.
“Leave it on.”
“We can’t check you out without removing it,” Barry said.
But Zoe knew what Jimmy was getting at. The boots were tactical-style with
eight-inch uppers.
“You can check me out once we get back to civilization. I can’t walk while
wearing a splint.”
Barry folded his arms. “You shouldn’t walk anyway.”
Zoe raised a hand to quiet her partner. “He has a point. As soon as we
remove the boot, his ankle’s gonna blow up like a balloon. And we can’t carry
him out of here. If we leave his boot on, it’ll stabilize the ankle as well as
any splint until we get him back to the ambulance.”
Jimmy nodded at her. “Exactly.”
Barry looked from Jimmy to Zoe to the new chief and back to Zoe. He
shrugged. “Fine. Let’s get moving though, before we end up stranded out here
for the night.”
The going was slow. Barry acted as a human crutch on one side, Pete Adams
on the other. Zoe labored up the treacherous slope behind the men, a hand on
Jimmy’s back as he struggled to hop on his good foot. By the time they reached
the top of the ravine, sweat saturated the thermal shirt she wore under her
clothes. Clear of the woods, they caught the full brunt of the wind-driven
snow.
They stopped to catch their breath. Jimmy leaned heavily on the other two
men. “That’s it,” he said. “We have to call off the search until morning.”
“No.”
The word came out in stereo from Zoe and from Pete Adams.
“We can’t leave a twelve-year-old kid out here,” the new chief said.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Zoe added. “We have to keep looking.”
Jimmy shook his head. “I won’t risk everyone else’s lives and limbs. It’s
too dangerous.”
“I’m not turning back,” Pete Adams said.
Zoe looked at him. “Me either.”
Barry unslung the backpack from his shoulders. “It’s a fairly easy trek
from here to the staging area. You two take the gear. I’ll make sure Jimmy gets
to the ambulance.”
The acting police chief complained but Zoe ignored him and accepted the
backpack. Pete gave Barry one of the flashlights. “Be careful,” the new chief
said.
Zoe and Pete stood in the blowing, stinging snow and watched the other
two until their shadowy figures vanished into the darkness. Then Pete faced
her. “I gather you know the area?”
“Some.” She thought about adding she knew it in the summer, in the
daylight, from the back of a horse.
“Good. Because I have no idea where we are.”
Wonderful.
“Suggestions on what direction we should head?”
She did a slow 360 gazing into the dark and trying to get her bearings.
The wooded hillside from which they’d extracted Jimmy led down to a creek. More
woods circled around to the right—north, she thought—with more rolling
reclaimed strip mines to the south and back to the east where others were
searching.
At least until Jimmy shut down the operation.
“Wait,” Pete said. “Did you hear that?”
She stood stock still, listening. The wind howled up through the trees,
rustling the dried grasses, freezing the layer of sweat next to her body. For
several long moments, the banshee-like wail of the blizzard was all she heard.
But there it was in the brief lull between gusts. Distant. Plaintive.
“Help!”
At the same moment, Zoe’s radio crackled with static. “Rescue base to all
teams. Due to dangerous weather conditions, we’re calling off the search until
first light. Return to base.”
Pete took the radio from her and snapped it off. She started to ask him
what the hell he was doing, but he shushed her.
And there it was again. “Help!”
“What direction is it coming from?” Zoe asked. With the wind tossing
sounds around as if they were wisps of smoke, it was hard to discern.
Pete cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Hello!”
They listened. The eerie wail of the wind. Then a frantic “Hello!”
Zoe pointed across the wooded ravine from which they’d just rescued
Jimmy. “That way.”
Pete took a step toward the rocky trail, but she stopped him.
“No. I think I know where he is. There’s an old Boy Scout camp. It hasn’t
been used in ages, but a couple of the cabins are still standing.” At least
they had been last summer. “And there’s another way. Around the woods instead
of through them. It’s longer but safer footing. We’ll make better time and not
break a leg in the process.”
“Works for me. Lead on.”
She took the flashlight and aimed it in front of her as she started out,
hoping she wouldn’t get them turned around in the blizzard. “Radio in and let
them know where we’re headed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Under different circumstances, she’d have threatened him with physical
harm for calling her a “ma’am” when she was only twenty-seven, but she didn’t
know the new chief well enough to risk antagonizing him.
Yet.
“Rescue base, this is Pete Adams. I’m with…a paramedic—”
“Zoe Chambers,” she told him.
“Zoe Chambers. We’ve heard what we believe might be the boy calling for
help from the direction of some old Boy Scout cabins. We’re investigating now.”
A burst of static was followed by, “Ten-four. You may want to take
shelter in those cabins whether or not you find the boy. They’ve upped the
predicted accumulation to eight to ten inches by morning.”
“Roger that.”
Zoe kept sweeping the area with the flashlight beam to make sure they
were keeping the tree line to their right. The hike rekindled the sweat, as the
frigid wind stung her nose and cheeks.
After what felt like an hour but was probably closer to ten or fifteen
minutes, Pete grabbed the back of her coat, pulling her to a stop. She turned,
and he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Frankie!”
If the boy or anyone else responded, the blizzard snatched the words and whipped
them to another county. There were a thousand good reasons why the kid didn’t
reply, but fear, as icy as the wall of falling snow, chilled her and hastened
her step.
***
They had to have been walking for miles and still hadn’t found the old
camp. The snow had become a blinding cascade of white reflecting the
flashlight’s beam back to them instead of allowing it to pierce the night.
Jimmy had been right. They should’ve turned back with the others. Now the
rescuers would have to search for them in the morning too. And out here, if the
snow covered their bodies, their bones might not be located until hunters
stumbled over them during spring turkey season.
“Help!”
The cry was close. Still plaintive. And definitely young.
“Frankie?” Pete bellowed as Zoe bent over, braced her hands on her knees,
and tried to catch her breath.
“Yeah! Over here!”
Pete placed a hand on Zoe’s back. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Frankie, keep hollering. We’re coming.” Pete hooked an arm around her
waist, almost carrying her in the direction of the boy’s voice.
They didn’t see the old cabin until they practically stumbled into it.
The boy met them on the rickety stoop, a faint glow coming from the open door.
Pete guided Zoe up the single step and ushered her and Frankie Walker inside.
The boy appeared unharmed. In fact he looked more prepared for the
weather than either Zoe or Pete. A Coleman lamp sat on the mantle of a stone
fireplace in which wood had been stacked but not lit. A backpack and an ancient,
faded-red cooler sat in the middle of the floor next to a rickety table. A cot
covered with a quilted sleeping bag had been set up against one wall.
Frankie flipped back the hood of his bomber-style jacket revealing
tousled brown hair and huge brown eyes. “I’m glad you came. I was so scared.”
Pete stood in the middle of the small cabin and surveyed the camping
gear. “I don’t know why. You look like you’re pretty well set up here.”
The boy’s shoulders sagged and he contemplated the toe of one Thinsulated
hunting boot. “I couldn’t get the fire started. I thought I was gonna freeze to
death. My grandpap would’ve been so ashamed of me.”
Zoe exchanged looks with Pete. “Your grandpap?” she asked.
Frankie lifted his face enough that she could see a teary gleam in his
eyes catching the light from the lantern. “He used to bring me out here. We’d
camp. He taught me to start a fire and cook on it.” The boy sniffed. “I miss
him.”
Grandpap? Zoe rolled the boy’s name around in her head. Walker. And a
recent emergency run sprung to mind. “Gerald Walker?”
Frankie looked down again and nodded.
Zoe moved closer to Pete and whispered to him. “He passed away
unexpectedly almost a month ago. Heart attack.”
The new chief of police’s expression saddened. “Radio in that we’ve found
the boy and will shelter here until morning. Tell them to let his folks know
he’s safe.” Pete turned to Frankie. “Come on, son. Let’s see what we can do
about getting that fire started.”
***
Zoe’s watch read 11:45 p.m. Young Frankie Walker was snuggled deep into
his sleeping bag on the cot and hadn’t moved in over an hour, his breath deep
and regular as he slept. Pete had found a musty blanket in an abandoned trunk,
and he and Zoe sat with it draped over their shoulders, their backs to the
hearth. The fire he and the kid had managed to start kept the small cabin
tolerably warm. They’d decided it wise to conserve the firewood Frankie and his
grandfather had collected during their autumn forays here.
Frankie had poured out his story to them. His parents’ plan to divorce
had been hard enough but then he’d overheard them arguing about who “got” him
for the holidays. Always before, he’d had his grandpap to tell him everything
would be all right. Feeling lost and alone, Frankie had decided to run away to
this place. Their place.
Some of the gear had been here from their regular visits—the cooler, the
cot, the lamp, the stack of wood, and a box of matches. But the matches had
gotten wet from a leak in the roof, and while Frankie had managed to find some
dry ones in the bottom of the box, he’d only succeeded in lighting the lantern.
Not the kindling.
Pete, however, had come prepared with a lighter in his pocket.
“Do you smoke?” Zoe asked him, keeping her voice low to not disturb the
sleeping boy.
“No.”
“Boy Scout?”
Pete chuckled. “No. But I do believe in being prepared.” He fell quiet
for a few minutes and then said, “You did good tonight. Finding this place.”
She considered admitting how lost she’d become out there in the swirl of
snow, but decided to keep her secret for now. “Thanks.”
“I gather you’re a country girl.”
“And I gather you’re a city dude.”
“Guilty as charged.” He shrugged one arm free from the blanket to reach
behind them and set another piece of wood on the flames.
“So what brings you out here from a job with the Pittsburgh Police?” She
grinned. “You get fired?”
He looked at her. Saw the grin. And chuckled again. “No, I didn’t get
fired.” He tucked his arm back under the blanket and gazed across the room. For
a moment, Zoe thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he sighed. “My wife
and I had a miscarriage this past summer. She took it pretty hard.”
“I’m sorry.” Zoe had a feeling the wife wasn’t the only one who’d taken
it badly.
“Thanks. Anyhow, Marcy has always wanted to live in the country. When I
was offered this job, it seemed like the perfect solution. A change of scenery.
A fresh start.”
Zoe let his words settle into her brain. A wife. The handsome new police
chief was married, just like Zoe had jokingly told her matchmaking friend. For
a moment, Zoe felt the weight of disappointment. The good ones were always
already taken. But a sense of contentment and peace settled over her. She liked
this guy. And the tone in his voice when he said his wife’s name confirmed how
much he loved and treasured her.
There was something sexy—and at the same time safe—about a man who was
faithful to his spouse. Perhaps Pete Adams, brand new chief of police for Vance
Township, might turn out to be a friend. The thought appealed to her much more
than the whole heartbreaking ordeal of romance.
They sat in a quiet contemplative silence for a while before he asked,
“What time is it?”
Zoe flipped the blanket off her wrist. “Five after twelve.”
In unison, they said. “It’s Christmas.”
And as one, they looked over at Frankie Walker who didn’t stir.
Pete turned to Zoe. “Merry Christmas, Zoe.”
“Merry Christmas, Chief.”
He made a face. “Pete. Please.”
“Merry Christmas, Pete.”
***
The morning sun glistened off the foot of snow, setting the ice crystals
to sparkling like a million diamonds. The trek back to the search party’s
staging area seemed much shorter in the daylight. Zoe lugged two backpacks—hers
with the first-aid gear and Frankie’s lighter one containing the one remaining
bottle of water they hadn’t drunk and a partial box of instant oatmeal.
Survival necessities for a runaway boy. Pete trudged behind her with the kid on
his back, Frankie’s legs hooked through Pete’s elbows and his arms around
Pete’s neck.
Ahead of them, a shout went up as the gathered group spotted their
approach. A woman broke free from the crowd and charged toward them, spewing a
cloud of white stuff around her.
“Mom!” Frankie yelled.
A man trailed after the woman.
“Dad!” Frankie squirmed, and Pete swung him down to the ground.
Zoe and the new chief stood, breathing hard and watching as the boy raced
to his parents and into their arms. The heat building behind Zoe’s eyes
countered the chill of frosty air nipping her cheeks.
Pete took the backpacks from her and draped an arm around her shoulders
giving her a quick brotherly hug. “We did it.”
“Yeah, we did.”
He released her and headed toward the Walker family and the cheers of the
awaiting rescue personnel. Zoe watched him for a moment and smiled. “Best
Christmas ever,” she said under her breath and then fell into step behind him,
following the path his footsteps plowed.
