Page 51 of Shielding Instinct

Closing her eyes momentarily, she recalled the number Hawkeye had put into her contacts that morning before heading out to surf with Cooper.

What a grand timetheymust be having.

But she was sure that if she sent Hawkeye an SOS, he and his merry band of brothers would drop their surfboards and head her way.

Still, it was a long shot.

Could Terry hold on that long?

As Petra typed out her message, she said. “Bobby, first call 9-1-1.” She continued to tap. “This is a message to a rescuer friend of mine.” She handed him the phone. “I’ve pressed send, but it won’t go out until it’s in range of a cell tower. You have to get it in range, and then you need to wait there. I’ve put in a code to pull up your GPS location. My friends will follow the signal to you. And you need to bring them here. They can’t find me if they don’t find you.”

“Got it.”

“Can you do that?” Petra looked up, locking her gaze on this young man’s.

His body swelled with purpose. “Get into cell range, wait for the rescuers. I bring them here.”

“Don’t forget to call 9-1-1,” she reminded him. “Go!”

Bobby raced away on long, thin legs, bounding up the side of a cliff, an athletic blur of motion.

“Okay, those with cars, go gather supplies and come right back here.” She reached out. “Beans.”

He turned back to her.

“I’m taking the cord from your hoodie. Does anyone else have a cord? Shoelaces? Anything I can use to make a line?”

Very quickly, the group was in motion. Those who weren’t given a task moved out of the way, poised and ready to act.

What Petra needed now were facts. Data.

The way to get that? Eyes-on. Well, camera-on.

With the video recording, Petra tied together a make-do line of anything that could be grafted into a length that might reach Terry.

Slowly, she lowered her phone.

Even though she had a watertight case, she didn’t want the waves to batter her phone against the rocks, rendering it useless, so she waited for a wave to come in as she started lowering to give herself as long as possible in the hole when the wave receded.

Holding the string steady so it wasn’t spinning and collecting a dizzying whir of images was paramount.

Petra moved—slow and steady—to get as much information as she could.

Even so, what she got was mostly an image of a rock wall.

Over and over, Petra lowered the camera down the blow hole.

Every time she did, Melissa became more agitated. “What are you doing? How is this helping? Terry could be drowning.”

Before Petra said something sharp to the distraught woman, the drivers were back with an array of gear.

She spread the items out and came up with a plan.

The phone was probably a good idea. But it hadn’t panned out.

She needed to go down herself to understand the situation. And with the climbing gear that the guys had produced, she felt like it was doable, if not safe.

Petra held up the bike helmets. “Whoever brought these, you are a genius. Kudos.” She strapped one on.

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