Page 32 of Twice Missing
The snow fell in thick,heavy curtains as Noah pulled out of the station parking lot. His windshield wipers worked overtime, barely keeping up with the relentless onslaught of white. The world beyond his headlights was a blur of swirling snowflakes, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
Noah leaned forward, squinting through the windshield, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The Bronco's tires crunched through the accumulating snow, the vehicle swaying slightly as gusts of wind buffeted its sides. He'd made it several miles down the road, the familiar landmarks of Adirondack County barely visible through the winter maelstrom.
As he rounded a bend, Noah noticed a large truck ahead, moving at a crawl. He slowed, keeping a safe distance, but frustration gnawed at him. After a few minutes of trailing behind, he decided to attempt an overtake. Noah flicked on his turn signal and eased into the opposite lane.
Suddenly, the truck swerved outward, forcing Noah to slam on his brakes and veer back into his lane, heart pounding. "What the hell?" he muttered. A minute later, he tried again, only to have the truck repeat its dangerous maneuver.
Noah's cop instincts kicked in. This wasn't normal behavior, especially in these treacherous conditions. He reached for his radio, intending to call it in, when a flicker of movement in his rearview mirror caught his attention.Another large vehicle — a snow plow — had turned onto the road behind him, steadily closing the distance.
An uneasy feeling settled in Noah's gut as he realized he was boxed in.
Before he could react, the rear snow plow accelerated, ramming into the back of his Bronco with a sickening crunch of metal. The impact sent his vehicle fishtailing wildly on the slick road. Noah fought the steering wheel, but it was no use. The Bronco slid sideways, then tipped, rolling into the snow-filled ditch alongside the road.
The world spun violently, snow and sky blurring together until the Bronco came to rest on its side. The airbag exploded in Noah's face, dazing him. He hung suspended by his seatbelt, ears ringing, tasting blood.
Before he could gather his wits, the driver's side door was wrenched open. Rough hands grabbed him, cutting away his seatbelt and dragging him out into the frigid night. Noah's head swam as he was hauled to his feet, finding himself surrounded by masked men wielding semi-automatic rifles, their faces obscured by black balaclavas.
One of the men stepped forward, his eyes cold behind the mask. "Leave the Emily Carter case alone," he growled, his voice muffled but menacing. Noah recognized a thick accent. "If you don't listen, we'll pay you a visit." He pulled something from his jacket and tossed it onto Noah's lap.
Noah glanced down, his blood turning to ice as he recognized the image. It was a photo of his children, clearly taken from a distance without their knowledge. Rage boiled up inside him, overriding his pain and fear.
"You mother fuck—" Noah began, but before he could finish, one of the masked men stepped forward and slammed the butt of his rifle into Noah's face. Pain exploded behind his eyes, and then darkness swallowed him whole.
12
The wind howled, whipping snow across the desolate road as Deputy Thorne squinted through her windshield. The storm had intensified, transforming the familiar landscape into an alien, white wasteland. As she navigated a particularly treacherous curve, something caught her eye — a dark shape jutting from a snow-filled ditch. Callie's heart rate quickened. Years of experience told her this was no ordinary roadside anomaly.
She eased off the accelerator, craning her neck for a better look. The object resolved into the unmistakable silhouette of an overturned vehicle, half-buried in the deepening snow. Training kicked in, overriding her initial shock. Callie executed a careful U-turn, positioning her cruiser to shield the scene from oncoming traffic.
As she exited her vehicle, the biting wind stole her breath. Callie trudged through knee-deep snow, her hand instinctively resting on her holstered weapon. Theoverturned vehicle came into sharper focus with each step, and a chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran down her spine. She recognized the battered Bronco.
"Noah," she whispered, her pace quickening to a desperate run.
Callie skidded down the embankment, her heart pounding. "Noah! Noah!" she called out, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. There was no response.
She reached the vehicle, peering through the shattered driver's side window. He wasn't inside.
That's when she saw him nearby covered by snow. Noah lay motionless, a thin trickle of blood frozen on his temple. Callie's training warred with her emotions as she assessed the situation.
With trembling fingers, she keyed her radio, attached to her tactical vest. "Dispatch, this is Deputy Thorne. I need EMS at mile marker 37 on County Road 12. Officer down, vehicle rollover. Repeat, officer down."
As she waited for confirmation, a low groan emanated from him. Noah's eyelids fluttered, and he began to stir.
"Hey," Callie said, relief flooding her voice. "We've got EMS on the way. Just stay still. You've been in a crash."
Noah's eyes snapped open, panic evident in his gaze. "I was run off the road," he said, attempting to sit up. Callie gently but firmly kept him in place.
"By who?" she asked, concern etched on her face.
"I don't know. Two trucks. Some masked men. It all happened so quickly." Noah's words were slightly slurred, his eyes unfocused.
Callie's cop instincts kicked in. "Do you recall what the trucks looked like?"
Noah shook his head, wincing at the movement. "A green delivery truck was ahead of me, a black snow plow behind. I don't recall much," he muttered. "Look, just let me get up," he insisted, pushing against her restraining hand.
"Might be best if you—" Callie began, but Noah cut her off.
"Thorne. Let me get up," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Reluctantly, she removed her hand from his chest, ready to catch him if he faltered.
