Page 3 of Lumberjack John
Chapter 2
John glanced up from his book when the phone rang. He stared pointedly at the infernal machine for a moment. It was odd for anyone to call him on his landline this late in the evening, especially with an early-season winter storm raging outside.
Unless, of course, there was an emergency. The temptation to ignore it and go back to his story was tempting.
He sighed as he padded over to the kitchen. "Yeah?" he asked, holding the old receiver to his ear.
"John?" Ranger Brooks' voice was urgent. This couldn't be good.
So much for a peaceful evening.
“What is it, Stanley?”
"I'm afraid we have a missing person. A young lady arrived from England today from some environmental group in London. Her name is Frankie Evans. Have you seen her?"
"Why the hell would I have seen her?" John barked. There was a long pause from the other end. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up. "Stanley, what's going on?"
"Well, she asked for directions to your place. She said she really needed to speak with you, and it was why she traveled all the way here."
At John's groan, Stanley immediately rushed out, "John, I warned her about the storm, against trying to make it tonight, but she didn't listen. Maysie called a minute ago and asked if I had seen the young lady. Apparently, she's staying at the inn and didn't show up for dinner like she promised. Maysie's calling the sheriff right now, but I was hoping maybe Ms. Evans was holed up at your place waiting out the weather."
John’s gaze shot to the clock. It was nearly eight. His eyes closed as he huffed out a breath. The storm had been on top of them for several hours. By now, there would be a coating of ice and another four inches of snow predicted by the morning. "So she's missing…" His voice trailed off. It wasn't a question.
"We're afraid so. She was heading your way when she left the ranger station. Would you drive around and see if you can find anything? I have a couple of guys searching down on our end of the lake just in case."
"Dammit," John muttered. He looked toward the stove where his pot of chili had been simmering for several hours, slowly coming together until the flavors were just right. By the smell permeating the kitchen and living room, it was ready, but now it would have to wait. With a sigh, he asked, "What time did she leave the station?"
"A quarter to four."
"Shit. She's been out there for four hours? It should have taken her no more than twenty minutes to get here."
"That was our way of thinking, too. I just hope we don't have to call water rescue."
John grunted, considering everything that Stanley had said. "That might be a real possibility at this point." He pulled a large duffel bag from his closet. "I'll search around this part of the lakeand let you know if I find her. Call my cell if you locate her down your way."
He hung up and began to strip. He’d need at least a couple of layers before traipsing out in this storm on what was most likely a wild goose chase. The chances of an inexperienced woman surviving in this weather were slim.
A soft whine drew John's gaze to the far corner of the living room. His ten-year-old chocolate lab lounged on the large foam bed John had splurged for last year after the dog had weathered a difficult hip surgery.
"It's okay, Angus," John soothed. "I just need to run out for a bit, but I'll be back soon."
The thump of a tail against the wood-planked wall was his answer.
John released a rough breath and stepped outside. If he did find this woman, he'd make sure she was okay first and then wring her fool neck.
***
Frankie huddled in the front seat of her rental car, more miserable than she could ever remember, and blew on her hands trying desperately to stay warm. She'd run the heater for as long as she could, but the car eventually ran out of gas. It wasn’t long before the cold seeped through, chilling her straight to the bone. Now, all she could do was fantasize about a warm fire and hot bowl of soup as she struggled to stay awake.
She dropped her head back with a groan, thoroughly mortified at her current predicament. The ranger had warned her not to try to find Mr. Robbins right away, to wait until the storm was over.
Instead of heeding the advice, Frankie—who was known for having a stubborn streak a kilometer wide—charged out intothe incoming weather. Right on cue, the rain had started the moment she'd clipped on her seatbelt. Within minutes it had become a complete deluge, making it nearly impossible to see anything as she drove north along the lake. Complicating the issue was the fact that the bloody steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car.
Instead, she'd pushed on, determined not to waste a single second of her time in America. Too many people at home depended on her success.
As expected, she’d gotten lost numerous times, turning onto logging roads that may or may not have led to a cabin that supposedly a person could not see until they were right upon it.
Very helpful, Ranger Brooks. Thank you.
