“That can’t be.”
He looked down at me.
“Ma’am, what’s your name?”
I told him again.
He repeated it into the radio.
Another silence.
Then:
“Control says the only emergency report in the area was filed
by Michael Carter.”
My heart pounded.
“What did he report?”
The rescuer hesitated.
“An accident.”
I stared at him.
“What did he say happened?”
“He reported that his wife fell.”
My fingers curled into the snow.
“He lied.”
“I believe you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
I forced myself to breathe.
“He didn’t just leave me.”
The rescuer waited.
“He went there expecting me to die.”
A sharp pain ripped through my abdomen.
I cried out.
The rescuer immediately placed a hand near my shoulder.
“Don’t move.”
“My baby…”
“We’re getting both of you out.”
The harness was secured around me.
Every movement sent another wave of pain through my body.
Then, just before they lifted me from the ledge, I looked upward.
Through the curtain of snow, the ridge was almost invisible.
But I could still see one thing.
A set of footprints.
Two people had
stood there.
Michael and Ashley.
And beside their footprints was another mark in the snow.
A long, deep line.
Something had been dragged.
I pointed toward it.
“There.”
The rescuer looked.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
But somehow, I knew it mattered.
The helicopter pulled me upward.
And as the ledge disappeared beneath me, I made myself a promise.
If I survived, Michael Carter would regret the day he pushed me.
