Chapter Two
“I really appreciate you helping out.”Will Wilde, head of the search and rescue team in Seward, threw his pack into the helicopter and stepped back next to Bjørn to let the three SAR members climb in. “Having a chopper here in Seward willing to go out on missions could mean life or death for some of these cases.”
“Annie’s primary purpose is to help others.” Bjørn patted his chopper’s side as a calm settled into his bones.
His business plan might be built around tourism, but he had always written on the top of every scrap of paper: “People first. Money second.” It was why he’d gone with the versatile, stripped-down cabin that seats could be added to as needed rather than the plush, private-transport package. To him, helping search and rescue would be top priority, even if it meant cancelling a tour. He could always find ways to make money, but someone dying because he wouldn’t help would haunt him for life.
“You a Night Stalker?” Will pointed to the 160th SOAR insignia on Annie’s nose.
“Yeah.” Bjørn sometimes wondered if he’d left the army too soon. He hadn’t planned on reenlisting when his tour came up, but not staying now felt like he ran away from the rumors started about him rather than confronting them.
“My cousin John is a lieutenant colonel with the SOAR division.” Will flashed Bjørn a smile. “Now that I know I have one of the best chopper pilots in the world at my disposal, you might regret volunteering.”
Bjørn half laughed as he forced a smile. If Will looked into Bjørn, what would he find? Would the lies the special forces captain had told to cover how he botched the mission follow Bjørn home?
“This it?” Bjørn tipped his head toward the team waiting in the helicopter.
“Yep.” Will opened the door to the copilot’s seat and climbed in.
Bjørn stalked around the bird, doing one last preflight check to lower his blood pressure and clear his mind. The demons from his past would not sabotage his present. He’d do his job like he’d always done, putting his entire focus into it. Huffing out one last breath of bitterness, he climbed into his seat.
Slapping on the headset, he powered up Annie, letting the low thump-thump of her rotors calm him even more. He glanced behind him to make sure everyone had buckled in and got a thumbs up from a young woman with bright teal and purple streaks through her hair. Her wide smile spiraled the last of Bjørn’s unease out of him, like the air pulled up through the spinning blades.
“Ready to head out?” Bjørn opened the throttle and pulled up on the collective.
“Yep. The Lost Lake area is about fives up the highway.” Will wagged his finger in the direction indicated. “The RV park manager called the troopers, concerned when the couple hadn’t returned from their hike. She said they’d been all excited about getting to the lake, but never returned yesterday. Troopers found their vehicle at the trailhead.”
As Bjørn increased the collective pitch, he depressed the left pedal, countering the torque created by the main rotor. The chopper lifted, and the cyclic became sensitive. Bjørn eased Annie forward. Most people found flying a helicopter more difficult than patting their heads and rubbing their bellies simultaneously, but the controls were just extensions of Bjørn, his hands and feet reacting most times without him having to think.
“Too bad they weren’t found on the main trail.” Bjørn pointed the nose down the highway and rocketed forward.
“Yeah. Troopers ran the loop before calling us.” Will flipped the map in his lap and followed a path with his finger. “The path is marked well, but if someone got adventurous, there are several places to off-shoot.”
“All right.” Bjørn smiled. “Let’s go sightseeing.”
Two hours later, and with no luck, the tension in the helicopter had built like Mount Redoubt, ready to blow. It was a quiet pressure, only visible in Will’s puffs of frustrated breath and the shifting of the volunteers staring out the windows in the back. Bjørn circled the latest lake they’d searched, hoping one last pass would reveal the missing hikers.
“Dad, remember where that family got lost about ten years ago?” The woman with the brightly colored hair, who couldn’t be over twenty, leaned in between the pilot seats and snatched the map from Will’s lap. “You all searched for days, yet some extreme backpackers heading for a weeklong camp out finally found them.”
“The Smiths.” Will grabbed the map and studied it. “We never figured out how they made it that far, though they swore they were just following the trail.” He turned in the seat and smiled. “Good job, Violet.”
Will pointed on the map, and Bjørn adjusted his direction. Dense, dark green of the towering Sitka spruce trees rushed below him. Hopefully, the tourists weren’t stuck in the forest, otherwise they’d never find them from the air.
“So, your daughter does SAR with you?” Bjørn glanced at Will before searching out the window.
“Both of them do.” He chuckled. “I passed my addiction down to them.”
“Well, what did you expect when you started taking us on calls when we were ten?” Violet laughed over the headset as she pushed on her dad’s shoulder from behind.
“Yeah, well, I wanted to teach you responsibility.” While Will’s tone came across as gruff, his mouth tweaked up on one side. “Didn’t know you two would go all in and make a living from it.”
“I thought Alaska SAR was all volunteer.” The forest opened up to craggy mountain ahead, so Bjørn angled for what looked like a goat path.
“It is. My sister, cousins, and I have started a kennel and training facility for SAR and law-enforcement dogs.” Violet gushed from the back. “We just got our first litter of SAR puppies, and, oh my goodness, they are so adorable.”
“The girls have talked about it for years, planning everything out.” Will chuckled. “Other girls would play with dolls, but our girls drew up kennel plans and researched best training practices.”
“Well, Sadie and the others did. I still played with dolls.” Something in Violet’s tone said there was more to that story. With six brothers and sisters, Bjørn understood how siblings could get.