Blood on Copperhead Trail Read Online Free Page B

“You’re the native. Lead the way.”
    Copperhead Ridge couldn’t compete with the higher ridges in the Smokies in terms of altitude, but it was far enough above sea level that the higher they climbed, the thinner the air became. Laney was used to it, but she could see that Doyle, who’d probably lived at sea level his whole life, was finding the going harder than he’d expected.
    Reaching the first of a handful of public shelters through the trees ahead, she was glad for an excuse to stop. She’d grabbed some bottled waters from the diner when she and Ivy left, an old habit she’d formed years ago when heading into the mountains. She’d stowed them in the backpack she kept in her car and had brought with her up the mountain.
    Now she dug the waters from the pack and handed a bottle to Doyle as they reached the shelter. He took the water gratefully, unscrewing the top and taking a long swig as he wandered over to the wooden pedestal supporting the box with the trail log.
    She left him to it, walking around the side of the shelter to the open front.
    What she saw inside stole her breath.
    “Laney?” Doyle’s voice was barely audible through the thunder of her pulse in her ears.
    The shelter was still occupied. A woman lay facedown over a rolled-up thermal sleeping bag, blood staining her down jacket and the flannel of the bag, as well as the leaves below. Laney recognized the sleeping bag. She’d given it to her sister for Christmas.
    Janelle.
    The paralysis in Laney’s limbs released, and she stumbled forward to where her sister lay, her heart hammering a cadence of dread.
    Please be breathing please be breathing please be breathing.
    She felt a slow but steady pulse when she touched her fingers to her sister’s bloodstained throat.
    “Laney?” Doyle’s voice was in her ear, the warmth of his body enveloping her like a hug.
    “It’s Janelle,” she said. “She’s still alive.”
    “That’s a lot of blood,” Doyle said doubtfully. He reached out and checked her pulse himself, a puzzled look on his face.
    “She’s been shot, hasn’t she?” Laney ran her hands lightly over her sister’s still body, looking for other injuries. But all the blood seemed to be coming from a long furrow that snaked a gory path across the back of her sister’s head.
    “Not sure,” he answered succinctly, pulling out his cell phone.
    “Can you get a signal?” she asked doubtfully, wondering how quickly she could run down the mountain for help.
    “It’s low, but let’s give it a try.” He dialed 911. “If I get through, what should I tell the dispatcher?”
    “Tell them it’s the first shelter on Copperhead Mountain on the southern end.” Laney’s hands shook a little as she gently pushed the hair away from her sister’s face. Janelle’s expression was peaceful, as if she were only sleeping. But even though she was still alive, there was a hell of a lot of damage a bullet could do to a brain. If even a piece of shrapnel made it through her skull—
    “They’re on the way.” Doyle put his hand on her shoulder.
    But they couldn’t be fast about it, Laney knew. Mountain rescues were tests of patience, and a victim’s endurance.
    “Hang in there, Jannie.” She looked at Doyle. “Do you think it’s safe to move this bedroll out from under her? We need to cover her up. It’s freezing out here, and she could already be going into shock.”
    She saw a brief flash of reluctance in Doyle’s expression before he nodded, helping her ease the roll out from beneath Janelle. She unzipped the roll, trying not to spill off any of the collected blood. The outside of the sleeping bag was water-resistant, so she didn’t have much luck.
    “Sorry to ruin your crime scene,” she muttered.
    “Life comes first.” He sounded distracted.
    She looked up to find him peering at a corner of something sticking out from under the edge of the bedroll. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and grasped the corner, tugging the