Ten minutes later, he and a big man named Roberts were bumping across the camp and down the hill. “Lance said you’re looking for Frannie?” Roberts asked as the boxy Jeep Wagon tipped dangerously to the side.
Red jerked his chin. “And my wife and daughter,” Red said. “She’s Frannie’s sister.”
Roberts got a look on his face that made Red feel sick.
“What?” Red needed to know what the big man didn’t want to say.
“There’s somebody out in the water at Rock Creek,” Roberts said. The heavy car tipped dangerously to the side. “Frannie thinks it might be her sister.”
Red’s stomach contracted and a wave of nausea went through him. “What do you mean, out in the water?” He’d fished the Madison a hundred times and couldn’t envision anything more than a fast-flowing river, perfect for fly fishing.
Roberts reached Hebgen Lake Road and turned toward the canyon. “There’s a slide at the mouth of the canyon, from what I can tell. The Madison is backing up and the water is coming over the road. To tell you the truth”—he flashed Red a frown—“I’m not sure we can even make it back to Rock Creek, but I’ll get you as close as I can.”
Red knew the winding road between Hebgen Dam and the mouth of the canyon like a map in his head, but now it might as well be the landscape of the moon. Lightning traced a path across the dark sky, the bright flash illuminating the cracked road, the flattened trees on the northern ridge, rockfalls around every turn.
Red tried to imagine what kind of landslide could stop a river. What would he find when they got there—if they got there? Rain started to patter on the windshield and Roberts switched on the wipers. They made a steady thrumming that only increased Red’s anxiety, like a clock counting down the time he had to save his family.
“Frannie told me to come back with a boat,” Roberts said as he crept around a boulder the size of an outhouse in the middle of the road. “I asked all over the camp, that’s what was taking me so long to head back.” He glanced apologetically over at Red. “No boat, but Lance found a life vest in somebody’s trunk. Not much, but I figured who knows? It might help.”
A life vest when they needed a boat? Father Donahue’s guidance came back to him.God will work with what you give him.He closed his eyes. He couldn’t have come through this dark night—the explosion at Sunnyslope, the ride through the canyon—to not be able to save his wife.Lord, I’m trying to trust. Help me.
The rain had gone from a sprinkle to a downpour, beating on the windshield like the pounding of horses’ hooves. Red leaned forward, willing Roberts to move faster. What if God had given him his heart’s desire—a family—just to take it away?I’ll take them to Willmar, Lord. I’ll wear a suit and tie and work for Daniel Reilly. Whatever you want of me. Just let me find them.
Finally, Roberts brought the station wagon to a stop. Red stepped into the pouring rain and walked with Roberts to where the road disappeared under a dark expanse of water.
Roberts scowled. “Can you swim?”
“Some,” Red lied. Swimming lessons weren’t part of his education at the orphanage.
Roberts looked at Red with a doubtful expression. “I don’t suppose you’d listen if I told you not to chance it?”
Red grabbed the garbage bag Bridget had sent with him.
Roberts handed over the life vest and a silver flashlight. “Good luck.”
Red watched as the wagon made a three-point turn and the red taillights disappeared. The dark night closed around him. Red took off his boots and socks and put them in the garbage bag. He fastened the life vest around his chest and clicked on the flashlight, roaming the beam over the water’s oily surface. How deep was it, and what was underneath?
He stepped into the water. The shock of cold went up his spine and rocks bit into his bare feet. He forged onward as the water rose around him.
Hold on, Claire. Hold on and keep hoping. I won’t give up on us.
chapter 56:FRANNIE
It was raining cats and dogs and horses and cows.
Frannie couldn’t hear a thing across the water with the rain beating down on the plastic tarp she and Paul and Mel held over their pitiful selves and their pitiful campfire. Cold needles of water trickled down the neck of her sweater and a shiver wracked through her.
It had to be Claire out there. It just had to be.
Hold on Claire,she said silently to her sister.If you die out there, I’ll kill you. And so will Bridget and Dad.
Frannie stared into the red coals of the fire. “I should have told her I was sorry,” she said to Paul. She’d been horrible to Claire. She figured there would be plenty of time to make it up to her. Now, she might never see her sister and little Jenny again.
Another aftershock rocked the hillside. Frannie crouched down and braced herself. Stone scraped on stone, and the crack of trees falling broke through the beat of the rain. “When is it going to stop?” She didn’t want to sound like a baby, but she was sick and tired of the ground shaking her around like a maraca.
Paul poked another wet log into the campfire. “The aftershocks could go on for days.”
Frannie left the shelter of the tarp and walked to the edge of the ridge. No headlights coming out of the dark. No Roberts coming with a boat.
