Page 33 of One Last Shot

Hey Boo. I need to talk to you. Call me.

Blake.

She slammed her hand on the watch, turning it dark. Then she finished off her yogurt, dumped the tub in the trash, cleaned up, picked up her keys, and headed out the door.

So much for escaping her nightmares.

So maybe he was in over his head.

What was his problem that he kept saying yes to all the wrong things?Three weeks. Smile.Stay alive.Try to pry a tune from his head.PrayMike wakes up.

But in all of that, no one had said Oaken would have to dangle fifty feet from a chopper.

It felt like he might be daring God to mess him up.

“So, when I hook you up, you’re going to step out onto the skid, and then London will lower you down.”

Boo stood on the deck of the fake chopper, the one suspended from a massive hydraulic circular mount that could move the chopper in the air as if it were being buffeted by wind. Although not today. Today they were simply going to hook him up and lower him to the cliffside—also fake—some fifty feet below.

On that cliffside lay a dummy, dressed in orange, wearing a helmet, visor down, sprawled and unmoving, clearly broken from a fall. The cliff overlooked another drop of thirty feet, down into an Olympic-sized pit-slash-pool.

The Shed, as Moose had called it when Oaken arrived at the Tooth earlier this morning, was located off-site, at an area near Elmendorf Air Force Base.

“The Air Force uses the Shed for some of their SAR training,” Moose had said as he pulled gear from the back of his pickup.

Honestly, Oaken liked Moose. A big guy, yes, but he had an easy smile and an air of willing camaraderie. He’d even sat for Huxley today as she’d asked him a few questions about Air One—how it got started, what he did before this, why he did what he did.

Navy rescue pilot. Yeah, Oaken could have guessed—the guy hadherowritten all over him. As for why, Moose had lifted a shoulder, smiled at the camera and said, “So others might live.”

Okay, then. Although Oaken had a sense there might be more to the story.

The others had arrived as Moose was giving him a tour of the Shed, from the massive climbing wall to the tank that filled for underwater training.

“What’s the car for?” Oaken had asked about the very real vehicle attached toa hydraulic skid.

“We can simulate a river rescue—it’s not uncommon for drivers to find themselves submerged or caught in overflowing rivers.

“And that’s Harriet, our Helicopter Rescue Hoist Trainer.” He’d pointed to the massive helicopter shell suspended on tracks and the circular mount from the ceiling. “We can create turbulence and even add wind from the massive turbines.” He pointed to the fans on each side of the building. “They can even simulate waves, and if we want, we can add smoke.”

“Why smoke?”

“Forest fires. Sometimes we need to rescue the heroes.”

Right.

And that’s when Oaken turned to the camera, his eyes wide, and mouthed,What am I doing?

Huxley loved it and gave him two thumbs up. She wore cargo pants, a thermal shirt, and a vest, her headphones over her ears, listening on Bluetooth as the audio picked up the conversation between him and Moose.

The camera probably also picked up when he spotted Boo entering the Shed. He shouldn’t have let his gaze linger on her—Huxley might have a heyday with that. But he couldn’t help it. Boo wore leggings, just like today at the park, and a pullover, her hair back in a ponytail, held back with a red headband. No makeup, but she didn’t need any, and a sort of fierceness in her expression that intrigued him.

She was a tough nut and not the warmest coat in the closet. But he couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation that night she’d saved his life.

Really. Saved it. Because he’d been standing on the highway for maybe an hour, freezing, not sure what to do.

But she had knownexactlywhat to do, and that’s what mattered. More, her calm demeanor had sort of shut down the roiling inside him.“We’ll find him.”

So, yeah, she might be all business, but herespected that.