Winona’s heart melted at the compassion she saw in Jason’s eyes.
Bear shook Jason’s hand. “She takes care of animals.”
“She does—and so do you. That’s what I’ve heard.”
Bear shuffled his feet, clearly both touched and embarrassed by Jason’s words. He fell back on Scripture. “Whatever you did to the least of these, you did to me.”
Jason nodded. “That’s right.”
Winona asked the obvious question. “Have you had supper?”
Bear shook his head.
“Want to come with us to Knockers? I’ll buy your favorite meal.”
His face lit up.
The three of them walked the last block and a half to Knockers. It was just after six, the parking lot starting to fill, the band not yet onstage.
Rain met them at the door, her hair tied up with a red scarf, a bright smile on her face. “Hey, Bear! I’ve got your favorite table set aside. Come on over.”
Winona grabbed a menu for Jason. “It’s on me tonight, Rain. Thanks. Enjoy your supper, Bear.”
Rain winked. “Thanks, Win.”
A cheer came from the back corner.
“Sounds like at least some of the Team are here tonight.” Winona led Jason back to the Team table, where Bahir, Megs, and Ahearn were beaming at Sasha, who was on her way down from a new route on the wall, with Nicole on belay.
Megs glanced over, saw them, and filled them in. “Hey! Have a seat. Sasha just sent a five-thirteen on the first try—nailed it.”
“I’m sorry we missed it.” Winona sat beside Jason, handed him his menu. “Watching Sasha climb is watching an artist in action.”
“Sounds impressive.” Clearly, none of this made sense to Jason.
Megs must have realized that, too, because she started explaining the rating system and how the route-setter changed the routes on the wall regularly to keep them challenging. By the time they’d finished their meals—Jason a steak and Winona a roast chicken breast—Jason understood some of the terminology.
“Come climb with me. I’ll show you how to belay.” Bahir got to his feet.
But the Timberline Mudbugs had hit the stage.
“He can’t be your belay slave, Bahir, because he’s dancing with me—or do Desert People not know how to do the two-step?”
Jason stood, his lips slowly curving into a grin that made her belly flutter. “Oh, angel, I invented it. You come along now—and try to keep up.”
They made their way to the dance floor, where Jason took the lead. She couldn’t take her gaze off his face as they promenaded around the dance floor. Just like in the bedroom, he knew all the moves, and she realized at some point that people were watching. No, not people. All the women were watching.
Sorry, but he’s mine.
That song ended, Jason and Winona applauding along with everyone else. The next song was a slow number.
Jason drew Winona close. “I think I like this better.”
Buzz-buzz. Buzz-buzz.
She stopped. “My pager.”
She drew it out, scrolled through the message. “I’m sorry, Jason. The Team just got toned out. I need to go. You can stay if you want. I can give you my key.”
She hurried back to the table, where Megs and the others were gathering their jackets and bags.
Megs dropped a twenty on the table. “Looks like we’ve got someone running the Scarlet Midnight Triathlon. Let’s move, people!”
Rain hurried over. She’d seen that they were leaving and understood. “Don’t worry about your checks. We’ll settle up next time. I’ve got Bear, Win. Stay safe.”
“Thanks, Rain.” Winona got to her feet.
Megs turned to Winona. “Chiago might be able to help us on this one. Can you track in the dark?”
Jason looked at Megs as if she were crazy. “Of course.”
“Then I would be delighted to have you join us. Just do what you’re told, and don’t get in anyone’s way.”
Jason met Winona’s gaze, a humorous glint in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jason sat in the passenger seat of Winona’s SUV, wearing a reflective vest over his jacket, a yellow Team T-shirt beneath. They’d left Scarlet behind and were headed downhill through a narrow canyon. He had to ask. “What exactly is the Scarlet Midnight Triathlon? Do people race at night around here?”
For some reason, Winona found this funny. “Sorry. I should have explained. The Scarlet Midnight Triathlon is Megs’ term for a rescue where someone drove up the canyon drunk, went off the highway into the creek, and then ran away to avoid prosecution, leaving their vehicle in the water. Rescue humor.”
Jason laughed. It wasn’t funny—and yet it was. “I take it this happens a lot.”
“It happens often enough to get a nickname.” She turned on the heater. “The scary thing is that we never know what we’ll find. In the winter and fall, when the water is low, most people survive, though someone who is severely intoxicated could pass out and drown in six inches of water. In the spring and summer, when the water is high, it’s a swift-water rescue, which is a lot more dangerous. People have drowned in their vehicles or been swept away, even little children.”
Jason caught a glimpse of the creek twenty feet below to his right. “I’m surprised they survive the crash.”
“They don’t always, and then we get toned out to help with body recovery.”
Jason knew how hard that job was. “We just passed mile marker twenty-four.”
Around the next bend, they saw flares and flashing red-and-blue lights. Just ahead, a sheriff’s deputy directed traffic. The deputy saw Winona and waved her through. She slowed, pulled to the shoulder, and parked behind a row of vehicles, including several sheriff’s vehicles, a fire truck, a rescue vehicle, and a big tow truck.
Jason instinctively assessed the situation from a law-enforcement standpoint. The dark. The narrow highway. The steep, rocky drop-off to his right. The sheer rock wall to their left. Yeah, he could see how this kind of rescue might be dangerous.
If another drunk driver came along at high speeds…
He climbed out and met Winona at her liftgate.
She pulled out her backpack and a helmet, put her radio on her belt, clipped the hand mic to her jacket, and slipped the earpiece into her ear. “Just stand off to the side until Megs calls for you.”
He took her helmet, settled it onto her head, fastened the strap. “You got it.”
Below them in the water was a battered, orange Ford Pinto lying on its roof in several inches of water, both doors open. Around him, Team members worked with efficiency. Jason recognized the anchor, as they called it, its ropes leading down to the water so Team members wouldn’t risk falling on the steep jumble of rocks. Uniformed officers and Team members in reflective vests moved downstream through the water, looking for any sign of the vehicle’s occupant.
It was going to take them forever to find the driver that way.
Megs walked up to him. “What would you do in this situation?”
“I’d head down with a flashlight, walk along the banks in both directions on either side of the creek, expanding my search until I found sign. Then I’d follow the sign until I found the driver.”