10
The aroma of fresh eggs and bacon could rouse Kacey from her grave. She opened her eyes and adjusted to the morning light streaming in through the leaded windowpane across the smooth oak floor. She lay on the sofa, her feet tucked up under a blanket. She had to concede that she’d slept like a corpse.
How had she gotten from the porch to the sofa without her recollection? She pushed herself up, heard the chatter of voices behind her, felt the heat of the pillow grooves in her face.
She pressed a hand to her mouth. She’d slept so hard, she’d drooled. Pretty.
“Over easy or scrambled, Howard?”
Lulu stood at the stove, with bacon sizzling in a black cast-iron pan; a plate of flapjacks in a golden pile were in the middle of the table. Howard sat on one chair, his foot up on his wife’s leg. She sat in the other.
No sign of Ben.
Kacey ran a tongue over her shaggy teeth, made a face. She needed coffee, a shower, and toothpaste, not necessarily in that order.
Instead she got up, folded the blanket.
“Oh, you’re up,” Lulu said, and as if she could read Kacey’s mind, she came over with a hot cup of coffee, black. “I hope we didn’t disturb you.”
“Disturb—no. I was dead to the world.” Apparently.
“You don’t remember walking in here, standing in the middle of the room?”
Oh no.
“Well, you were pretty groggy. Ben guided you to the sofa, and you fell onto it like you hadn’t slept in years. You’ve been out for a couple hours.”
“Where’s Ben?”
“He left over an hour ago, trying to track down some help. Pull up a chair—have some breakfast, then we’ll see if we can coax the old Ford to life and get Howard to a hospital.” Lulu set a plate down at the end of the table, and Kacey sat down, her stomach suddenly roaring.
Lulu’s pancakes filled the hollow crannies inside, and Kacey ate three, topped with raspberry jam, without stopping.
She was working on two eggs over easy and a crispy strip of bacon when Ben opened the door.
He stood there, looking a little shaggy with a burnished swath of whiskers and his baseball cap backward, and suddenly their kiss rushed back at her.
Oh, Kace.
His voice, but she wanted to say the same thing. What had she done?
She looked away from him before she could betray her horror. She could not . . . could not fall for Ben again.
Not with her heart roaming around outside her body, unprotected, too easily crushed.
“I got hold of Sam. He’s going to bring a body recovery team and alert Jess and Miles to meet us on Going-to-the-Sun Road.”
“I can drive you out,” Lulu said as she fixed Ben a plate.
He sat down opposite Mary Beth.
“I don’t know, Lulu. I took a look at your truck. It doesn’t look like it’s been driven in a decade.”
She served him a plate of eggs, sunny-side up. “My grandchildren shop for me, but she’s a runner. I drove a lost hiker up over Logan Pass all the way to Saint Mary a few years ago.”
“A lost hiker?” Ben said, taking a sip of coffee.
“Yeah, a girl about seventeen or so. She’d been separated from her group, had gotten lost on the trails. I found her near the lower falls. She was pretty rattled, so I brought her back here. I wanted to bring her to the Apgar Visitor Center, but she insisted I bring her to Saint Mary. I dropped her off at the lodge there.”
Ben had stopped eating. “Lulu, do you remember what she looked like?”
She picked up a towel, wiped her hands. “I don’t know. Blonde hair. She had the most beautiful light blue eyes.” She paused. “Wait, I have something of hers.”
She turned to the windowsill, grabbed a bowl, fished through it, and plucked out a ring. She handed it to Ben.
“She left this behind. I found it on the bureau after I got back. I didn’t know what to do with it.”
Ben stared at it, then handed it to Kacey. “Recognize that?”
She held the ring in her palm. Gold band, with two hearts holding up the crown, each embedded with a diamond, and in the center, an emerald. Circling the crown were the embedded words “Mercy Falls High.” “It’s a class ring.”
“You had one of those.”
She nodded. “These are expensive. Why would she leave it behind?” She handed it back to Ben. “You don’t think . . .”
Ben turned to Lulu. “Where did you say you dropped her off?”
“Saint Mary Lodge, on Highway 89, north of East Glacier.”
“Can I hang on to this?” Ben asked.
Lulu nodded, and Ben pocketed the ring. “Thanks.” He got up. “I think we need to start hiking out.” He turned and took Lulu’s hands. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine, Ben.” She smiled up at him.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The gesture caught Kacey’s attention; the kindness in his eyes was something she knew but had forgotten.
In fact, it seemed she’d forgotten a few important key characteristics about Ben. Like his willingness to sacrifice himself for others. She didn’t know where he’d slept last night, but she could guess it wasn’t comfortable.
Given the fact that she’d fallen asleep on his lap, it could be he hadn’t actually slept at all.
While she’d apparently had one of the best sleeps in nearly two years—no memory of sleepwalking, even if she had apparently wandered.
And the way he could listen, always knowing the right words, no judgment.
It was, in fact, the first thing that made her love him.
Love him.
No. No . . .
She watched as Howard struggled to his feet, balancing on his new bride’s shoulder. Ben came around and hoisted him up on his back.
Okay, so she might still have feelings—yes, definitely feelings, all trapped inside a confusing tangle of memories and not a few might-have-beens.
And it didn’t help that she could still taste his kiss, could still feel the old hunger stirring inside her. She couldn’t deny the sense of peace that had settled over her as she sank into sleep.
But that was last night. Tomorrow, they had separate lives.
Except for Audrey.
She bound them together. Regardless of what mistakes they’d made thirteen years ago. Or last night.
Audrey was their Today.
And it was definitely time to tell her daughter about her amazing, superstar father.
She got up from the table. “Thank you, Lulu.”
Ben was already outside waiting for her, the sky blue overhead, the bouquet of summer in the breeze. He looked young, strong, and his smile could light up her entire body.
Today.
Sierra could admit that she’d secretly harbored a belief that Ian would end up on her doorstep, forgiveness and a to-do list in his grip.
A week later she convinced herself she had successfully moved on.
Clearly not needing him.
“You just started, Sierra! One day on the job and you’re already making cookies and spending every waking minute at the PEAK headquarters.” Blossom Rose, aka, her mother, sat up to the yellow Formica counter in Sierra’s house located just off Main Street.
“I like being there,” Sierra said.
“But you’re doing it again—giving your heart to something that can’t love you back.” Blossom reached over to the batch of fresh cookies cooling on wire racks. The kitchen smelled of chocolate chips and the kind of home that Sierra had always longed for.
For her part, she’d created it, with Willow, in this tiny two-story kit house. The furnishings might be from garage sales, but with the crazy quilt she’d made in high school home economics thrown over the sofa and an eclectic mix of refinished garage sale finds, the place felt homemade and cozy.
Audrey and Willow sat at the refinished pine table in the middle of the kitchen, playing a game of Dutch blitz.
“Chet and his team need me. Otherwise, Sam wouldn’t have asked for help.”
“Mom, you should see the place,” Willow said, not looking up from her game. She’d never felt the need to call Blossom by any of her crazy monikers. But Willow was like that—sang her own tune, just like their mother.
Sierra was grateful that Willow never received Sierra’s crazy, nearly unintelligible voicemail. Probably she’d simply rambled on, oblivious of the ending message beep, and all Willow got was a muffled voice, a request for her to pick up.
So, thankfully, no one knew how close she’d come to being another cautionary tale of giving your heart away.
“Sierra cleaned the entire kitchen, reorganized the office, filed all the reports by name, with a cross-reference system by date in the computer, created a schedule and a group texting system depending on the callout. Now she’s working on stocking the freezer.”
Sierra cast a glance at Willow, who looked up fast and winked at her. Her kid sister might be six years younger, but sometimes Willow seemed to be the older, protective one.
Then again, Willow grew up knowing her father, a soldier who still lived in Mercy Falls. Sierra’s best guess at her biological father was that he was one of a handful of men who lived with her mother at a spiritual colony in Missoula.
Not that ultra-feminist Blossom made any attempt at clarifying. “You don’t need a father—just another man in your life to own you, call you his.”
“I have no doubt Sierra poured herself into serving the team—that’s what she does,” Blossom said. “I still can’t believe you stayed with Ian for five years—I kept telling you that one day he’d move on, leave you with nothing.”
Sierra pulled the last batch of cookies from the oven, set the pan on a hot pad. “We weren’t dating, Blossom. He was my boss.”
Blossom rolled her eyes. “You gave him everything—your time, your energy, your youth, your heart. And he took it, then gave you your walking papers.”
And now, Sierra felt sure they weren’t talking about Ian. “Aside from the fact that Ian was my boss only”—she simply ignored the squeeze of her words—“I didn’t give him everything.”
She flicked a glance at Audrey, hoping her mother didn’t spiral into a feminist diatribe about men and “all they wanted from women.”
“All I’m saying is you need to watch what you give your heart to. Only you can make yourself happy, despite what that crazy pastor friend of yours says.”
“Chet isn’t crazy. The Bible says to do nothing out of selfishness, but to be humble. You don’t lose yourself when you serve others. It’s what Christ did.”
“And look what happened to him.”
Sierra opened her mouth, but her mother continued. “Bible, shmible. It’s just another rule book. Trust me—you give away your heart and you’ll never get it back. And Ian is the worst—he never saw how amazing and beautiful my Sierra is.” She slid off her stool, walked over, kissed her on her cheek. “Besides, it wouldn’t do us any good to have a repeat of the Rhett Thomas disaster.”
“Blossom—”
She held up a finger. “You know I’m right. In fact, you might think about taking a new name this time. Really wipe the slate clean.”
Her mother switched her name—not legally but in casual usage—whenever she felt a change of breeze in the seasons of her life. For nearly six years, during Sierra’s youth, she’d called herself Meadow. Then came the birth of Willow and a sweet stretch of time when Sierra had enjoyed what she believed might be a real family, with Willow’s dad, Jackson, moving into her mother’s cabin. With Willow’s arrival, her mother renamed herself Lilly, and during the next seven years she resembled the other mothers who made cookies, showed up occasionally at school for a parent-teacher conference, and actually cared if their kids had clean clothes, food on the table, and a father in their lives.
Until a Vacation Bible School at the Mercy Falls Community Church roped in Sierra and Willow, finally luring Jackson to the altar. Suddenly, her pseudo-father got ahold of grace and decided to do something unforgivable—propose to Lilly.
Judging by her mother’s reaction, he might as well have clamped a nose ring on her, and Sierra’s dream of home shattered. Jackson moved out, taking Willow with him every other weekend and during holidays.
Lilly moved through a handful of quick hookups, emerging into Blossom after she moved them all to a forty-acre artists’ commune north of Mercy Falls. Sierra learned to drive that year, and would pile Willow and two other kids into the community Ford truck and trek them an hour to school every morning.
Sierra simply refused to lose her grip on her taste of normal. She sneaked out to attend church, joined the youth group, and clung to the only real friend she had, Kacey Fairing. Because Kacey, for all her outward normalcy, knew exactly what it felt like to be the daughter of a woman with a questionable reputation.
Blossom swiped another cookie. “I’m late for my ride. Cooper is picking me up at the Last Chance.”
Sierra shot a look at Willow, then back to Blossom. “Cooper?”
“He’s a fellow artist. We’re heading out to the salvage yard.”
For all her mother’s eccentricities, she made a semi-decent living selling her metal sculptures—made from cast-aside tin cans, hubcaps, tools, rebar, and other items she picked up at the junkyard. Her line of barnyard animals—goats, chickens, sheep, and even a cow—caught on with a few celebrities over the years and now graced the front steps of a dozen or more Hollywood homes.
She watched her mother go. In her early fifties, Blossom was the beautiful one, with long tawny brown hair and a body that she kept fit with long hikes into the park.
Audrey slammed her hand down on the pile of cards. “Blitz!”
“Oh!” Willow shook her head, tossing down her cards. “You’re just way too fast for me.”
“My mom taught me. She’s really good.”
“So is Sierra,” Willow said. She gathered up the cards. “We have to run too. Youth group band practice.”
“Actually,” Audrey said, “I’m going to ride out to the PEAK ranch with Sierra. Mom’s coming in with that injured hiker, and I’m hoping to see Benjamin King again and ask him about the guitar lessons.”
Willow glanced at Sierra, the other Keeper of the Secret.
Now, Willow glanced back at Audrey. “Are you sure? Nate said you two were singing a duet this week at worship.”
“We practiced today at school.” Audrey got up, pulled her backpack over one shoulder. “Besides, Nate . . .” She sighed. “Nothing.”
Sierra looked up from where she was boxing cookies into a plastic container. “What’s nothing?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Ever since he broke his ankle, he’s been acting weird. Won’t talk to me at school and ignores me at band practice. It’s like . . .”
“He’s just embarrassed, honey. You saved him—that hurt his thirteen-year-old ego,” Willow said, gathering up her mesh bag and slipping into her Birkenstocks. “Men can be like that. They want to rescue us, not the other way around.” She scooped up her keys, glanced at Sierra. “By the way, for once I agree with Mom—you gave your heart to Ian, even if he was just your boss.”
Willow left, but her words lingered and pricked at Sierra as she packed up half the cookies, followed Audrey out to the car.
Audrey said nothing as they pulled out of the drive.
“Are you okay?”
“Who’s Rhett Thomas?”
Oh. Sierra slowed as they crept through the muddy streets, out onto Main, and toward the Shaw ranch.
She needed to stop thinking of PEAK as Ian’s. Just because it was located near Ian’s ranch didn’t mean she had to think of Ian wandering around the house in his stocking feet, his dark hair rumpled, wearing his workout pants and an old T-shirt.
“Rhett was the coach for the Mercy Falls Mavericks hockey team. You were probably too young to remember. He went on to play for the St. Paul Blue Ox. We dated while he was trying to get a shot at the majors.” She had probably frozen a significant portion of her backside following him to games during those early years. “I was pretty young—just out of high school. Your mom had left for the military, and Rhett, well, he was very cute.”
She looked over and winked at Audrey, a short and sweet way to end the conversation.
She’d just rather not elaborate on the protracted pain of watching him fall out of love with her and into the arms of a prettier, less clingy member of the Blue Ox ice crew.
Maybe she should have changed her name after that fiasco. Instead, she’d moved on to working for Ian.
And yes, maybe Blossom was right, had given the man her heart.
Not anymore. She had managed to land on her feet, her heart safely back in her chest, memories of Ian shut away into the past.
Sierra looked over at Audrey. “How are things with you and your mom?” she asked. Maybe Audrey needed a sounding board, someone who knew the situation.
Audrey stared out the window at the fields dotted with cattle, the arch of the sky stretching blue overhead. She lifted a shoulder. “She’s been really weird. Usually she’s cool, but this time she’s trying to tell me what to do. She actually went to school and met with my teachers. Like she’s a normal mom or something.”
She looked at Sierra. “I’m glad she’s home, but she’s freaking out about Nate. And I don’t know why she won’t let me hang out with Benjamin King. He’s really cool.”
“I know. But your mom just wants to make sure that you don’t get hurt.”
“Why would I get hurt?” Audrey turned in the seat, and Sierra scrambled for a reply.
“Because he’s a big star?”
“And he might not have time for me? I know that. It’s just . . . she thinks I’m a little kid and doesn’t see that I’m all grown up and can take care of myself.”
Sierra schooled her voice. “I’m sure you can, Audrey. But let your mom catch up, okay? She’s just trying to be a good mom.”
“A good mom would stop hovering and let me live my own life.”
“I had one of those hands-off moms, Audrey. Trust me, it’s not as great as you’d think.”
“But you and Blossom are okay now, right?”
Sierra turned off the highway toward the PEAK driveway. The helicopter pad sat empty, the yard drying under the morning sun.
“Only because I no longer have to depend on Blossom to take care of me.” She pulled in next to the house and caught Audrey’s arm before she got out. “Just . . . keep in mind that whatever happens, every decision she made was for you. To help you have a great life.”
Audrey frowned, then shrugged. “I know.” She got out, shut the door, headed up the porch.
Oh boy.
Sierra got out, headed into HQ.
So what if she’d spent some unpaid hours yesterday giving the kitchen an extra scrub, adding some homey touches—daisies on the table, a bulletin board with a funny meme. And she’d even stuck around for the team meeting last night, getting an update on Ben and Kacey’s overnight at Lulu’s.
Next Sunday, she planned on making a “welcome to the team” cake for Kacey at the weekly SAR meeting-slash-barbecue.
She set the container of cookies on the counter and spotted Audrey talking to Chet. He had rolled himself out of his office and was now shaking her hand.
Sierra put her hand on Chet’s shoulder, squeezed. “Have you heard from them yet today?”
Chet dropped Audrey’s hand and reached for the cookies. “They’re on their way in. The team met them on Going-to-the-Sun Road today, drove the hiker and his wife to Kalispell Regional Medical. They also found a body. Sam sent a recovery team out to meet them. Ben and Kacey hiked back up to the chopper.”
As if on cue, the hum of the Bell 429 diced the air. Audrey dropped her pack and ran to the window.
Sierra followed Chet over, then opened the door for him, and he wheeled himself outside. But she’d noticed his walker, folded and laying by the sofa. Hopefully he hadn’t been shuffling around without supervision.
She’d have to keep an eye on him.
The blue and white bird floated down from the sky, settled on the pad near the barn. In a few moments, the rotors died and Kacey emerged from the cockpit. Ben came around the front.
“Mom!” Audrey waved, and Kacey grinned as she pulled off her helmet, waving back.
Audrey came off the porch, ran over to her mom, caught her in a hug around the waist. A person would have had to be blind not to see the look of longing on Ben’s face. But then Audrey came over and high-fived him, and that garnered a grin.
Something passed between Ben and Kacey then, a look, something familiar, sweet even—
Oh no. And sure enough, Kacey came up the stairs and glanced at Sierra, guilt written in her expression as she brushed by her.
“Hey, Dad,” Ben said as he greeted his father. He clasped his hand, and they headed inside. “Have you heard from our hiker?”
“He has a mild fracture. His wife called and said to pass along her thanks.”
Sierra listened to the conversation but longed to get a moment with Kacey, to back her into a room, dissect the look that had passed between her and Ben. Instead, Kacey had grabbed Audrey for a quick mother-daughter debrief.
Ben bit into a cookie. “These are fantastic,” he said to Sierra.
He walked over to the map on the wall, then traced his finger across the park to the eastern side. Tapped it at Saint Mary Lodge, then traced it down to Highway 89 all the way to the entrance at East Glacier. “Did you know there’s an Amtrak out of East Glacier?” he said to no one.
Sierra walked over to him. “Yes. The Empire Builder runs through there, from Chicago all the way to Seattle.”
He finished off his cookie, then dug into his pocket. “We stayed with Lulu Grace last night.”
“How is she?” Chet had rolled over to Ben.
“As spry as ever. Made us flapjacks with fresh eggs and bacon today. But most importantly, she told us a story about giving a lost hiker a ride to Saint Mary Lodge about three years ago. And that lost hiker left behind something.” He dug into his pocket.
A cold hand closed around her throat as Sierra stared at the gold class ring with an emerald center stone and diamond chips in the heart setting.
“That’s Esme Shaw’s.”
Ben looked at her. “Are you sure? There’s no name.”
“I remember her wearing it.” She picked up the ring. “I’m almost positive. Ian gave this to her for Christmas, her senior year.” She looked at Ben. “Lulu gave her a ride to Saint Mary?”
Ben nodded. “The description sounded like it belonged to Esme.” He looked back at the map. “I keep trying to piece it together. Why would she ask to be dropped off on the other side of the park?”
“Was she afraid?”
“Or guilty?” This from Kacey, who’d come over. “We have to ask—how did Dante’s body get in the river?”
Silence.
“I need to tell Ian,” Sierra said quietly.
She was halfway to the door when her words kicked in, turned her around. “Actually, no. I don’t need to tell him.” She held out the ring. “You should tell him, Ben. He asked you to hunt for Esme.”
Ben shook his head. “I’m going to get cleaned up and go into town, see what Sam has found out. You go to Ian’s, update him, and tell him we’ll call him first chance we get.”
He swiped another cookie, then glanced at Kacey.
There appeared that smile again.
And it might be Sierra’s imagination, but did Kacey actually . . . blush?
“See you this weekend, Audrey?” Ben said. “For your birthday party?”
Audrey’s smile could light the northern sky. “Yes.”
Kacey steered her daughter toward the locker room in the barn, where she could change clothes.
Which left Sierra with the ring in her grip.
Perfect. Fine.
She’d simply stand on his front porch, deliver the message.
She got into her car and drove over to his beautiful house, her heart thundering.
It was just a message.
But she had to wipe her hand on her jeans before she could manage ringing the bell.
She stood there, listening to the thunder of her heartbeat.
No answer.
She rang again. Waited.
And the longer she stood there, the more the image of him lying there passed out—or worse—took form in her head.
What if he . . . well, what if he hadn’t been over to see her at PEAK headquarters because he actually, truly needed her more than ever?
She dug out her keys, found his house key, and unlocked the door.
The silence inside could deafen her.
“Ian?” Her voice echoed through the cavern of the house.
She toed off her boots, then padded into the living room. Stopped.
Papering the floor, the sofa, the long trestle table, the end tables, even the hearth, lay every paper, every report, every map, every sketch, every faint lead they’d ever followed on Esme.
As if he’d stepped right back into the middle of the search to let it consume him.
Oh, Ian.
And then she heard steps behind her.
She turned, and the sight of him stopped her cold.
He wore a beard—not an overnight stubble but an actual beard, russet with sparks of gold and copper. His hair was wet, spiked up as he toweled it dry, and he’d emerged into the room wearing only his sweatpants.
She’d only seen him without a shirt a handful of times, but she never quite got over his washboard stomach, the sculpted wide shoulders, biceps in his strong arms, the dusting of dark hair across his chest. He was always so proper—but in this instance, he looked wrung out and not a little feral.
He slowly lowered the towel and stood staring at her, his blue eyes riveted to her, wearing an expression she couldn’t place.
Anger? Shock?
Please, let it be relief.
“What are you doing here?”
Ian didn’t mean for the words to snap out quite like that—sharp, lethal, as if he wasn’t in fact simply blindsided.
If he could, he’d simply tuck his words back inside, stand there and hope she didn’t see him.
He knew how he looked—and only the fact that he’d smelled like something that had languished in floodwaters for a week had coaxed him into a shower.
But he’d taken a long, painful look in the mirror, studying his bloodshot eyes, feeling as if he’d aged a decade in a week and realized . . .
He’d made a mess out of his life.
He’d dodged that truth for a few days, but as the days blurred together, the haze of information swilling his brain, tangling it, blotting out the sun, he came to the understanding that without Sierra, his world had turned to night.
And into that darkness, she’d appeared.
Standing in the middle of his family room, wearing a pair of leggings, a long striped yellow shirt, and those eyes that could practically see right through him, uncover every moment of stupidity.
Wow, he missed her. Needed her. So much so that one look at her turned his entire body to ache. But he’d fired her, and he couldn’t, as much as he longed to, drop to his knees and beg her to stay.
Ian Shaw simply didn’t do begging. He commanded, sometimes with money, but begging meant taking out his heart, offering it up.
And he simply didn’t have the strength for that, not anymore.
But that didn’t stop him from feeling the hollow burn deep inside as she frowned, her face darkening at his words.
“I’m here because . . .” She took a step toward him, cleared her throat. “I have news about Esme. And for your information, I didn’t want to come, but Ben asked me to.”
News? He wanted to ask, but his throat wouldn’t work, caught on the rest of her words.
I didn’t want to come.
He couldn’t betray that her words had found purchase. Instead, he hung the towel over a chair and headed to the kitchen.
She followed him. “Ben and Kacey searched the river. They found a body.”
“Oh.” Although he’d hoped they’d find a clue to Esme’s disappearance, the words still felt like a punch to the gut.
He ran his hand along the cool granite of the kitchen counter, balancing himself because all at once he was in very real danger of his legs buckling.
He managed to reach the fridge, open it, and blink against the bright light.
A container of orange juice, a piece of cheddar, a jar of pickles. He grabbed the OJ and drank it out of the carton.
Ran his hand across his mouth, a measure of composure returning. Then, “Do they think the body is Esme’s?”
“They don’t know. They also found this.”
Something plinked on the counter. He turned, and the light caught it, the emerald in the center casting northern lights against the stainless steel of the fridge. He stared down at it, and his heart gave a lurch.
He picked up the ring, held it between his fingers, all breath gone.
He must have nodded, because he felt her hand on his back. “Sit down.”
“No.” He put the ring back on the counter, took another swig of juice. Stared out past her to the mountains.
So God was really going to do this. Destroy his life yet again, despite his best efforts at earning forgiveness. “So then the body is hers.”
She frowned. “Oh no, Ian. I’m sorry. No, this wasn’t—I’m so sorry. I handled that badly.”
She acted as if she wanted to reach out to him but pulled her hand back.
He could have used her, just for a second, to hold on to.
“Ben and Kacey ran into an injured hiker and had to spend the night with Lulu Grace. Remember her—she lives near McDonald Lake? She has that homesteaded cabin?”
“Yes, but—”
“She claims to have driven someone who left this ring behind and who matches Esme’s description to Saint Mary Lodge.”
He stilled, trying to sort the words out, categorize them. “When?”
“Three years ago. I don’t know any more than that.”
“What about the body?”
“Sam sent out a team to recover it. I don’t know anything.”
“So she could be alive?”
“I don’t know. But Ben made the point that if she got a ride, she could have been dropped off at the Amtrak.”
“What?” He rounded on her, then shook his head.
Woozy. Yeah, he probably needed to eat something. But he blinked away the spots and walked past her, into the family room, finally locating the map of the park on the sofa. He stood above it, tracing his finger loosely down highway 86. “That’s a pretty wild stretch.”
“Maybe. But we never even thought to check the Amtrak. We focused all our searching on this side of the park.”
He closed his eyes then, a wave of emotion rushing over him. “I don’t understand. Why would she drive to the other side of the park?”
The voice didn’t even sound like his own. Rattled, tired, broken.
“Ian.”
“I just . . . wish I could understand.” He turned and padded through the chaos of his room, his bare feet kicking up papers as he stood in front of the picture window.
From here, his land extended all the way to the far horizon, with the cut of the gray-blue mountains rising to the northwest.
His world, and yet Esme, like his wife, Allison, had run from him.
He heard shuffling behind him. Then, “Me too.”
He turned then, surprised.
She lifted a shoulder. “I never understood why finding Esme was such an obsession with you. I mean, I got it, of course. You loved her. She was your niece—and you were taking care of her. She got lost on your watch and you were determined to find her. But those are just the obvious reasons.” She touched his arm. “What’s the real reason?”
He drew in a breath, looked at her hand on his arm. Then he closed his eyes. “Because she was my responsibility. Even my second chance. And I didn’t want to believe I was the most wretched man on the planet.”
When he opened his eyes, she was still standing there, looking up at him.
“What are you talking about?”
He pulled away from her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me, Ian. I know I was just your employee, but I actually do care about you.”
Just your employee. Her words burned in his chest, and he longed to correct her.
Still, he needed someone. And apparently, Sierra was that person. “I drive away the people I love. And then God takes them away.”
“What?”
He sighed. “I wanted to find Esme, because then I could convince myself that maybe God wasn’t still punishing me—for what happened to Allison and Daniel.”
She frowned at him, shook her head to disagree, as if the loss of his wife and child in Katrina wasn’t God’s punishment—but he kept talking.
He ran his fingers into the shag on his chin. “I hated that Esme was seeing Dante. I wanted her to go to college and I knew that anyone she met here would hold her back. You remember our fight. How I told her that after the camping trip, I wanted her to go out east. I hoped that she’d eventually forget about Dante. Esme was smart, beautiful, and I didn’t want her to make my sister’s mistakes.”
He looked away from her. “My sister married the first boy she fell for, and he left her pregnant and alone two years later. She nearly lost custody of Esme twice before I convinced her to send her to me.”
“You’re not to blame for her wanting to run away with Dante.”
“I gave her an ultimatum.” He shook his head. “I practically pushed her into his arms. And now she could be dead too.”
He looked at her. “And I did the same thing to you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t control my life, Ian. And you had every right to fire me.”
His throat closed, and he looked away. “Maybe, but I shouldn’t have. I jumped to conclusions and led with my anger . . .”
“Is that why your hands are marked up again? The hanging bag in your weight room getting a workout?”
Oh, she’d noticed. He looked at his knuckles, the angry red skin.
“And without tape and gloves, I see.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “The problem is, I’m just not good at personal relationships, Sierra. I sort of forgot that, with you.” He looked at her. “You’re too easy to be with. Too nice. And you took way too good care of me. I got that mixed up a little.” He shook his head. “You were right to keep this all professional, because frankly, if you get too close, you just don’t know what could happen. I’m probably cursed.”
“Ian!”
He held up a hand. “Face it. I’m to blame. God has a right to punish me.”
She just stood there then, looking stricken. “God is not punishing you.”
“Then what would you call it?” He turned, walked back to the sofa, tossed the map on the floor, sat down. “Bad luck?”
“Well, right now I’d call you an idiot. And obsessed with punishing yourself. And frankly, a little bit narcissistic to think that God would let innocent people die because of you. By the way, if you think you’re going to control a teenager in love, you really have a complex.”
He couldn’t tell if she was kidding, or . . .
She lifted her mouth in a smile.
“I suppose, however, you’re just being you.”
Was that a good thing? He didn’t feel like it.
She came over to a chair, lowered herself into it. “Listen. I understand feeling responsible for Esme. But you’ve wrapped yourself up in finding her for so long, it’s become a prison. Maybe instead of punishing you, this is God setting you free, showing you that you had no control of Esme’s disappearance. Maybe he’s trying to help you let go.”
“What are you talking about?”
She reached over and picked up the map off the floor. “If she’s alive, we have to ask, why did she go to Saint Mary? Why didn’t she just come back? Especially if Dante was dead?”
He shook his head.
“Ian, maybe she didn’t want to come home because she had something to do with Dante’s death.”
He sat there, unmoving. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to piece this together. But it might have absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with something that happened out there on the mountain. Something Esme is running from. And that something is not you.”
He looked up, ran his hands down his face. Scrubbed. “I have to know if whoever Lulu drove to Saint Mary Lodge was her. That she’s at least alive.”
“Then maybe you’ll shave?”
She smiled at him again, and the sense of her being here so filled him up, nearly choked him. Maybe . . .
“Listen, I know you’re working for PEAK now, but maybe—”
“Yes, Ian. I’ll get on the phone to Saint Mary. See if we can track down a connection.” She stood up then. “But first, I’m making you some coffee and calling in for some sandwich delivery. And you are going to clean up this mess.”
He glanced up at her, and she winked at him.
But he longed for her words to latch on, become truth.
Clean up this mess.
Yes.
Finally.
Somehow.