Garrett’s alarm buzzed at 4:00 a.m. From his perch on the trailer sofa, he’d heard Catherine tossing and turning for most of the night. Stone’s call had unsettled him and terrified her. Antonia and Stone were both reckless and desperate, a lethal combination.
Garrett could feel the urgency rattling his nerves as he returned to the main house. Pinkerton was already keeping unusually close to Garrett, as if he could sense a mission on the horizon. He found Steph at the coffee maker.
“Did...?” Garrett didn’t get the question out before Steph answered.
“Wally’s in the outdoor kennel with a cushy blanket and seventeen chew toys. Matter of time before he digs out and we have to wrestle him from a mud hole.”
She waved to the organized packs on the table. She’d have filled them with food, water, radios and first-aid kits. There was never a reason to hike in the mountains without the proper supplies. Their bloodhounds’ sole responsibility was sniffing. All other survival details had to be considered and planned for by the humans.
Garrett flashed on the last case they’d worked, a lost camper near Burney Falls who’d failed to return to his group and whom the park service had been unable to locate. It hadn’t ended well. The camper had slipped on some mossy rocks and tumbled into the river. He recalled that Pinkerton had gotten within ten feet of the victim, whose body was wedged between two rocks, and let out a mournful howl that stopped Garrett in his tracks and chilled him to the core.
Pinkerton knew before he did that they were engaged in a recovery not a rescue.
Was Antonia savvy enough to avoid the natural hazards as well as Stone’s ill will? How would Catherine go on if her sister wound up like the camper? Lord, please let this be a rescue...
Before he hurried back to the trailer, he checked for messages.
One from the police replying to him about Stone’s call and the search.
NPS is alerted. Radio your search coordinates to them when you’re in the park. And he imagined Hagerty’s unspoken thought. Stay out of trouble. He had every intention of keeping Catherine away from anything that might resemble trouble, but her sister was another matter.
The other message was from Kara to all of them when she’d arrived for her turn at the hospital. Doctor said things stable. Pain management is a big issue. No more than one visitor at a time. Staff unresponsive to bending any more rules, Chase, so stay away until your next shift, please.
No doubt the family was being cautioned on rules because Chase had already bent or broken many of them. It would probably have been better to send Kara for the first shift, but Chase did have medical training from his days in the Army, even if he lacked compliance.
Garrett noted that the worst of the storm had passed. Unfortunately, that would leave the uneven terrain slippery. Nothing could be done about that.
Kara’s call caught him mid-yawn. He sat in the trailer’s tiny kitchen and picked up.
“I didn’t want to text this info. Sorry, Gare, but the socials provided by Orson were stolen. Most likely he bought synthetic IDs. The numbers trace back to two deceased children.”
His heart sank. Fraudsters often used stolen SSNs to create identities with fake names and dates of birth. There was minimal risk that the crime would be discovered until years later if at all. He’d need to tell Catherine, but it would hit her hard. This morning was probably not the right moment. He thanked his sister, who promised to put it all in an email for his two siblings and Hagerty before she disconnected.
Catherine’s uncle Orson had provided stolen identities, buying names for Catherine and Antonia to hide behind. Fake identities. He understood the power of a disguise. As Catherine had pointed out the previous evening, Garrett had his own mask, one he’d made himself.
The funny Garrett, the suave guy who always lightened the mood. Always the “good guy,” the big brother whom people came to, the one who would provide a laugh. The charmer, the clown.
He stared out the moisture-covered window, the droplets morphing his reflection into the young man he used to be, the one who struggled to read, write, who was the best at sports, the quickest with a joke, always covering, always pretending.
If God loves you, then why do you have to cover up who you are?
He felt something expand and swell inside his chest. God knitted Garrett together, faults, foibles and all. He’d known it, but somehow Catherine’s calling him out had made it so much more real.
You are precious to God. He made you. He loves you.
Even though he didn’t learn like other people.
Even if he’d been wrong about Porter Stone.
Even if he’d let a killer go free.
That dug at his insides like a knife. Even if...he’d ruined things for a woman and her sister all those years ago.
You are precious to God. He made you. He loves you.
The real Garrett Wolfe, not the charming clown.
If Catherine could forgive him, he could forgive himself and quit hiding behind the Mr. Charming identity. There was such relief in it.
Lord, thanks for loving and forgiving. Please help me give Catherine her family back. When he heard the shower running, he fixed a pot of coffee and fueled up, plowing his way through a piece of toast and jam and setting another slice to toast for her. Catherine emerged, her hair pulled back in a neat twist. She was layered in jeans, a sweatshirt and a jacket borrowed from Stephanie. Smudges under her eyes made her skin appear even paler.
His pulse ticked up at the sight of her, one bare foot, propped up on the other, holding her boots and socks. How did she look graceful, sliding onto the bench seat and doing something as mundane as tugging on socks? And the way she tied the laces so precisely, double knotting so the loops were perfectly symmetrical? He lost track of the cooking until a blackened slice of bread popped out of the machine. “Uh, care for some toast?” He grinned. “Do-over. I can make you one that isn’t incinerated, I’m pretty sure.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. My stomach is too uncooperative.”
“Sure. I understand. No sweat. We have food in the go bags for later.”
While she finished tying her boots, he gave her a rapid-fire weather report.
“Occasional showers beat the constant barrage we had yesterday,” she said.
“Yep.” He lured Pinky from the couch to the porch and strapped a waterproof search and rescue vest on him. The dog gave him an excited we’ve-got-a-job bonk with his nose.
An important job, Pink. Life or death.
He checked again to be sure the pillowcase he’d taken from the hospital with Antonia’s scent on it was bagged and in his pack before they stepped out into the chilly predawn. He locked the trailer behind them.
Stephanie was already waiting at her car, arms crossed. Tank and Chloe eyeballed them through the rear window, the porch light gleaming off their noses.
By flashlight they double-checked the supplies and the weather report.
“Park ranger is expecting us.” Stephanie illuminated her watch and checked the time again. His twin was annoyed and he didn’t need to ask why.
Three minutes later, Chase emerged, yawning, a five-o’clock shadow on his chin and his curly hair askew. The porch light showed his boots laced together, hanging around his neck, and a slice of cold pizza in his hand. At least he’d gotten his waterproof socks on before he hurried out to them.
“You’re late,” Steph said.
“In some time zones, I’m massively early.” He got into the passenger seat. “You drive. I’ll sleep. Avoid the potholes.”
Steph rolled her eyes and got in. Garrett loaded Pinky into the rear of his vehicle.
“Chase looks tired,” Catherine said.
“He runs on his own time, but to be fair he was probably up pestering Kara about Mom’s condition.”
“How is she?”
He shared the morning report. “Kara will let us know if there’s a situation. I feel better knowing she’s there. Chase has medical training, but he’s, umm...”
“Light on diplomacy skills?”
He laughed, delighted with her description. “Definitely.” There was not yet any hint of sunrise, but he was glad to see glimmers of clear dark sky between the moonlit clouds.
She worried her lower lip between her teeth as they left Whisper Valley behind.
He adjusted the heater. “Care to share your thoughts?”
“I was thinking about Tony, trying to imagine her plan. She’s impulsive, but she usually has some sort of strategy. She’d probably set up a camp spot, maybe, prepare to hike to the cabin. Years ago she showed me a picture on her phone of her and Stone in front of the cabin. She said she told the cops about it when Stone first escaped but they found nothing. I wish I’d paid better attention. All I recall is ‘no one around and tons of trees.’ Which describes all of wilderness America, doesn’t it?”
“Kara’s continuing to try and glean what cabin that is, specifically, which friend of the Stones owns a property up there. She contacted the police but there was nothing in Stone’s file to indicate exactly which cabins they’d searched a decade ago, unfortunately. She’ll find something. I know it. She’s a genius in her own way.”
Catherine shoved her hands under her thighs. “Tony might have found a ride up there last night and decided to risk hiking in the dark to the cabin.” She gulped. “What if she already found Stone and we’re too late?”
“Highly unlikely she’d have gotten very far. The area around the Pacific Crest Trail is treacherous during the day, but at night, and during a storm, it’d be impossible to navigate without...” He was going to say “dangerous accidents” but he reconsidered. “If she’s got some survival skills as you mentioned, she’d wait for daylight, move out early like we’re doing.”
“And when and if she does find him... I’m worried about what she’ll do. Like Chase she’s a little...light on diplomacy skills.”
Though he wouldn’t say it, he’d been mulling over the same thing. Tony was the proverbial loose cannon. Impulsive, angry behavior wasn’t going to lend itself to a good outcome. “We’ll do the best we can to keep everyone safe.” It was a generic promise, easy to say, but he meant every syllable. He took in the strong set of her mouth, visualized the way her irises shifted between navy and cobalt. With a lurch, he realized that this woman, the woman who’d seen to the core of him and called him out of the shadows, was precious, a person he might very well love.
Love? His throat went dry and his palms damp as he hung on to the wheel. That was a thought to be examined later, much later, maybe never. Love, between two people with a past as twisted as theirs? His one and only semiserious love connection to date had ended when he let Stone escape. Whether from his shame or his girlfriend’s, he wasn’t sure.
Not the moment to knead that dough again as his father would say. For now, if it was in his power, Catherine would have her family returned to her safely that very day.
The road grew steeper as the hours passed. The tree-lined Highway 89 leading into the tiny town of Burney was not yet busy with visitors. At his brother’s insistence, they bought coffee at a tiny drive-through shop built like a chalet. Chase and his massive, nitro-fueled coffee beverages. He grinned thinking about the scolding Stephanie would have provided their brother about the momentary delay.
Mist dampened his windshield. The cold weather would work in their favor to keep some of the tourists away, but not all. Burney Falls was a magnet from spring to fall and many preferred to experience the park when the crowds were thinner.
The park ranger met them at a bench outside the office. “I’ve gone over the logs. No camping check-in for a single woman last night, only groups and couples. She might have snuck in unnoticed and joined up with the tent campers.”
Or she could have found a hollow of rock to keep dry for the night. How tough was she? Tough, he decided, like Catherine. There it was again, that surge of emotion. He gritted his teeth and refocused on the park ranger.
“As far as where Stone is keeping Orson, your search grids seem logical to me. Along the Pacific Crest Trail there are dozens of privately owned cabins folks rent out that are unoccupied. He could be hunkering down in one of them.” He pointed to the map. “You can pick up the trail here, where it cuts through the park for about eighty miles. There’s pretty dense foliage off the trail there in Shasta-Trinity Forest, but it’s mostly below six thousand feet and the snow’s pretty much gone, so that’s a plus.”
An enormous forest, an abducted man to find, as well as one reckless woman, and another to keep safe from a killer. They’d need all the advantages they could get. Stephanie thanked the ranger. Outside at a picnic table, they provided water and a snack for the dogs.
Stephanie gave them her I-mean-business look. “I don’t need to do a safety briefing, do I? We all know what we’re dealing with here. No one goes rogue. If there’s any sign of a hot trail, we summon the other team. Check in every half hour.”
“We got it. Basically don’t be dumb,” Chase said, cramming a Security Hounds baseball cap over his curls. “Message received.”
They clipped long leads on their dogs and Garrett provided Steph and Chase with Antonia’s headband, which they’d acquired at Orson’s property. Pinkerton would be following the hospital pillowcase with Antonia’s scent. Too bad they didn’t have an article from Stone, but he’d take what he could get.
What would the team find? Orson? Antonia? Stone? And what condition would they be in when they were located? He shot a glance at Catherine, chin high, brave and strong and scarred, silhouetted against the gray velvet of the sky.
She glanced in his direction and there was trust in that gaze.
Trust. And hope.
After everything, she trusted him. Without considering what his siblings might think, he held out a hand for one of hers and they started the search.
Catherine gradually warmed up as the rising sun chased the clouds away. The stretches of trail alternated between flat areas hemmed in by trees, to steep twisted miles revealing gorgeous spring-fed lakes. The beauty was inescapable, but it did not seep into her soul past the churning anxiety. Were they getting closer to her sister and uncle? Or moving in completely the opposite direction?
Pinkerton sniffed the pillowcase that Garrett offered. He flapped his ears, nostrils quivering, and set off down the trail.
Her heart soared. Her sister... Pinky must have picked up her trail.
He ambled, his attention caught by an aroma as they chugged along, then seemingly lost interest in an on-again off-again pattern. Catherine’s frustration mounted but Garrett simply let Pinky rest, provided another fresh sniff of pillowcase, and a treat or two, and the dog regrouped. She estimated they’d hiked three miles. “Can a bloodhound really follow a scent this far?”
Garrett nodded. “For more than a hundred miles in some cases, even if the trail’s old. They’re relentless, which is a quality that probably landed Pinky here on death row before we found him.”
“Death row? What do you mean?”
“Bloodhounds can be massively destructive, especially when they’re young. Comes from their natural curiosity. Pinky was left in a shelter when he was eight months old. Adopted again and returned, after being chained in a backyard, which is where I believe he developed his fear of thunder. He’d lived in the shelter for close to a year when we snagged him right before he was scheduled to be euthanized. He was pretty shut down but look at him now.” Pinky glanced over as if he knew he was being discussed. “He needed training, patience and a big space, but mostly he wanted a job, didn’t you, boy?”
The thought of Pinky being chained and discarded made a lump form in her throat. “Did you train him yourself?”
“With help and guidance from Mom. And yes, I lost several pairs of shoes and a beautiful leather catcher’s mitt before we forged an understanding.”
Catherine giggled. “Surely you didn’t do something like that, Pinky?”
“Don’t let his boyish good looks fool you. He’s a bulldozer in a fur coat.” Pinky swerved along the trail, nose to the ground. “We used to breed bloodhounds, but when we realized there were so many good ones waiting for a chance, we switched to rescue mode.”
Rescue mode. Fitting for the Security Hounds business. When a massive fallen tree covered the trail, they allowed Pinky to lead them around the blockade. Had her sister really gone this way?
Garrett slapped at a gnat buzzing around his face, straightening at a text. “It’s Kara.” She tensed at the excitement in his tone. He bent close to show her the message.
A former coworker of Bill Stone’s owns a cabin. I’m including long/lat coordinates. I contacted Hagerty with this info as well.
Garrett pumped a fist. “Yes. Kara comes through. A break, finally.”
Catherine blew out a breath. “At least we have something specific to go on now.”
He put the coordinates into his phone. “And we’re already moving in that direction, so it’s a positive indication that Antonia was headed this way too. Awesome that we’ve got enough bars here.” He called Chase’s phone.
“Copy,” Chase replied. “Our dogs have no hits so far in this grid anyway so we’ll loop around toward your location. Hold in place at the coordinates until we get there. ETA forty.”
Forty minutes seemed like an eternity, but the information fueled a faster pace. The trail grew steeper, less defined.
“If somebody does have a cabin here, they must like their solitude,” she said, panting.
Garrett wiped his sweaty brow. “There’s probably an easier trail somewhere for a vehicle, but that’s not how Antonia approached, if Pinky’s right.”
Likely her sister would have gone with stealth.
Her calf muscles were screaming as Garrett called for a break. He gave Pinky a drink before downing half a water bottle and urging her to do the same. She didn’t want to stop, not for one moment, but she knew he was right.
The sound of running water enveloped them as they continued, the ground rising in rocky peaks all around. They climbed to a clearing, where Pinky’s tail thudded in overtime. Through a gap in the trees they spotted a small cabin and the sliver of a vehicle parked in the rear.
Her uncle’s SUV. Her breathing ramped up even faster.
She started forward, but he caught her arm. “We have to wait. Steph and Chase will be here soon and Hagerty too, likely.”
Agonized, she stared down at the structure. So still. She could not detect any human voices. Not surprising. A thunderous river roared in the background, funneling through a steep canyon to the side of the cabin.
Was Tony inside? In trouble? Uncle Orson? She felt Garrett’s touch, fingers gripping her wrist. He didn’t speak, but there was comfort in his presence.
“How much...?” Her words died on her lips as a gunshot pierced the air.
Garrett yanked her down, drawing his weapon and thrusting his phone at her. “Text my sister.”
Fingers clumsy with fear, she pressed out a message just as the front door of the cabin slammed open. Stone appeared, running, head down. When he caught sight of Garrett he charged, yelling something over the tumult.
Garrett aimed. “Stop, Stone.”
Stone blundered on, the whites of his eyes gleaming. Garrett was about to take a shot when Antonia appeared next, hair flying wild, a gun in her hand. Garrett could not risk missing and hitting Tony.
“No, Tony, don’t,” Catherine screamed, erupting from her hiding spot. If her sister shot now, she could hit Garrett or Pinky.
Oblivious, Tony sprinted after Stone, her next shot plowing into the dirt near Catherine’s foot.
“Antonia, stop,” Garrett yelled.
Stone didn’t slacken. Pinky barked but Stone plowed right into Garrett as he ran toward the trail, sending Garrett stumbling backward toward the lip of the gorge.
She saw him teeter, arms flung wide, his mouth open in surprise, and then he fell out of sight.
With a panicked yelp, Pinkerton launched himself after his owner and disappeared.