4. Lana
Lana
What am I doing here?
The question circled through my mind, refusing to leave as I stared out the window of the six-seater plane. I truly should have told Toren no when he told me to pack a bag and meet him at the airport this morning. Tina could just call the police, and I could help her plead her case.
But no. I didn’t argue more than a cursory amount. Now I was stuck inside this tiny plane with two men I didn’t know, on my way to search for one I barely did. I had officially lost my marbles.
Luke and Mina tried to tell me that last night too. Mina had even pulled out her phone, ready to call her friend, Claire, who was married to the local police detective. She was sure she and Claire could get him to take Tina seriously.
And she was probably right.
So, why did I still get on this plane?
I didn’t have a good answer for that. Something in my gut kept screaming at me I should go, so I listened, even though my brain said to let Mina call Claire.
The plane banked, and I gripped the armrest as the world below tilted.
Flying didn’t bother me. Not like some people.
I found the view fascinating. And up here, next to Walker, I got to see more than I ever had before.
Below us, the world felt impossibly vast. Mountains rose in jagged peaks, snow still on their tops like a patchwork quilt made of gray, white, and green.
Valleys filled with dense forest cut between them like wrinkles in the fabric, some of them holding silver ribbons of rivers, plump from spring runoff.
It was a sight I could happily stare at all day.
But it wasn’t why we were in the air. A point Walker reminded me of as he angled the nose of the plane down, dropping our altitude.
“There’s the Lace River.” He pointed slightly to the left.
I sat up, peering through the front windscreen. Down below, the mouth of the Lace River fanned out into Berners Bay. From up here it was easy to see why it was called the Lace. Fine tendrils of water snaked over the ground, giving the landscape a lacy appearance.
Toren’s voice came over the headset. “Follow the drainage to the east.”
Walker put slight pressure on the yoke, and the plane turned right.
As we pressed inland, our altitude dropped further.
My stomach did a little flip at how close the mountain peaks were now.
I flew a lot—I lived in a remote part of Alaska, after all—but rarely did the planes I traveled in fly this low.
Not unless we were getting ready to land.
“What, exactly, should I be looking for?” I asked Toren, sending a quick glance between the seats.
He didn’t look away from the window. “Campsites, fires, anything reflective, or areas where the groundcover looks disturbed.”
Turning around, I looked out the window again.
It was nothing but a sea of deep green.
My eyes bounced over the terrain, until I realized I wouldn’t find anything if I wasn’t more methodical about it.
Picking a point on the horizon, I scanned the area in a striping pattern, back and forth as Walker flew further and further up the river.
For forty-five minutes, as the sun bathed the hills and valleys in a warm glow, I searched. But there was still nothing but forest and rock, sliced by thin ribbons of silvery water. Nothing seemed out of place or stood out as manmade.
I shifted in my seat, trying a different angle on the window. The landscape tilted again as Walker turned to follow the eastern fork in the river. We buzzed just a couple thousand feet above the treetops now.
I scanned the ground, praying for a flash of color or the glint of metal. Anything that would point us in the right direction.
It was just more of the same, though. Nothing.
After another thirty minutes, Walker adjusted his mic and glanced at Toren. “I’m not seeing any obvious signs of a camp down there. No smoke, no cleared area, nothing.”
“Me, either. But that could just mean he’s careful about leaving little trace. His fiancée said he was moving camp. If he packed up, then something happened before he could set up again, we might not find anything from the air.” Toren kept his gaze directed out the window.
That was not a comfort. Because no camp meant something was definitely wrong with Dustin.
“I’m going to set us down. I’ve only got so much fuel, and I don’t think we’re going to spot him from up here.”
Our altitude dipped again.
My stomach dipped with it as I looked at the ground rushing up to meet us much faster than I would like.
I clutched the armrest again. “Geez, Walker. Were you a fighter pilot in a past life?”
He flashed a bright smile at me. “Actually, I fly stunt planes and crop dusters.”
“Of course you do,” I murmured.
Toren’s low chuckle filled my ear.
I ignored him and kept my eyes on the ground flying by beneath us.
“That looks like a good spot. Let’s take a closer peek, shall we?” Grinning ear-to-ear, Walker angled the plane toward the river in a steep dive.
I let out a little squeal. “You might be a stunt pilot, but I’m not. Can you cool it?”
“Sorry, can’t. It’s a tight squeeze.”
Sparing a glance at Walker’s face, I expected to see levity on his handsome features, but instead, all I saw was fierce concentration.
For some reason that both calmed me and alarmed me more.
“That looks like it’ll work,” Toren said.
Head turning to the left, Walker pulled back on the yoke, taking us above the treetops again. We banked left.
“I agree. It’s tight, but doable.”
I straightened my spine, peering through Walker’s window as the plane turned. “Where are you talking about? There’s nothing down there but water and trees.”
“There’s a sand flat in the river,” Walker said. “It’s free of debris and looks fairly solid. More importantly, it’s a long one.”
My eyes widened. “We’re landing on a sandbar?”
“Yep.”
Sweet Mary. Was he kidding?
“Relax, Ms. Decker. He does this all the time.”
“It’s true.” Walker’s tone was quiet and distracted as we looped around the trees to come back toward the river from the way we’d come.
Over the water again, Walker swooped in low.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch us nose-plant into the river. “Next time, I’m sitting in the back.”
Despite my desire not to watch, I couldn’t keep my eyes shut. Something in me, apparently, had a macabre need to witness my demise.
Water, rocks, and dark sand rushed toward us. Less than a hundred feet over the river, we leveled out, then dropped steadily until the fat tires fitted to the plane touched down on the sandy surface.
Walker braked, then messed with some levers and the engine pitch changed as the plane slowed quickly. Only the harness I’d buckled myself into before takeoff kept me in my seat. In moments, we were stopped with just feet of space between us and the water ahead.
“Oh, I don’t ever want to do that again.” I took off my headset as Walker cut the engine.
He flashed another grin. “Nah. That’s the best way to fly.”
“I’m glad you think so, but I’m ready to keep my feet on the ground.” I unbuckled, not kidding. Flying didn’t normally bother me, but that was a bit much.
“Well, that probably won’t be the first uncomfortable thing you’ll do on this trip.” Toren got up.
Dread punched me in the gut. I knew he wasn’t wrong. Hiking and camping were things I did every year, especially hiking. This trip, though, was more wilderness survival, which was something I’d never done.
Once again, I asked myself what I was doing here.
Maneuvering between the seats, I held out a hand for my backpack as Toren came up the short aisle holding it as well as his own gear—which there was substantially more of than what I carried.
“Let’s get outside first.”
Walker nudged me to the side, then opened the door, lowering the steps.
“Ladies first.” He swept out a hand.
Holding onto the doorframe, I stepped down. My feet sank slightly into the soft, damp sand and wind whipped through my braided hair, grabbing tendrils and snaking them over my eyes.
I tucked them back behind my ears and turned, watching the men emerge from the plane.
Toren held out my pack, and I took it, shrugging it over my shoulders.
“So, what now?” I asked, buckling the waist strap around my torso.
“We’re not far from the coordinates your bride gave you for his first camp.” Toren shouldered his gear. “We’ll hike up there, take a look around, then see if we can find some tracks.”
“I’ll stick around as long as the sand bank stays stable and the weather holds,” Walker said. “You have your satellite phone?”
Toren nodded.
“I’ll let you know if I need to take off before you return.”
“Sounds good.” Toren turned to me. “You ready?”
That was a loaded question. I wanted nothing more than to stay with Walker, but I was not a chicken, so I did the only thing I could. I said yes. “As I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”