Chapter 3
Three
After a long, hot shower to wash away the mud and grime, Sarah towel-dried her hair, grateful she’d escaped with only minor scrapes, thanks to her outerwear.
A few raw welts bloomed on her back, but nothing serious.
Surviving a mudslide hadn’t exactly been on her bingo card when she’d set out on this self-imposed mission.
She cleaned the grime off her backpack, making sure to get the mud out of every crevice, then she cleaned her Sig.
Moving to the window, she cautiously peeked past the curtain. Her cheap motel was located on the outskirts of this town nestled against the mountains. The plan had been to blend in with the tourists who flocked here. If anyone came looking, she’d be just another face in the crowd.
Mercy Ridge was tucked deep in the Cascades—hard to reach yet somehow still a magnet for visitors. The towering peak of a nearby volcano loomed in the distance like something out of an Alpine fairy tale. No wonder the Cascades were nicknamed the Alps of America.
The town leaned into the theme too. Sloped chalet-style roofs. Carved wood trim. Flower boxes bursting with color. Even cobblestone streets in places. The whole thing felt curated, quaint—almost too much so. Whose idea had that been?
And she just realized that she’d arrived here in October. The townspeople must celebrate their version of Oktoberfest. Had she missed it?
A car turned in to the parking lot, then peeled out, bringing her focus back to where it should be. Her heart rate jumped at the disturbance, though, as she searched the parking lot and across the street where the downtown art district started.
At least she’d seen no sign of the silver hybrid that had followed her for almost thirty miles.
Unfortunately, she might have seen a former colleague—Reid Maddox.
That couldn’t be good. Not good at all. Except, after the trauma she’d been through, coupled with paranoia and fear, she must have been seeing things.
She was still reeling from her collision with the wilderness guide—the very man she sought to hire.
She should have explained that to him, but she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.
Besides, he was focused on the mudslide and getting them to safety.
She’d do better to walk into the Good Adventures establishment and book her trip with him when he had the capacity to listen to her specific request.
If those who’d tried to follow her had figured out that she’d come to Mercy Ridge or even driven through town to search for her, they wouldn’t find the old Explorer parked at the motel.
She was glad she’d left it in the woods.
Yes, if she’d driven all the way in, she would have been here without the mud and wouldn’t have run into Ryder.
Maybe the serendipitous connection would help.
But something he said disturbed her. He mentioned that he used to be a wilderness guide.
Was he no longer guiding? She’d just have to convince him.
In the meantime, she needed to relax and catch her breath.
Now that she was finally here in Mercy Ridge, she had work to do. She’d figure out how and when to get the rest of her stuff from the vehicle she’d left in the woods.
Meeting Ryder the way she had confirmed that, without a doubt, she’d picked the right person for the job. He’d pulled her right out of a ferocious mudslide. Reached in and grabbed her. She relived that moment repeatedly—not the bad, terrifying part of it but the good part . . .
The hero she’d come here to find had been in the right place at the right time to pull her from the jaws of death.
That idea left her stunned. Especially considering that she had half expected he would be out guiding a group and she’d have to book ahead and wait for him to return for her particular search.
Time was short, and so she’d tell him what she could, what she must, to convince him to help her.
He wasn’t a guide, he’d claimed, and wasn’t a scientist, so why was he really surveying the region? Unstable ground was another issue entirely, and she could only worry about ten things at a time.
That would be number eleven, so no, thank you.
Maybe she was thinking about this all wrong in trying to hire a private guide to search for something that—as far as anyone knew—was a myth.
A fairy tale. Just a story. But this buried truth had gotten Aaron killed, and she would uncover it.
Expose it. Get justice. And save Tessa and Jeremy from further threats.
She’d seen a picture of Ryder because she’d gotten his file, but she hadn’t recognized him today, especially with his wavy, shoulder-length hair.
In the image she’d seen, he was tall, broad shouldered, and had the hardened physique of a former Navy SEAL who now guided people through the mountains—or used to, per his claim.
His hair was sun-streaked, and his eyes were a sharp gray.
At least, she’d seen those features through the mud.
When he’d shared his name, she’d been stunned but shouldn’t have been. Who else could have pulled her right out of the mud—a singular, deadly force of nature—other than Ryder Goodwin?
With several hours of daylight remaining, she made sure the Sig Sauer was clean and tucked in her ankle holster, then exited her room.
Kept her head down and curled into her Nordic sweater on this beautiful fall day—beautiful now that the rain had stopped.
Before heading to Mercy Ridge, she’d dyed her hair a drab brown and tried to look plain and unassuming.
Unnoticeable. Unmemorable. And yeah, that seemed to be working.
Not one person looked at her as she hiked a couple of miles to the other end of town and up the pebbled trail to Good Adventures.
Through the glass door, she caught sight of a woman with silver-blond hair—kind of like Paula Deen’s—locking up.
What? It was only four thirty. Not closing time yet, at least in her mind.
Sarah rushed forward and gently knocked. “Oh, please, let me in. I need . . . Please.”
“We’re closed for the day.” Speaking through the glass door, the woman gave a warm and friendly apologetic look.
“I met Ryder earlier today.” She spoke loudly so the woman could hear through the glass. “He saved me from a mudslide. I’d like to thank him.” Oh, good grief. She could have come up with something better than that. Then again, the truth worked too.
The woman’s brow arched, and with a smile, she unlocked the door, opening it wide for Sarah. “Well, hello. I’m Dinah Goodwin, Ryder’s mother. I run the Whispering Pines Café and help at Adventures when I can.”
His mother? Oh, this wasn’t exactly going the way Sarah intended. Come on, get your act together. Was she that out of practice?
Dinah pulled Sarah all the way into the establishment and closed the door but didn’t lock it. A concerned frown filled her face. “So, what happened today? You said he saved you from a mudslide?”
“Is Ryder here?”
“I’m afraid not. I haven’t seen him since early this morning. That’s why I’d love to hear your story.”
“Oh. Well, there was a mudslide on the mountain. A small one, really, but I got caught in it. I don’t know how he did it, but he saved my life. Your son is a true hero.” Sarah might have been laying it on too thick.
“Yes, that’s my boy. Proud mama here. I’m so relieved that he was there for you. How’d you like to join us for dinner? Ryder’s supposed to stop by the house. You can thank him then.”
Sarah might have been reading this all wrong, but it felt like Ryder’s mother was on a matchmaking mission. Or she could just be a kind person and everyone in town was this generous and welcoming.
“I . . . uh . . . I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The truth is, I’d like to hire him as a guide.” She should have gotten right to the point to begin with.
“First, what’s not good about my idea? And second, Ryder doesn’t guide anymore.
Hasn’t . . .” Dinah’s forehead crinkled.
“He hasn’t in more than a year. We have three others available for our fall activities—Nico, Taryn, and Benji—but they’re unavailable the rest of the week.
Mushroom-foraging guide starts next week, but I think that’s full.
And there’s fly-fishing—are you into fishing? ”
“I . . . uh . . .” Sarah took a step back.
“What am I saying? We can talk about that later at dinner! Everyone has to eat, including you. I brought chicken pot pies home from the diner earlier today.”
“I don’t want to intrude. I . . . he only saw me covered in mud. He probably won’t even recognize me.” Now she was digging herself in deeper. That didn’t sound good. She was on a mission. A daring, potentially deadly mission. Surprising Ryder at dinner could send the wrong signal.
Maybe in the past she would have seen this as the way in, but not now. “I’d better go. Thank you for letting me in, and please pass a message on to Ryder that I appreciate his help.”
And I need his help on the mountain. But this conversation had taken a weird direction and now seemed like the wrong time to hire him, especially if he wasn’t here. For crying out loud. He wasn’t even guiding anymore.
She’d have to find another way to talk to Ryder and convince him that he was the guide for the job. She’d researched him, felt like she knew him—to a point—and today had confirmed that for her.
Before she turned to leave, a man entered through the front door. For a split second, Sarah’s hopes rose. But it wasn’t Ryder. Still, he looked like a guide. A person couldn’t mistake that build, that attire, for anything else but an outdoorsman who loved trails and climbing mountains.
“Hi, Dean. What can I do for you?” Dinah asked.
“I heard Good Adventures mapped that new route on the north slope. Just wondering if you’d share the track—or your waypoints. A client is asking for a guide, and we’re heading out soon.”
Dinah’s smile was warm yet tight. “Why didn’t you just send them on over here?”