Chapter 12
Twelve
As Ryder navigated up the road to his home, he thought back to Sarah’s heated, whispered conversation with the older man. Then . . . “This is . . . dangerous. Probably bigger than either of us understands.”
To which Ryder had replied, “I’m all in.”
Why did he think he had any business being all in with her? He had no business at all, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t back out. So yes, he was all in for a lot of conflicting reasons.
As he drove, he scrutinized the clouds gathering in the distance.
The rain had stopped yesterday, for which he was grateful.
If it was raining here, it was snowing in the higher elevation of the mountains.
He had to be smart about it—pack light and yet be prepared for everything.
A thousand questions about this unofficial self-inflicted mission remained and doubts plagued him, but Ryder set them aside and focused on what he knew. Hiking. Guiding. He could do this.
And he could get Sarah up that treacherous climb of thousands of feet, come snow or ice or blizzard.
“You said we’d go back to my truck today,” Sarah said. “I need my stuff.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. The road’s closed. I’m waiting on a call so I can know when it’s safe. We could just replace whatever it is you needed if we have to.”
“Replacing my vehicle isn’t that easy.”
“I promise, we’ll focus on that when we return.”
Arms crossed, sulking, she stared out the window and said nothing.
Their trek up the mountain deserved all his attention and focus.
After loading up on additional supplies with Maisie at the outfitter’s, he stopped over at Mom’s diner, where he and Sarah grabbed a quick lunch.
He didn’t want to give his mother the wrong idea about Sarah and tried to emphasize that she was nothing more than a new client.
But Dinah-the-matchmaker’s eyes were bright with hope that he’d be hard-pressed to miss.
Ryder would have left Sarah alone in her motel or at his house, but he couldn’t risk it.
Then they hit Good Adventures for technical climbing gear Ryder had in his old locker.
He’d avoid the scenario that required that sort of gear, if possible, but he wanted to be prepared.
He got his personal harness, carabiners, crampons, and an ice ax—things he hadn’t wanted to check out through the business account because this trip wasn’t official.
Sarah thought she was hiring him, but he wasn’t charging her or making her sign papers.
She seemed too preoccupied to even notice.
He also pulled out his old mountaineering rope, a lightweight but sturdy dynamic line.
He’d left it coiled neatly in a bag at the bottom of the locker.
Yeah. He should have tossed this rope. He’d seen it last the day Dad died.
And just like that . . . that day on the mountain slammed him.
He would be in no place to go up with Sarah if he let that eat him alive again.
Back at home, he and Sarah started unloading the gear that he would organize into packs and put back in the truck tomorrow. Take them up to the trailhead and start from there.
A call came through his cell.
Just the man he’d hoped to hear from. He’d called Holt earlier and left a message. He glanced at Sarah. “My brother. I need to take this call.”
“Go ahead. I’m taking a break anyway.” She headed for the house.
Weird watching a woman enter his home as if she was the lady of the house. He shook off the image and the warm thought of Sarah at home at his place. He strolled out away from the house so she couldn’t catch wind of his conversation as he stared at the mountain he would hike tomorrow.
He answered the call. “What’s up?”
“Hey, little bro. Mom told me you met someone nice.”
Not what he’d expected to hear, though maybe he should have. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Deny, deny, deny.
“Mom said she had dinner with you last night.”
“You know our mother. She invited someone to dinner. I just happened to be there.”
“And lunch at the diner today?”
News traveled entirely too fast. He wanted to talk to Holt but didn’t like this line of questioning. “So?”
“So, she also said you’re taking this woman up the mountain. Are you?”
“Not that it’s your business, but yes.” What are you doing, Ryder? You need Holt’s help here.
“And you think that’s a good idea? You haven’t been on a climb or led anyone out as a guide in too long. Mom’s worried about you.” Translation—Holt was concerned.
Wait. Mom hand-selected this woman for Ryder and invited her to dinner, but now she didn’t want him spending a couple of days with her on the mountain?
“Are you calling on her behalf? Or is there anything more to this inquisition?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Ryder. I’m glad you’re going, finally, but take someone experienced with you.”
“Everyone is booked.” And this needed to be just him and Sarah. No one else needed to be dragged into the danger.
“You called me, though, remember? I’m returning your call, so is there anything I can do?”
“You don’t need to go with me, if that’s what you’re offering,” Ryder said.
“I can’t anyway. I’m in the middle.”
Meaning Holt was in the thick of things and couldn’t get away. “You can at least pray.” There was more at play than a simple climb. How much should Ryder share?
“Can I ask why you decided to take her up? You’ve refused the mountain for so long now.”
“It’s complicated. I called for a reason, and I need your help. There is something you can do for me.”
“What’s that?”
Holt was an intelligence operations specialist with Homeland Security—one of the few people Ryder trusted to handle sensitive information without blowing the entire thing wide open.
Ryder didn’t want to put him in a bad situation .
. . still . . . he would be foolish not to inform him—at least to a point.
Carrying a personal locator beacon or satellite messenger was always important, but the beacon pinged too wide, and considering Sarah had followers, he couldn’t risk anyone picking up that signal.
“I’m setting my device to private tracking—it’s only going to send coordinates to you, and only if something goes wrong.
” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that much, but he needed Holt to know, to watch. To be aware.
Silence met him over the line. Then, finally, Holt said, “Care to give some context?”
“You’ll get a static grid if you don’t hear from me in seventy-two hours.”
“I don’t like this, Ryder. I need more information. What’s this about?”
He wished he could say Sarah’s words, “I’ve said as much as I can.” He’d use Sarah’s line, only different. “You’re the only one I trust.”
“See, this is what happens when I listen to my gut. Something told me things were off about this. Mom sent me a picture of the woman. I’m—”
“Then tell no one else. No one. I shared some of it with Wade, but he doesn’t know the rest. Do you hear me? You trust me, don’t you?”
“I’ve got your back, bro, but only if you tell me what this is about—as soon as you can.”
“I will. I’ll tell you what I know now.” Ryder went through the high points.
“A treasure hunter? Come on, Ryder.”
“No, Holt. You aren’t getting this. Sarah . . . I suspect she was some sort of fed before, worked for the government. I don’t know, but there’s something very nasty swirling around this.”
“You haven’t gotten Mom into danger, have you?”
“Mom is the one who invited Sarah over to dinner. Wade and Harlan are Mom’s heroes while I’m on the mountain. Timber too.”
“Do I need to disentangle from work and come out there? If not for you, then for Mom?”
“You need to watch and wait. As mentioned, if you don’t hear from me in seventy-two hours from now, not even an emergency ping, then something is very wrong.” He hung his head. “I hate involving you.”
“Just, please . . . this isn’t some kind of effort on your part to redeem the past, is it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” But sure, maybe. He hadn’t thought about it that hard. But maybe deep down, this was his subconscious urging him forward as if he could, somehow, make up for the past.
“You did the right thing, Ryder. No matter what I do for my job, we’re brothers first. I’m going to dig a little . . . under the radar. Answer if I message you while you’re on the mountain. It means I learned something.”
“I will.” Ryder ended the call with the strongest sense that Holt might even now be planning to head to Mercy Ridge.
He returned his attention to unloading the truck, only to discover that Sarah had finished instead of taking the break she’d mentioned.
He found her sitting on the living room floor, assembling her backpack like a pro.
He knew so little about her, and everything new he learned intrigued him all the more.
Later that evening, Mom brought over burgers from the diner.
She loved feeding people, but she also loved learning everything she could about Ryder’s latest endeavor, especially when it involved Sarah Ellison.
Mom had gotten the idea that Ryder liked Sarah as more than a client, a woman in trouble he was helping, and that idea had burrowed deep inside his mother. And maybe even Ryder too.
Because what wasn’t to like? Except maybe danger and trouble and secrets.
He shoved all those concerns aside for the moment and piled their gear and his pack by the front door, and he would load it in the truck before the sun rose.
Via an old logging road, they’d drive up to Lost Signal Trailhead at just over 4,500 feet—a high enough access point to take them closer to their destination.
They’d get started on the mountain. Sarah claimed she’d been a triathlete. Maybe he should have tested her athletic abilities beforehand, but they usually didn’t test clients. They trusted them.
He’d asked her to put her backpack next to the door, but it was missing. He moved down the hall and lightly knocked on the guest bedroom door.
Wearing panda pajamas, she opened the door and moved back to the writer’s desk in the corner.