Chapter 1
Therefore whatever you have said in the dark shall be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in private rooms shall be proclaimed on the housetops.
Secrets can’t stay buried forever.
The road into the North Cascades was narrow, twisting just like the path Sarah Ellison had chosen. As she navigated the two-lane highway that took her deep into the mountains, she listened to her sister-in-law, Tessa, pleading with her over the cell.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tessa said.
Don’t I? “It’s too late to back out. You and Jeremiah stay hidden, and you’ll be safe.
You focus on taking care of him and don’t worry about me.
” Tessa and Jeremiah—who was only three years old—remained tucked in a safe house along the coast. “There’s plenty to explore.
Build sandcastles. Collect seashells. Act normal. Just . . . keep your head down.”
Someone had buried the truth, and she would excavate whatever lay hidden on the mountain that had already claimed one life.
Her brother, Aaron, deserved justice. Two weeks ago, Aaron had drowned, and that left Sarah to finish what he’d started before it was too late.
Since her husband had died four years ago and now her brother, that meant Tessa and Jeremy were the only family she had left.
“You could just stay here on the coast until it all blows over,” Tessa said.
Sarah had no plans to simply let this go. “I know what I’m doing.”
Once . . . she’d been good at her job with the federal government. She’d left that part of her life—left the secrets, the lies, and the burden of knowing too much behind. But sometimes, the past didn’t let go so easily.
Silence met her over the cell. Had the call dropped? “You still there?”
“Yes.” Tessa obviously had her doubts. Then she started in again, but this time only half her words came over the connection.
“Listen, you’re breaking up,” Sarah said. “I need to go. Call me if anything happens. Anything suspicious. Let me decide if it’s something to worry about.”
The call ended, and she turned her focus back to the winding road.
Autumn leaves swirled in this place where beauty abounded and took her breath away.
Considering that it was October already, she was running out of time in more than one way.
The mountain would be unforgiving once the snow started falling.
On that point, she could already be too late.
But one thing at a time. First, she had to get to Mercy Ridge.
At times the highway edged too close for comfort to a steep drop-off, making the drive treacherous, and she imagined it foreshadowing what she could expect over the next few days.
One small veer—that’s all it would take to send her over the edge.
The guardrails promised safety they couldn’t deliver.
Life was like that too, offering comfort you couldn’t count on, protection that vanished when you needed it most. One moment of looking the wrong way, one choice made in fear or desperation, and everything could change forever.
One mistake could take a person farther from where they’d hoped to land than they ever imagined.
But sometimes someone else’s mistake had the same effect and sent a person off the right path.
She just hadn’t figured out whose mistake had derailed her plans.
Because just like that, here Sarah was, with a chest full of dread, on her way to a quiet Bavarian-style town in the American Alps.
Perfect for tourists and skiers and outdoor adventurers. Sarah was none of those things.
Her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as a streak of lightning split the sky, momentarily blinding her. She swerved and almost drove off the road. But corrected the vehicle. A sudden torrent pounded her windshield, exploded, and crackled across the pavement, making the road slick.
Wonderful. She didn’t have time for bad weather.
But she was almost there. Almost safe. Except safety was an illusion, and she shouldn’t let herself forget.
Though she’d lost her tail—that silver boxy crossover so obviously following—she wouldn’t count on keeping her follower at bay forever.
Sarah had known she had a shadow before she’d turned onto this road.
The vehicle had been behind her, lingering just far enough back that most people wouldn’t have noticed.
But she wasn’t most people. And she’d turned at just the right moment.
Maybe they hadn’t seen her.
Maybe they had. So she couldn’t risk it.
She’d change up her plans. She wasn’t sure how they’d found her in the first place.
In this old 1999 Ford Explorer she couldn’t be followed—no GPS or Bluetooth.
She’d bought it off Tessa and Aaron’s neighbor in Sequim.
Paid him in cash. With duct tape on the side mirror and a dog leash looped around the rearview mirror, it was perfect for fitting in with the rural community and tourists in Mercy Ridge.
Slowing the vehicle, she turned down an almost imperceptible forest road, then steered deep into the woods.
She then turned off the road between the trees, intruding upon nature so that low-hanging branches scraped the truck.
Good enough.
She hopped out. Beneath the dense evergreens, the rain had slowed.
She grabbed her backpack filled with survival and tactical gear—everything she might need in case the unexpected happened.
Spare clothes and cash. Her Sig Sauer P365—though if she had to use it here, she was already doomed.
She’d packed two extra mags that were wrapped and stored deep in the pack. And an encrypted laptop.
She had a locked duffel with a secondary 9mm, a tactical vest satellite communicator, and more, but that vest would have to wait until she could come back to retrieve it. She couldn’t carry everything as she made her way on foot. Wasn’t the first time she’d had to alter her plans.
This almost felt like old times.
Her goal was to lose her followers and disappear if they tried this road, though if they had a clue what she was after, they would already be in Mercy Ridge waiting for her.
Jamming her hand into her pocket, she pulled out the cracked compass that had belonged to her grandfather.
She never traveled without it because, as he claimed, it always pointed to what mattered most. Well, it was broken but inscribed with “Family is everything.” She didn’t need the reminder, but maybe she needed the comfort.
Once she hiked down this foothill to town, she’d blend into the Mercy Ridge community and remain off the radar.
Once there, her first task was to hire a guide to take her deep into the Cascades.
These mountains held three hundred glaciers, which was more than any other US park outside of Alaska.
And she shuddered at the reminders of Alaska.
She didn’t relish going back into any terrain that resembled her morbid experience, especially when this region was uncommonly remote.
“Yeah, and reports the highest death rate in the country,” she mumbled to herself. Hikers beware.
Already talking yourself out of it, are you?
But to accomplish her mission, she needed someone who knew their way around the mountains—these mountains—like the back of their hand.
And from what she’d read, Ryder Goodwin was the right man for the job.
She’d done her research. His great-grandfather had built the town.
After Ryder’s stint as a Navy SEAL, he’d returned to Mercy Ridge.
She’d read probably too much into his past because she knew how to get access, but regardless of what had happened, he had carved out a new life working as a guide for Good Adventures and running wilderness training exercises.
His picture wasn’t on the website, but his name was listed along with several other guides. She didn’t want to ruin his life by dragging him into whatever this turned into with her, but she needed his help.
Would he even be there? Could she convince him this was a good idea? Could she accomplish her self-imposed task without raising too many questions? She didn’t know.
Pausing to catch her breath, Sarah looked out over the town in the valley below.
She still had a hundred feet or so to go before she’d hit Five Cedars River at the bottom, flowing out of an expansive waterfall.
Sarah swiped the sweat beading her forehead—even on this cool mid-sixties day—and adjusted her backpack straps.
Then she felt it.
A slight tremble beneath her boots. She frowned and scanned the ground, searching. Had she imagined it? Unease shivered over her.
The earth shifted beneath her feet, this time she had no doubt.
Suddenly the ground gave way beneath her with a sickening lurch, crumbling and morphing into liquefied dirt.
A scream ripped from her throat when the earth vanished from under her in a gush, racing down the slope, carrying Sarah with it.
Plunging her body toward the river below, the torrent of mud whipped her side to side like she was a rag doll on a natural waterslide.
Except she had no control over the landing at the bottom.
The raging river and the base of the cataract waited to swallow her.
I have to stop this!
She tried to grab at branches, arms flailing and fingers clawing anything solid—a rock, a branch, roots. Anything to stop the momentum of the churning sludge, until cold, thick mud coated her, even clogging her mouth and nose. Rocks and broken branches nicked her arms and legs.
The roar of the river grew louder.
No, no, no!
If she was going under, she had to suck in a breath before she hit that frigid water.
Panic built in her chest as she struggled to spit out the mud. Then she saw him.
She must have been seeing things. Had to blink the mud out of her eyes.
A man leaned out over a thick, sturdy branch as if bracing to grab her. She didn’t know how his rescue would be possible. His eyes locked on hers, willing her to understand. She barely made out his tense features.
Oh, I understand. God, please let this work!
She rushed toward his outstretched arm . . . I have this one chance.
Her only chance.
She reached out, stretching, her muscles screaming.
Then he clamped onto her wrist, holding her as mud poured around her. Gritting her teeth, muscles straining, she willed him to pull her up and out. But the forces of nature had other plans. She screamed as she clawed toward him.
But the mud wouldn’t let go.