Chapter Three
Liv arrived at the South Rim lodge fifteen minutes before the welcome briefing. A quick scan revealed no sign of Mandy. Not
a shocker, but it still chafed. At least the crowded cafeteria gave her something to focus on. She sat down by the massive
stone fireplace on the edge of the dining room, searching the crowd to pick out possible members of their trip.
She had always thought rafting the Grand Canyon required boatloads of money and years on a waitlist. But Mandy had somehow
scooped up two free spots on a trip down the lower half of the Colorado. The details her sister had shared were vague—just
a single screenshotted email inviting Mandy on an exclusive “Essence Quest”—but the outfitter was legitimate, and Liv’s attention
had quickly turned to filling out forms, scrutinizing the itinerary, and absorbing as much as possible about the potential
risks on the river. Whenever Liv pressed for more details about who had paid for their spots, her sister simply called it
a golden opportunity. Liv just hoped the opportunity didn’t come with strings attached. Or if it did, that those strings didn’t
require them to pose for a sexy reindeer photoshoot. Again.
According to the outfitter’s documentation, there were ten guests on their trip, plus three guides. It was a beautiful late-summer
weekend, and Liv clocked roughly three hundred people milling around the lodge dining room. Which of them would she be posted
with on the river?
She spotted one of the guides over by the bar, his long hair half tamed by a Wild Adventures hoodie.
He was early. She liked that. He was flirting with the waitress, leaning so far over the thick wood slab that Liv could see a dark mess of tattoo ink snaking down his side.
A clipboard and a stack of papers lay like long-suffering dogs by his leather-sandaled feet.
The man looked part feral, part trickster, part business.
Liv appreciated how openly he wore his inconsistencies.
Everyone had them. As a profiler, Liv was trained to look for what didn’t fit, to both construct and obliterate the obvious narratives presented by the information in front of her.
Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Still no Mandy. The guide was now over by the door, calling in a lilting Southern accent for their
group to assemble. Liv strode over to join him, forcing herself not to keep scanning the room for her sister. She’d show up.
Eventually.
The guide called himself Thor, no last name. His blond mane shone under the fluorescent lights. Thor nodded to the man on
his left, and the guests started introducing themselves around the circle.
Some treated the occasion like a cocktail party, while others appeared to be bracing themselves for a grueling tour of duty.
For the most part, Liv ignored their words. She was a profiler, not a politician. Occupations, places of residence: All of
that would be repeated ad nauseam over the days to come. But this was her only opportunity to form first impressions. To see
how people presented themselves in a new situation, with new companions. Some would show up posturing, staking a claim to
power unearned. Others would deflect, simper, or hide their teeth in their smiles. She watched for what people hid, listened
for what they didn’t say.
First to introduce themselves were a middle-aged brother and sister, Charlie and Devon.
Both were in hiking gear, but they wore it differently.
Devon was tall, solid and weathered, her well-used clothes aged in comfort and pleasure, whereas her brother, Charlie, was a citified bundle of nerves, his brand-new outfit tacked like an itchy costume to his frame.
Next to them was PK, another urbanite, a pretty man in his late twenties with a sleek faux-hawk, his pursed lips suggesting a barely contained intolerance for the rustic lodge, the other guests, or the entire prospect of the trip.
Dr. Fiona Moon, an exquisite, angular blonde from Los Angeles, made sure to emphasize the “doctor” in front of her name.
Liv was just starting to wonder why such slick city people had come to the Grand Canyon when she looked down at her own ill-fitting Romanian slacks.
She was a creature of civilization as much as they were.
The last three guests were from other countries. Across from her, a bearded beanpole named Stefan effused about his first
time in the great American West, betraying a hint of a Dutch accent. And finally, there was Imogen, a redheaded teenager from
Quebec making duck faces at her phone, and her grandmother, Lucinda. The older, birdlike woman watched over Imogen with a
mix of care and derision, as if the girl were a lump of bread dough yet to rise.
“That’s eight of you.” Thor looked down at his clipboard. “We’re missing two.”
“That would be my little sister,” Liv said.
“And mine,” Charlie said.
“Ours,” Devon amended.
The three glanced at each other, a silent meeting of the unreliable sibling club. But then Charlie explained that their sister
Babette would be joining the group the next day for the official launch of the Essence Quest. Devon nodded. It had all been
arranged with Thor’s bosses.
Thor looked at Liv expectantly, as if she too would have a sensible explanation regarding her sister’s whereabouts. But nothing
about Mandy was sensible.
“She’ll be here.” Liv refused to lie on principle, but the truth always bent a bit around her sister. “I’m sure she’s just . . .
caught up.” Whether Mandy was stuck in a tequila shooter contest or backstage at a rodeo was anyone’s guess.
Orientation was a perfunctory affair, a flurry of signatures and stern reminders to be at the trailhead early the next morning, bags packed and ready to go.
While Thor talked, Liv watched the others.
There were no hugs nor cheerful reunions, but some of these people recognized each other.
There were subtle nods around the circle, one or two of which were curt enough to suggest past run-ins may not have been entirely positive.
Had they traveled together before? Liv wanted to ask what exactly an Essence Quest entailed, but Thor kept rattling through his spiel, telling them any questions unrelated to the next morning’s departure would be best answered once they reached the river.
“Four thirty a.m. Or we’re leaving without you.” Thor directed his final words at Liv.
She resisted the urge to tell him he was wasting his breath suggesting that she had any control, let alone influence, over
her sister’s movements.
“She’ll be here,” Liv repeated.
It took a slow lap around the dining room and a disappointingly dry snickerdoodle for Liv to quash the desire to call out
an APB on her sister. She was wiping the last of the crumbs into a trash can when she felt something brush her hip.
“Hey, foxy. Miss me?”
Mandy dumped her overflowing backpack on the floor and opened her arms for a hug. Liv stared at the impossibility of her sister,
the inevitability of this moment. Her disappointment fizzled into something stickier and more complicated. Mandy looked frenzied
and bright, like a handful of Skittles exploded into human form. Her dark curls cascaded over her red leather jacket. Behind
her, a young man in a polo shirt hovered with a tray and two frosted glasses filled to the brim.
Liv swallowed her frustration and stepped into her sister’s embrace.
The man thrust the tray toward them. “Congratulations, ladies. These are on the house.”
“What?” Liv was confused. “You don’t have to—”
Mandy squeezed her shoulder once, hard, and beamed back at the man, waggling her left hand in the air. Something sparkled
in the artificial light. “Thank you so much. She just asked me this morning, can you believe it?”
“You couldn’t have picked a more magical place on the planet,” the young man said. He glanced down at the ring, a spray of pimples across his forehead flashing pink. “And, uh, I support you.”
Mandy had the courtesy to wait until he left before she dissolved into giggles.
Liv rubbed her temple. “Incest? That’s messy even for you.”
“Just trying to get into the vacation spirit.” Mandy popped the ring off her finger and handed it to Liv. It wasn’t even a
good fake. Cheap, dinged up, a back-of-the-flea-market find. The band had already started turning her sister’s finger green.
“It’s great for getting men to leave you alone. Or for scoring free drinks with a cutie. A twofer.” Mandy slid the ring back
on and handed Liv a glass, raising hers to clink.
“To forever.”
“Forever.” The lager was crisp and bright, and Liv tried to ignore that a lie had delivered it. Her sister wasn’t going to
change. No matter how many times Liv asked her, challenged her, or argued with her about the truth, it just wasn’t in her
nature. When Liv had been trained in polygraph analysis, she’d learned dozens of ways jokers try to beat the test. Deodorant
on the fingertips. Thumbtack in the shoe. Mandy used the only technique that actually worked: She lied constantly. She had
a full-time, twenty-four seven commitment to making shit up. No lie too small. No story too implausible. She got it from their
father. As much as Liv rationalized it, as much as she tried to accept her sister for who she was, Mandy’s lies still made
her flinch.
She took another long pull of her beer, letting it wash away her discomfort. She could do this. Every year, their trip started
bumpy. Every year, they had to relearn how to live together. It always worked out. Mostly.
“You missed orientation,” Liv said.
“You can brief me,” Mandy said. “You’re good at that.”
Liv pointed out Charlie and Devon, the middle-aged siblings, who were deep in an argument by the bar.
Imogen and Lucinda were trying on hats and rafting gloves in the gift shop.
PK and Fiona were nowhere to be seen. She clocked the last of their group near the door, where Thor was still chatting with Stefan, the bearded Dutchman.
Mandy gave an appreciative nod. “Single?”
“I didn’t think to ask about their relationship status.”
“Dibs on blond Tarzan,” Mandy said. “You can have the professor.”
“Thor’s a guide,” Liv said. “There are probably rules against them hooking up with guests.”
Mandy grinned. “I look forward to bending them.”
Liv forced a smile onto her face and told herself not to grimace. She could do this. They could do this. One week of sister
time, a chance to shake off the cobwebs from Bucharest, and then Liv would head south to her future helping take down illegal
smuggling operations.
She ran a finger over Mandy’s ring, letting its sharp edges poke into her skin.
“Maybe you should take that off before you meet everyone in the morning. Wouldn’t want Thor to get the wrong idea.”
“Some guys are into it.” Mandy drained her glass and pocketed the ring. “If you won’t be my fiancée . . . how about circus
performers?”
“I’m not flexible enough for that.”
“Cattle ropers?”
Liv glanced over at Thor and Stefan. “They might ask for a demonstration.”
“How about you be the stick-in-the-mud foreign service officer, and I’ll be the jet-setting woman of mystery you’ve been pursuing?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a jet-setting high school art teacher.”
“I’m one of a kind.”
That she was. Mandy’s brown eyes were wide, radiating warmth. She was all curves and curls, sugar and sweat. Liv could feel
herself getting sucked in. She could sense other people in the cavernous room turning toward Mandy, magnetized without even
knowing it.
“So in this scenario,” Liv said, “I’ve chased you to the edge of the Grand Canyon and intend to extract your secrets as we
float down the river?”
“That’s right.” Mandy’s eyes were shining now. “Until the night of the full moon, when I escape from our campsite and vanish up a side canyon without a trace.”
Liv hooked her arm through her sister’s. “Yes.”
“Yes to you tying me to a cactus and letting scorpions crawl all over my body until I reveal my nefarious plan?”
“Yes, I missed you.”
She always did.