Chapter 5
Five
If he could just get one parent to see reason, then he could let this go and assume they’d take care of it.
Liam leaned forward and flipped through the photos that Nimue had given him on her iPad yesterday morning one more time—crystal clear images of eight teenagers laughing, cans of beer in hand.
He’d spent hours identifying each one, cross-referencing park records and social media.
Now he was on the phone with Mr. Hensley of Hensley Enterprises, father of Tyler, the lanky kid in the red hoodie.
“Mr. Hensley.” Liam fought to keep his voice controlled, but tautness betrayed him anyway. “These photos clearly show your son below the rim without a permit. He’s sixteen, holding a beer. That’s not just a citation—it’s dangerous.”
“You’ve got nothing, Ranger. Those pictures are too close up to prove where they were. Could’ve been anywhere. All I see is my kid maybe having a drink. Kids will be kids. I’ll talk to him, all right?”
Liam glanced at the photos again, each one a frozen moment of reckless bravado. He’d hoped the parents would at least take it seriously, but this was the fifth call, and they were all singing the same tune.
“Sir.” Liam’s voice gained an edge as he leaned forward. “This isn’t about underage drinking alone. The fines for camping below the rim without authorization are hundreds of dollars per person, not to mention the having a fire in a non-designated area.”
“So you’re just trying to get money out of me?”
“No. The rules are in place for a reason. And have you thought about the fact they were drinking near those edges? One wrong step—”
“I’ve heard enough.” Hensley switched to his CEO voice, all authority and dismissal. “You can’t prove they were down there. You’re fishing. We’re done.” The line went dead.
Liam slammed the receiver down, the sound cracking through the quiet office. He leaned back in the chair again, running a hand through his dark hair, his blue eyes fixed on the photos. Something about this case gnawed at his gut. Drinking and edges didn’t mix—he knew that better than most.
A memory flickered: Christiana’s laugh, her blonde braid catching the sunrise as she’d waved him off, insisting she could handle the climb.
He’d seen her drinking more than normal at lunch and should’ve stopped her, should’ve trusted the warning bells in his gut.
But she’d insisted, assuring him that where she’d grown up, drinking wasn’t a big deal—just part of the culture.
And he’d believed her. After all, what did he know about her Eastern European background?
But a cliff face wasn’t forgiving and didn’t care where you grew up.
It took what it wanted if you weren’t at the top of your game.
A half-second delay in reaction time could mean the difference between life and death.
And it had.
Liam blinked, shoving the thought down, but it left a familiar ache throbbing in his chest.
The office door creaked and Noah stepped in, his large frame filling the doorway.
One of the few guys who made Liam feel small at just over six feet.
Noah’s long sun-bleached hair was pulled back in a messy knot, and his easy grin—half hidden by his bushy beard—faltered as he caught Liam’s expression.
He pulled up a chair across from the desk. “How’d the call go?”
Liam exhaled, his voice tight. “Same as the others. Hensley’s covering for his kid, says the photos don’t prove they were below the rim. Thinks it’s just kids drinking, no big deal. Hung up on me.”
Noah whistled low, leaning back in his chair. “That’s five for five.”
Liam looked out the window, where late afternoon light slanted through the glass.
It had to be near dinnertime. “One slip, one bad call…” He trailed off, his fingers drumming against the iPad.
“I need to go back and talk to Nimue. See if she’s got any wider shots, something that shows the terrain, proves their precise location. ”
Noah’s brow lifted. “Already on a first-name basis?”
“It’s not like that. Our paths have just crossed a few times. She’s the one who found that little girl last week. And get this—she owns the bus we were looking for.”
“So the girl who has surveillance-quality photos of these kids is the same one who has satellites on her rig, and now you’re telling me she’s the person who was in the mysterious vanishing Instagram post?”
He’d forgotten he’d talked to Noah about the photo—the one that had popped up on his phone, tagged with his name when they’d helped Lily find her mom.
A candid shot of Nimue gripping his arm, pulling him from the crowd.
It had vanished before he could save it.
Not just that one—all of the photos had vanished, like they’d never existed.
“Probably nothing, but you have to admit there’s a lot that doesn’t add up with this girl.”
Liam’s jaw twitched. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
The more he learned, the more Nimue became a puzzle he couldn’t fit together.
“Any chance you have a last name?”
“Nope.” And even with a unique name like hers, she was a ghost online. He’d scoured the internet for any trace—Nimue with hashtags for the Grand Canyon, hiking, anything. Nothing. Either she didn’t do social media, or…Nope. Even now he couldn’t come up with an alternative. She was a complete ghost.
“You think she’s hiding something?” Noah asked, studying him.
“I don’t know.” Liam stood, grabbed his pack, and slid the iPad inside. “But I need to find out. And I need to get this back to her anyway.”
Noah offered a quick nod before claiming the chair behind the desk. “Go talk to her. I’ll keep an eye on things here. Maybe she’s got those wider shots you need. Or maybe she’ll let something slip.”
Liam needed to figure out how to get her to trust him. Open up. But after he returned this iPad, he had no real reason to go back other than stalking. That didn’t exactly promote trust.
Liam slung the pack over his shoulder. He was ready to ask a few more questions. His instincts told him there was a bigger picture, one he wasn’t seeing yet.
Teague appeared in the doorway like a jack-in-the-box. “We’re leaving Saturday at six a.m. Don’t be late.”
Noah sighed. “Why did I ever let you talk me into bungee jumping?”
“Because it’s going to be awesome.” A full grin spread across Teague’s face. He looked to Liam for confirmation.
Liam nodded and forced what he hoped looked like a convincing smile. If he could get back to being that adrenaline junkie he’d once been, maybe then the nightmares would stop. “I’ll be there.”
Twenty minutes later, gravel crunched under the tires of Liam’s ranger truck as he pulled up beside Nimue’s bus, dust swirling in the late afternoon sun.
He spotted her immediately, standing near the trailhead, chest rising and falling, sweat gleaming on her skin like she’d just finished a run.
Her tank top clung to her frame, and her dark-brown eyes sharpened as she noticed him, wariness flickering across her face.
Liam stepped out, his six-foot-two frame unfolding from the truck, and her gaze swept over him—quick, assessing, maybe something more—and it stirred heat in his chest that he hadn’t expected.
He leaned against the truck, his posture casual but deliberate, and held up her iPad. “Got any wider shots of those kids?”
Nimue took a slow sip from her water bottle, her movements measured, like she was buying time to craft a believable answer. Finally, she lowered the bottle, that too-casual mask he’d become familiar with sliding back into place.
“Photography’s just a hobby.” Her tone was light, almost teasing. “I’m into portraits. Faces tell stories. Didn’t think to zoom out.”
“Of course.” Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly. The photos were too precise, too intentional for a casual hobbyist. But pushing her now would only make her clam up, so he pivoted, nodding toward the trail. “How far did you run?”
“Three miles, give or take.”
“You shouldn’t be out here alone. The trails are rough—loose rocks, snakes, not to mention the edge. One misstep, and you’re done.”
She laughed, sarcastic and defiant, planting a hand on her hip. “I’m living out here alone, Liam. Unless you’re volunteering to run with me, that’s how it’s gonna be.”
Liam should have let it drop. He didn’t need another complication, but Noah also wanted him to keep an eye on her.
“All right.” The words slipped out before he could reconsider. “I’ll run with you.”
Nimue froze, her water bottle halfway to her lips, surprise flashing across her face before she masked it. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” Liam crossed his arms, his gaze steady on hers. “But I work, so it’d need to be early. What do you say? Tomorrow morning, same trail, six o’clock?”
She raised an eyebrow as if she hadn’t expected that, and neither had he, if he was honest. But the offer was out now, and Liam wasn’t one to back down.
Running with her would keep her close, give him a chance to figure out what she was hiding.
And beyond the job, beyond the suspicion, there was something about Nimue—something that made him want to know her, to make sure she stayed safe, even if every instinct warned him that it was a dangerous game.
“Fine,” she said, taking the tablet from him. “Six a.m. Don’t be late.”
Then she headed into her bus and shut the door.
Oh, he wouldn’t.
Well, yesterday’s conversation with Liam had worked out swimmingly, hadn’t it?
In fact, everything suddenly seemed to have simmered down.
Liam had handed her the perfect excuse to monitor him, the Bratva chatter about their “unnamed target” had vanished into digital silence, and that photo of her and Liam—the one that had blazed across social media before disappearing—stayed buried.
Her fingers traced the edge of her laptop. Mission accomplished.
Her stomach twisted anyway.