Chapter 16
Sixteen
The wind died down, but he counted on it to return.
Coming up here had probably been a bad idea, and he could think of nothing he wanted more than to find what needed to be found and get back down the mountain before the weather turned for the worse.
They both needed rest if they wanted to stay on track and on pace tomorrow, but he had a feeling sleep would evade him, especially with the possibility of someone following, and he wouldn’t be able to let go of everything Sarah had shared.
There was so much more to this story, and it just kept growing.
The quiet settled again, or so he thought.
Sarah suddenly shifted and sat up. “Did you hear that?” she asked in the smallest of whispers.
No.
Snap.
But he’d heard that.
Not wind.
Just beyond the tent.
Slipping out of the sleeping bag, he made no sound and put on his hiking boots. Laced them up in ten seconds, then—slow and controlled—he reached for his sidearm. Another sound put him on edge.
Was danger closing in? He drew near Sarah to whisper in her ear. “Stay here.”
He grabbed his jacket and then slowly unzipped the tent flap. He slid out into the night, moving stealthily in the shadows around the tent. They were tucked away in an alcove against the granite outcropping, still in the tree line. If anyone was here, they were hiding in the thick woods, no doubt.
A sliver of moon lit up the night, but clouds rolled in.
Ryder waited and watched and prayed an animal had made the sounds.
Then he crept into the woods and shined the flashlight around, even though that could make him a target.
But he found no one waiting in the shadows near the tent.
Still, something had set him on edge to begin with.
Or was it just too many bedtime ghost stories in the tent?
Ryder feared that he might have lost his edge, and Sarah wasn’t safe with him like they both wanted to believe.
The crunch of boots drew his attention around, but he didn’t lift his weapon. He knew that cadence.
Sarah stared at him, aiming her weapon, and then lowered it.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “I told you to stay inside.”
“I thought something had happened to you.” She hiked forward and shined her flashlight around. “So, what or who made the noise?”
He shined his flashlight on the ground, and his skin prickled. Something wasn’t right. They weren’t alone. Then he shined the light up in the trees, and along the edge of a boulder a few yards away, bright eyes reflected.
He stepped in front of Sarah. “Stay behind me.”
The mountain lion leapt away, and he followed with his flashlight as the big cat ran off, deeper into the mountain terrain.
“Was that a—?”
“Mountain lion. This is their territory.”
“Is that thing going to follow us? What do we do?”
“We hike together, that’s what we do. An attack is rare, but we’ve encroached into its territory.”
“I wouldn’t dream of hiking without you. I guess I owe you an apology for complaining about you only bringing one tent. I’m glad we’re together now.”
Yeah, he figured. “The two of us in one tent will help keep us warm.”
“There’s that, sure. But what I’m saying is that if the big cat decides to break into our tent, you’re bigger so probably tastier, and he can take you instead of me.”
He shined the light in her face and caught her smile before she blocked him, then he dropped the beam.
“That’s enough excitement for tonight,” he said. “Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow will be here too soon.”
They settled back into the tent and sleeping bags, but Ryder left his unzipped and kept his boots on. He wasn’t entirely sure that someone hadn’t been out there before.
Lord, help me protect her. Give us the rest we need tonight. Help us find the truth.
Ryder finally drifted off and when his lids fluttered open, the gray of morning lit the tent. He’d wanted rest, but the fact that he slept so hard surprised him. He pulled on his sleeping bag to discover it had been zipped again. What? He didn’t remember doing that.
Then he glanced over at Sarah.
She was gone. His heart stammered, until he smelled coffee.
The fact that he’d slept through her escaping the tent disturbed him to his bones.
That should never happen. Had he really grown that rusty?
Grabbing his coat, he scrambled out of the tent and found Sarah making breakfast with the small stove.
She poured him a steaming cup of coffee and handed it over with a smirk. “Morning, sleepy head.”
“Morning.” It came out gruff.
“Someone got up on the wrong side of their sleeping bag.”
“And someone else got up on the right side.” He lifted his mug in her direction. “Thanks. It’s nice and strong.”
“Eat up, cowboy. Let’s get packed and moving,” she said. “We’re having freeze-dried breakfast skillets.” She handed him the torn-open foil packet to which she’d added boiling water.
He dug in. “You’re an excellent cook.”
“Not exactly Michelin three-star.” She smiled.
He could really get used to that smile. He took a bite. “As freeze-dried breakfasts go, not bad. I’m impressed you managed to make this edible.”
“You have no idea,” she said. “Try me sometime.”
“What? Are you saying you can cook?”
“Maybe?” She winked.
And it felt a little bit like she was flirting, and he was here for it. Except—what was he thinking? He needed to redirect his thoughts. “Thanks for the food.”
“I figure calories are calories.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling positive and already moving. Today is going to be rough.”
“Nothing I can’t handle. I would have asked for permission . . . you know . . . using the stove, but I needed coffee. Instead, I’ll ask for forgiveness. We’re heading out soon anyway, right?”
“Right.” Some former soldier he was. He hadn’t proven his worth last night if he’d slept so hard she could zip him into his sleeping bag. But after five years out of the Teams, a guy could get rusty—and he was proof of it.
“I love you, son.” Dad’s last words before he fell.
Yep. He’d been rusty, even then. He drank up while he took in the skies, the mountains, the region below them. Sarah had already finished eating and began packing up. She entered the tent and rolled up both sleeping bags before he’d finished his breakfast.
“We’ll hike to base camp today.” He moved to assist her in taking down the tent, though his help really wasn’t needed.
She stopped with his words, put her hands on her hips, then wiped her nose. “Base camp. I didn’t think we’d be on this mountain that long.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Just the way I’ve always done things. Set up a base camp—central to where we might explore, even if we don’t plan to stay longer. We need to be prepared in case the weather changes fast and we need shelter.”
They finished the tent, and he folded and stashed it in his pack.
He had a feeling they’d be on this mountain longer than planned, and that was just the way of things sometimes.
He didn’t need his gut to tell him that as he stared at the clouds moving in.
So much for getting in and out before inclement weather.
That had been a long shot to begin with.
Still, if they found the spot on the map today and whatever eye-opening answer she needed, then he would push to get back to Mercy Ridge.
Using his field glasses—small binoculars—he surveyed the path he would take ahead and took a moment to canvass the path he’d taken a few weeks ago, the one he knew because he’d climbed it, paving a new trail of his own.
But they were heading a different direction today to find the spot marked on her grandfather’s map.
Ryder swept his gaze across the slope, instinct flicking through every shadow and rise.
Blackspire Mountain was a brute of a mountain.
It wasn’t just about the height but also the mass, with its sprawling ridgelines, deep gullies, and dense surrounding forests that were enough to swallow a dozen search teams without a trace.
If someone was following them, he couldn’t just watch the trails, he had to watch the blind spots and the places someone could tuck into and vanish.
Up here, it wasn’t about speed—it was about slipping beneath notice.
Well . . . he’d noticed.
A mile away—not nearly far enough—he spotted another tent.
Coincidence? Doubtful. Anyone coming this way would have hired a guide, and Good Adventures or even Dean’s group wouldn’t normally ever come this way.
It wasn’t on any beaten path or map, and without a specific reason, no one would come up here.
So . . . there was no going back.
If he and Sarah went back the same way they’d come, chances were good they would face off with the bad guys.
The same person or persons who silenced her brother?
He couldn’t be sure but wouldn’t risk it.
He understood her need for answers, because now he wanted to know just what had been buried for decades on Blackspire Mountain, an iconic volcano that held such importance for his family’s legacy that it had become the backdrop of the town he loved—Mercy Ridge.
What had been buried to cause this level of danger?
Ryder was in this now, for reasons of his own. In fact, if Sarah backed out, he would still finish it. All these years, and his grandfather had told him the plane hadn’t crashed on the mountain. Had he truly believed that? Bought into the lies?
Or had he known the truth?
If so, he hadn’t given a deathbed confession. And if so, Just what truth were you hiding, Grandpa?