by Dana Mentink
“Not anymore.”
She glared and shushed him. “Quiet. You’re going to mess things up, and he’ll flee.”
Chad didn’t answer, simply gave her his back as he peered through a screen of bushes into a tight ravine. “He’s down there, heading for that offshoot canyon. It funnels into a pinch point that exits on the beach. Walls are too steep to climb. There’s only one way out unless he doubles back to the opening. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do that.”
“Chad.” Her clipped tone carried on the night air as she strove for a calm she did not feel. “This is my case. You’re not welcome here.” Or anywhere in my life.
The glimmer of moonlight painted him in silver, his expression as hard cast as if he’d been fashioned from the metal itself. “It’s not your case,” he said quietly. “It never was.” Then he moved to his left and started rapidly down the steep ground that would lead him to the mouth of the ravine.
Not your case. Chad saw it as a tragedy that had ruined his father with her help. What had she done, telling him the truth now? But he would have known if she’d tried to lie. They’d once been so bonded, he could tell what she was thinking without a word between them. She’d learned to decipher his barest flicker of expression that spoke volumes. Now he was silent, moving against the darkness.
She knew she’d awakened a fire inside him that would not be quenched until he got the truth. It was the same fire that burned inside her own soul.
You’ll have to find out the facts together since he won’t leave.
His father had only been released from jail six months before. She imagined it would be next to impossible for Rocky to find another job working on boats. The gossip about what he’d done was still alive and well in Driftwood, no doubt.
The scandal had started all those long years ago when she’d spoken to that reporter her father had insisted would help Rocky present his side of the story. The reporter had done nothing but produce a sensation-seeking story that had painted Rocky as a heartless drunk. Her father’s manipulation of her had left scars that had only started to heal since she’d become a Christian. Thus far, she had not experienced any heart-mending whatsoever where Chad was concerned.
Her conscience pricked at her as she took over the lead down the trail. Maybe she did owe Chad at least a token involvement in the case.
Or maybe she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
* * *
Chad wished he were wearing better shoes, since his cowboy boots skidded on the gritty terrain. He didn’t allow it to slow him down. Nothing would hinder him after Dory had dropped her bombshell.
Blaze Turner, the victim who had supposedly died due to his father’s negligence, was alive and well, and Chad intended to find out why. Another question lurked just under the surface. Why did Dory care? Why was she risking herself to root out the truth? Didn’t sound like she was being paid as a PI to find him. There were other options. Alert the police and let them handle it; even contact Chad anonymously if she didn’t want to talk to him directly, which clearly she hadn’t.
When he accidentally trod on her heel, she rounded on him. “Chad, you need to get out of here right now. I will handle this.”
He turned and pressed a finger to his lips. “Quiet, remember?”
Even in the darkness, he imagined he could see her color rise, an angry flush backlighting the scatter of freckles across her nose. Dory was quite simply adorable, but he’d learned the hard way that there was plenty of strength under that sweet facade.
“You said if I told you, you would go.”
“No, I said if you didn’t tell me, I would stay. I’ve decided to stay anyway.”
He ignored her sputtering, picking his way ahead of her as best he could. He had to lean back against the sharp downward pitch of the trail. Fortunately, the chaparral and sagebrush concealed their progress. Still, it was a relief when they reached the bottom, where the ground was slightly mucky.
Moisture collected along the periphery of the river, which surged in the darkness. They both paused to listen as the wind barreled across the riverbed, blasting them with cold.
Dory didn’t seem to register the chill. “There,” she said, pointing to a spot a couple hundred feet upriver.
It wasn’t noise that gave away Blaze’s location but a quick flash of light. The barest gleam perhaps caused by his checking his phone for messages.
Could be, Chad thought, it was an advantage that cell communications were disrupted by the canyon walls. He could not summon his brothers for help, or local cop Danny Patron, but neither could Blaze contact anybody.
“He’s above us, at our eleven o’clock,” Dory murmured into his ear. Her warm breath teased shivers up his spine. He nodded and crept forward. No use telling her to stay back. She wouldn’t listen any more than he had. “Got to cut him off before he exits the canyon.”
She stayed right behind him as they skirted the edge of the river, the rippling water covering their footfalls.
Rock scraped on rock from somewhere above them. A shower of debris rained down, plonking off Chad’s hat and peppering their shoulders. The nearest cover was a bend in the canyon, a small hollow that allowed them to dive in and avoid most of the falling detritus.
Dory was breathing hard as her worried gaze met his. “Natural occurrence or does Blaze have help?”
Chad retrieved his hat. “Dunno. You’re the one with all the information. He knows he’s being followed. You tipped your hand.”
“No, you did.” She poked an accusing finger at his chest. “You stuck yourself in the middle of it all, and the noise gave me away.”
Another rock plummeted so close it almost struck his shoulder. “Probably we should talk about this later.”
The cascade slowed and gradually stopped. Chad sneaked a look. “No movement from above. Blaze is likely still beelining for the beach. I’m going to head him off at the pinch point.”
“No, you’re not,” Dory said, scuttling out of their hiding place before he could unfold his six-foot frame. She raced past him, and by the time he’d gotten free, he’d lost her in the darkness.
“Dory,” he whisper-shouted, but there was no answer save for the moaning wind. He didn’t dare activate his phone light, so he waited until the clouds eased away from the moon long enough for him to pick out the sliver of riverbank. She’d obviously chosen a delicate path that both kept her out of the water and close to the sheltering rock walls.
Two minutes of dedicated pursuit and he caught a glimpse of her, hunched over, soldiering on through a narrowed throat of rock. A cascade of grit hit his cheek. He jerked a look up. Outlined against the sky at the top of the canyon was a precariously balanced boulder.
Was it a trick of the shadows or did he see a figure pressed close to the massive rock? He froze, catching the silhouette again, someone leaning against the granite. No, not leaning—pushing.
His shouted warning was buried in a groan as the boulder gave way and hurtled downward. The rock wall shuddered with the impact of the crashing stone. It smashed with such violence, the noise was like a bomb detonating. His ears pulsed. He almost lost his footing as a granite fragment clipped him on the knee. The sonorous boom nearly deafened him. Though he could not see where the boulder had come to rest through the roiling dust and grit, the noise died away as quickly as it had started.
Heart pounding, he ran to the spot he’d last seen her. There was a pile of rock where the opening had been only a moment before. His cry froze in his throat. The impact of the boulder had crushed the passageway.
“Dory,” he shouted, but he could see no movement except for the billows of dust that stung his eyes, obliterating any signs of life.
FOUR
Vibrations rolled through her and it felt as though the sky itself had caved in. All around, the canyon walls rumbled and cracked, coughing forth stones that struck her shou
lders as she caged her arms around her head. Rolling into as small a bundle as she could manage, she tucked herself tight under a lip of rock and prayed. The cacophony reached deafening levels. Her scream was muffled as dirt poured into her mouth before she clamped it shut.
There was no time to regret her hastiness in following Blaze into the canyon, not a moment to process what she would be leaving behind if the walls continued to unload on top of her. There was only thunder and shuddering shock waves and her own ink-black fear.
Her hiding place creaked and groaned as if it would give way at any moment. The tiny rock fort could not protect her much longer. She hoped it was not time for her to die. There was so much she had left to do, so many ways she had not yet grown into the person God wanted her to be. She could sense the presence of the massive burden ready to annihilate her from above.
The next moment, it was over. The earsplitting sound ebbed away into something much softer. Slow, sliding, trickling debris moved around her in a blanket of grit. But the walls stopped shaking and Dory could hear the beating of her heart, which proved to her senses, if not her brain, that she had lived through it.
I’m alive. Thank You, God. Tears squeezed through her tightly closed lids. Breathing hard, she forced her eyes open.
The darkness was profound. Terror clawed at her throat. Had she lost her sight? Was she buried in a coffin of rock? She blinked hard until tiny glimmers of light began to appear through the gloom, pinpricks of precious gold. She tried an exploratory stretch of her arms. Dust and debris slid and settled around her. As her vision adjusted, she realized she was still under the lip of rock. Above her, a massive boulder was wedged tightly across the top of the opening, blotting out the emerging stars. If it had not been for her small sliver of granite, she would undoubtedly have been crushed. A sharp stab of fear hit her again, deep in her belly.
Just breathe. That’s all you have to do right now.
Swallowing hard, she tried to figure out next steps. The collapse blocked her from climbing upward. Rock and dirt swaddled her so tightly, she was afraid she might be buried alive if she tried to slither backward. There was no way to reach behind and get her phone out of her pocket. She had little hope that it would work anyway.
Chad, she thought suddenly. He was out there. He must have seen what happened. Unless he’d been caught in the avalanche, as well. Her stomach seized up. No. Chad was quick and strong and resourceful. He would get help. She pictured him running for his horse, galloping back to the ranch to raise the alarm. Suddenly she realized she was crying.
She’d come back to make amends, to set right the injustice visited on Chad’s father. How had it all gone so very wrong? If Chad hadn’t shown up, she’d be dead and buried, and no one would even know until someone found her car and put the pieces together.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she hissed. If there was one thing she could not abide, it was self-pity. Though she couldn’t free her hand to wipe her face, she turned her cheek to her shoulder and rubbed away the tears. Better. Now find a way out. If she was going to give Rocky his life back, she was going to have to save her own first.
She considered for a moment how her body was oriented underneath the lifesaving rock shelf. Her only chance was to move in what she figured was an easterly direction, away from the entombing pile toward the riverbed.
As she began to inch along, digging her shoes into the mess for traction, the earth moved with her, like a womb of soil. Rock shifted all around. Her pulse accelerated. Would she be able to free herself or would leaving her shelter mean she’d be crushed in a matter of moments?
One lesson she’d learned after her life had fallen apart five years before: there was nothing on the planet that could not be snatched away in a heartbeat.
All right, God. I know You decide if I live now or die, but I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.
With a quick squeeze of the locket around her neck for comfort, she began to slither into the unknown.
* * *
Chad danced over rolling rocks as he sprinted to the place beneath where the boulder had teetered precariously before settling. It looked as though the face of the canyon wall had sloughed off and collapsed. Every nerve in his body was taut as wire. Dory had to be visible, had to be standing somewhere safe against the treacherous mass, but he could catch no glimpse of her through the billows of airborne dirt.
“Dory!” he shouted. Only the pattering bits of rock answered him as they continued to fall. He pushed closer, climbing around larger fragments and plowing through others. He reached the edge of the collapse, shouting her name again and again.
He grabbed his phone and willed it to pick up a signal. Nothing. He considered running for Zephyr and galloping back to the Roughwater. There would be ranch hands there who could help and Uncle Gus. He turned to sprint, but something in him would not move, could not leave her there alone. Whether she was alive or dead, he was simply unable to run away even for a few moments.
“Come on, come on,” he urged himself. “Think.” He dropped to his knees, trying to assess where she’d been standing when the boulder broke loose. No, it hadn’t broken loose. He felt certain it had been set in motion by Blaze. He had no time to consider that now. Rock shards bit through the denim of his jeans. He bent forward onto hands and knees, tracing a seam of cliff. Was there a protrusion there where she might have sought shelter?
He crawled closer, avoiding a fragment that fell and bounced to his left. The whole thing might just collapse at any moment if that giant boulder continued to shift. It was creaking like the old wood floor in the bunkhouse where he slept.
Slowly he started at the base of the pile, scooping palmfuls of dirt as he’d witnessed Liam’s dog Jingles do countless times to burrow out of any kind of confinement. But unlike the exuberant dog, Chad worked carefully, easing each handful away, listening for further sounds of collapse. He continued until sweat soaked his shirt. He stopped to wipe his brow and turn on his cell phone flashlight.
Each moment increased his panic. What if...? Teeth gritted, he started afresh, digging until the pile started to tremble. He stopped, fearing he’d instigated another collapse. After a couple of seconds, he realized that the tiny movement was continuing, caused not by his actions or the teetering boulder.
He flopped on his belly. “Dory!” he shouted. Had he heard a reply or was it the slamming of his pulse? He started in again, shoveling the dirt away until his fingers were scraped raw.
There was no answer to his insistent shouting and his panic was about to be taken over by despair. Wind chilled his sweat-spangled brow as he sat back on his haunches and strained his ears to their limit.
Boots pounded over the ground.
Liam was suddenly at his side. “Was getting into my truck and I felt the ground shake. Saw dust rising from a collapse. Worried you might be close, so I called the cops and hightailed it here. Status?”
“Dory got caught as part of the cliff gave way. I think the guy who shot at us pushed the boulder over.”
Liam jerked a look at him. “Dory? Your former girlfriend?”
He answered with a curt nod.
Liam took that in. “Got cops rolling. Will check for the squirter.”
Chad had picked up enough military jargon from Liam to know “the squirter” was a person running away from a military attack. He didn’t want to take the time to explain that this particular person was a guy who had been missing for five years and presumed dead. Liam didn’t need to know that at the moment. He would recognize an enemy when he saw one.
Chad had moved a small hill of earth by the time Liam reappeared and resumed his spot on his stomach next to Chad.
“Nada. Can you hear any movement?” Liam asked.
Chad listened again. Nothing except the slow cascade of earth.
Liam put a hand on Chad’s shoulder and he realized he’d not replied. He s
hook his head.
Another set of running feet announced Danny Patron. They rose to greet the police chief. He ran a hand through his thatch of red hair as he surveyed the collapse. “Fire department is on the way, but I’m not sure they’re equipped to handle this. We got a victim in there?”
“Dory Winslow,” Chad said.
Danny assumed the same shocked expression Liam had a moment before. “You mean the Dory Winslow who used to be your...?”
“Yeah,” Chad said. “That one.”
Danny closed his mouth. “Right, then. I’ve got a shovel in my trunk. I’ll get it.”
“Can you put out a BOLO for Blaze Turner?” Chad said.
Both Danny and Liam stopped and stared for the second time.
“Isn’t that the name of the fella who drowned on your dad’s watch?” Liam asked.
“Yeah. He’s alive. Dory was tracking him. She’s a PI.”
Danny’s face shifted in the moonlight from disbelief to befuddlement. “And I thought I’d heard everything after fifteen years doing this job.”
A trail of sliding dirt caught their attention.
Liam pressed his fingertips to the soil. “Hard to tell if it’s the ground shifting or—”
Chad fell to his knees and laid his face on the dirt. He felt a tiny pulse against his cheek. “Dory!” he shouted.
Overhead, the boulder slid a few inches, raining more debris down on them.
He was about to shout her name again when something moved in the massive pile of earth. Heart in his throat, he watched as a hand thrust upward from the ground, white in the tarry night.
Instantly he fell onto his belly, grabbing at her fingers. They were cold in his grasp, trembling.
He started whisking away the dirt like a maddened gopher, Liam doing the same on his side.
In a matter of moments, they’d uncovered her arms and burrowed back to the spot where her head was sheltered by a rock structure. She blinked at them.
