The one direction that seemed right was straight west toward the mountains, where there were pretty trails and waterfalls, according to Ian. “I want you to stay here,” he said over his shoulder.
“But—”
“No.” He turned back to her. “When the others arrive, you need to give them a piece of Rylie’s clothing—and get something of Ian’s, too. You can point out where you’ve been looking and show them where I’ve gone. I need you here, Janna.”
She gave him a jerky nod, her face white.
He wanted to go back and enfold her in a long and reassuring embrace, and promise her that everything would be okay.
But he’d learned from long experience that wasted seconds could lead to heartbreak, and there just wasn’t time.
With another prayer on his lips, he took off at a run.
SEVEN
Michael kept a steady pace past the cabins and the ravine where the bones had been discovered.
The trail narrowed, winding up through steep, rocky outcroppings and thick stands of pines, where dirty patches of snow still lingered in the deepest shadows. Every few yards he paused to shout Ian’s and Rylie’s names.
Halfway up he had to stop and rest, breathless from the altitude and his fast pace; not yet adapted to the thinner air at over six thousand feet. It was colder up here, too—noticeably different from the sunny meadow where the lodge stood.
Was Rylie curled up in some nearly invisible place, shivering? Hurt and in shock? There were emergency supplies in the backpack he’d grabbed out of his patrol car, but would they be enough to handle whatever he found? Had Ian come up here after her, only to take a completely different turn?
Michael pulled out his cell phone to check its range. A single reception bar flickered on the screen, which meant that even if Rylie and Ian had already turned up at the cabins, he might not be able to receive that message.
Still, an inner voice drove him on, and a sixth sense told him that they hadn’t turned up safe and sound. Not yet.
Another hundred yards brought him to the fork where the main trail wound off to the left, and a faint deer trail veered to the right. He bent low, searching for a sign that anyone had headed a certain way. The pebbles and patches of exposed granite held no trace of passersby.
Shouting Ian’s name, he moved ten, fifteen feet in each direction, his hopes fading. Then he went back and checked again.
Where did the boy go when he got up this far? And had Rylie followed him?
Up to the right, Michael pulled back a clump of underbrush crowding over the trail. Here, in a damp patch of earth, he could make out the faint crescent of a heel print—fresh enough that the rim hadn’t yet dried and crumbled into the impression. Thank you, Lord, for your many mercies.
He took off at a fast jog now, keeping a close eye on the ground where the trail traversed long stretches of granite. Backtracking, where the trail faded out into one dead end after another.
A branch cracked up the trail. Then another. Pebbles rolled down a rocky incline. He stilled, listening. A hiker? A bear? The kids?
Hope surged through him as he pulled a heavy traffic whistle from his pocket and delivered two sharp blasts. If Ian was ahead, had he thought to bring his own, as he’d been told?
No answering whistle sounded—but when Michael reached the next bend, Ian’s voice echoed out over the terrain. “Dad? Dad! Is that you?”
Then Ian appeared, his face scratched and bleeding. Limping heavily, he struggled over the rocky, uneven path…with Rylie sobbing in his arms.
Given the downward slope and the effect of gravity, it should have been a faster trip back, but loose gravel, underbrush and the old injury in Ian’s knee made the descent nearly as slow as the trip up…though the relief in Michael’s heart overflowed every step of the way. Thank you, dear Lord, for your protection of these children.
Halfway down, he’d been able to find enough cell phone reception to call off the search-and-rescue team and let Janna know that all was well.
Rylie, her arms looped around Michael’s neck, looked up at him with worried eyes. “Is my mom mad?”
“Terribly worried. And terribly scared about what might’ve happened to you. The rest, you’ll have to ask her.” Michael nodded down the trail. “There she is. See her, past those rocks?”
Tears welled up in Rylie’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I was only following Ian, because he looked so sad.”
A few yards behind them, Ian muttered something under his breath.
“Did he see you following him?”
“I…” her eyes grew troubled. “I don’t know. I couldn’t catch up, and then I got lost. It’s my fault, honest. Please don’t be mad at him.”
Janna made it up the trail to meet them within minutes. The radiant joy in her face transformed her from lovely to breathtaking, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling as she cradled Rylie’s face in her hands and brushed a kiss against the child’s forehead. “Oh, Rylie—I was so worried about you.”
Michael gently put Rylie down on a boulder so Janna could envelop her in a hug, then check her over from head to foot. She cradled Rylie’s bandaged ankle gently in both hands. “Just the ankle, sweetheart? Is that all that hurts?”
Rylie winced at her mother’s light touch, then held out her palm, which Michael had also bandaged. “And this, from when I fell.”
“Why ever did you come clear up here?”
The child shot a furtive, guilty look toward Ian, then dropped her gaze.
“You know the rules. We talked about them the very first day here, and a dozen times since then. Right?”
Rylie nodded, her lower lip trembling.
“Why should you never go up here alone?”
Rylie gave her mother a stricken look, then fixed her gaze on her hands. “Bears. Mountain lions. Maybe wolves sometimes.”
“Right. A child alone could seem like easy prey. We’ll get you into town and have a doctor take a look at your ankle to make sure you don’t have a fracture. But fracture or sprain, you’ll be in the house for a while…and after that, we’ll talk about this again.” She turned to Ian and smiled. “And this time I do get to give you a hug.”
She embraced him warmly, then stood back and held his hands with both of her own. “I can’t thank you enough for finding Rylie. With that injured ankle she never could’ve made it back alone. We might not have found her for hours, maybe days. You probably saved her life.”
He blushed a furious red that reached his cheekbones and the tips of his ears.
“What about you—can you make it home all right? This was a hard hike for all of us,” she added tactfully.
Ian nodded, fumbling for the long branch he’d picked up along the way to use as a walking stick. He carefully pushed himself back to his feet and started making his way down the trail.
“He and I have will have a conversation when we get back,” Michael said in a low voice. “I think he needs to accept some responsibility for this situation.”
“But he found her. He brought her back—and honestly, right now that’s all that matters to me. I’ll always be grateful for that.”
“Let’s get you home, young lady.” Michael lifted Rylie into his arms and started down the trail after Ian, with Janna right behind him. “It’ll be dusk soon, and we can all talk about it later.”
By the time they neared the ravine, the lengthening shadows had cast the surrounding forest in near darkness.
Michael shifted Rylie’s weight in his arms. “Almost home, sugar. I’ll bet you’ll be glad to put your foot up on a pillow and rest after this.”
“Wait.” Janna’s voice came from a few yards back. “That’s really odd—unless it’s just my imagination.”
He turned and found her staring off the side of the trail, pointing to several low clumps of underbrush. “What is?”
“Last Thursday, I saw several places over there—you know, where the DCI dug for evidence.” She leaned forward and peered in
to the gloom. “I thought they were done, didn’t you? Now it looks like they’ve been back.”
He retraced his steps and followed the direction of her hand. “The DCI didn’t spend any time over there, Janna. I was with them the entire day. They excavated the burial site and spent considerable time in the ravine. They wouldn’t come back, much less research such a distant site, without contacting me first. They come by invitation, not as an independent agency.”
“But look—see there, by those trees? There were several piles of fresh dirt last week—now I’m almost certain there are more.” She visibly shivered. “You don’t think…”
He searched around for a place for Rylie to sit, then put her down on a log. “You two stay here and I’ll go take a look.”
Without a trail, it took several minutes to make his way through the low-lying brush, downed trees and twisted vines.
Sure enough—there were five haphazard holes here, not more than fifteen feet apart. Perhaps four feet square, they’d been partially refilled with loose dirt and leaves, with mounds of loose branches tossed on top. To shield them from view?
Had they been dug to bury something—or to search for something else?
Michael hunkered down and sifted the loose soil through his fingers, then scanned the area. McAllister land stretched at least a mile toward the closest boundary. The only vehicle access into the area was the long, narrow road leading to the lodge—which meant a high risk of being noticed.
If someone wanted to hide something, surely they wouldn’t go to this much trouble and still be so close to an inhabited set of buildings. It made no sense.
But if someone was looking for something, that opened up a new realm of possibilities. What sort of determination—or desperation—could drive a person to dig in this rocky, hard-packed terrain? With the scant annual rainfall in the area, a pickax was probably required to make any progress at all.
As soon as the sun rose tomorrow, Michael would be back, and he would be hunting for answers.
Startled by a knock on her door, Claire leaned forward in her chair and peered over her shoulder, her June copy of the Western Rancher open on her lap.
The words had run together, spiraling across the page in dizzying patterns since she’d sat down an hour ago, and irritation welled up in her throat at the interruption.
“Mom, are you in there? Are you okay?”
Janna. Again. Claire slammed her magazine shut. It was always something. That obnoxious teenage boy thundering down the stairs and slamming doors. Rylie, who’d foolishly gotten herself lost yesterday and acted like a scared rabbit half the time.
Or Janna—who had to be mighty proud of her little power trip here at the lodge. Always interfering. Prying. Watching. As if Claire had ever needed help from anyone in her entire life.
“I’m busy,” Claire barked, stubbornly sitting back in her chair.
The door squealed open anyway, and Janna walked right on in to stand in front of Claire. “I couldn’t hear you answer. Are you all right?”
Claire’s anger escalated to rage, swift and hot. “Why wouldn’t I be? Go…do whatever it is you’re doing around here, and leave me in peace.”
As usual, Janna didn’t listen. Instead, her eyebrows drew together and she searched Claire’s face. “I just came in from working on one of the cabins to start lunch. The bathtub was overflowing, Mom. There’s even water in the hall.”
“The tub?” Claire stared blankly at her, her anger dissipating in a swirl of anxiety and confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Janna hunkered down in front of Claire’s chair at eye level, as if talking to a child. “I’ve been outside. Rylie is out in the lobby watching TV, with her foot propped on pillows,” she said with a smile. “No one else was in the lodge. Maybe you started running a bath and just got distracted? That can happen to anyone.”
“I certainly didn’t do it,” Claire snapped, angered at the gentle compassion in Janna’s eyes. “It had to be that fool child of yours.”
Janna sighed and rocked back on her heels. “It couldn’t have been, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve mopped up everything, so you can take your bath now, if you’d like.”
“I never take a bath this time of day.” Claire sniffed. “If I were you, I’d be mighty careful about believing what that Rylie says.”
At a tiny, horrified gasp, Claire glanced sharply toward the door and saw Rylie standing there on her crutches, her face white and eyes brimming with sudden tears. Eavesdropping, no doubt.
Janna was at the girl’s side in an instant. Wrapping her in a hug. Coddling her. Then she looked over her shoulder at Claire, sparks flashing in her eyes. “Rylie is an honest and loving little girl,” Janna said evenly. “And I believe what she says. Let’s just drop this, okay?”
Claire snorted.
“Honey, go on back to your room for a minute, okay?” Janna brushed a kiss against Rylie’s forehead and helped her maneuver the crutches so she could head down the hall. “Grandma and I need to talk for a minute.”
Janna watched her make her way down the hall, then turned back to Claire, her arms folded across her chest. “I’m glad we’re living here together, so you two can get to know each other better. Your granddaughter is the sweetest little girl you could imagine.”
Claire impatiently slapped her magazine against her lap and opened it to a random page.
Janna ignored the obvious dismissal and pulled a chair up to face her. “Look, I know we have a tough history. But let’s keep that between the two of us, okay? Rylie doesn’t deserve your anger.”
“Tough history?” Incredulous, Claire stared at her. “I’m not the one who never pitched in around here.”
“I tried, Mom. You just never thought I did anything well enough.” She took a steadying breath. “Not like Tessa—she was always so much better at ranch work.”
“And I’m not the one who cut out in the middle of the night and never looked back.”
“We were always at odds, you and me.” Janna smiled sadly. “I’m hoping that will change. In the meantime, I need you to be a little nicer to Rylie. Her other grandma—”
“I don’t have to listen to this.” Claire threw her magazine across the room and launched to her feet. Brushing past Janna, she strode down the hall to the private back entrance, automatically grabbing for a set of keys as she shoved the screen door open and stalked outside.
But it wasn’t possible for Claire to outrun the nagging voice in her head. Not if she walked the trails for hours, not if she got behind the wheel and drove ninety down the endless Wyoming highways. Just like your brother. Just like your brother.
Her brother, Gray, had succumbed to Alzheimer’s long before he died last year, but there was no way she’d let that happen to her. He’d been weak. He didn’t have the resolve to look adversity in the eye and dare anyone—or anything—to stand in his way.
She’d never give in.
Still, guilt nipped at the edge of her conscience. Had she turned on that water, then totally forgotten about it? And what about the other times, when her mind went completely blank?
At the edge of the porch she looked down at the hard, cold objects in her hand, panic turning her palms damp and sending her heart tripping into overdrive.
A wisp of a thought drifted through her brain. Dissipated. Then finally took form.
Keys. I was going someplace…but where?
Two useless husbands who’d died young, leaving her with a family to raise on her own and a struggling ranch had taught her harsh lessons. She’d learned long ago that believing in anyone except herself was a waste of time.
Raw fear hit her with the force of a stallion’s kick to her stomach, and from some forgotten recess of her memory, bits and pieces of a rusty prayer filtered to the surface, though most of the words were too elusive to catch.
Now a new litany began to run through her head. Please, God…please…help me….
EIGHT
Claire had be
en gone for hours, Janna realized.
She’d been a capable driver all her life. Too fast, too impatient, but she’d negotiated the local mountain roads with the absolute focus of a race driver, and she’d never had an accident. She’d also spent her entire life in this area.
But now she was forgetful. A tad confused at times. And despite her grudging promise, she’d driven off without Tessa or Janna along. So where on earth was she?
A dozen old headlines marched through Janna’s thoughts—the ones about addled grandfathers leaving home for milk and ending up in Orlando or Denver, and elderly women ending up at a mission in some distant city, with no memory of their own names or how they’d gotten there.
Claire certainly wasn’t at that stage yet…or was she?
Worry knotted Janna’s stomach as she hauled crumbling, mildewed furniture out of Cabin One. She ran up to the lodge to ask Rylie if anyone had called, then hurried back again to add more things to the growing pile of refuse in front of the cabin, though every few minutes she listened for the sound of an old pickup rattling up the lane. Mom is probably fine…just running some errands. Talking to someone she saw in town. She’s made that trip a million times.
It was a forty-mile drive on winding, two-lane asphalt, and the round-trip itself took a couple hours; errands and chitchat with neighbors could add another hour or more.
But Claire wasn’t a talker.
What could possibly take this long in a town of twelve hundred people? Unless she’d had a doctor or dental appointment that she hadn’t bothered to mention…or had run out of gas along the way.
At two in the afternoon, Janna called the grocery store in town to casually ask if Claire had been there yet, as “there were some extra groceries she needed to pick up.” After that, Janna had called the feed store, gas station and even a park ranger to the north, all on the pretext of needing to give Claire a message, in an effort to save her mother’s fierce pride.
No one had seen her.
Hard Evidence Page 7
