Freefall (No)

by Jill Sorenson

  Caleb choked and sputtered, gasping for air.

  He could feel Ted coming, and Caleb hadn’t been incapacitated yet. Keeping Caleb’s arm in a tight lock, he kicked out with his right foot, connecting to Ted’s stomach. Ted went down again, groaning.

  Most inexperienced fighters were easy to catch off guard, but Caleb was young and fit and arrogant. Before he’d even caught his breath, Caleb drew back his left arm and punched Javier in the ear, scoring a direct hit.

  Javier released him and stumbled sideways, reeling from the impact. He shook his head, trying not to lose focus. If he didn’t move fast, his opponent would regain the upper hand. When Caleb scrambled to pick up the gun, Javier saw his opening. He kicked him under the chin. Caleb flew backward, his eyes rolling up.

  He dropped to the ground and stayed there.

  Javier glanced at Ted, who didn’t rise. They were both conscious, but they’d had enough. He grabbed his gun and tucked it into his waistband, looking for Faith. She was hiding behind a tree, shaking like a leaf.

  “Give me your pack,” he said.

  She shrugged out of it, her lips pale. Even though she’d helped him, she didn’t trust him. Not after witnessing the brutality he’d just unleashed. As he donned the backpack, his heart twisted in his chest.

  “Your boss works with someone in the park,” she said. “Who is it?”

  He hesitated, because giving her information about Gonzales would put her in danger. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m worried about Hope.”

  The park ranger. Faith’s fear for her sister was justified—and it touched a sentimental place inside him. “I’ve never met him. We pick up the cargo at a landing strip in Long Pine. That’s all I know.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Promise me you won’t hurt her.”

  “I don’t hurt women.” Not physically, anyway.

  She let out a choked sob, clearly regretting the kindness she’d done him. He was glad he’d been able to break away without using deadly force, because watching Ted and Caleb die would have upset her even more.

  “Stay with them,” he said, indicating the fallen men. “They’ll take care of you.”

  Ted was using his shirt to stanch his bloody nose. Caleb still looked dazed. Javier thought about warning them not to touch her, but decided against it. They wouldn’t be up for any sexual shenanigans.

  He examined her one last time, drinking in every detail. There was something he wanted to say to her. Something he wanted to do before he left. “Eres la única,” he murmured, pressing his lips to hers. “Adios, amor.”

  * * *

  FAITH BROUGHT a trembling hand to her mouth as she watched him go.

  He walked the opposite direction, as if heading back to Kaweah. She wondered where her sister was, and who she was with. Considering her preoccupation with “park business,” Hope was probably right in the middle of the fray.

  Damn Caleb and Ted. If they hadn’t come to the rescue, she’d be halfway to Moraine Lake with Jay—or Javier—by now. It was all Javier’s fault. He’d lied to her and seduced her and killed someone. God, she had shit taste in men.

  Eres la única.

  What did that mean?

  Adios, amor. Goodbye, love.

  Just love, as in honey or dear. Not my love. Unless she was confused about Spanish pronouns and endearments, it sounded like a brush-off. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

  Bastard. Dirty, sexy, drug-smuggling bastard.

  Caleb rose to his feet. He had a nasty lump on his chin where Javier had kicked him. “You let him get away.”

  “He broke my nose,” Ted said, his voice muffled.

  “Why didn’t you fight back?”

  “I tried.”

  “Well, you suck.”

  “You’re the one who lost the gun!”

  “You’re the one who untied him.”

  “Because you said to.”

  “At least I got a punch in.”

  “Yeah,” Ted muttered, taking the T-shirt away from his face and studying the bloodstains. “Way to go, dude.”

  Caleb scowled, looking around for another scapegoat. “You,” he said, pointing at Faith. “You fucking bitch.”

  “Leave her alone,” Ted said.

  “She rubbed her tits on me! She distracted me on purpose.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “It’s her fault your nose is broken.”

  “No, it’s yours,” Ted said, spitting blood. “You wanted to charge in and save the day. Ron told us not to get involved.”

  “She needed help.”

  “Didn’t look like it to me.”

  Caleb grunted in response, glancing in Faith’s direction.

  “We didn’t have to bring him along, either. That was dumb. We should have tied him up and left him.”

  “He’d have escaped.”

  “He did escape. We’re lucky he didn’t shoot us.”

  “This is why I can’t get laid,” Caleb said, bracing his hands on his hips. “Nice guys always finish last.”

  If she wasn’t so exhausted, she’d have laughed at his false estimation of himself.

  “It’s on you when he kills someone else,” he said to Faith.

  “Let’s keep walking,” she said, her stomach churning with anxiety. She had a bad feeling now that Javier had gone. Criminal or not, he’d protected her from the men in the helicopter, and prevented her from falling overboard. Despite Caleb’s “good intentions,” she knew she couldn’t count on him if they ran into trouble.

  Cursing, Ted staggered upright. As the trio trudged forward, fat droplets of water fell from the heavy leaves and tree branches, hitting the ground like stealthy footprints. Birds and squirrels rustled in the bushes nearby. The forest sounds seemed magnified in the otherwise silent dawn. She imagined villains lurking around every corner.

  They approached a misty meadow that reminded Faith of the one Javier had stopped her from entering. Her pants were already wet and muddy from the knees down. Moisture clung to her skin and eyelashes. Her hair frizzed.

  Ugh. She was so tired.

  The next thing she knew, two men were hiking toward them. One had on a rain poncho, which seemed appropriate, but the other was wearing a leather jacket. It looked wildly out of place on a nature trail.

  “Act cool,” Caleb said under his breath. The men were too close to run from, so feigning nonchalance was the only option.

  “Hello,” the man in leather said. He had a slight accent. Was this Javier’s boss, the man who’d stolen his girlfriend? With his broad face and low forehead, he wasn’t handsome. “We’re looking for our friend.”

  “We haven’t seen anyone. Sorry.”

  The man nodded. He appeared close to forty, and Hispanic. His companion was a scruffy, dark-haired white guy in his early twenties. “Where are you coming from?”

  “Kaweah Camp,” Caleb said. “We’re going to Moraine Lake.”

  “And you haven’t seen anyone?”

  “Not a soul.”

  The man glanced at Faith, as if she might have a different answer. She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “We heard our friend was with a girl named Faith. A pretty blonde.”

  Her heart dropped.

  Ted and Caleb exchanged a nervous glance.

  “This is Katie,” Caleb said, clamping his hand around her upper arm. “We have to get a move on. Sorry we can’t help you.”

  She let Caleb guide her past the men, her pulse pounding. Ted brought up the rear. Seconds later, a loud pop split the air. Caleb let go of her arm. Faith glanced over her shoulder as Ted crumpled to the ground. Everything seemed to progress in slow motion after that. Caleb yelled for Ted, but his voice was muffled. The echo in her ears drowned out all other sounds.

  Ted was facedown, unmoving. Behind him, the older man held a gun. While she watched, drawing her breath to scream, he aimed and fired again. Caleb staggered sideways and fell down, clutching his thigh.

 
She turned to run. Her throat felt raw from the ragged shriek she could barely hear. Saving her breath, she clapped her mouth shut and concentrated on getting away. Her muscles were weak from overexertion, but panic gave her an energy boost. She zipped toward the trees, pumping her legs as hard as she could.

  Why hadn’t she listened to Hope? If she was in better shape, she could sprint faster, and they’d never catch her.

  But she hadn’t listened to Hope, and she couldn’t keep up the pace. She sensed a presence behind her, heavy footfalls crashing down the trail. He was gaining on her. With a terrified sob, she ducked right, trying to evade him. The underbrush whipped against her shins, and the bumpy ground threatened to trip her up.

  He grabbed a handful of her hair, snapping her head back. They went down to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

  It was the younger man. She tried to kick and claw him, her mind filled with sexual assault memories, but her fingernails found no purchase on his rain poncho. He used his weight to subdue her, shoving her arms over her head. Another man had held her down like this once, overpowering her with his strength, refusing to take no for an answer.

  “I’m not raping you,” he said. “Calm down!”

  She realized that she’d been screaming rape and fell silent, although his words didn’t reassure her. His partner had just shot at two men, maybe killed them. Being violated was, perhaps, the least of her worries.

  The guy rolled her over and wrenched her arms behind her back. He was so much stronger than she was, she couldn’t move an inch. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her and she whimpered, her cheek pressed to the muddy earth as he bound her wrists with a hard, thin material that cut into her skin.

  He lifted himself off her and dragged her upright. She was breathing hard, her damp shirt plastered to her chest. With her arms tied behind her back and her breasts thrust forward, there was no hiding the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Her captor noticed, but didn’t remark on the sight. He gave her body a detached perusal, as if searching for injuries, not places to grab when he had more time. “Let’s go,” he said, clearing his throat.

  Although she didn’t want to cooperate, she was afraid not to. Her scalp ached from the hair-pulling. She trudged forward on shaky legs, finding it ironic that Javier had been in this position less than an hour ago. Maybe he was still nearby.

  Caleb’s blood was all over the trail. He struggled to tie a piece of cord around his thigh. Ted wasn’t moving. She assumed he was dead, and her stomach did a sickening roll. The shooter waited for her and his friend to approach, gun pointed down at the ground.

  “Where’s Del Norte?”

  “Del Norte?”

  “Javier Del Norte, the man you were with.”

  Faith had no idea which direction he’d gone. If she led them to him, would they kill him? If she didn’t, would they kill her?

  “I think he went this way,” she said, tilting her head north.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WHEN HOPE AWOKE, Sam was watching her.

  She sat up with a start. Her right shoulder and hip ached from the prolonged contact with the hard ground. Her entire body was sore, especially her arms. Rock climbing, kayaking and hanging off a ledge had stressed her muscles.

  She’d dreamed about falling again. No surprise there. In another disturbing nightmare, she’d been searching the woods for a wailing infant. She followed its cries to the wrecked plane at the top of Angel Wings. When she looked inside, Faith was sitting in the pilot’s seat, her hair dark with blood.

  She blinked away the image, placing a hand over her pounding heart. She could still hear the baby crying. The plaintive sound echoed in her ears, making her ache with emptiness. Her hand lowered to her flat stomach and then clenched into a tight fist.

  Sam’s eyes followed the motion.

  “What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  “Six-thirty.”

  He’d been busy. The fire was still going, and he must have collected water, because a full container sat near her.

  “Rainwater?”

  “I treated it.”

  She took a long drink. “Did you sleep?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  He glanced away, rubbing at the tattoo on his wrist. It was now bare of elastic. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Or himself, she figured. He was reluctant to fall asleep near her because of what had happened yesterday morning. Instead of making the same mistake or showing emotion again, he’d avoided sleep altogether.

  His retreat felt like another rejection, deeper than the others. He’d shared intimate details with her about Melissa and his head injury. He’d kissed Hope passionately after rescuing her. But he couldn’t share her blanket or allow himself to get close to her?

  They ate the last two energy bars in silence.

  After breakfast, she turned on her radio. Last night, she’d switched it off to preserve the batteries. Revealing her location wasn’t an option, because she might be overheard, but she could listen to the other rangers.

  The radio had three channels. Channel one dealt with emergencies and law enforcement. It transmitted park-wide to all rangers, and could be used by local police. Channel two, for daily operations, transmitted among coworkers at individual stations. Channel three was reserved for conversations with the park manager. Although those transmissions could also be intercepted, it was less likely.

  Hope switched between the first two channels, hearing some discussion from rangers at Moraine Lake and Kaweah Camp. Their efforts sounded disorganized, which was unusual. Ron and the rafting group had checked in. The others, including Faith, were still MIA. Channel three was silent. Where was Dixon?

  She returned to the second channel, puzzled.

  “Ranger Banning, come in,” the dispatcher said.

  “I can’t answer,” she said to Sam.

  “Does it have GPS?”

  “No, but if someone is listening, they might be able to estimate my distance from the strength of the signal.”

  He nodded, following her logic. “What about code?”

  “Do you know Morse?”

  “Just the SOS.”

  That wasn’t much help. She needed to communicate information, not a distress call. “If they were on channel three, I might answer.”

  “Why?”

  “No one but Dixon uses it.”

  His mouth tightened at the mention of her former boyfriend. “Are you ready to head back?”

  “I’d rather keep going south. We’re almost halfway to Moraine Lake.”

  “Where do you think those guys went?”

  “I don’t know.” After a night of rain, there was no use looking for their trail at the main entrance of the cave.

  “What about the suspect?”

  Hope assumed her sister was still with him. If Del Norte was smart, he wouldn’t walk along the river at all. It made more sense for him to head west, toward the Mineral King Station. Angel Wings and Valhalla were visible from the path. An alternative route veered through the glacier-carved gorge, between the rock faces.

  “Let’s go as far south as the fork,” she suggested. “From there, we can turn toward Mineral King.”

  He agreed, probably because he thought it was the safest choice. Hope didn’t tell him that she planned to look for footprints—and follow them, if one set belonged to her sister. Finding Faith was still her top priority.

  “I’m not spending another night out in the open.”

  She didn’t blame him. Without food and shelter, they couldn’t go far. They had to get supplies or rejoin civilization this evening.

  Breaking camp was easy. She folded up the blanket and passed it to Sam. He made a bundle out of his long-sleeved shirt, carrying it like a messenger bag. Her sports top kept falling down on one side, so she tied the torn ends together before they left the cavern. As they entered the forest of trees outside, she glanced around waril
y. The rain had abated, leaving the earth damp and fragrant.

  They found the path and followed it south. She took the lead because she was armed, and a better tracker than Sam. The ground was covered with wet leaves, which made it hard to detect footprints.

  She lowered the volume on her radio and kept going, glancing over her shoulder at him. He had dark smudges under his eyes, and his jaw was shadowed by stubble. Last night, he’d asked her what she was avoiding. After everything he’d revealed, she felt as though she owed him an honest answer, but she didn’t know how to broach the subject.

  She related to Melissa’s aspirations for a family, and wondered at the timing of her death. “You said that Melissa had a bucket list. What was on it?”

  His brows rose at the question. “Peaks to climb.”

  “How many?”

  “Seven.”

  “Kalymnos was the last one?”

  “No, it was number six. She didn’t get to Mount Whitney.” His expression grew pained. “I was supposed to go there to spread her ashes.”

  “When?”

  “Before the quake. I went to San Diego to get the urn from her parents. I mean, I think that’s what I was doing there. I had a map to Whitney Portal and her ashes with me during the freeway collapse.”

  Oh God. Her heart broke for him. “Starting a family wasn’t on the list?”

  “Not this list.”

  “So you weren’t...trying.”

  He stopped in his tracks. “What are you asking?”

  She turned to face him, hearing the outrage in his tone.

  “You want to know if she was pregnant,” he accused. “You think I took my pregnant fiancée on a climbing trip and let her die.”

  Her stomach sank. “No.”

  “Over the past two years, no one’s had the nerve to ask me that. Congratulations, Hope. You win the insensitivity award.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her mind reeling. “You said you wanted children and I got the impression—”

  “That I was a baby killer, in addition to a fiancée killer?”

  “No.” Melissa’s death wasn’t his fault. She knew that, even if he didn’t.