Freefall (No)

by Jill Sorenson

  She parked outside the men’s housing facility and glanced at the mailboxes. Owen Jackson lived in complex eight with half a dozen other workers. A sleepy young man answered the door in his underwear.

  He seemed confused by her casual clothes and unannounced visit. “Ranger Banning?”

  “I need to speak with Owen.”

  Pointing down the hall, he beat a hasty retreat to his own quarters. She headed the direction he’d indicated, pausing at a bedroom door. It was ajar, so she peeked in, asking for Owen. None of the men in the bunks were him.

  “Storage room,” one of them mumbled, rolling over.

  Frowning, she continued to a door at the end of the hall. After her hesitant knock, Owen opened the door. Like everyone else in the house, he’d been asleep. He was bare-chested, wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans.

  Hope did a double take. Maybe she was still riding high on sex endorphins, because the first thing she noticed was his physique. Then the disturbing tattoos registered, including one of a burning cross over his heart.

  “Sorry,” he said, stepping away from the door. Leaving it open for her, he grabbed a shirt and covered up. “I didn’t know it was you.”

  She entered his room, curious. It was more of a big closet, with wooden cubbies for miscellaneous items and sports equipment. The narrow cot he’d been sleeping on took up most of the floor space. In the mornings, he probably folded it away.

  He sat down on the cot, gesturing for her to join him.

  “Do they make you sleep in here?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She wondered if the other guys gave him guff about his tattoos. If they did, that was his cross to bear. So to speak.

  “I have a few questions about yesterday.”

  His eyes were wary. “Okay.”

  “Why were you on the trail alone?”

  “I came from Mineral King.”

  She understood what he meant. The station was manned by a single employee, and located in such a remote area that it didn’t always make sense to wait for a partner. “On whose order?”

  “No one’s.”

  “You made the decision to start hiking by yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “The teams were taking too long to get organized. It seemed like the different law enforcement agencies were...tripping all over each other.”

  Hope agreed with this frank assessment, although she knew better than to voice it aloud. The National Park Service often collaborated with sheriff’s deputies, but murder was a state crime, and the FBI investigated kidnapping cases. Drug trafficking fell under the DEA umbrella. It was a multijurisdictional nightmare. Many mistakes had been made, starting with Meeks’s failure to retrieve the cargo.

  “Mineral King is the closest station to Crystal Cave,” he added. “I thought you might have taken shelter there.”

  “Did you ask permission?”

  “No. They wouldn’t have given it.”

  She rubbed her forehead, where a tension headache was forming. “Have you been reprimanded?”

  “Not yet.”

  NPS didn’t always reward employees for taking initiative. “Tell me everything that happened yesterday.”

  He began with his run-in with Javier Del Norte, flushing as he recounted the order to take off his clothes. Apparently Del Norte had intended to steal his uniform, but changed his mind when they heard gunshots.

  “He wanted to help Faith?” she asked.

  “That’s what he said.”

  Owen also claimed that Del Norte had assisted him in fishing an unconscious Sam out of the river. Hope hadn’t known this detail, either. She couldn’t believe Sam had climbed up Angel Wings with a concussion.

  “He didn’t tell you,” Owen guessed.

  “No.”

  With a slight shake of his head, he continued the story. Owen had seen the men take Faith aboard a helicopter, but he didn’t get a good look at their faces.

  “Describe the helicopter.”

  “It was black, and seemed too small for the number of people inside.”

  “How many?”

  “Four. Maybe five, with the pilot.”

  She wondered how far an overloaded helicopter could travel, and where it might have landed. Even a small aircraft would require a large, flat area on a remote property. There were a number of options close by.

  “You gave this information to the FBI?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Hope stood, pacing the narrow space. She felt as though she was missing something obvious, like a word on the tip of her tongue, or an important detail slipping through her fingers. “What did you think of Del Norte?”

  “I thought he was...scary.”

  “But you ran after him anyway.”

  He just shrugged, as if he’d done nothing special.

  She marveled at how easily Del Norte could have killed Owen and kept going. The forest worker had shown remarkable courage in the face of danger. He’d set out on his own, saved Sam’s life and tried to help Faith. If Owen hadn’t come along to rescue Sam from drowning, Hope would be dead right now.

  She owed her life to Owen, and to Del Norte, in a strange way. “Thank you,” she said, touching his shoulder.

  He froze at the contact. “You’re welcome.”

  She dropped her hand, aware that he was uneasy. “Have you thought about training for one of the law enforcement positions?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a criminal record.”

  “It doesn’t necessarily disqualify you.” Bill Kruger had been in trouble with the law a few times for domestic violence, and he was a head ranger. “I can put in a good word for you with Dixon.”

  Instead of accepting the offer, he changed the subject. “I hope you find your sister.”

  “So do I,” she said.

  He stood and walked her to the door. She promised to keep him updated before she left, squinting in the bright sunshine. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, but the sun had already burned through the morning clouds.

  She climbed behind the steering wheel again, reaching into the glove compartment for her sunglasses. Her fingers closed around Faith’s instead. She took them out, examining the sparkly frames.

  The sight brought tears to her eyes.

  Just three days ago, she’d hugged Faith goodbye, promising everything would be fine. She’d left her sister scared and alone. Hope wished she could go back in time and make a different choice.

  Story of her life.

  * * *

  JAVIER ROCKED HIS chair back and forth until it tipped over.

  He landed hard on his injured shoulder. The wooden chair broke under the strain, but he couldn’t free his wrists or ankles. Pain reverberated down the length of his arm, tingling in his fingertips, making him nauseated.

  Gonzales came forward and kicked him in the stomach.

  Javier gritted his teeth, his muscles quivering. Nick was killing Faith right now and he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t beg, or plead, or retaliate. Gonzales turned on the live feed again, seeming bored.

  Faith was still lying on the bed, sobbing. Nick didn’t enter the picture. On the contrary, he reappeared in the doorway, startling Gonzales.

  “Did you forget something?”

  “This.” Nick raised a handgun and shot Gonzales in the chest.

  He stumbled to his knees, a stunned expression on his darkly handsome face. Blood blossomed across the front of his rumpled white dress shirt. He careened forward, collapsing on a woven rug.

  Dead.

  It was a perfect kill shot. Almost no mess.

  Nick tucked his gun away and stepped into the room. After checking Gonzales’s pulse, he removed the boss’s weapons and his money clip. Then he rolled the oval floor rug around his body, wrapping him up like a burrito.

  “Who do you work for?” Javier rasped.

  “Somebody else,” Nick replied.

 
Javier didn’t consider this new development a personal boon. He expected to be executed in short order. “I’ll pay for the girl.”

  “With what?”

  Unlike Gonzales, Javier wasn’t rich. He hadn’t been able to amass millions before his escape attempt. There was twenty grand waiting for him in a locker at LAX. It was the most he could save without attracting attention. “Fifty thousand.”

  “I don’t want your money,” Nick said, leaving the room.

  Javier lay there, staring at the bundle of Hector Gonzales. His nemesis was dead, and he felt nothing. On the screen, Faith sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her chest. When Nick walked in, she tried to get away. He grabbed her ankle.

  “No,” Javier shouted, horrified.

  Nick held a syringe in his hand. He stabbed her in the thigh, holding down the plunger. After a short struggle, she went quiet.

  Javier squeezed his eyes shut, crying silently, his shoulders racked with sobs. “Perdóname, Padre, porque he pecado,” he repeated, over and over again. He was praying for her life, his death. Any salvation.

  When Nick reentered the room, he crouched down next to Javier. “A cleanup crew is coming over. We need to leave.”

  “We?”

  “If I untie you, can you carry the girl? She’s drugged. Sorry, I can’t have her recognizing this place.”

  “I’ll carry her,” Javier said, although he wasn’t sure he could even stand.

  “Good. I’m going to drop you off in the woods.”

  “Why?”

  Nick answered the broader question. “You could’ve killed me at the falls, but you didn’t. Now we’re square.”

  Javier couldn’t agree. They’d never be square.

  “I didn’t rape her,” Nick said, taking a knife from his pocket.

  “I saw you.”

  “I was faking.” Before he cut Javier’s bonds, he squinted at him. “You’re dispensable. I’ve been instructed to spare the girl, not you. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Nick freed him.

  “Help me with this piece of shit,” he said, gesturing at Gonzales.

  Javier staggered to his feet and grabbed one end of the rug. They heaved the body up a set of stairs and loaded it in the back of a white van. When that was finished, Nick showed him to Faith’s room. He rushed to her side, almost weeping with relief. She really was alive. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

  Keeping the sheet tucked around her, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the garage. He set her down next to Gonzales and climbed in, lying flat next to her. Nick drove for about five minutes before he parked behind a group of trees along a deserted road. He opened the back of the van, letting them out. “I don’t want to see you around.”

  The feeling was mutual. Javier moved Faith to a bed of pine needles.

  “If I were you, I’d take off now,” Nick said.

  “I want to talk to her first.”

  Faith moaned, her eyelashes fluttering.

  Nick studied her for a moment. Rape or no rape, he’d terrorized her, and his expression showed a hint of remorse.

  “Why didn’t you kill Gonzales sooner?” Javier asked.

  “I had to wait for the order.” He pulled his gaze from Faith to Javier. “Maybe I’ll see you in the ring someday.”

  Javier wasn’t interested in another matchup. It wouldn’t settle the score between them. “I’d rather hold you down and let her beat you.”

  “I might enjoy that,” Nick mused.

  Javier clenched his hand into a fist.

  “Adios, amigo.”

  Javier watched his “friend” get into the van and drive away. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. If he’d killed Nick at the falls, he wouldn’t have attacked Faith, but they’d all be dead right now.

  They were alive. This was a better outcome than he’d dreamed of. Javier was grateful to God, if not to Nick. But he also knew what he had to do. Staying with Faith was impossible. The police would question him, he’d get arrested and one of Gonzales’s relatives would shank him in jail. He had to disappear, like Alexia.

  Javier didn’t have any desire to reunite with his ex-girlfriend. The only one he wanted was Faith. And he couldn’t have her.

  He sat down beside her, smoothing the pine needles from her hair. His throat closed up with the realization that he’d never see her again. He had to leave in the next few minutes to avoid the authorities.

  “Jay?” she murmured.

  “Javier.”

  “Javier.” She opened her eyes, but the sun was too bright. Groaning, she closed them. “Where am I?”

  “You’re safe.”

  “I need my sister.”

  “She’ll be with you soon.”

  “That guy—” She winced, touching her temple.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “He...scared me.”

  Javier smothered a fresh wave of fury. “He’s gone.”

  “You killed him?”

  “No. But I will, if you want me to.”

  She moistened her lips. “You said you were done with all that.”

  “I can make an exception.”

  “Don’t.”

  Javier murmured an agreement. “He won’t bother you again. My boss won’t, either. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  He glanced around, struggling to control his emotions. “I wish I could, but I’ve put you in enough danger already.” His voice broke on the last word, but he forced himself to continue. “I’m so sorry, Faith. It was all my fault. They used you to get to me.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

  He took a deep breath. “When you feel well enough, walk alongside the road. Wave down a passing car, or knock on someone’s door.”

  Her face crumpled. “Don’t leave.”

  “I have to,” he said, hating himself for hurting her. He wished things could be different, but he couldn’t ask her to wait for him. It might be years before he came out of hiding and got his life together. Chest aching with regret, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Ojalá que nos encontremos otra vez.”

  Javier got up before he could change his mind. He stumbled into the brush, his throat burning and his heart numb.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  AT MIDMORNING, Hope got a text from Dispatch.

  Faith had been admitted to the E.R. She was groggy, but in good condition. She’d refused to talk to anyone except Hope.

  After reading the message, Hope collapsed on her bed and wept for several minutes, overwhelmed with relief. Then she pulled herself together and drove to the hospital in Visalia. On the way there, her phone chirped again. It was Sam. She’d been avoiding his calls. He’d invited her to come back to the lodge for breakfast, and he actually seemed upset with her for sneaking out on him. His “attentive boyfriend” routine confused her; he’d fought their attraction every step of the way. Maybe he was willing to share his body with her, but his heart still belonged to a dead woman.

  He wasn’t a good candidate for a relationship.

  “Hi,” she answered.

  “Any news?”

  “She’s at the hospital, supposedly okay.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “Let me see how she’s doing first.”

  When Hope arrived at the hospital, she parked in the closest available space and rushed to the lobby, only to be told to wait in the lounge. After a few minutes, a slender woman in scrubs came out with a clipboard.

  “Miss Banning?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Nurse Parker,” she said, leading Hope to a small consultation area. “Your sister was brought in by a local woman who found her wandering by the side of the road, wearing nothing but a bedsheet.”

  Hope clapped a hand over her mouth, distraught.

  “We ran a blood test, because she seems to hav
e been drugged, but she wouldn’t consent to a vaginal swab.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Right this way.”

  The nurse showed her to a bed in the E.R. It wasn’t a private room, but there were no other patients nearby, and it had curtain partitions. Faith looked thin and pale in a faded hospital gown, her pretty face marked with scratches. Hope let out a strangled sob, embracing her sister. She was overjoyed and devastated at the same time.

  “What happened?” she asked, smoothing Faith’s hair away from her forehead.

  Her sister’s pupils were dilated, her brown eyes dull. The drugs might have taken the edge off, but she wasn’t blissfully unaware. “Get me out of here,” she said, her voice quavering with emotion.

  Hope nodded. She’d provide Faith with comfort, solace or whatever else she needed. Anything her sister asked for, she’d deliver.

  “We’re waiting for the results of the toxicology,” the nurse said. “I’ll check on that.”

  They watched her go.

  “Do you have any idea what they gave you?” Hope asked, lowering her voice.

  “An injection.”

  “Why didn’t you consent to the swab?”

  “Because I consented to the sex,” Faith snapped.

  Hope couldn’t hide her dismay.

  Faith made a hurt face, hitting her fist against the mattress in a halfhearted punch. “He used a condom, anyway.”

  “Who did?”

  “Javier.”

  “No one else touched you?”

  She stared up at Hope, forlorn. “Not...inside.”

  “Oh, Faith,” she said, aching for her.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You have to tell.”

  “Why? They won’t get in trouble for groping me.”

  “They kidnapped you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  As much as Hope wanted the men who’d abused her sister to pay for their actions, they were connected criminals. Talking to the police might put Faith in more danger. “What if they come after you again?”

  “Javier said they wouldn’t.”

  Hope fell silent. Although she was unsettled by Faith’s trust in a drug smuggler, she tried not to judge her. “Mom and Dad are on the way.”

  Faith made a warbled protest. The plaintive sound was so identifiably hers, and Hope recognized all of the nuances in it. “Take me back to the woods. No, feed me to a bear. Anything but the ’rents.”