by M K Dymock
“He gets that far, and we lose him.”
“We don’t have him now,” Hylia said. “What changes?”
“If he gets that far, I think he’ll head to town.” Jim said. “That bank account I stumbled onto was accessed a few times a year for several years.”
“We froze all his accounts,” Shea said.
“That you knew about. When I was helping Charlotte with the divorce, I stumbled onto a few she had no idea of. If he’s going to escape the mountains, he’ll need funds. Hylia told me about one, but it didn’t have much left when I checked for her bail. Looks like he cleaned it out more than ten years ago from an ATM here in Lost Gorge.”
“So that’s a dead end,” Sol said.
“Maybe not. He would’ve had to move the money somewhere,” Jim offered. “In my past life as a divorce attorney, I spent my fair share of time chasing down hidden accounts. Not to brag, but I am very good at it.”
“Legally?” Clint said.
Jim smiled. “Of course.”
“Let’s assume he has access to money,” Clint said. “Hylia, how much does he carry with him?”
“Not much. We couldn’t carry a lot. We’d hit a bank or an ATM once a year, and take out a thousand or so, but we’d spend a lot of it the same day.”
“It may be more than you think,” Sol said. He considered Link lying dead back in the cave. “You said he hated to come into town.”
“Yes, he was sure they were looking for him, but he didn’t think we’d be as easy to spot all grown up.”
“He’ll go longer between visits, and he has a small child to care for.”
“We’ll put lookouts on all the ATMs in the region and roadblocks along the highways,” Clint said. “Just in case he gets down without us spotting him.”
Sol caught Hylia’s eye. They had one last ace up their sleeve, but he didn’t know how to play it.
“All right, let’s flush him out,” Sol said.
He called every sheriff, deputy, and state officer in the neighboring counties. Within the hour, he had three helicopters coming his way. He called in every favor he’d amassed over the last twenty years.
David Hayes would have no choice but to leave the mountains—bringing the search to the one place where neither man had the advantage.
53
Hylia clenched her umpteenth mug of coffee sitting in the back seat of the sheriff’s Tahoe en route to other side of the mountains and the base of the canyon. Sol would follow along shortly. Two deputies sat in the front seat—a woman, Mina, and a man called Charlie. Hylia chafed at being close to that many law enforcement officials.
But neither one of the uniforms made her more uncomfortable than Detective Shea sitting next to her reading through the case records of her mother’s murder. She’d hoped Jim would ride with her, but he’d remained behind at the sheriff’s office to trace the money.
Shea flipped over a stack of papers and slammed them on his lap.
“Problem?” Hylia asked. She hadn’t spoken more than ten words to the man who had liked her mother too much.
“Nothing, I just need to stop expecting the answers to change.” He turned to stare out the window at the green fields rushing by.
One corner of an image stuck out from the pile. She sucked in her breath at her mother’s leg twisted underneath her in death. The killer’s voice echoed in her head: “I loved you.”
Hylia put all her lying skills into use and casually said, “I’m surprised they let you investigate the crime, with as close as the two of you were.”
He jumped at her voice, the seat leather creaking. “We weren’t that close—more just friendly. And, honestly, we were a small force back then, and everyone knew Charlotte. If we’d known what we were getting into, we would’ve reached out to Seattle for support. But at the time,” he threw up his hands, “we were told to close it after David’s death.”
She considered something else Sol had said. Why had her father made it look like a suicide if he was ready to run?
“I’m so sorry,” Shea continued. “I didn’t know how bad it had gotten between your parents.”
Except he had. He’d been the one to take her mother to find her father.
“Were you really there?” Shea asked slowly.
Hylia froze. “Yes,” she said, considering each word. “But I didn’t see anything helpful.”
“Probably better you didn’t. It gave you a chance to get away.”
Buoyed by the presence of two deputies in the front, she pushed on. “What made you think suicide?”
He looked at her with a sadness that surprised her. “Your mom was tough. I’d seen her punch a druggie who grabbed her around the throat. Stunned him enough he let go and we were able to get handcuffs on him.” He smiled a little at the memory. “But when I found her, she had no fight marks on her. No bruises, no scratches, nothing but the bullet . . .” He glanced at her, seeming to realize who he was speaking to. “I’m sorry.”
The same words the killer had said to her mother. Hylia longed to turn on the light in her memory and look fully on the person who’d stolen so much. She pushed that memory aside and focused instead on her father finding them in the culvert. He did have bruises and scratches; he had plenty of fight marks on him.
If the fight hadn’t been with her mother, then who?
“I don’t know if you want to hear this.” Shea’s voice dragged her back to the present. “But you mother really loved your dad. I was a little jealous, to be honest.” She shot him a look. “Not of him, I mean, but of them. When I walked in and saw her lying there, my first thought was of David and how her death would destroy him.”
“It did.” That part Hylia had never doubted.
Shea spoke with a sincerity that caught her off guard. No one in all of this had said any good things about her father. But he’d always taken care of them—even after she’d left.
Down in Mexico before Hylia had found work and after she’d run out of food, she did the one thing she swore she’d never do. She’d still had access to her family’s account, but she hadn’t taken any of the money. She wanted to stand on her own, and she was afraid it would be empty—meaning Merrell would’ve cut her off completely. As long as she never touched the account, she could believe he still cared for her.
While most of the money had been moved, Merrell had left her ten thousand dollars. Tears had streamed down her cheeks as she’d pulled out a few hundred dollars, oblivious to tourists waiting behind her. Her father still loved her.
Something triggered Hylia’s memory. Jim had said that the money had been cleaned out in Lost Gorge ten years ago, but he hadn’t mentioned the small amount left for her. She couldn’t ask him now; he waited down in Summit.
The deputy’s SUV slowed. “We’re here,” Mina said, interrupting her thoughts. “You ready?”
No, she wanted to respond, something’s not right. But it was now or never.
54
Sol stood on a ridge not far from where he and Hylia had set up their last camp. He’d never seen these high peaks filled with so many people. What had taken a few days to access with horses had taken a lot less for all the ATVs crawling the mountains. Two helicopters flew overhead, purposely buzzing the area.
They kept everything on the Lost Gorge County side. Not a footstep crossed over the ridgeline into Summit. Even the folks Summit sent to aid in the search came down, around, and back up the canyon. Luckily, the county line curved around the town of Summit, making a natural funnel. David needed to believe safety would be found in the northern valley.
Sol longed to head straight to the Honeycomb Draw and hunt for tracks, but he couldn’t afford the risk of being spotted. Instead he had a friend drive him down in a side-by-side ATV about ten miles to the east of the canyon. That ride went straight down a cliff, forcing Sol into a prayer every time the back tires came off the ground. It was the most praying he’d done since his grandma died and stopped taking him to Mass. The tires hit pavement, and he
crossed himself.
His driver, a kid with the last name O’Brien, laughed at that gesture. Sol didn’t take offense. The name O’Brien carried the DNA of a family that felt little fear and a lot of crazy.
“Let me make a call,” he yelled at the freckled boy through his helmet. It took a lot of tickets to convince the family to embrace head protection. He often wondered if it was worth the cost, as it seemed to make them go even faster.
O’Brien cut the engine, and Sol jumped out even as he pushed Send. He’d given Hylia a prepaid cell phone.
He figured it would take at least a day for David to make the decision to run and another day for him to make it out of the canyon. The only problem was that they would have no way of knowing he’d for sure entered it and no way of knowing when he’d be coming out.
Out of everyone he’d worked with over the years, Mina and Charlie were the best in the wild. They would stand as sentinels at the bottom of the canyon, waiting for David to appear. Knowing Mina and her ability to blend into her surroundings, she could be in breathing distance and he’d never spot her. Charlie, as long as he stayed sober, could track a ghost in a blizzard.
Until they could assure the girl’s safety, they would play defense.
More people from the two counties’ law enforcement agencies would be lower down, staking out the road and waiting on word to take him in. David would have to be a phantom to make it past all of them. Which is why Hylia, knowing her father, had insisted on one last term before she would help.
She picked up on the first ring. “How far out are you?”
He glanced at O’Brien tapping in his fingers on the steering wheel of the bright red machine. “I’ll be there quicker than you’d think possible. Are you still sure? You don’t need to–”
“It’s the only way to draw him out, and it’s the best way to keep her safe.”
He was unsure if it was better to acquiesce or to talk her out of it. “Hylia . . .”
“Sol, trust me.”
Sol had never really trusted anyone. “Okay.” He hung up and stared at the phone and the echo of her voice.
Hylia would walk up the canyon as bait—their ace in the hole.
He’d only agreed to her idea because he knew if he didn’t she’d do it anyway. At least this way he had some control of the situation and could help. He flashed back to the day they’d found Daisy’s body. Her remains had sat for a few weeks, and the sheriff back then hadn’t allowed him to see what was left of her. But he’d seen enough to know how much he’d failed her.
During their last conversation, she’d pleaded with him to come with her to California for a few weeks. “Let’s just get away, you and I, for a little while.” He’d shrugged off her needs easily when they’d been in direct conflict with his.
Everyone tells you to partner up, but nobody tells how completely terrifying it is to trust someone else and to be worthy of their trust.
Ten minutes later, Sol stepped out of the ATV carrying a backpack and a rifle. He’d had the kid drop him off a half mile from where the others waited. The engine on that devil machine could clear the angels out of heaven.
With a deep breath, he took to the trail. David Hayes was just another missing person in the wilderness. Sol could do one thing better than anyone else. Everything that mattered relied on him doing that one thing.
55
Once they left the Tahoe, the two deputies and Shea disappeared into the trees lining the stream, leaving Hylia alone. She reached down and pulled up her pant leg, revealing a GPS unit sending her location to Sol every two minutes. He would not meet her, and she would not see anyone else before ascending the trail.
Her father with his binoculars would spend at least a few hours per day watching the canyon for interlopers. The searchers above would only push him so fast. Any sign of a stranger and he would never approach her. She’d insisted to Sol it was the only way their idea had a chance. She had to hope desperation would drive him out to her.
With one last glance at the road behind her, Hylia took to the almost-dry stream up the canyon. For someone who’d spent so much of her life alone, that first step was filled with a sad longing for the life she’d never had but now desperately wanted.
A thousand memories crashed through her thoughts, but the only one she focused on was her father walking her back to their cave barefoot to keep her safe. He’d come for her then; he would come for her now.
The reeds around the muddy areas grew up around her shoulders, and she moved closer to the canyon’s edge to be more visible. About a half mile in, she stopped in an open meadow where the wildflowers stretched high up to capture the brief sunlight of the noon day.
Some wildflower buds actually put off a little heat to melt the snow as they pushed through from spring to summer. It was nature’s way to extend the season in the harsh environment of the highest elevations.
Sol did that, she realized. He had melted the snow around her and helped her feel summer. What would it be like to wander these mountains as herself and not some identity borne out of fear and paranoia?
They’d had that, her and him, for a few brief days.
She wondered what her brother had named his little girl? For the first time, Hylia thought past simply rescuing her. What did the girl know about the wider world? Would she hate her aunt or, at the very least, distrust her? Could she ever trust her once she wrenched her out of the only life she’d ever known—let alone love her?
Hylia didn’t understand how she could love someone she’d never met with such ferocity. But she knew no matter what would happen that day, she would come home with her niece or not come home at all.
After finding the girl, she could figure out exactly where home was.
56
Sol squatted on top of the ridge with his eye on the mouth of the narrow canyon and the lone woman who climbed up it.
It took everything he had to not call her name out loud. Look at me, he pleaded to her. She kept her eyes focused on the path ahead—except for one flicker in his direction. That look said more than words ever could because she would never say the words. Hylia Hayes, mountain woman and world wanderer, was scared. And so was he.
He grabbed his rifle and pack and took a bead up the ridgeline, where he would have a vantage point of the bottom half of the canyon. He could move quicker than her, as he didn’t have to fight his way through the brambles below. Once at his vantage point, he took out his GPS and zoomed in on the slow-paced dot. The flashing red light was all that connected him to her.
Their plan had to work—for so many reasons. First of all, the sheriff had no idea Hylia was walking up the canyon as bait. Sol hadn’t told the other deputies until Clint was on the mountain and out of range. He would’ve never allowed it.
Sol didn’t like it either, but, more than anything, Hylia had to find her niece. He knew she couldn’t survive another body left to rot in a cave.
He lost visual with her once she walked into the first stand of aspens lining the stream. He’d tried to convince her to wear something bright and red so he could keep an eye on her, but she refused. “My father would know that was a trap,” she scoffed. “If you want him to trust me, he has to believe I’m on the run too. And he didn’t raise no idiots.”
He stared at the dot and pleaded with it to not be an idiot.
He’d chosen this spot for more than its view. A small crack cut through the high walls of the canyon where an ancient landslide had spilled out onto the floor below. It would take some scrambling, but he’d be able to descend at the first signal from Hylia.
She’d begged him to get the girl out while she distracted her father. They would only have a small chance.
Once in place halfway between the caves, Sol kept watch on the canyon below and the GPS in his hand. With the army of searchers above and his crew below, they’d set the trap. Now all that remained was to wait and see if David took the bait.
Sol stared at his GPS. The bait had stopped moving.
> 57
Hylia put her fingers to her mouth and blew out a three-trilled bird call. The same one she’d blown after pulling herself out of the river and collapsing in a heap.
The breeze caused the high green leaves of the aspens to quake, a few birds called to each other, and the stream gargled. No whistle answered back. The peacefulness of the day mocked her troubled mind. She kept hiking.
The sun crept past its zenith, and she checked the time, but her watch had frozen. “That figures,” she muttered. During all the chaos, she’d forgotten to wind it. The GPS unit strapped to her leg would show the time, but she purposely ignored it. It needed to stay hidden.
The cave holes looked down on her, and she resisted the urge to stare back at them. Was her father perched in their protective depths watching her?
A quarter mile passed, and the trail grew steep, slowing her progress and requiring the occasional scramble. The thin path she followed had been left by deer far nimbler than her.
Another whistle, another silent response.
What little trail there was disappeared entirely into a rocky slide. She used both hands to grab onto a few tree roots and pull herself up the last ten feet. It flattened out on top, and she climbed onto the flat, staring up into the sky and gasping for breath.
Her father’s face blocked the sun. “There you are.” He spoke as if she were a wayward child home after dark.
Every part of Hylia’s body stilled; her very blood halted on its way to her heart. Her lungs forgot what breathing was. With every weakened muscle, she sat up. “Here I am.”
Her father stood in front of her, a rifle grasped in his hand currently pointed upward.
58
Sol stared at the unmoving dot.
Maybe Hylia had stopped to eat a snack or take a drink. She could be peeing for all he knew. Still, the blood drummed through his head with one incessant beat: She’s in trouble.
