Freefall (20 page)

She knew she had a problem letting go. She’d always felt that she deserved the guilt and melancholy. It was her way of acknowledging her mistakes. Forgetting all that—or forgiving herself—seemed dismissive. What Hope wanted most in life was a second chance at motherhood, but she didn’t consider herself worthy. She’d lost the right to be a parent. It wasn’t fair to have another baby, after giving up her firstborn.

“What’s in the box?” she asked.

Faith smoothed her palms over the surface, seeming nervous. “You don’t have to look, if you don’t want to.”

“What is it?”

“Yearly photos.”

Hope was stunned. “From who?”

“The adoptive parents.”

“You talk to them?”

“No. I go through the adoption agent.”

The agreement Hope had signed was open on the side of the adoptive parents. They could contact her, through the intermediary, for medical information or anything else they needed. Hope hadn’t wanted the same option for herself. She’d chosen not to attempt any communication. It seemed easier for everyone.

“Mom went to the office to get the photos the first few years. When they offered email, I became the recipient.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it would be too hard for you. I know you didn’t want to give her up.”

Tears flooded Hope’s eyes, overflowing and spilling down her cheeks. She resented Faith for confronting her with this. Why now, when she was vulnerable? She already felt needy and scared. She couldn’t handle another emotional roller coaster.

“Would you like to see the photos?”

Hope nodded, wiping the tears from her face. Curiosity trumped her trepidation. She’d always wondered what her daughter looked like.

Faith opened the box and drew out a stack of photos, tied with a lacy ribbon. “I’ll start with the first birthday.”

Hope accepted the stack of about ten photos. Her mother had taken some snapshots at the hospital, so Hope had seen pictures of the baby as a newborn. She’d been squalling and wrinkly, with a tiny little tuft of hair.

The first photo made Hope sob out loud. Her daughter looked so different at six months! She was lying on her back in a crib, wearing a frilly outfit, holding a baby rattle. She was adorable and bright-eyed. The wall beside the crib was painted with butterflies. Everything in the room appeared comfortable and high quality.

Hope couldn’t have afforded such finery.

She studied each of the first-year pictures in detail, memorizing the images. The last one featured a party dress and a birthday cake. On the back, there was an inscription: Grace, Age 1. “Her name is Grace?”

Faith grabbed a tissue to blot her eyes. “They thought...it was fitting.”

She was touched by the gesture from the adoptive parents. It connected Grace to her birth family, and made Hope feel valued.

The next stack of photos showed a vibrant toddler. Her hair was already a riot of curls. “Oh my God,” Hope said. “She looks just like you.”

Faith laughed, shaking her head. “She looks like
you.
”

One of the photos included the adoptive parents. They were a fit couple in their late thirties, both smiling. Their devotion to Grace was evident. Hope could see that her daughter had been placed in a loving home. These people had given Grace the best of everything. In addition to feeling relieved and grateful, she was wildly jealous.

Hope examined the years of her daughter’s life, tears sliding down her face. There were photos of Grace running through the grass on chubby legs, blowing bubbles. Jumping into a sparkling swimming pool, taking a trip to the zoo, making a snowman. Her first day of school, her first bicycle, her first lost tooth.

The most recent photos made Hope’s heart ache. Grace was so beautiful. She had mischievous brown eyes, like Faith. Something about her smile reminded Hope of Paul. They hadn’t spoken since he’d signed away his rights.

She gazed at the last picture for a long time, wondering what her voice sounded like. How it would feel to hug her.

“She knows she’s adopted,” Faith said. “They’ve been open about it.”

Hope’s pulse kicked up. “Does she ask about me?”

“I don’t know.”

She gave the photo back, her mind reeling. What if Grace thought Hope didn’t want her? What if her daughter hated her?

For the first time, Hope reconsidered the terms of the agreement she’d signed. She didn’t want to interfere with Grace’s life, but she’d like to let her know she cared. That she hadn’t made the decision lightly.

Faith closed the box. “She can request your information when she turns eighteen, but her parents have considered letting her contact you sooner.”

“Really?”

“Would you be interested?”

Hope didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes!”

Faith smiled, grabbing another tissue. “I think they’re going to wait until she’s twelve or thirteen to give her the option.”

Grace was eleven now, so a possible meeting was right around the corner.

“It’s her choice, you understand.”

“Of course,” Hope said. The idea of seeing her daughter, or just speaking to her, filled her with an inexpressible joy. If Grace didn’t want to take that step, Hope would respect her wishes. Either way, she felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her daughter was safe, healthy and adored. “I’m glad she’s happy.”

“She’d have been happy with you, too.”

Her throat closed up. “Do you think I made a mistake?”

“No. I think you made a sacrifice.” When Faith put her arms around her, Hope’s face crumpled with sorrow and she started to weep uncontrollably. “You did what was best for everyone but you.”

Hope wasn’t sure how long she cried. She felt as if eleven years’ worth of pain and regret came pouring out of her. Her sister had known, all this time, that she’d factored into Hope’s decision to give up the baby. “I thought it was what I wanted,” she said, sniffling. “I thought we’d have fun in college.”

“I had fun,” Faith said, petting her hair. “Even after Brett.”

“I wish I’d been there for you.”

“You’re here now.”

Hope lifted her head from Faith’s shoulder, where she’d left a smudge of eye makeup. “I’ve ruined your dress.”

“I can get it cleaned.”

“When did you turn into the mature, reasonable sister?”

She offered Hope a tissue. “Get ready for more of my sage advice.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I know I can’t see Javier again. He’s too dangerous. I’m sad, because I really liked him, but it’s not the end of the world.”

Hope blew her nose, nodding.

“I don’t want you to make another sacrifice for me. We didn’t party together in college, and we don’t have to be lonely singles together. If you think Sam is the right guy for you, stop running away from him. Let him catch you.”

Hope blinked her teary eyes. “You think he’s the right guy?”

“Maybe. He cares about you, fucks like a champ and tries to apologize for bad behavior. That last quality is pretty rare.”

“He needs therapy.”

“Everyone does.”

Hope rested her cheek on Faith’s shoulder again. She didn’t know what to do about Sam, but she appreciated her sister’s support. “I love you, Faithie.”

“I love you, too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

H
OPE
DROVE
BACK
to the Sierras on Sunday afternoon, her mind in turmoil.

Faith was staying with her friend and coworker Charlie. She’d promised not to go anywhere without the male hairdresser as her bodyguard. Hope was glad her sister had someone strong to protect her.

She hadn’t returned any of Sam’s calls over the weekend. Every time she glanced at his text messages, she felt overwhelmed. Her emotions were too complicated to sort through. She had a dozen other things to worry about.

According to Faith, Javier Del Norte’s boss had bribed members of local law enforcement. The product they smuggled was grown here. They picked it up at a landing strip in Long Pine.

Hope wondered if there were any rangers on Gonzales’s payroll. She’d notified the sheriff’s department about the radio communications with Faith’s kidnappers. Anyone with a similar device, or even a cell phone app, could eavesdrop on their channels, but only those within the network could respond. Either the computer system had been hacked or the smugglers had a programmed radio, provided by a staff member.

She hadn’t heard of anyone losing a radio lately. The head rangers of each region were responsible for the devices. If she wasn’t on administrative leave, she could make inquiries. She was supposed to be resting, not investigating.

Deputy Meeks’s failed attempt to retrieve the cargo also struck her as suspicious. His team should have been able to camp and reach the summit. Maybe he’d forgotten the equipment on purpose.

She didn’t know much about the young deputy. He was a war veteran, and a bit of a ladies’ man. He’d offered to buy her a drink the same night she’d gone home with Sam. Although Meeks wasn’t bad-looking, she’d declined. He was in his early twenties, on the too-young side, and he’d been sitting with someone she disliked at the bar. Who was it?

Her stomach dropped as she remembered: Bill Kruger.

That’s why she hadn’t stayed to chat with Meeks. She’d gone to the other side of the bar to avoid Kruger. A few minutes later, she met Sam.

And the rest was history.

Bill Kruger was a head ranger, so he had access to radios. He was also from Las Vegas. He’d moved to the Sierras after his younger sister, Kim, married Doug Dixon. He lived in a cabin that Doug owned. It was in a remote area on the outskirts of town. Next to a flat, empty field where a helicopter could land.

Not far from the place Faith had been found.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, slapping a hand over her forehead. This was the missing piece of information she’d been racking her brain for. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? Kruger was the mole. He had to be.

Another disturbing idea occurred to her. Kruger might have double-crossed the drug smugglers by stealing part of the stash. Had he left the boot print at Angel Wings?

She tightened her hands around the steering wheel, her heart racing. Maybe Meeks and Kruger were both dirty. There could be widespread corruption in park services and the sheriff’s department. What if Dixon was in on it?

Although Hope’s heart wanted to reject the notion on the basis of their past relationship, she forced herself to consider it. With his powerful connections and cool head, Doug had the means to pull the puppet strings. Meeks was a rookie deputy, Kruger a washed-up drunk. They weren’t criminal masterminds. And Doug wasn’t a poor manager, despite the chaos of the past few days. He’d never been distracted or incompetent before. It was possible that Doug had overlooked “mistakes” in the investigation to cover their tracks.

This new suspicion totally changed the game. Doug had a spotless reputation. He was a respected member of the community. No one would believe her.

She didn’t know who to call.

Her safest bet would be to contact the FBI, but she hesitated. She was familiar with agency procedure. Special Agent Ling would demand to talk to Faith again, maybe even charge her with obstructing justice. Getting a warrant to search the cabin would be difficult. Any investigation would proceed at a snail’s pace.

In the meantime, Faith would be in danger. She admitted to Hope that she’d seen the faces of her captors. She could identify the inside of the cabin. If Hope brought forth her suspicions, they might try to eliminate Faith as a witness. These were hardened criminals. They could come after Hope, too.

She needed proof before she called the FBI. If she went in empty-handed and no evidence turned up, she’d be putting her job
and
her sister at risk.

That was unacceptable.

Instead of driving to her shared unit in park housing, she turned on the deserted road that led to the ranger station at Mineral King. Owen Jackson had been filling in for her again. When she arrived, he was locking up for the day.

“Ranger Banning,” he said, nodding hello.

“Hope.”

“Hope,” he repeated dutifully. “How’s your sister?”

“She’s better.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She studied him for a moment, disconcerted by his serious blue eyes. Even though she’d seen him shirtless, with ugly tattoos marring his lovely chest, she was the one who felt naked. “I need to get something inside my office.”

“Sure,” he said, opening the door for her.

She went straight to her desk and pulled out the top drawer. Her trembling fingers closed around a key, which she used to unlock a metal box she kept stashed in the utility closet. It housed a Glock 9 mm handgun. Her backup weapon.

A girl had to be prepared.

Hope tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans, letting her jacket hide the telltale bulge.

“Where are you going with that?”

She turned to see him standing in the doorway. “Home.”

He just stared at her. His mother must have taught him not to argue with women, because he didn’t say anything. There was a distinct possibility he’d call Sam, however. They were friends, and Owen had seen her kissing him.

“Okay,” she said, as if he was badgering her. “I want to search Kruger’s cabin.”

“Bill Kruger?”

After a short hesitation, she decided to divulge all. The fact that Owen was an outsider made him more trustworthy. His brave, independent actions had won her over. “I think Kruger was involved in my sister’s kidnapping.”

“Why?”

Hope explained how she’d come to the conclusion. It was really just a hunch, and she doubted the FBI would be convinced by her reasoning. Owen had no trouble believing her. He’d worked with Kruger on forest maintenance, and probably had better insight about criminal behavior than most young men.

“He always seemed shady to me,” Owen said.

“I can’t go to Dixon with this.”

“No,” he agreed.

“Do you know anything about Meeks?”

“Just that he’s drinking buddies with Kruger.”

“Maybe I should drive by the lodge first.”

“How are you going to get in the cabin?”

“Dixon owns the place. He used to keep a key by the back door.”

“How do you know that?”

“We went there several times when we were dating.”

His brows shot up. “You dated Dixon?”

She squinted, daring him to criticize.

He didn’t. “What if the key isn’t there?”

“I’ll have to break in.”

Hope acknowledged that her proposal was unorthodox—and illegal. But she couldn’t continue to work in a dangerous, corrupt environment. If Kruger was caught up in a drug smuggling ring, she wanted to see him nailed to the wall. Any evidence they found could be rediscovered through an authorized search warrant. She wasn’t the first ranger to bend the rules, and she wouldn’t be the last.

“I’ll come with you,” Owen said.

Although she could use a lookout, she was reluctant to involve him. “Aren’t you on probation?”

“Prison inmates get parole, not probation.”

“You’re on parole, then?”

“No. I just got off.”

After a short pause, she accepted. If she had to smash a window, she’d make sure he stayed outside. At any rate, she didn’t plan on getting caught.

By the time Owen dropped off his service vehicle at headquarters, it was early evening. He climbed into the passenger seat of Hope’s Jeep, and she cruised by the bar. Sure enough, Kruger’s black pickup truck was in the parking lot.

They went to the cabin next. The windows were dark and quiet. “Okay,” she said, glancing at her navigation system. “I’ll park on Whispering Rock Avenue. We can approach from the back. It’s not fenced.”

Owen nodded, tugging a beanie over his light hair.

After she hid her Jeep behind some bushes at the side of the road, she pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt, covering most of her face. Then she pocketed a flashlight from the glove compartment.

“Ready?” she whispered.

“Ready.”

They trudged through a copse of pines. A sliver of moonlight illuminated the path. When the back of the log cabin came into view, they stopped to study it. She noticed one new addition to the property. A pointy-eared shape was curled up in the corner of a chain-link enclosure.

“There’s a dog,” he said.

“It’s locked up.”

“What do you think we’ll find in there?”

“The drugs he stole, hopefully. Or some proof that my sister was there. Her clothes, hair, something.”

“Her clothes?”

“She was wrapped in a sheet when they found her.”

Owen understood the implications of her nudity, and his mouth made a thin line of anger. He seemed as eager as Hope to bust Kruger. She wondered if he had some kind of personal vendetta against men who abused women.

They crept forward. The dog began to bark furiously as she approached. Hope kept moving, disturbed by the sight of the Doberman’s glistening teeth, gnashing at the gate. A light came on when she reached the back door.

She smothered a scream.

Owen grasped her upper arm, ready to run.

“It’s a motion detector,” she whispered.

His grip relaxed, but his face stayed tense.

She didn’t want to trigger an alarm by breaking in, so she prayed the key was still there. As she stepped closer, she noticed a pair of muddy hiking boots by the back door. They were about a size twelve. Kruger was a big man. Years of dissolute living had put some extra weight around his middle.

Blood pounding in her ears, she picked up the boot and glanced at the tread. The zigzag pattern was unmistakable. She took a photo of it with her cell phone. After replacing the boot, she found the key under a skull-sized rock. She straightened, inserting the key and turning the knob. The door swung open with a faint creak. No sirens blared and no masked men rushed at them as they entered the residence.

The interior looked the same. It was a cozy space with exposed ceiling beams. She’d spent several weekends here with Doug. His company had been pleasant. He wasn’t a challenge, like Sam. He hadn’t made her tremble with excitement, or feel half as vulnerable.

Had their entire relationship been a lie? She couldn’t imagine him taking bribes from drug smugglers, but she also couldn’t imagine him being unaware of Kruger’s illegal activities, some of which were perpetrated in his own cabin.

She headed to the basement first. Faith told her that she’d been kept in a room without windows.

With Owen following close behind, she descended a dark stairwell, drawing the flashlight from her pocket. There were two doors to choose from. She opened the one on the left and glanced inside. Other than a rectangular table and a few chairs, the space was bare. It wasn’t the bedroom Faith had described.

Moving on, she studied the second door. It appeared to lock from the outside. She passed the flashlight to Owen and brought out her phone. While he waited, his eyes darting toward the stairs, she snapped a photograph. Then she entered the room, taking more pictures of the interior. It was spotless, the bed stripped bare and the table wiped clean. She searched the corners for video equipment. Nothing.

Her stomach twisted with distress as she pictured Faith here with her attacker. She looked under the bed and inside the bathroom. There were no dirty clothes on the floor, no blond hair in the drain. Every surface was immaculate.

Hope’s spirits plummeted. A reverse lock wasn’t the smoking gun she needed. She had to find some concrete evidence.

Owen glanced toward the exit, seeming agitated.

She motioned for him to wait. Returning to the bathroom, she glanced at the toilet tank, struck by a sudden inspiration. Sticking her phone in her pocket, she lifted the porcelain tank cover and looked inside.

Bingo.

The bulb was floating loose, unattached. Parts were missing. Faith had used the rod to try to jimmy open the door!

Heart racing, she set aside the cover and took photos of the toilet tank. This was too much of a coincidence to ignore. It might not convince anyone else, but Hope knew with complete certainty that her sister had been here.

Before she had a chance to replace the tank cover, a mechanical hum started. It took her several seconds to place the sound as an automatic garage door.

She pocketed her phone and fumbled with the tank cover. It was still askew when Owen grabbed her wrist, urging her out the door. As she raced down the hall, she could hear Kruger’s truck pull into the garage.

What now?

She looked at Owen, unsure if they should hide or flee.

“Go,” he ordered, shoving her up the stairs. She took two at a time, trying not to trip, her adrenaline pumping. As they burst onto the main floor, Kruger entered the house from the garage. Instead of moving through the kitchen, he stopped to listen.

Caught.

She ran toward the back door with Owen on her heels.

“Hey!”

She prayed for a clean escape as they sailed outside. The Doberman snarled at the gate, thirsty for blood. Hope sprinted for the trees as fast as her legs could carry her. Owen kept pace beside her. They were lucky Kruger didn’t open fire. He could probably get away with shooting intruders on his property.

As they darted across the short expanse, Kruger shouted obscenities. She knew they could outdistance a hard drinker. When they reached the copse of pines, she thought they were home free.