Freefall (4 page)

He was a jerk, but his strength felt reassuring. She’d almost peed her pants a second ago. His heartbeat thumped against her cheek,
alive, alive, alive.

“Any chance this was self-inflicted?”

She forced herself to move away from him and take a better look inside the cockpit. There was a handgun on the seat next to the pilot, and shells from two different weapons. It looked like a close-range gunfight. “No.”

Sam turned his back on the wreckage with a grimace, keeping his distance while she photographed the scene. Or maybe he was keeping watch. She noticed his eyes scanning the mountains and trees nearby.

There were few clues inside the fuselage. She didn’t see any illegal cargo or formal identification. From what she could surmise, the 9 mm next to the pilot wasn’t responsible for his death. He’d returned fire with his killer. She took pictures of the weapon and a pair of bullet holes on the opposite side of the fuselage.

She was about to report to headquarters when static buzzed over the plane’s radio. Her heart seized at the sound of a man’s voice. “Del Norte, come in.
Ya, contesta.
”

Hope rushed forward to pick up the receiver. Swallowing hard, she pressed the button to speak. “This is Ranger Banning of Sierra National Park. I need some information about this aircraft and pilot, over.”

The man ended the communication.

She replaced the receiver, her mouth dry. Careful not to touch anything else, she exited the fuselage.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“Someone called on the plane’s radio. When I answered, they hung up.”

“You answered?”

“Yes.”

He thrust a hand through his short hair. “Fuck!”

“What?”

“I don’t like this. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She wasn’t a big fan of the situation, either. There had never been a murder at Angel Wings. It could be days before a thorough investigation was organized. The logistics of processing a crime scene on a remote mountaintop were dizzying.

They also had a killer to find. He must have left the area on foot.

She walked away from the plane, examining their surroundings. A hiking trail led down the backside of the mountain and ended at the Kaweah River Campsite. Where she’d dropped off Faith this morning.

“I have to go after him.”

He gaped at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said.

“You’re not a homicide detective.”

“No, but I have to protect the park’s visitors, and it’s my job to investigate any crimes committed here.”

“Alone?”

She frowned at his incredulous tone. Tracking a single assailant by herself wasn’t against procedure. Park rangers often worked solo, especially in the backcountry. But it was unorthodox, and perhaps unwise, to hunt down a murderer without help. “He’s got to be headed for the Kaweah. Faith is there.”

“Who’s Faith?”

“My sister.”

Hope would do anything for Faith. She loved her with the fierce protectiveness of an older sibling and the deep loyalty of a best friend. Faith had always meant the world to her, but their connection had become even stronger after a heartbreaking incident in her past. Hope had lost someone precious to her, and she’d vowed never to let it happen again.

Sam swore under his breath. There was no way he could talk Hope out of pursuing the suspect. “You can’t make it to the river before dark. Let’s rappel down, go back to Mineral King and call for help.”

She shook her head, stubborn. “I have three more hours of daylight. I won’t waste it by traveling backward.”

“You can drive to the Kaweah camp faster!”

That was true, but Faith wasn’t at the campsite. She was rafting down a river that intersected the killer’s path. “I might not be able to pick up his trail from there. I know I can track it from here.”

“You should wait for backup.”

She didn’t have time to argue, so she radioed Dispatch and relayed the details. “Send a couple of rangers to look for any suspicious activity at Kaweah. We need to contact the sheriff’s department, monitor the exits and put all park employees on alert.”

The dispatcher repeated her instructions and signed off. Although the ground was too dry and rocky for footprints, Hope noticed signs of a disturbance. “Drag marks,” she said to Sam, following them down the trail. They led to a pair of boulders about a hundred feet away. There was a crack between them large enough to hide another body.

While Sam watched her, his face taut as a bowstring, she removed her gun from the waistband of her pants.

In her five years as a ranger, she’d drawn her weapon only a handful of times. She’d aimed it once, last summer. A drunken idiot was shooting at marmots near the Giant Forest Campsite. When she’d shouted a warning for him to put down the gun, he’d swung around to face her, pointing his .38 at her chest. She’d damn near fired on reflex.

Incidents like that were rare, however. Most of the park’s visitors were law-abiding, nature-loving people. Guns were allowed inside park boundaries, but discharging a firearm was strictly prohibited.

That didn’t mean her job wasn’t dangerous. Hope was more likely to be assaulted in the line of duty than an FBI agent. Rangers stationed at the parks along the Mexican border were targeted by drug cartels, but the Sierras had their share of narcotics-related crime, as well. Secret marijuana fields, guarded by armed men, had become increasingly common. These brazen growers used federal land for their crops.

“This is Ranger Banning of Sierra National Park,” she called out, holding her weapon at her side. “Anyone there?”

Wind skimmed across the mountain. The sun was still bright, but the temperature had dropped and the air felt cooler. Hope shivered in her damp tank top. Gesturing for Sam to stay back, she crept forward, pointing her gun at the rocks. A jumble of dark shapes came into view. Her eyes struggled to identify a human form and failed.

Duffel bags. She was looking at a pile of duffel bags.

Hope lowered her weapon, releasing a slow breath. She made sure the safety was on and replaced it in her waistband. When she stepped close enough to reach between the boulders, Sam was right there beside her.

The duffel bag she removed was large and heavy. She unzipped it, revealing what appeared to be high-grade marijuana. It was in loose brick form, lightly compressed and wrapped in plastic to disguise the skunky odor.

Sam let out a low whistle.

Hope looked in another bag and found the exact same contents. Ten bags, each weighing about forty pounds, equaled...a whole lot of drugs. It was probably local. Sierra’s finest had a street value of about five thousand dollars per pound. She estimated the pot’s worth at over a million dollars.

“Someone will be looking for this,” he said.

“Yes.”

“All the more reason to go back to Mineral King.”

Hope agreed that the illegal cargo escalated the danger. Protecting park visitors—Faith included—was imperative. If she didn’t go after the suspect and someone got hurt, she’d be devastated.

Saying nothing, she photographed the evidence and replaced it. When she was finished, she updated Dispatch and requested a radio communication with Ron Laramie, the rafting guide. He wouldn’t be answering calls while on the river, but he was supposed to check in after the group stopped to camp.

She prayed for good news.

“I’m going to Kaweah,” she said to Sam, shrugging out of her pack. “You can head back to Mineral King. Just give me the overnight gear before you leave.”

He frowned at the trail that led down the mountain. How different he seemed from the man she’d met at Long Pine Lodge. That night, he’d been relaxed and charming. She’d known he was Sam Rutherford, reclusive Olympic champion, but he hadn’t acted arrogant or self-important. They’d laughed together and spoken of inconsequential things. She’d been fascinated by him. And wildly attracted.

But Jekyll had turned into Hyde after he’d gotten what he wanted. She still remembered waiting outside in the snow for a cab. Big, fat snowflakes melting in her hair. Hot tears sliding down her face.

And when she’d offered to forget about it, he’d flinched as if the suggestion pained
him.
What was his problem?

Other than making the foolish decision to go home with a man she didn’t know well, she’d done nothing wrong. She wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with strangers. It was a week before the holidays; she’d been tipsy and lonely.

Today, he was more Hyde than Jekyll. She understood that he considered their one-night stand a mistake, and that he didn’t want to be reminded of his boorish behavior. He felt so uneasy around her that it threw off his climbing rhythm. He’d appeared anxious on an ascent he could have done blindfolded.

Or at night. Without ropes.

To be fair, his current duress was probably related to the crime scene, not her. He couldn’t wait to get out of here.

“No,” he said flatly.

“No?”

“I’m not giving you the gear. Let’s go.”

“I’m going that way.” She pointed at the footpath.

“You’ll freeze tonight.”

“I have a jacket and a safety blanket in my pack.”

He made a skeptical sound. Even in the summer, temperatures at the higher altitudes often dropped below thirty degrees, and the weather could change at a moment’s notice. If a storm blew in, she’d be screwed.

“As long as I keep walking, I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t track in the dark.”

Her temper flared. Tamping it down, she forced a smile. “Then I’ll build a shelter and make a fire. I don’t need the extra gear.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed.

“I’m leaving either way, so you might as well give it to me.”

“No.”

She realized that he wasn’t going to budge. Annoyed with his attempt to deter her, she put on her backpack and started walking. He was lucky she didn’t commandeer the tent and sleeping bag at gunpoint. Bastard.

“Goddamn it,” he said, following her down the mountain.

She whirled to face him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m coming with you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

F
AITH
WAS
HAVING
more fun than she’d anticipated.

The rapids were scary, and she didn’t like the way the boat bobbed up and down on the surface of the water, threatening to dump its inhabitants, but a foot brace prevented her from falling overboard. Although the required helmet was dorky, and a boxy life jacket covered her cute new bikini top, both would protect her in a spill.

She didn’t really have to exert herself, either. The guide, who called himself “Captain Ron,” did the bulk of the paddling, shouting directions for assistance every so often. With Ron behind her, Caleb in front and Jay at her side, she felt insulated from danger. They probably didn’t need her help, but she paddled just to be a good sport.

The best part of the trip, by far, was Jay. Her heart skipped a beat every time he gave her a reassuring smile. He was distractingly hot, even with quirky clothes and dye-scorched hair. Before they disembarked, he’d donned a pair of hideous square-framed sunglasses that reminded her of Napoleon Dynamite. It was almost as if he was trying to hide his handsomeness under a nerd disguise.

He couldn’t hide the body, though. His torso was lean and strong, his arms well defined and his stomach rippled with muscle. When he dipped his paddle into the water, biceps flexing, her throat went dry and her thoughts scattered.

The day flew by. After lunch, they hit a long, easy stretch that didn’t demand much maneuvering. Caleb waxed stoner-poetic on everything from the sun sparkling on the water to the immense height of the surrounding trees. Although Faith wasn’t a nature lover, she thought peaceful quiet would better suit the atmosphere. When he launched into another implausible rafting tale, Ron rolled his eyes in Faith’s direction. Jay caught sight of the expression and laughed, glancing away.

“What’s so funny?” Caleb asked him.

“Nothing,” Jay said.

“He thinks you’re full of shit,” Ted supplied.

Caleb looked over his shoulder at Faith. Maybe his boasting was meant to impress her, but she couldn’t suppress a giggle at his expense. He returned his attention to Jay, squinting with antagonism. “Oh yeah?”

Although Jay didn’t look intimidated, Captain Ron came to the rescue. “I tried to run a six-plus on the American River once.”

“What happened?” Paula asked.

“I got dumped.”

Everyone laughed except Caleb, and the conversation moved on to less contentious topics. Jay didn’t say a word but managed to monopolize her complete attention. Whenever she snuck a peek at him, he was watching her.

The last run of the day was a monster. It churned fast and furious between jagged chunks of granite, eager to chew them up and spit them out.

“This is Devil’s Drop,” Ron shouted. “Get ready to paddle!”

Faith froze with terror as they approached. She’d never seen water like this before. Falling out of the boat here would be like getting thrown from a car on the freeway. She imagined herself sailing through the air, her bones snapping on sharp rocks.

“I’m going to die,” she blurted.

The rest of the group chuckled and Caleb let out a war whoop. She was on a trip with a bunch of crazy people!

“You’ll be fine,” Ron said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

For once, Jay focused on paddling instead of her. But he spared her a quick nod to remind her of his promise. They’d been instructed
not
to enter the water to rescue another swimmer. It was dangerous, and not usually an effective lifesaving technique in these conditions. Despite the warning, he’d vowed to come in after her if she tumbled overboard.

She felt comforted by the thought. Taking a deep breath, she clutched her paddle and hung on for dear life. The rapids hit in a dizzying rush, tossing the front of the boat up in the air and slamming it down again. Icy water surged over the edge, soaking her to the skin. She gritted her teeth against the cold shock.

Although she paddled when called upon, her main concern was staying inside the boat. She noticed that most of the other passengers looked happy, rather than terrified. Only Jay appeared grim and determined.

Like her, he was enduring this, not enjoying it.

Then they were free from the rapids’ grip, and his tension disappeared so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it. Everyone in the group was smiling and exuberant, Faith included. She couldn’t believe they hadn’t capsized.

What a wild ride.

After the slippery section passed, the sun sank lower in the horizon and a chill settled over the air. By the time they reached the takeout, where they would camp for the night, Faith was shivering.

“Everyone lends a hand in pitching the tents,” Ron said as they exited the boat.

“I pitch an excellent tent,” Caleb said with a grin, elbowing Faith. “You can sleep with me and Ted.”

“Dream on,” she said, laughing.

Ron tied off the raft and started tossing out supplies. “Girls’ tent goes over there,” he said, pointing toward the trees. “Guys over here.” He removed one more tent bag, which looked smaller than the others.

“Whose is that?” Jay asked.

“Mine,” Captain Ron said, walking away. “It’s a single.”

Caleb smirked at Jay. “Disappointed?”

Not bothering to respond, he picked up the tent and headed the opposite direction. Bunking with him wasn’t an option, so she joined the other women. Faith stood clear while Paula and Meg put up the tent. Inside, she changed into warmer clothes. The fleece jacket and water-resistant pants were her sister’s usual style, function over fashion, but she didn’t mind. It was almost dark. No one cared how she looked.

Ron spoke to Hope on the radio while they were making camp. Faith couldn’t hear the entire conversation, but she gathered that Ranger Banning wouldn’t be joining them. Typical Hope. Always on duty.

Faith needed to have a serious talk with her sister. Hope worked more and dated less every year. She wasn’t equipped for one-night stands, like Faith. The last jerk she’d slept with had reduced her to tears. Hope rarely let her guard down with men, so she was slow to recover from disappointments.

Faith knew why Hope shied away from relationships. Ten years ago, her sister had made a mistake she couldn’t forgive herself for. Other than that one slipup, she was the perfect daughter, the responsible student, the valiant rescuer. “Great White Hope,” Faith called her when she was feeling peevish. Hope was saving the world with her park ranger job. Their flower-power parents were so proud.

Faith was the black sheep of the Banning family. She liked big cities, throngs of people, expensive things. Where Hope had substance, Faith was all flash. She had no interest in saving anything, least of all money. She was an unrepentant pleasure seeker, coasting through life on a useless art history degree.

She’d never
be
as good as Hope. The best she could do was
look
good.

Despite their differences, Faith didn’t resent her sister. She adored her. It broke Faith’s heart to hear the loneliness in Hope’s voice. She wanted to help her sister come out of her shell. Hope needed to stop hiding in the woods and start living.

After the radio call, Ron started a fire. Faith sat down on a log and stretched out her hands, trying to thaw by the flames. Jay took the space next to her. He’d donned his beanie, along with a long-sleeved T-shirt and vintage Levi’s jeans.

“Cold?” he asked.

She nodded.

He put his arm around her. Not asking permission, but moving slowly enough that she could say no if she wanted to.

She didn’t.

His body felt warm and hard where it pressed against hers. He was like a side of beef, with no give. His hand cupped the curve of her waist as if it had been molded for that purpose. She was comforted and thrilled in equal measures.

He kept his gaze on the fire, probably because looking into her eyes at this distance would be weird. But he was still attuned to her. When she exhaled a ragged breath, he smiled and squeezed her waist. She snuggled closer, enjoying the contact.

Faith hadn’t been held by a man in over six months. Since her breakup with Tom, casual hookups had lost their appeal. She wasn’t as adventurous or carefree as she used to be, and that worried her. If she stayed abstinent much longer, she’d become a born-again virgin like Hope. Maybe it was time to knock the dust off her vagina.

Jay was a perfect candidate for a fling. He didn’t match her mental picture of an avid outdoorsman, however. His jaw was shadowed by stubble, and his clothes were on the thrifty side, but he didn’t appear dirty or unkempt. He had good skin, straight teeth and nice hands. This was no hippie backpacker or scruffy wildlife hunter.

His hair had felt thick and luxuriant, and it was expertly cut. He looked more like a lawyer than a lumberjack.

“What do you do?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.

“I’m in shipping.”

“Shipping?”

He nodded. “I work for a company in Las Vegas.”

Las Vegas. Close enough for a friendly visit, but too far for anything serious. That suited Faith just fine.

The others gathered around the fire a moment later. Jay eased his arm away as smoothly as he’d introduced it, giving her an apologetic glance. Maybe he didn’t want to invite comments about how cozy they were getting.

Ron boiled water for freeze-dried meals and served them in the bag with plastic forks. The beef stew tasted awful to Faith, but Jay ate it like a starving man. She offered him her portion and shared a handful of trail mix with Paula, who was a vegetarian. Hot cocoa was the highlight of the evening.

There were no roasted marshmallows or campfire sing-alongs. Faith felt certain that someone would request a round of “Kumbayah,” but no. Ron and the other women went to bed early. Caleb brandished a flask and a smile. He unscrewed the cap and held it out to Faith, who accepted with enthusiasm. After tossing back a shot, she coughed and grimaced. The men laughed at her girlish reaction.

Jay also took a drink, swallowing easily. They passed around the flask until it was empty. By the time Ted rolled a joint, Faith was already buzzed.

“This is good shit,” Caleb said, holding in the smoke.

“Tastes local,” Ted agreed.

Faith declined a toke. The liquor was strong enough, and she hardly knew these guys. Getting wasted out of her mind wasn’t a smart idea. Jay didn’t hit the joint, either, which seemed to surprise them.

“You don’t want any?”

He shook his head.

Caleb and Ted continued to share the pot. Soon they were in la-la land by themselves, debating on the other side of the campfire about how ancient civilizations had been influenced by space aliens.

Faith giggled at Caleb’s wild gestures and turned her attention back to Jay. He was studying her again. Although her face felt naked without makeup, she reminded herself that firelight was flattering.

“Warmer now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, with some regret. The combination of alcohol and masculine attention made her cheeks hot. If she wanted another excuse to cuddle with him, she’d have to move away from the fire.

First things first.

She met his eyes. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” he said, seeming amused. “What about you?”

“No girlfriend,” she said coyly, twirling the end of her braid. “I tried that once in college but it didn’t work out.”

His mouth went slack at the implication.

“No boyfriend, either.”

He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Why not?”

“I haven’t felt like dating anyone since my last breakup.”

“What happened?”

“I guess we didn’t have anything in common. He was a total jock, and...”

“You don’t like sports?”

She hesitated, not wanting to admit it. She knew that men appreciated women who rooted for the home team, drank beer and ate hot dogs. But Faith hated hot dogs. Besides, her sister was the sporty type, and being so hadn’t improved
her
love life.

Maybe Faith should have made a better effort with Tom. She’d rarely attended his events or watched games with him. He hadn’t taken an interest in her social activities, either. They’d never been able to compromise.

“I like some sports,” she said.

“Which ones?”

She thought hard. “Dirty dancing.”

He laughed at her answer.

“Are you a sports fan?” she asked, hopeful.

“Yes.”

Her spirits sank. “What’s your favorite?”

“Boxing.”

Tom hadn’t been into boxing. He’d followed most of the popular sports, so he’d been glued to the television every night. “That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“No football or baseball?”

“I like soccer, but I don’t understand football, and baseball is boring to watch. Not physical enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she shivered in response to the word
physical.
He had a unique way of speaking, a brevity that appealed to her. Everything about him was spare and lean, from his taut body to his clipped sentences.

Leaning toward him, she whispered in his ear, “I have to pee.”

He rose to his feet, eager to assist. She took his proffered hand and stood up, swaying a little. Caleb and Ted were too busy arguing about the space-time continuum to notice their departure.

Although Faith was afraid of bears, she could have squatted behind a bush without help. Jay stood guard at a nearby tree while she tinkled in the moonlight. She prayed that the leaves near her backside weren’t poison oak.

When she was finished, she fastened her pants and returned to his side. She tripped on the last step by design, stumbling into his arms.

Oh my.

His biceps were very firm beneath her palms, and his chest felt like a warm, hard cocoon. She clung to him, not caring if her pratfall was convincing.

“Are you all right?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He placed a hand at the small of her back, holding her steady. The action also brought her lower body flush against his. They were much closer than polite distance allowed, and he was making no move to extract himself.

She twined her arms around his neck, encouraged.