Freefall (6 page)

“Sorry to bother you,” she said. “I wanted to ask about the sick camper who left yesterday.”

“What about him?”

“Did he look suspicious?”

“No, he looked sick,” he said with disdain. “He was a zit-nosed kid, not a damned Mexican drug smuggler.”

She didn’t bother to tell Morgenstern that they didn’t know the ethnicity of the suspect. He was a cranky old coot, but he did his job, which was more than she could say of Bill Kruger. If he carried some extra resentment toward Hope, it was because she’d taken over his position at Mineral King. He was also from a different generation of rangers. A lot of throwbacks like him didn’t believe women should be wearing the Smokey the Bear Stetson.

At least Morgenstern was up-front about his prejudice. She’d take bald sexism over the subtle, insidious bullshit any day.

Morgenstern took another bite of his sandwich and set it down next to a cell phone. He eyeballed Sam, still chewing.

Hope considered the possibilities. If the guy in the red truck wasn’t her suspect, who was the seventh person in Ron’s group? “Oh my God,” she said, an icy hand trailing down her spine. “He’s on the rafting trip.”

“Who?”

“The killer!”

Morgenstern harrumphed in disbelief. “Ron wouldn’t add a random stranger on a whim. Reservations are made months in advance.”

“Did you see them depart?”

“Yes. Three men almost missed the van.”

“Can you describe them?”

He thought about it, squinting. “Two college-kid river rats, one tall, one short. They were with a medium-sized guy in a gray hat.”

Hope referred to the list of items in the stolen backpack. Gray beanie was number four. “That’s him.”

“He might have been Mexican.”

She thanked Morgenstern for his trouble and walked away from the trailer with Sam. Heart racing with distress, she picked up her radio to call Dispatch. “I need to talk to Ron. It’s an emergency.”

“I’ll try to reach him, but he isn’t due to check in again until evening.”

“Get Dixon.”

The dispatcher asked her to wait a moment. It felt like an eternity. Sam stood beside her, close and silent. “He’s on three,” she said when she returned.

Hope switched to channel three, which was used exclusively for communications with the park manager.

“Banning?”

Although she was on a first-name basis with Doug Dixon, he didn’t show familiarity during work hours. She told him about her suspicions in a rush. “I need a helicopter team to take me downriver.”

“Hold on,” he said. “We don’t know it’s him.”

“There were three men scheduled for the rafting trip. One went home.”

“Maybe the other two called a friend.”

Her gut said otherwise. “I have to go after them.”

“Negative.”

“My sister is in that group!”

“Which is exactly why you should take a step back. I’ll talk to Ron and assemble a whitewater team. Or a helicopter crew, if it comes to that. I don’t want you involved. You’ve made too many rash decisions.”

“What do you mean?”

“You left base without a team yesterday.”

“Only because SAR was busy and I couldn’t reach you.”

“Continuing to Kaweah was also ill-advised.”

She clenched the radio in her sweaty grip. He’d never reprimanded her before, and it didn’t feel good.

“Take a break, Hope. You’ve covered a lot of ground in twenty-four hours.”

“I’m fine.”

“Go home and get some rest. We’ll do everything we can to catch this guy.”

Hope stared at Sam, swallowing hard. She couldn’t believe Dixon had ordered her to stand down. This wasn’t just unfair, it was humiliating. Was he cutting her out of the action because she was too emotionally involved, or because he didn’t want her to get hurt? She was the only female law enforcement ranger in the park. Maybe her boss wasn’t much different from Morgenstern after all.

“Is that clear, Banning?”

“Yes, sir.”

She clipped the radio to her waist with shaking hands. Ron might not check in until dark. His group would be thirty miles downriver by then. The Kaweah ran along the east side of Angel Wings, through the most remote area of the park. It was pristine wilderness, totally undeveloped. There were no roads, only a few hiking trails. The only way to reach the rafters quickly was by helicopter.

Or kayak.

If she left now, and paddled hard, she could catch up with the group by nightfall. She’d planned to do that anyway. Dixon wouldn’t be pleased with her insubordination, but she doubted he’d fire her. She had some pretty good dirt on him.

Hope hurried toward the ranger station, where the rescue kayaks were housed.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Taking my vacation.”

CHAPTER SIX

R
ANGER
C
ORDOVA
UNLOCKED
the storage shed at Hope’s request.

She removed the necessary supplies from her pack and shoved them into a dry sack, along with her service weapon. Then she slammed a helmet on her head and wrestled into a life jacket.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“I’m borrowing a kayak. For recreational purposes.”

“Recreational purposes, my ass!”

As she reached for the kayak on the middle shelf, she gave him a sidelong glance, surprised by his vehemence. He was standing in the doorway, blocking her exit. His chest rose up and down with agitation. She wasn’t sure why she had such a strong effect on him. The night she’d slept with him, he’d responded to the barest touch, a whisper of breath. Whatever had drawn them together still hummed beneath the surface, ready to ignite.

“Dixon told you to go home.”

She unstrapped the hull, her pulse racing.

Sam turned to Ranger Cordova, who was watching with wide eyes. “Are you really going to let her do this?”

“She’s my superior, Mr. Rutherford.”

“Then call her superior!”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, pointing her finger at Cordova.

“I’ll call him,” Sam threatened.

“Go right ahead. Get on the phone with your crony and throw some more money at him. I’ll be ten miles downriver by then.”

“You’re really prepared to attempt Class Five whitewater on your own?”

“I’m an experienced kayaker.”

“Those rapids are brutal.”

She removed the kayak from the rack. “You free-solo a thousand feet above the ground, so spare me the safety lecture.”

“They have more than a day’s head start,” he said through clenched teeth. “If, by some miracle, you don’t get slammed in the slickies, you’d have to paddle like hell on the slow sections. Only an expert could catch up with them.”

“You’re familiar with this river?”

Cordova made a coughing noise. She knew something Hope didn’t.

“I used to be a guide here,” he said.

He’d grown up in nearby Tulare, so it made sense. He must have honed his Olympic skills on the three local rivers as a teenager. “Great,” she said, unzipping the kayak cover. Now she understood why he was so agitated. He felt obligated to come with her—again. “I don’t need your assistance this time, Sam.”

“You need a partner.”

“I’ll go,” Cordova said, her expression eager.

Hope didn’t want to get Cordova in trouble. She was a seasonal employee with high aspirations. “I’ll be fine,” she said, hitching the kayak over her shoulder. If he tried to stop her, she’d javelin him with the pointed end.

He stepped aside, muttering a string of curses as she exited the shed. She scrambled to the river’s edge, worried that he was going to follow through on his threat to contact Dixon. Placing the kayak on the bank, she sat down to remove her hiking shoes.

He joined her a moment later, carrying the second kayak.

“You can’t come,” she said. “This isn’t a search-and-rescue.”

“Are you willing to wait for someone else?”

She slipped her shoes into the dry sack, annoyed. There were a few rangers on staff who could run this river, Cordova included, but she couldn’t bring them on an unauthorized mission. Besides, she had to leave now. Her chances of catching up with the group by evening were already dwindling.

“You might be putting your sister in more danger by getting involved,” he said. “Have you thought about that?”

Hope cleared her throat, swallowing back tears. “She’s not due to arrive at Moraine Lake
until late tomorrow. If something happens to her between now and then, I’ll never forgive myself.”

With a dark scowl, he glanced away. She could tell that he knew how she felt. They’d both lost loved ones. Hope had given hers up by choice, but that didn’t make her heart ache any less at night.

“What’s your plan?”

She took a deep breath. “Yesterday morning, I told Faith I’d try to catch up with the raft. So that’s what I’ll say I’m doing. I won’t challenge the suspect. He’s probably still armed. I’ll just keep an eye on him until we reach Moraine.”

He deliberated for a moment. “What will you do with your kayak?”

“I’ll leave it at the campsite.”

“Have you run this river before?”

“Yes. I did it twice last month.”

“Okay,” he said, sighing heavily. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

“If we don’t scout the tricky sections or take any breaks, we can probably make it to Mist Falls by sundown.”

“Is that where they’ll camp?”

“Most likely.”

“We’re stopping for lunch. That’s nonnegotiable.”

She agreed and they started off, cutting through the shallows that snaked through the campsite. Her leg muscles needed a rest, but her arms were still strong. By the end of the day, her whole body would be sore. For now, it felt good to be in motion, her blood pumping, the sun shining on her bare shoulders.

Dixon would castigate her again, and Sam didn’t approve, but she refused to turn back. Faith was her baby sister. Hope had always been the responsible one, the protective one. She enjoyed taking care of others and especially loved rescue work. These attributes had served her well as a park ranger. It felt rewarding to keep the peace.

She knew she had an unhealthy zest for maintaining order. The more unsettled her personal life, the more she attempted to control her environment. When a situation slipped out of her grasp, she felt helpless. Like a teenage girl in a hospital bed, stretching out her empty arms. Tears streaming down her face.

She’d do anything—
anything
—to avoid that feeling. Knowing that Faith was in danger caused an unbearable panic within her. Her only recourse was to take action. To keep moving forward and never give up.

Hope couldn’t rest, physically or mentally, until Faith was safe.

* * *

F
AITH
WAS
TOTALLY
over camping.

She’d had a great time snuggling by the fire and making out with Jay, but sleeping on the hard ground sucked. Screeching birds woke her at the crack of dawn. She sat up and glanced around, shivering from the cold.

She was alone in the tent. Rubbing her eyes, she reached into her pack for a compact. When she saw her reflection, she gasped in dismay.

There was a bug bite—on her cheek! Some creepy, crawly little bastard had disfigured her while she was sleeping.

She hadn’t brought any concealer, so she couldn’t hide the red bump. She snapped the compact shut with a groan. After putting on her boots, she emerged from the tent. The other women were already awake and looking chipper. She mumbled hello and ducked into the bushes, checking the ground for snakes. Peeing outdoors was hazardous.

After washing her face, brushing her teeth and fixing her hair, she felt human again. Hungry, actually.

She joined the others around the campfire. Ron was serving cinnamon oatmeal. Accepting a bowl, she took a seat by Jay, careful to give him the good side of her face. Mornings-after could be awkward. Some guys acted evasive or avoided eye contact. Others lingered too long or talked too much.

Jay didn’t talk at all. Nor did he avoid eye contact. He stared at her openly, as if enthralled by her presence.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, smiling a little.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Caleb snores.”

Laughing, she tested a spoonful of oatmeal. She’d hardly eaten yesterday, and she was starving.

“How about you?”

“I miss my bed,” she said.

Faith didn’t understand why Hope liked roughing it so much. Maybe her sister was a masochist. For the past ten years, she’d been punishing herself.

Faith dealt with loss in a different way. She was more of a hedonist. Hope wallowed in martyrdom; Faith chose to carpe diem. She wanted to forget her troubles and be carefree. While Hope tried to rule the wilderness and save everyone within a hundred-mile radius, Faith stayed on top of her appearance and any men in her vicinity.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have deep feelings. She just preferred to skim over the surface and keep things light.

A helicopter rose over a nearby mountaintop, flying so close that the sound of the whipping blade drowned out conversation. Jay went still beside her, frowning at the intrusion. The stubble on his jaw was black as pitch, which made his dyed hair appear even more incongruent.

The helicopter disappeared, but a strange tension remained. As they broke down camp and loaded the raft, Jay continued to glance up at the sky.

“Friends of yours?” she asked him.

He took the question seriously. “No.”

“It was a joke.”

“Oh.” Picking up her bag, he carried it to the raft for her. “I enjoyed your company last night.”

“I could tell.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. She liked the way he responded to her, and not just in the physical sense. Men had found her cute and funny before, but his attention felt different. He seemed surprised by her.

She vowed to catch him off guard again, to delight him with her daring. “Are you going to take care of me out on the water today?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Then maybe I’ll take care of you later.”

His eyes darkened at the suggestion. Smiling, she joined the other rafters. He watched her strip down to her bikini top and shorts, looking as if he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her into the woods, caveman-style.

She’d forgotten how much fun it was to flirt with a hot guy.

Rafting, however, dampened her enthusiasm. It was still chilly when they headed downriver, and her scrawny arm muscles were sore from paddling. She’d much rather be lounging poolside with a cocktail in Las Vegas. Maybe next summer, when she brought her sister there on vacation, she could squeeze in a visit with Jay.

Faith rejected the idea as soon as it popped into her head. She had nothing against booty calls, but scheduling one a year in advance, with a guy she’d just met, wasn’t her style. Pleasuring him in the woods was as far as her plans needed to go.

She moistened her lips in anticipation.

An hour later, Faith was clinging to the raft for dear life, her steamy fantasy doused by ice-cold rapids. They entered the first stretch of a section Ron called “the slickies.” Underwater whirlpools, which appeared deceptively flat and slick, lurked at frequent intervals, ready to spin the boat backward.

The dips and drops were worse. The front of the boat caught air, only to slam down with an epic splash.

After they made it to a relatively calm area, Ron pulled over to “scout ahead.” He jumped out of the raft and scrambled up a tall rock, studying the next bend of the river. While he was busy, his radio chirped twice.

“How does it look?” Paula asked.

“Hairy,” Ron replied, giving the boat a push and hopping in.

Caleb howled like a coyote, splashing Ted with his paddle.

Faith exchanged a glance with Jay. He looked worried.

“Your radio beeped,” Paula said.

“Yeah, they’ve been paging me all morning. Must be something important. I’ll answer it when we stop for lunch.”

Faith was looking forward to lunch. She might never get back in the raft. As they approached a huge drop between two boulders, her worst nightmare materialized. The left side of the raft lifted high in the air and she went with it. Screaming, she tumbled over the edge, gripping the wet guard rope in her clenched fist.

Ron had both hands full paddling, so he couldn’t assist her.

Jay lunged across the space, grabbing the front of her life jacket and hauling her inside. Her eyes locked with his. “Okay now?” he asked.

When she nodded, he let go.

He’d risked his own safety by standing to help her. As he returned to his side of the raft, they hit another huge wave.

Jay toppled overboard, just like that.

Faith screamed again, throwing herself across the raft. She searched for him in the whitewater, her arms outstretched.

This time, it was Ron who hauled her backward. “You can’t help him,” he shouted. “Stay on your side and paddle!”

They still had a treacherous run to complete. Faith paddled as well as she could, sobbing in dismay. She scanned the rapids as they rushed by, praying for a glimpse of Jay’s red helmet or a flash of his yellow life jacket.

She couldn’t see him anywhere.

“We’ve got a swimmer,” Ron said, alerting the other paddlers. They redoubled their efforts to reach an eddy behind a boulder. From there, they combed the water in all directions. “Look for him!”

There was no sign of Jay.

“I’m going in,” Caleb said. He was the strongest swimmer, besides Ron, and they needed the guide to stay in the boat.

Before he jumped overboard, Paula pointed to a blur of color by the shore. “There!”

Faith could have wept with relief. Jay was clinging to a group of wet rocks near the opposite bank. Ron ordered them to paddle that direction. As they got closer, it became clear that he was injured. He was waist-deep in the water, his helmet askew, left arm hanging at an awkward angle.

Ron tied down the raft and leaped out. He got a grip on Jay’s life jacket and dragged him toward the shore, his face contorted from the effort. Faith and Caleb came with him, sloshing through the icy shallows.

“Where are you hurt?” Ron asked.

“My shoulder,” Jay said, wincing. “It’s dislocated.”

Faith stared at his left arm in horror. It looked detached from his body, like a limb on a scarecrow.

“Damn,” Caleb said. “I’ve done that before. Hurts like a bitch.”

“I’ll call Dispatch,” Ron said. “Emergency services has a helicopter—”

“I don’t need a fucking helicopter,” Jay interrupted. He took off his helmet and tossed it on the muddy bank. “I can walk.”

“It’s at least twenty miles, either direction.”

“I’ll live.”

Caleb nodded, as if this sounded reasonable. “You can walk, but you can’t carry gear. Someone will have to come with you.”

He scowled at the suggestion, but Faith perked up. “I can do it.”

“No,” Ron said. “Your sister will have my ass.”