Page 48 of What Doesn't Kill Her
“Something went wrong under the hood. You suspect bad doin’s?”
“Yes.”
“What were they doing up here?”
“My girlfriend had a job. My daughter tagged along. Not that she was supposed to.”
“Sounds like a handful.”
“She is so much trouble.”
“And you love her to death.”
“Yes.” He turned away. “I’d better go find them.” He stopped. “Where did this fire happen?”
“About three miles up the road. You can’t miss it. The flames scorched the shit out of a couple of Douglas firs, could have started a forest fire, but a rainstorm in the afternoon put them out.” She saluted him. “Good luck.”
Something about the way she saluted made him ask, “You former military?”
“Army.”
“So was my girlfriend. Captain Kellen Adams.”
“I don’t know her, but when I talk to the park rangers, I’ll let them know your story, tell them about your family.”
“Thank you.” He handed her his business card. “Not that cell phones work up here, but leave a message and maybe I’ll go high enough to catch a signal.”
They headed to their vehicles and took off in opposite directions.
Max drove, not paying a bit of attention to the gravel washboards or watching the sides of the road, because he knew what he was looking for. Wherever that van had burned, that was the place to start looking for his little girl and his big girl.
He needed to remember—Kellen wasn’t his yet.
But right now, when he was terrified, it was hard.
The burned spot was, as Dakota said, three miles up the road. Max pulled up at the spot the van had been parked and started searching the ground. He found pink glitter and a melted princess doll that made him want to cry and a glittery trail that led toward the creek that flowed under the road and up into the forest. Kellen’s footsteps dug deep into the gravel, as if she’d been running, and joined smaller footsteps that pressed into the creek sides and then up toward a clearing surrounded by trees where—
Max had his head down, following the tracks, intent on knowing where his daughter and his woman (not his, not yet) had been.
When he looked up, he saw the man’s body, bound to the tree, slumped against the trunk, throat cut, blood spilling down his chest...
With that one glance, Max identified him. This was the guy who had picked up Kellen in the white van and driven her and Rae away to an adventure that could very well be the death of them. And this guy, whatever his name was, was now dead in a brutal bloody murder.
Max had to get to Kellen and Rae before it was too late.
He backtracked to his truck and drove on to the parking area fast enough to make his jaw snap when he hit a bump. He parked and consulted his map. He had already made his decision. He would make no attempt to report the murder. The guy was already dead and if Max had contacted the authorities, he would have been there for hours, possibly detained as a suspect. Weighed against the threat to Kellen and Rae, the legalities were unimportant.
Kellen had to know the danger she was in.
Would she try to get Rae to the ranger station?
Or would she head for the Restorer’s home base?
If she headed for the ranger station, Max knew she and Rae would be safe with them.
Max put the map away, shouldered his backpack and started the rough climb up to Horizon Ridge and the Restorer. If for some reason, Kellen headed that way, their chances of survival lessened considerably. Maybe he was headed the wrong direction, but they would need him there.
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