Freefall. Jill Sorenson

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      “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.

      * * *

      FAITH 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.

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