Chapter Fourteen

Harper stared at the abandoned Jeep, throat tight. "They were here," she said, almost whispering, as if Mick Davis might be close enough to hear her.

"They're still here somewhere." Ryker moved toward the Jeep, then stopped and shifted his pack until he could extract a pair of nitrile gloves from it. "I'm going to take a look inside."

She moved in close behind him, careful not to touch anything, but wanting to see what he found. The smell of cigarette smoke and stale food hit them as soon as Ryker opened the front passenger door. Over his shoulder, she studied the worn black upholstery and dusty floor mats almost obscured by piles of food wrappers, crushed soft drink cans, empty plastic water bottles and cigarette butts. "He didn't leave the keys," Ryker noted. He peered under the seat. "Nothing here but more trash."

He moved to open the rear passenger door. Harper couldn't see as well into this space. "More trash," Ryker said. "Wait a minute." He leaned in and emerged seconds later holding something small and white. Harper's throat closed again as she recognized a child's sock—white with pink rosebuds at the cuff.

Ryker stared at the sock, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he angry? Afraid? Sad? Probably all of the above. "If they're here, we'll find them," she said. "I could hike back down until I get a cell signal and call for help."

He hesitated, frowning, then shook his head. "I don't like the idea of you heading out by yourself with Mick possibly nearby. He's probably armed."

"I don't like the idea of leaving you up here alone, either," she said.

"We'll look around together," he said. "If we see anything, we'll both go back and get help." He closed both vehicle doors, easing them shut so that they scarcely made a sound. Then he moved around to the driver's door, opened it, leaned in and released the hood. He moved around to the front of the vehicle, reached in and yanked out a tangle of wires. "That will slow him down if he comes back." He eased the hood down until it closed with a soft click.

Harper scanned the area around them. Silence closed in—the silence of a long-deserted area. "Where do you think they are?" she asked.

"There's a trail just past that old building," he said. "Let's see what's up there."

Tension vibrating through her, she followed him up a narrow, rocky path that scarcely passed for a trail. She fought to keep her balance as loose rocks rolled beneath her feet. If she was having this hard a time making it up here, what would it have been like for Charlotte? Had Mick carried her? That is, if they were even up here. She couldn't see any sign that anyone else had come this way, but how would she know? Footprints didn't show in the dry, rocky soil.

Ryker stopped and put out a hand to halt her. "I see some buildings up ahead," he said.

She moved up beside him, and put her hand on his back to steady herself. She peered in the direction he indicated and could just make out the side of a log cabin, and one section of its rusty metal roof. "We need to get off this trail." Ryker spoke with his mouth close to her ear, his voice soft, sending a shiver down her spine. "Mick might be watching for someone to come up this way."

She nodded, then followed as he moved off the trail and began picking his way on an indirect route toward the log building. He kept below the ridge as they hiked in a wide arc, then began to climb once more. At the top of the ridge they emerged behind what proved to be a trio of log cabins.

These buildings were in better shape than the one nearest the parking area. One had a roof that looked intact, and though none of them had real windows, the walls were upright, if unchinked, and two of them had doors. Harper sniffed the air. "I smell woodsmoke," she whispered. There was no sign of smoke near any of the cabins now but perhaps last night, when temperatures would have dropped, someone had lit a fire to cook dinner and keep warm.

"Stay here," Ryker said. "I'm going to try to get closer."

She shook her head. "We need to stay together."

He scowled, but rather than argue, he turned and started toward the nearest cabin, the one with the intact roof and a door. She followed, moving as quietly as possible, every nerve tense, ears straining for the sound of anyone nearby. They reached the rear of the cabin and pressed their backs against the rough wood. Then Ryker inched toward the window opening, the rough wooden frame empty of glass. She darted past him to take up a position on the other side so she could look inside also.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The floor was dirt, streaked with thin bars of sunlight showing through the gaps between the unchinked logs. At first, it appeared empty, then she focused on what appeared to be a heap of sleeping bags and blankets in the far corner. She reached out and gripped Ryker's arm. "They were here!" she whispered.

He nodded, and leaned in to examine the space more thoroughly. The air smelled of old wood and dust, and the stronger aroma of wet ash from an extinguished fire, though she couldn't see signs of any blaze within that one bare room. Perhaps they had lit a campfire outside, to the front of the cabin.

Ryker tapped her arm and indicated they should move on. She started to turn away, but as she did so, something moved over by the blankets. She grabbed Ryker's hand and pulled him back, then pointed into the cabin. As they stared, the blankets definitely shifted. She caught a glimpse of a small hand, and a flash of blond hair.

Ryker vaulted over the windowsill and raced to the pile of blankets. "Charlotte," he called, and pulled back the blankets. "Charlotte, honey, are you all right?"

The child blinked up at him, then reached up with her arms. "Daddy!" she called, and Ryker scooped her up, blankets and all.

Harper blinked back tears as she witnessed this reunion. "It's okay, sweetheart," Ryker said, smoothing back Charlotte's hair. "You're safe with me now. I'm going to take you home." He moved toward the door, but before he reached it, it burst open.

A wiry man with short blond hair and a scruffy beard filled the doorway. He hefted an axe in one hand. "Put her down," he ordered. "Do it now or I'll kill you."

R YKER HADN ' T SEEN Mick Davis in years but he had no doubt the blond threatening him now was the man Kim had left him for. Charlotte began to sob, and Ryker tightened one arm around her and took a step back, toward the window. He kept his gaze on Mick and that axe, and debated whether or not he could draw his gun from beneath his jacket without putting his daughter in danger.

The light streaming through the window shifted. He didn't look over, but hoped Harper was retreating out of harm's way. Mick gave no sign he had noticed, his gaze remaining fixed on Ryker and Charlotte. Time to end this stare-down. "I'm going to take my daughter and leave," Ryker said.

Mick took a firmer grip on the axe. "And I told you to put her down."

Ryker could feel the weight of the gun at his back, but he couldn't risk Charlotte. She shifted against him and made a whimpering sound, and he cradled her head in his hand, wanting to comfort her and needing to protect her. To get her to safety. "What do you want with her, Mick?" he asked. "She'll just slow you down when you try to get away."

"She's my little insurance policy. To get to me, they risk hurting her and no one wants that, do they?" He hefted the axe higher and took a step toward them.

Charlotte wailed, and the light shifted again as Harper moved into the doorway behind Mick. She clutched a rusty iron bar in both hands. Before Ryker had time to react, she brought the bar down hard on the back of Mick's head.

He toppled like a felled tree, the axe trapped beneath him. He groaned, and tried to push himself up on hands and knees. Ryker kicked him hard in the chest and he crumpled again, then Ryker raced past him out the door. Harper stood, both arms wrapped around herself, looking shaken.

"We need to get out of here," Ryker said.

She nodded, but continued to stare past him at Mick.

Ryker looked back over his shoulder and watched Mick rock up on all fours, groaning. Then he turned back to Harper. "Come on." He touched her shoulder.

He jogged away from the cabin, relieved to hear her right behind him. When they were a hundred yards or so from the cabins he paused to get his bearings. They needed to work their way off this ridge, back toward the trail that eventually led to the parking area and his truck. A shouted curse from Mick jolted him to action once more. He whirled to momentarily face the cabins—and Mick. The other man shouldn't be standing after the blow Harper had given him, but somehow he was on his feet and staggering after them. But he wouldn't be able to run. All he and Harper had to do was put more distance between themselves and Mick and hike the two miles to his car. Not the easiest thing he had ever done, but not impossible, either.

A whistling sound cut the air, and air rushed past his left shoulder, followed by the sharp report of gunfire. "He's shooting at us!" Harper cried.

Ryker bent over, shielding Charlotte with his body. "Run for cover!" he shouted.

H ARPER DARTED INTO a clump of trees at the very edge of the clearing. She huddled behind the gnarled trunk of a juniper, the silvery bark peeling away like flowing hair. Was the trunk stout enough to stop a bullet? She peeked between the trees, looking back toward the cabins. Mick Davis, blood matting his hair and staining one side of his face and beard, held a large pistol and stalked toward them.

Ryker crashed through the trees to join her. He dropped to his knees behind her and shoved Charlotte toward her. "Charlotte, you remember Harper, don't you?" he said. "She's going to take care of you for a minute, but I'll be right here."

Harper gathered the girl close. "Hello, Charlotte," she said, and forced a smile. She moved farther into the cover of trees. Charlotte stared at her with wide, frightened eyes, but didn't say anything. Ryker pulled a gun from beneath his jacket at his back and moved to steady himself behind the juniper's wide trunk.

Harper startled at the first shot, even though she had known it was coming. Charlotte covered both ears with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. Her trembling vibrated through Harper, who pulled her close and spoke in her ear, in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "It's going to be okay," she said. "Your dad is going to take care of us."

"He's back in the cabin." Ryker duckwalked to them. "We need to move. Can you carry her for a little bit, in case I have to return fire again?"

She shuddered at the idea of more bullets flying, but nodded. "Of course."

He helped her stand, and she settled Charlotte more comfortably on her hip. The child was heavy, but not any heavier than the full packs she had carried on search and rescue missions. "We're ready," she said.

Ryker led the way, not back to the path, but threading through the trees and rocky uplift. They had to move slowly, picking their way around obstacles, but no more bullets whistled past them, and she didn't hear anyone pursuing them. They were traveling downhill, and she reasoned that Ryker was taking them on a route that would eventually meet the road they had come in on. They moved quickly, not speaking. After a while, he took Charlotte again. The little girl put her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulders, but didn't say a word.

Harper thought they had been walking forty-five minutes to an hour when Ryker abruptly stopped. "What is it?" she asked, hurrying to stand beside him. Then she saw that the ground fell away in front of them.

"We're cliffed out," he said. "We'll have to backtrack."

Charlotte started to cry. Ryker shifted her to his other hip. "We're not going back to Mick," he said. "You're safe with me."

"Can we stop and rest a little?" Harper asked. "Maybe get something to eat and drink, and think about what we need to do next?" The sun was high in the sky now and her stomach grumbled.

"Good idea." He set Charlotte on her feet. "Do you need to use the bathroom, honey?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'll take you," Harper said. She offered her hand and Charlotte took it. The two picked their way over fallen tree limbs and scattered rocks to a sheltered spot in a thicket of shrubs. When they had both relieved themselves, Harper smoothed back Charlotte's hair and looked into her eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Scared."

"I'm a little scared, too," Harper admitted. "But your dad and I are going to protect you and we're going to get you back home." She had a dozen questions she wanted to ask, about what exactly had happened to this child, but now wasn't the time to ask them. It wasn't even her place to ask them. She would need to leave that to Ryker. "We probably have a lot more walking to do to get to where your dad has parked his truck," she said instead. "Are you up for it?"

Charlotte bit her lower lip. "Can we eat something first?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Come on, let's get back to your dad."

Ryker had removed his pack and had some of the contents laid out on the ground—two water bottles, a half-dozen protein bars, two sandwiches and a couple of apples. He looked up at their approach. "I've got ham and cheese," he said.

"I've got peanut butter and jelly." Harper removed her own pack. "And candy bars."

Charlotte looked livelier than she had all day. "Can I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

"Of course. And if you're still hungry after you eat it, we'll split a candy bar." She sat cross-legged on the ground and Charlotte copied the posture. Harper distributed the food and Ryker unwrapped his own sandwich. Then he cut up one of the apples and passed out slices. When she was done eating, Charlotte wiped her hands on her dress and looked at Ryker. "Do you know where Mama is?"

Ryker looked flummoxed by the question. "Your mom is safe," he said. "You do know she wasn't supposed to take you away from me like that, don't you?"

"I know."

Ryker didn't look any happier. Harper could almost see his calculating what to ask next. "Were you surprised to see your mom?" Harper asked.

Charlotte turned to her. "She said she was going to take me to get ice cream." She looked back to Ryker. "She said it was okay with you."

"It wasn't," Ryker said. "If she had come to me and asked, I would have arranged for all of us to visit together. I never tried to keep your mother from you, no matter what she might have told you."

"She said it was her turn to take care of me now. Her and Mick." She made a face, like she had eaten something sour.

"You don't like Mick," Harper guessed.

She nodded.

Ryker leaned toward her, rigid with tension. "Mick didn't hurt you, did he?"

Harper held her breath, waiting for the answer. Charlotte shrugged. "He didn't hit me—though he said he would if I didn't do what he said. He yelled a lot—at me and at Mama. I didn't like that. And I was really scared when he pushed her out of the car and kept me with him. I kept telling him I wanted to go home." She began to cry, and Ryker gathered her close, pulling her into his lap and rocking her.

He looked over her head and met Harper's gaze, and the pain in his eyes made her want to weep, too. She settled for moving closer and rubbing Charlotte's back. "It's okay," she said. "Your dad isn't going to let anything happen to you."

After a while, the little girl's breathing grew more even. Harper thought she had fallen asleep.

"Do you know where we are?" Harper asked Ryker.

He looked up at the sun high overhead in a sky the color of forget-me-nots. "If we keep heading east, we should hit the road," he said. "But we have to find a way down the ridge."

"What about Mick? Do you think he's still following us?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But you hit him pretty hard. He's bound to have a concussion. I doubt he's moving all that quickly. And he doesn't really need Charlotte. If I was him, I'd take the chance to get away while I could."

"But you disabled his car."

"I did. I hope that will slow him down. All I really care about now is getting Charlotte home. The rest of the force can deal with Mick."

He put one arm around her. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"I'm not," she said. "I don't like to think what would have happened if I hadn't sneaked up behind Mick and hit him." The sound of that metal bar striking his skull wouldn't leave her anytime soon. The moment had been awful, but not nearly as awful as it would have been seeing him use that axe against Ryker or Charlotte. "If he had a gun all that time, why did he threaten you with the axe?" she asked.

"I think he had probably gone to chop wood, so he had the axe in his hand at the time. I guess he thought it would be enough." He squeezed her shoulder. "I take back what I said before. I'm not sorry you're here. And not just because you went after Mick with that iron bar."

She leaned against him. Being here with him and Charlotte felt right. They were a good team. "We should get going," he said. "I want to get back to the truck before dark. The sooner we're away from Mick, the better I'll feel."

She nodded, and shoved herself to her feet. She wanted to be away from Mick, too, though she hated to end this moment with Ryker—just the two of them and Charlotte, without anyone else to interfere.