Chapter Sixteen

"Ryker is missing. I'm worried about him." Wanda and Steve Vernon had been waiting for Sheriff Travis Walker when he showed up at the sheriff's department a little after eight o'clock Saturday morning. Adelaide summoned him to the lobby before he had even poured his first cup of coffee. He found Ryker's parents pacing the small reception area. Wanda didn't bother to say hello before voicing her concerns.

"When did you last see him?" Travis asked.

"Night before last." Steve Vernon had his son's dark hair and square chin, though his eyes were a lighter brown and his skin more weathered. "He said good-night and went upstairs, but I saw his light was still on when I went up to bed."

"I thought I heard him leave close to midnight," Wanda said. "I was lying there in bed, unable to sleep, and I heard the stairs creak, then the back door. I thought he was going for a drive to clear his head. I was waiting for him to return, but I must have finally drifted off. When we got up Friday morning, he wasn't there, but he often leaves before we're awake. I was annoyed when I didn't hear from him all day, but when he didn't show up for dinner, or after that, I got really worried. I wanted to call you right then, but Steve persuaded me we should wait."

"I figured he was out searching for Charlotte," Steve said. "I didn't want to embarrass him by contacting his boss."

Travis had spent most of the previous day in a spotter plane, flying over the mining district in search of the white Jeep Mick Davis was supposedly driving, or anything else out of the ordinary. Most of his deputies had been assigned to patrol the network of Jeep roads in the mountains. No one had come up with anything. "I was out all yesterday, searching," he said. "I didn't see any sign of Ryker or his vehicle."

Wanda hugged her arms across her chest. "I can't believe this is happening—first Charlotte, now Ryker." She had striking features, with high cheekbones in a heart-shaped face, her long, dark hair just beginning to show gray at the temples.

Travis had a vague memory that she had once been a local beauty queen. Miss Rayford County or something like that. "I assume you've tried calling and texting him?" he asked.

"Of course. But I'm not getting any answer."

Steve rubbed his wife's shoulder. "If he's in the mountains, he probably doesn't have cell service."

Wanda shrugged off his hand. "Ryker said Mick Davis has a criminal record, but he wouldn't tell me what for. What if he went after Ryker? Either because he's Charlotte's dad or because he's a law enforcement officer?"

"We don't have any reason to believe Mick has anything personally against Ryker," Travis said.

The front door to the sheriff's department opened and Valerie Stanick entered. She stopped and frowned at the Vernons, then focused on the sheriff. "Harper didn't come back to her apartment last night," she said. "She's not answering her phone, and she didn't show up for work yesterday. That's not like her at all."

Wanda clutched her husband's arm. "Maybe Harper is with Ryker."

"What would she be doing with Ryker?" Valerie put a definite chill behind her words. Like Wanda, Valerie had the kind of beauty that didn't fade with age. Her blond hair was swept back off her forehead and her hazel eyes seemed capable of looking right through a man. Travis found himself squaring his shoulders and standing up a little straighter as he faced her.

"Harper has been helping Ryker search for Charlotte," Wanda said. "They spent at least one afternoon driving around the mining district, searching for them. Harper didn't tell you?"

Valerie's lips tightened. She addressed the sheriff. "Where is Ryker now?"

"We don't know." Steve Vernon spoke up. "We came here to report that he didn't come home last night."

"And you think he just ran off with my daughter? Eloped?"

"Of course not!" Wanda's voice rose. "Ryker wouldn't leave town as long as Charlotte is missing. He wouldn't. I'm sure the two of them are somewhere, looking for her." She turned to the sheriff. "But what if Ryker's truck broke down, or they got lost hiking?"

"If Harper is hurt, I blame your son," Valerie said to Steve.

"Ryker hasn't done anything wrong," Wanda protested.

"Ryker would never hurt Harper," Steve said. "He cares about her a great deal. He always has." He looked sadder, and older, as he spoke.

"I'll ask my deputies to keep a lookout for them," Travis said. "We're sending a drone up in some areas today to do some lower-altitude searches."

"Have you heard anything at all about Charlotte?" Wanda asked.

"When we picked up her mother, she said Charlotte was with Mick Davis," Travis said. "We don't know any more than that at this time."

Wanda couldn't see Valerie's face from where she was standing, but Travis could. Valerie looked as if she was on the verge of sobbing. He put a hand on Wanda's arm. "I promise we'll look for Ryker. And for Harper. I'm sure you're right and the two of them are hunting for Charlotte. I'll keep you posted."

Steve moved in to take his wife's arm and steer her toward the door. "Thank you, Travis," he said, and they left.

Valerie nodded, and hurried after them.

Adelaide moved in and handed Travis a cup of coffee. "I'm concerned that Wanda is right and Ryker and Harper are lost or have had car trouble," she said.

"I'll alert the deputies to be on the lookout for them while they're searching for Charlotte." Travis turned toward his office.

"I hope we find that little girl soon."

"I do, too." He knew all the statistics about missing persons—the longer someone, especially a child, stayed missing, the less chance of finding them. Trails went cold. And anything could happen in the rough country where Charlotte and Mick had last been seen.

H AR PER SCOOTED CLOSER to the campfire, trying to warm her icy hands. She had forgotten how cold even summer nights could be at this elevation. The bivy bags had kept them from freezing last night, but they hadn't offered much in the way of comfort. She had awakened every couple of hours, sore and stiff from lying on the hard ground. She had heard Ryker tossing and turning, too. Only Charlotte had slept soundly.

When Ryker had risen shortly before dawn to feed sticks and broken tree limbs into the fire, Harper had joined him and tried not to think about how wonderful a cup of coffee with cream and sugar would be right now. She and Ryker had shared part of the remaining bar, along with an energy gel that was probably past its prime but better than nothing. When Charlotte woke, Harper made her a cup of cocoa from a packet she found at the bottom of her pack. The adults drank water, and Harper washed down a couple of ibuprofen from her first aid kit, though it did little to relieve the headache that pounded at her temples. We're going to be home in a few hours , she reminded herself. She was going to shower, eat and take a nap. By tomorrow all of this misery would be only a memory.

Ryker sat on a section of log across from the little blaze and studied a map he had spread out across his knees. "I think we're in here somewhere," he said, and stabbed his index finger at the map.

Harper moved over until she could see the position he indicated among the contour lines of the map. "If we head east, then south, we should reach this drainage here," he said. He indicated another spot on the map. "If we follow that, we should reach the road here." His finger traced a path to the dark line that designated the road. "From there we can walk back up the road about half a mile to the parking area where we left our cars."

It was a lot of walking, over rough terrain, but knowing they had a plan lifted Harper's spirits. "That's terrific." She rested her hand on his shoulder, enjoying the reassuring strength of him. Last night by the fire she had felt so close to him. As if they were starting to mend the rift that had separated them for so long. She told herself not to get her hopes up, but her heart wasn't listening to logic.

"Finished!" Charlotte, wrapped in one of the bivy bags, held their single cup aloft. A faint chocolate moustache adorned her upper lip, along with a few crumbs from one of the protein bars.

"That's great." Harper took the cup and smoothed back the girl's hair, which was a mess of dirty tangles. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Okay." Charlotte looked to her father. "Are we going home today?"

"We are." He stood, then scooped her into his arms. "We're going to go home and your grandmother is going to make you whatever you want for supper."

"Pizza!" Charlotte didn't hesitate in her choice. "And trees, with butter."

Ryker laughed, then, seeing Harper's puzzled look, said, "Broccoli is Charlotte's favorite vegetable."

"They do look like little trees," Harper said. She smiled at Charlotte, who answered with a grin. Harper's heart flipped over in her chest. Even if she didn't already care for Ryker, she was completely besotted with his little girl.

They packed up camp, made sure the campfire was extinguished, then set out, Ryker regularly checking the map he had downloaded to his phone to make sure they stayed on course. If she had been fed and caffeinated, Harper might have enjoyed the hike more, but she was grateful for the mild weather and the mostly-downhill route they followed. She walked behind Ryker, with Charlotte between them, and passed the time admiring his strong shoulders beneath his pack, narrow hips and attractive backside. She smiled to herself, remembering sitting behind him in high school chemistry and amusing herself this same way.

When Charlotte began to tire, they took turns carrying her. Harper balanced the little girl on one hip. She wasn't a very large child, and seemed so vulnerable with her tangled hair, dirty clothes and scraped knees. A wave of tenderness washed over Harper as she held the child close.

Charlotte studied her, and Harper wondered what she was thinking. The scrutiny was unnerving, so she tried to break the tension with conversation. "What's your favorite color?" she asked.

"Pink. What's yours?"

"Blue."

"Blue is my dad's favorite color, too."

Harper nodded. She had known this, though she hadn't thought about it for a long time. "I guess pizza is your favorite food," she said. "What kind?"

"Cheese," Charlotte said. "Dad likes sausage."

Harper nodded. She remembered that from the pizzas the two of them had shared in school. Back then, Ryker could eat an entire large pizza by himself and never seem full.

But never mind what she already knew about Ryker. Here was her chance to discover things she didn't know. "Does your dad read to you?" she asked. "Bedtime stories?"

"Sometimes. Grandma reads to me most of the time. Dad sometimes sits with me while she reads, when he doesn't have to work."

Harper pictured the three of them—the little girl tucked into bed, Ryker on one side and Wanda on the other. A little family. Would there ever be room for another woman in that scene? Room for her?

"Daddy is a sheriff's deputy," Charlotte said. "He helps people when they're in trouble."

"Yes, he does."

Charlotte studied her a moment longer, her gaze traveling over each detail of Harper's face. Harper remained still, wondering what this little girl thought of her. "What do you do?" Charlotte asked when she had completed her inspection.

"I draw maps," Harper said.

Charlotte's forehead wrinkled. "How do you do that?" she asked.

"Do you remember the map your dad was looking at this morning?" Harper asked. "He was figuring out which way we needed to walk to get back to his truck. Lots of lines on a piece of paper?"

Charlotte nodded, though she still looked doubtful. "That's what I do," Harper said. "I draw maps like that one. Or maps of towns that show where the houses and streets are located. Or pictures of hiking trails. Or ski trails."

Clearly, Charlotte was unimpressed. "Do you have a dog?" she asked.

"No. Do you?"

"No, but I want one. Do you think when I get home Grandma and Grandpa will be so happy to see me, they'll let me get a puppy?"

Harper suppressed a laugh. If it were up to her, she would run straight out to find a puppy for this little darling. "You never know," she said instead.

"I want to get down now," Charlotte said, so Harper set her carefully on the ground and she ran ahead to catch up with Ryker.

They hiked for three hours, scarcely stopping to switch off carrying Charlotte, or to drink the last of their water. Harper's head and shoulders and back and legs ached, but she kept putting one foot in front of the other, focused on getting to the truck. She could sit down there. Lock the doors. They would be safe. The memory of Mick brandishing the axe, then firing a gun at them had disturbed her dreams, and all morning she had found herself searching their surroundings for any sign of him.

The drainage had been formed from snowmelt trickling down during the spring thaw. It was dry now, littered with loose boulders and the stubby new growth of saplings and shrubs. They had to pick their way as the elevation dropped, avoiding loose rocks and unstable soil. The sun beat down and a fly repeatedly buzzed in Harper's ear. She swatted it away and focused on their destination. A little before noon they emerged onto the road. She had been taking another turn carrying Charlotte, and Ryker took the child from her. "Not much farther to go now," he said.

When they drew in sight of the parking area a short time later, her heart beat faster as she recognized her Subaru, looking dusty and a little forlorn by itself on the side of the road. "Where is your truck?" she asked Ryker.

"I don't know." He picked up his speed, trotting the final hundred yards, then stopped in the spot beside her car where his truck had been parked.

Harper looked all around them, but there was no sign of the truck. "We disabled Mick's Jeep so he couldn't get away in it," Ryker said. "He must have hiked here and stolen my truck."

"We still have my car." Harper pulled the keys from the side pocket of her pack and pressed the button on the fob to unlock the doors. All she wanted was to get the three of them back to the safety of town.

Ryker set Charlotte on the ground and slipped off his pack. "As soon as we have a cell signal I'll call the sheriff and let him know Mick probably has my truck."

Harper slid into the driver's seat and inserted the key into the ignition. Then she merely sat for a moment, enjoying the feeling of sitting down on a soft surface. Ryker settled Charlotte in the back seat and fastened the seat belt over her hips. "We don't have a booster seat for you," he said. "But we'll have to make do for now. You have to promise to sit back and be still."

"I promise."

Harper turned the key in the ignition. Tick, tick, tick...

She stared at Ryker, wide eyed. "Pop the hood," he said.

She reached under the dash and pulled the handle to release the latch. He got out and raised the hood and peered into the engine compartment. He swore.

"Daddy said a bad word," Charlotte said.

Harper got out and joined Ryker at the front of the car. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"He ripped out every wire he could reach," he said. "Someone did. But I'm sure it was Mick. And he flattened three of the tires."

She hadn't even noticed the tires in her eagerness to sit inside the car. She might have said a few bad words herself, but she didn't have the energy. "What do we do now?" she asked.

He lowered the hood. "We're going to have to walk. At least until we get a cell signal and can call for help."

She could have lain down then and there and wept, but that wouldn't help anything. Ryker must have read her thoughts from her expression. "I'd offer to go for help by myself," he said. "But I don't like the idea of leaving you and Charlotte alone, in case Mick comes back."

"No. We stay together." She went back to the driver's seat and leaned in. "Charlotte, honey, my car is broken," she said. "We're going to have to walk until we can call for help."

Charlotte began to cry, and Harper felt tears well in her own eyes. "I know, honey. I feel that way, too," she said. "But we're just going to have to do it. No pizza until we do."

Charlotte sobbed harder. Ryker leaned in, unbuckled her, and pulled her close. She continued to sob as he led the way down the road. Harper locked the car, with their packs inside, and followed. One foot in front of the other. And hoped Mick Davis didn't decide to come back.