Chapter 12

chapter

twelve

Lucy was not having better luck.

Every path she tried to take down the mountain ended in an abrupt drop or some other impossible-to-scale obstacle.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breath came out in ragged gasps as she climbed a steep ridge. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, amplified her paranoia. She had desperately hoped to stumble across some sign of civilization by now—a cabin, a trail marker, anything—but so far, she had found nothing.

She paused at the top of the ridge, squinting into the distance. The dense forest stretched out before her, an unending wilderness painted in the ominous shadows of twilight. Somewhere out there were other people—help—but right now, it felt like she was standing at the edge of the world.

God.

She wasn't going to make it off the mountain. She had to turn back.

As the realization sank in, Lucy's shoulders slumped in defeat. All her energy ebbed away at once, leaving her knees weak and shaky. She sank to the mossy ground, hugging herself against the chilling breeze.

A lump formed in her throat, the weight of defeat making it hard to swallow. For a moment, she let herself wallow, let herself feel the all-consuming dread. Her gaze drifted over the vast expanse of wilderness, heart aching for the familiar sights and sounds of civilization.

But then, there was a glint—a metallic flash in the distance that caught her attention. Lucy squinted against the dimming light, straining her eyes to focus on whatever had sparked that fleeting glimmer. A sudden gust of wind shifted the branches, revealing a thin, vertical shape slightly swaying in the distance—a structure that seemed out of place amidst nature's chaos.

A cell tower.

Her heart leaped in her chest as a jolt of hope sparked through her veins. Finally, something tangible to hold onto. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the protests of her weary muscles and retrieved her cell phone from her pocket. It was an old, battered thing, the screen cracked and chipped in too many places, damn near a relic.

With trembling fingers, she switched it on. The screen flickered to life, feeble in the encroaching darkness. Holding her breath, she watched as the tiny icon in the top corner blinked in and out of existence—a cruel tease of a signal.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath. "Just one bar."

She moved around, holding the phone up high as if offering it as a sacrifice to the gods. Up the ridge, down again, even scrambling up onto a tall boulder that offered a better vantage point. Every so often, she caught a glimmer—a flicker of a signal—that sent waves of anticipation through her. She quickly composed an S.O.S. text with the fire tower's coordinates and sent it out in a blast to anyone who might be able to help—911, the sheriff, Redwood Coast Rescue, her boss with the National Park Service, fellow park rangers. She stared at the little bubble, willing a response to appear, but the screen remained stubbornly silent. Her text just hung there in limbo. Then?—

Message not sent.

A growl of frustration clawed its way out of her throat as she shoved the phone back in her pocket, the glimmer of hope snuffed out as quickly as it had sparked.

She had to get back to the fire tower.

They needed a different plan.

As she retraced her steps, the mountain seemed more hostile than before. Rocks that had been sturdy underfoot now shifted precariously. Branches seemed to reach out and snag at her clothes. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the sun set, and Lucy buttoned her jacket higher to ward off the chill. Sweat dried on her skin, leaving her colder still.

Still at least a mile from the tower, she rounded a bend and found Sawyer standing rigidly against a tree, his eyes closed. He didn't seem to notice her until she was standing in front of him.

"Sawyer," she managed to say, breathless from both the climb and the sight of him.

He jumped slightly, his pale blue eyes flicking toward her voice. "Jesus, Lucy. You could have made some noise."

"I'm sorry." She glanced around but saw no sign of anyone else. "What are you doing out here? Where's Zelda?"

His throat worked, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "She's sick. Someone poisoned her. I was looking for Milk Thistle. Ethan said it can help protect her liver from the toxin, but we're too high up. It doesn't grow up here."

She noticed the raw, angry wound on the side of his neck and touched his cheek, turning his head to the side to get a better look at it. "What happened?"

He flinched away from her touch, grimacing. "I don't know. I thought—" He broke off and shook his head. He looked so sad, so lost, and her heart ached. This was not the same man who had promised to do naughty things to her when she got back. She took hold of his hand and pulled him over to sit on a nearby log, then took her pack off to find her first aid kit.

"Sawyer, this is a knife wound. Were you attacked?"

His jaw tightened as she dabbed the wound with an antiseptic pad. "I could've done it to myself."

"What?"

"Nobody saw the attacker. They think I was having a nightmare and hurt myself."

"Oh, c'mon. That's ridiculous."

His pale eyes shifted toward her. "I've done it before. When I was hallucinating. I hurt myself and others."

Her heart gave one hard thump. "Did you poison your dog, too?"

He flinched, and she realized the question had come out harsher than she'd intended. "Even if you had somehow cut yourself in a PTSD-induced nightmare, you wouldn't hurt her. Not in a million years." She peeled open a bandage and gently placed it over the wound. "Tell me what happened."

Sawyer sucked in a deep breath. "I was working on the radio. I got through to Ash for a second, but I don't know if it was enough. I kept trying to get him back, and I must've drifted to sleep because the next thing I remember is someone shoving a knife into my throat and demanding to know where Pierce is."

"Pierce?" That was not what she'd expected him to say.

"Yeah. They also said something about Maya and Pierce and—" He leaned forward, pressing his hands over his eyes. "Jesus, saying it out loud, it sounds crazy. It's entirely possible I dreamed it. I'm worried about Pierce. I'm upset about what happened to Maya, and it all just swirled together in my head."

Lucy rested her hand on his back, feeling the muscles under his shirt tense then slowly relax beneath her touch. "That still doesn't explain Zelda."

He dropped his hands to his lap. "I need to get back to her. I trusted Ethan to watch her, and maybe that was a mistake. Maybe he was the one to—fuck, I don't know anymore. I wish I could fucking see."

"Hey." She hugged him, and after a tense moment, his arms circled her, tugging her close. He buried his face in her hair and exhaled hard. He was shaking. "Zelda will be okay. We'll find Pierce, and we'll get off this mountain."

"I appreciate you trying to comfort me, but the fact that you're sitting here right now doesn't bode well." He released her and stood. "You couldn't find a way down, could you?"

"No," she admitted with a heavy heart. "But we have other options."

"Options?" He gave a bitter laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed against the bandage. "We tried the radio. We tried to hike down. What other options do we have?"

"A cell tower. I saw one still standing in the distance and tried to send some SOS messages but… nothing. The signal comes and goes."

He frowned in thought. "Think it would work if we got closer?"

"It's worth a shot."

"How far away is it?"

"Maybe… ten miles. It was hard to tell. But we only need to get close enough for a phone to pick up the signal. So maybe half that distance?"

"If it's a 4 or 5G tower, we'll have to get within three miles."

She shrugged. "So more than half. I can do it, but I'll have to take everyone's phones with me. The more I have, the better chance I'll have at getting a signal."

"Yeah, okay," he said after a beat. "What do we have to lose? But you're not going alone this time."

"Sawyer, you don't have Zelda?—"

He turned away and started up the path toward the fire tower. No dog, no hiking pole, but he moved confidently like he was sighted. "I promise I won't slow you down."

Lucy sighed. She didn't like that note of bitterness in his voice. This wasn't her Sawyer—the man who held her when she cried, who made her laugh when she'd forgotten how. the one who quipped and flirted with reckless abandon. This was a wounded, desperate man bent on proving his worth to himself and the world.

And it frightened her.

"There you are!" Bea's voice boomed from the tower as Sawyer and Lucy emerged from the trees. "Your girl's coming around. I think she's going to be okay."

Sawyer cursed himself for not bringing his cane. He couldn't move as fast as he wanted to without risking falling on his face, but once he reached the bottom step of the tower, he raced up. "Zelda's okay?"

Bea grabbed his shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, she's all right. Woozy, but seems to be in good health."

Sawyer felt his way through the cabin to find Zelda exactly where he'd left her on the floor in front of the radio. He ran a hand over her. She was awake with her head raised and gave a happy whimper when she saw him. Her tail thunk dully on the floor.

He exhaled a shaky breath and hugged her. She was still alive, and that was all he needed. "You had me scared there, girl."

"Looks like she was just drugged," Ethan said. "I found some empty packets of Benadryl stuffed in the trash bin right after you left, and there's a bit of pink powder mixed in with her kibble."

Which he wouldn't have noticed when he fed her. And now that he thought about it, she had seemed reluctant to eat, but he'd chalked it up to the stress of their situation.

"Who would do that?" Bea asked.

"I imagine it was the same person who stuck a knife to Sawyer's neck," Lucy said from the doorway.

"You're back! Is help coming?" Joel's voice was full of hope.

Sawyer lifted his head from Zelda as he felt all the attention in the room turned toward her. He imagined her standing there in the doorway, tall and strong, her brown hair pulled back in that practical ponytail of hers.

"Not yet," she said, her voice steady, but Sawyer could hear an undercurrent of frustration. "But I saw a cell phone tower not too far from here. It's intact, but we're too far away to pick up a signal from it. At first light tomorrow, Sawyer and I are going to hike closer and try to get a call out."

"You're taking him ?" Chuck's disgust was evident in the way he stressed the word him. "Why not take someone who can actually help you? Like Grant or Ethan."

Sawyer clenched his teeth. He really disliked the guy.

"Shut up, Chuck." There was no heat in Lucy's statement. "I'm taking him because he has connections that could expedite a rescue. I'm also taking him because someone here just tried to kill him and his dog."

A chorus of protests rose up from the group, which Lucy cut off with a sharp "Enough!" She stalked into the room, her boots thudding on the wooden floor. "The fact is, we have a potential killer in our group, and frankly, Sawyer is the only one of you I fully trust right now. So, yes, he's coming with me."

The silence that followed was electric. Sawyer sat, Zelda curled beside him, absorbing the charge of suspicion and fear in the room. Resentment simmered, radiating from Chuck's direction, but he said nothing.

"And," Lucy added, "we'll need to take your phones with us."

That caused another explosion of protests.

"Everyone, quiet!" Bea thundered, and the room fell into silence again. She moved across the room toward Lucy, and Sawyer tensed, but the woman just handed over something that had to be her phone. "It's common sense. The more phones they have, the more chance at picking up a signal."

Slowly, one by one, the others began to follow suit. Sawyer heard the shuffling of bodies and the soft clinks of phones being deposited into what he presumed was a bag. He heard Lucy's soft words of thanks and felt a swell of gratitude for her leadership.

She was strong—so much stronger than she gave herself credit for. She'd get them out of this.

"And what if you don't get a signal?" Chuck asked.

Lucy paused, and then said coolly, "Then we try again. Until we succeed."