Chapter Four

Monday night, Vince called his parents. He had been putting the conversation off since he had talked to Tammy on Friday, but it was time he let them know. Though they had moved to Junction several years before, they still subscribed to the Eagle Mountain Examiner , and he didn’t want them surprised by Tammy’s request for an interview. Besides, she was waiting on him before she could finish the article.

His father answered the phone and put the call on Speaker right away. “Hello, Vince,” he said. “Your mother is right here. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay, Dad. How are you and Mom?”

“We’re fine,” his mom answered. “A little tired. We played golf today—a full eighteen holes. With Barb and Ray Ferngil. Do you remember them? Ray used to work with your dad.”

Vince had no idea who they were talking about. “You had beautiful weather for a game,” he said.

“We did,” his dad said. “I like living near a good course.”

“Did you just call to chat, or did you need something?” his mom asked. “Not that we don’t love to hear from you, but you don’t usually call on a Monday night.”

“A reporter here in Eagle Mountain is doing a series of articles on the local search and rescue organization,” he said. “One of the articles is going to be about the search for Valerie. I just wanted to warn you so it didn’t come as a shock.”

“Oh.” One short, sad exhalation from his mom that made his chest tighten. He hoped she wasn’t going to start crying. She hadn’t done that in a long time, but it always unsettled him.

“Did this reporter talk to you about it?” his dad asked. “Is that how you know?”

“Yeah. She interviewed me. I think it’s going to be a good story. Apparently, the search for Valerie was a catalyst that transformed the rescue group into a professional organization.”

“Well, good. Good.” He could picture his dad nodding in that thoughtful way he had—lips pursed, brow furrowed.

“She wants to talk to you and Mom too.”

“Well...” Now he pictured his father looking at his mother, gauging her reaction to the request.

“Of course we’ll talk to her,” his mom said. “Maybe someone will come forward who remembers something about that day that got overlooked. Or the article will inspire people to look for her while they’re hiking in that area.”

“Maybe so, Mom. Though after such a long time, I don’t think we can hope for much.”

“You never know. Maybe...maybe Valerie will see the article and get in touch.”

He winced. His parents—especially his mother—had never given up hope that Valerie hadn’t died that day but that she had been taken, perhaps by the mysterious camper no one had ever identified. “I don’t know about that, Mom,” he said.

“I know you think I’m foolish, but it’s not such a far-fetched idea. There have been other missing children who were discovered as adults. And I still say if Valerie had died that day, someone would have found her. You may not remember, but they literally had people spaced two feet apart in long lines, searching every inch of the area around our campsite for miles. How could they have not found her if she was still there?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Vince said. “I just wanted you to know.”

“We appreciate that,” his dad said. Gone was the cheerfulness with which he had started the call. Now he sounded tired. Old.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else,” Vince said. “I’d better go now.”

“Goodbye, son.” This from his dad. In the background, he heard a sound he thought might have been his mother, crying.

He ended the call and leaned against the sofa, head back, eyes closed. For years, his mom had sworn that if Valerie was dead, she would know it. “She’s my daughter,” she said. “That’s a bond that doesn’t break.”

Once, years ago, she had pressed Vince to admit that he still felt his sister was alive too. “She’s your twin,” Mom said. “You’re halves of the same whole.”

“We’re not identical twins, Mom.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t.”

“You don’t feel Valerie is still alive somewhere?”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

Her face crumpled, but she pulled herself together. “Do you feel like she’s gone, then?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Mom.”

When he thought of his sister, he didn’t feel anything. Just...empty. Not a wrenching loss or a sense that she was just away for a while. There was a void where his sister was supposed to be, and he didn’t expect anything would ever fill it.

A T THE T HURSDAY - evening meeting of Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue volunteers. Vince settled on one end of the sofa in the hangar-like building that served as search and rescue headquarters, next to newlyweds Jake and Hannah Gwynn. When he wasn’t volunteering with SAR, Jake was a deputy with the Rayford County Sheriff’s Department, which put him on the scene for many of the accidents SAR responded to. After seeing the volunteers in action, he had decided to join their ranks. And it had been one way to guarantee he would see more of Hannah.

“All right, everyone. Let’s go ahead and get started.” Danny, clipboard in hand, walked to the front of the room, and conversation among the volunteers died down. “First up, I want to introduce our newest volunteer, Bethany Ames.”

A slender young woman with a mass of dark curls stood and waved. She had a heart-shaped face and an upturned nose, and a dimple in her cheek when she smiled. “Bethany is new to the area and works at Peak Jeep and Snowmobile Rentals,” Danny continued. “Everyone, introduce yourselves later.” Bethany sat, and Danny consulted his clipboard again. “Next, most of you already know that this summer marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue.”

“Happy birthday to us!” Ryan Welch called out while several others responded with whistles or clapping.

“Will there be a cake?” someone else asked.

“Cake is always welcome,” Danny agreed. “We’ll see what we can do. In the meantime, the Eagle Mountain Examiner is planning a series of articles about the organization, focusing on several of our missions over the years, as well as sharing how the group has grown and changed.”

Murmurs of approval greeted this news.

“The first article is going to run next week. Most of you know Tammy Patterson, the paper’s reporter. She’s starting the series with a feature about the search for Valerie Shepherd fifteen years ago.”

A number of people turned to look at Vince. “Are you okay with this?” Jake asked.

“I already spoke with Tammy,” Vince said. “It’s fine.”

“Valerie was never found,” Tony Meisner, the volunteer who had been with the group longest—over twenty years—said. “Why start with that mission?”

“Because that search—and the failure of anyone to find Valerie—changed the way the group organized and trained,” Danny said. “After that, we formally operated under the direction of the sheriff, we required more training, restructured the command system with new roles, and sought accreditation with the Colorado Search and Rescue Association.”

Tony sat back. “Okay, that makes sense. Still seems a bummer to start with such a sad case.” He looked over at the sofa. “No offense, Vince. I always felt bad we didn’t find your sister.”

“It’s okay,” Vince said. “I know everyone tried their best.” He didn’t remember that much about the actual search for Valerie. His parents had kept him home, perhaps fearful that he might wander off and come to harm. But he had seen the appeals for people to help with the search, and photographs in the paper showing lines of volunteers marching across the area where they had camped.

“This series is going to be great publicity for the group,” Danny said. “We want to take advantage of that by stepping up our fundraising.”

Groans rose up around the room. “I know, I know,” Danny said. “Nobody likes begging for money. But the work we do is expensive—equipment constantly needs replacing and supplies replenishing. Training costs money, and then there are the everyday expenses, like gas for vehicles and utility bills for this building and the occasional meal to keep you people from resigning. We rely on donations for the bulk of our funds.”

“I guess when people read this article and think about how great and wonderful we are, we might as well be there with our hands out,” Ryan said.

Many in the group laughed. Danny smiled. “The paper has agreed to print a coupon people can use to mail in a donation, as well as information about how they can donate online. We’re also going to have our usual booth at the community Fourth of July celebration,” he said. He held up the clipboard. “I’ve got the sign-up sheet here. We’ve also been asked to participate in something the city is calling First Responders Fun Fair.”

“What is that?” Sheri asked.

“The Elks Club is hosting their usual carnival games, but this time they’re asking fire, sheriff’s, EMS and SAR personnel to man the various games, with all the proceeds from ticket sales split among the four groups. Last year they took in almost five thousand dollars in proceeds, so it’s a significant addition to our coffers.”

“Sure, we can do that,” Eldon Ramsey said.

“I have a sign-up sheet for the carnival as well. Everyone needs to come up and choose your time slots.” He set the clipboard aside. “No training tonight, but we do need to pull out and inspect all the climbing gear and reorganize and replenish first aid supplies. Sheri and Tony are in charge of the climbing gear, while Hannah and I will oversee the first aid supplies. We each need people to help, so spread out and let’s get to work.”

Vince was trying to decide who to work with when Bethany approached. “Hi,” she said. “Have you been with search and rescue long?”

“About six months,” he said. “So I’m still a rookie too.”

“It’s a little intimidating being around so many experienced volunteers.” She scanned the room. “I don’t have any special skills, but Danny said I didn’t need them, just a willingness to work and follow direction.”

“You’ll do fine,” Vince said. “Everyone here pitches in to help the newbies learn the ropes.”

Her expression sobered. “I was sorry to hear about your sister.”

“Um, thanks.” She was looking at him with those big, dark eyes, her expression a familiar one—mixed curiosity and pity. He never knew how to respond to that, so he was relieved when Tony approached. “Come help with the climbing gear,” he said. He glanced at Bethany. “I know Hannah could use another hand with the medical supplies.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Bethany touched his arm. “It was nice talking with you, Vince,” she said, and hurried away.

Vince and Tony moved to the closet that held the ropes and hardware used in climbing. The steep canyons and high peaks of the terrain around Eagle Mountain meant that many of their rescue operations involved climbing or rappelling, and a significant part of volunteer training focused on the skills needed for these activities. Sheri and Tony began laying out ropes, and she explained how to inspect the colored braided strands for damage and excessive wear.

Vince accepted a coil of rope from Tony. He realized the veteran was the only one here tonight who’d been part of the search when Valerie disappeared. “Did you help look for my sister?” he asked.

“I did.” The lines around his blue eyes deepened. Lean and muscular, Tony had the weathered complexion of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors, his neat beard and blond hair beginning to show streaks of gray. “We went out every day for a week.”

“What was that like?” Vince asked. “I mean, what about it led to so many changes for the group?”

Tony considered the question for a long moment, then said, “It wasn’t that we were disorganized, but we hadn’t had any formal training. We knew some basic principles, but the training we get nowadays teaches us about the psychology of searches. People who are lost have patterns of behavior. Most people tend to stick to trails or roads, even animal trails. In the mountains, they tend to move up, to try to get a better view of terrain. They may believe no one is looking for them and they have to walk out of a situation to be found, which may lead them to keep moving, even if they’re disoriented and have no idea where they are. Today we use mapping techniques and even mathematical formulas to determine the most likely area a person will be located, and focus the search on these areas first. We didn’t have any of that kind of data fifteen years ago—we just tried to search as wide an area as possible, with no precision.”

“Does it seem odd to you that no trace of her was ever discovered?” Vince asked. “Not a piece of clothing or a bone or anything?”

“One thing I know now that I didn’t know then was that children will sometimes hide from searchers or refuse to answer when people, even family members, call for them,” he said. “They’re afraid of getting into trouble. We might have walked right by your sister and not known she was there if she didn’t respond to our calls. Then too, there’s a lot of country up there, much of it rough and pretty inaccessible. Most people who die in the back country are found eventually, but not everyone. I’m sorry.”

“We always wondered if she was taken.”

“That happens too,” Tony said. “But who took her? There was no one else up there.”

“Valerie said there was a man camped near us. None of us ever saw him, but we didn’t look. And she wasn’t one to make things up.”

“Then maybe that’s what happened. If it is, I’m sorry about that too.”

Vince knew the statistics. Children who were taken were almost always killed unless they were kidnapped by a relative, and he was pretty sure that hadn’t happened to Valerie. He didn’t like to think of his sister ending up that way, any more than he wanted to believe she had fallen into a crevice in the mountains and been killed. He had long believed she had died, but he wanted to know how. Wasn’t that human nature—to not like unanswered questions?

I N THE FOUR years Tammy had been reporting for the Eagle Mountain Examiner , she had written feel-good pieces about local citizens; straightforward accounts of town council and school board meetings; reports of burglaries, fires and murder. She had even written a first-person report of her own escape from a pair of serial killers who had terrorized the area one winter. While some of these stories had been tougher to write than others, none had affected her as much as her recounting of the disappearance of Valerie Shepherd.

More than one volunteer had teared up as they spoke of the search for the little girl. “She used to come into my store with her mom,” said the owner of the local meat market. “Such a grin on her face. She was an impish kind of kid—always up to something. Her twin brother was quieter, following her lead. We couldn’t believe she would just vanish the way she did.”

“It hit me hard,” another volunteer admitted. “I wouldn’t let my own kids out of my sight for a long time after that. To think of anything like that happening here, where we always felt safe. It was hard to believe things could change that suddenly—one minute she was there, the next she was gone.”

But Tammy knew how suddenly life could change. The day Adam had been killed, the three of them—Adam, Mitch and her—had been playing in the front yard, kicking a soccer ball back and forth, when the ball had rolled into the street. “I’ll get it!” Adam called, and ran after it.

He didn’t see the car race around the curve. And the driver didn’t see Adam until it was too late. One minute he had been there with them, laughing and playing. The next moment he was gone. A hole was torn in their family that could never be repaired. They had done their best to heal, but they all carried the wound inside them.

She had seen the same kind of damage in Vince Shepherd when she had interviewed him. He knew what it was like to walk through life with an empty space in your heart or your soul that could never be filled. Tammy coped by avoiding thinking about Adam and what had happened that day. But talking to Vince and to the volunteer searchers had forced her to feel all those feelings again—grief and anger and confusion. How could something like that happen? How could a person who was practically part of you suddenly not be there?

She had wanted to ask Vince if he was like her—if he coped with the loss by avoiding thinking about it. She had apologized for bringing him and his family any pain, but was an apology enough?

That was why she turned up outside Vince’s condo at eight thirty on a Wednesday night, a fresh copy of the latest issue of the Examiner in her hand. She rang the bell to his unit and shifted from foot to foot, jittery with nerves. What if he hated what she had written?

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and then Vince stood on the threshold, a wary expression on his handsome face. His hair was damp, curling around his ears. The T-shirt that clung to his chest and abs was damp too, as if he had pulled it on hastily, along with the jeans. His feet were bare. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she blurted, feeling her face heat. “I just wanted to give you this.” She thrust the paper at him. “Everyone else will see it in the morning, but I wanted you to read it first.”

He unfolded the paper and scanned the headlines, stopping at the story that filled the front page below the fold. “‘Search for Missing Girl Shaped EMSAR Future.’”

Tammy bit her lower lip and forced herself to remain still as he read. She had rewritten the lede so many times she had memorized it. When ten-year-old Valerie Shepherd vanished from the mountains above Galloway Basin on a sunny summer Saturday, she changed the family who loved her forever. But she also changed the community of Eagle Mountain. And her disappearance spurred the transformation of Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue from a group of dedicated amateurs to the highly trained professional-quality organization they are today.

Vince glanced up from the paper. He didn’t look upset, which was a relief. “Come on in,” he said, and took a step back.

“Okay. Sure.” She moved past him, the scent of his soap—something herbal—distracting her, not to mention the realization that mere inches separated her from his seriously ripped body. How had she not noticed this the other night? He hadn’t been wearing a clinging, wet T-shirt, but still, how had she missed those shoulders?

She pushed the thought away and moved into a small living room furnished with a sofa, matching chair, coffee table and a large wall-mounted television. He slipped past her, picked up the remote and switched off the TV. “Have a seat,” he said.

She settled on one end of the sofa. He took the other, the newspaper spread out on his lap. “Thanks for bringing this by,” he said.

“I figured people might mention the article to you, and you’d want to know what’s in it.”

He nodded and looked down, reading again. She gripped both knees and pretended to study the room, but she was almost entirely focused on Vince, attuned to any reaction he might have to her words.

He was a fast reader. Or maybe he was skimming. Not many seconds passed before he looked up again. “It’s good,” he said. “All the stuff about search and rescue is interesting. I didn’t realize all the emphasis on training was relatively new.”

“Part of that is because there’s a lot more training courses available now.”

He glanced back down at the paper. “I didn’t know so many people still think about Valerie. I always figured my mom and dad and me were the only ones who remembered her.”

“I didn’t have to remind anyone about what happened,” Tammy said. “As soon as I said her name, they remembered. And everyone asked if I knew anything more about what happened to her.”

“I guess no one came up with any new information? I mean, the article doesn’t mention anything.”

“There’s nothing new. I’m sorry.”

“I guess it would be surprising to think anything else would come to light after all this time.”

“Will you share that with your parents?” She tapped the paper. “I should have brought a copy for them too. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. They have a subscription. They’re looking forward to the article. Dad said they enjoyed talking to you.”

“I enjoyed talking with them.” Though, in some ways, it had been uncomfortably like talking with her own mother—the familiar sad and wistful expressions, along with the way they second-guessed every action that day. If they had done this instead of that, maybe they could have prevented what had happened.

“My dad said you were empathetic. I guess that’s an important quality for a writer.”

She looked away, then forced her gaze back to him. No reason not to tell him. “I had a brother, Adam. He died when he was ten. I was nine. We were playing in the front yard of our house—me and Adam and our brother, Mitch—and our soccer ball rolled into the street. Adam ran after it and was hit by a car.”

“Then you know what it’s like,” he said. “Everything is fine, and the next second, nothing will ever be the same again.”

“Yeah.” The lump in her throat startled and embarrassed her. After all this time, she didn’t cry about Adam. What good would that do? But her eyes stung and her chest tightened. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. “What happened to Adam was terrible,” she said. “But at least we know what happened to him.” There was a grave her mother visited, though Tammy never did. The Shepherds didn’t even have that.

“That was your brother with you at lunch the other day, right?” Vince asked.

“Yes. Mitch.”

“It’s nice that he’s here in town. I always wondered if it would have been a little easier if I had had a sibling. Someone else for my parents to focus on. Someone else who had the same story I did.”

“It was comforting having Mitch, especially right after Adam died, when my parents were struggling. He and I made sure to look after each other.”

“I would have liked that, but I got used to being on my own. And my folks pulled themselves together after a while.”

“They seem like great people.”

“What about your parents?” he asked. “Do they live near here?”

“My dad died five years ago. But my mom is here. She and I share a house, actually.”

“I don’t think I could live with my parents again.”

“My mom is a pretty good roommate.”

Silence. He was looking down at the newspaper again, and she started to feel awkward. She stood. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to drop that off.”

He set aside the paper and rose also. “Thanks.”

He followed her to the door. When he had first invited her inside, hope had flickered that maybe they could connect on another level. As friends. Maybe even potential dates. Not that she was eager to rush into anything, but Vince was single, good-looking and close to her age. She couldn’t deny a certain attraction, and while lost siblings maybe wasn’t the most solid foundation on which to build a relationship, it did give them something in common.

Now all she wanted to do was get out of his condo. Everything felt too awkward and forced. She shouldn’t have told him about Adam. It was too personal. Too close to home. She hoped he hadn’t thought she was using her tragedy to get close to him. The idea made her queasy. “Good night,” she said, and reached for the doorknob.

He put his hand over hers. He had big hands, and calluses on his fingers, the roughness registering against her skin, making her hyperaware of his physical presence. He wasn’t an overly large man, but he was muscular and fit—so male . She would never write that in an article. The only reason she was even thinking it now was because he had her stirred up and confused. He looked into her eyes, and though she didn’t move, she felt knocked off-balance. Such an intense look. Staggering. “Thanks for telling me about Adam,” he said.

“I don’t talk about him much,” she said. “But I thought you’d understand.”

“Yeah, I do.” His gaze flickered to her lips, and she wondered if he was thinking about kissing her. Entirely inappropriate, and yet she fought to keep from leaning toward him, inviting his touch. Okaaay. She needed to get a grip.

“Good night,” she said again. “I’ll, uh, see you around.”

She did turn the doorknob then, and he moved his hand away and stepped back. “Good night.”

She managed to walk all the way to her car without breaking into a run or melting into a puddle. In her car, she sat and took deep breaths. What the heck had just happened in there? She had gone to Vince’s condo to give him a copy of the newspaper, not to bare her soul or fall madly in lust. If he had felt even half of what she had, he was probably thinking she was the most unprofessional reporter he had ever met. Or worse, did he think she was chasing after him? She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. Please, no, not that. She was not desperate, and she wanted nothing to do with a man who thought she was.

As for telling him about Adam, that hadn’t been a bid for sympathy. She had wanted him to know she sympathized with that special brand of grief they shared. She was just being friendly, but too many times that kind of thing got misinterpreted. It had happened to her before. Once, when an intern at the paper arrived in town after a long day of travel, clearly exhausted and famished, she had invited him to dinner at her place. He had misinterpreted this as an attempt at seduction, which had embarrassed them both and made for an awkward six months as they worked side by side. Vince’s father was right—she was an empathetic person. Too empathetic.

She straightened and started the car. Maybe she had embarrassed herself again tonight, but she would get over it. She had survived worse—what was one more injury to her dignity?