Page 36

He turned when he heard the rattle of metal. Van straightened and held up a set of keys that had been missing. He waited as Van untangled himself from the brush.

“Well, that answers what happened to the keys. Note to self: do not store spare keys in the supply room,” Van dryly commented, tossing the keys to him.

He caught the keys in one hand. “Yeah,” he muttered, grimacing at the consequences of his ill-advised decision.

Van shook his head before he climbed up the concrete barrier. Peterson sighed and pocketed the keys before he followed. Van pointed to a shallow imprint of a heel in the soft, moist soil. He nodded and they descended the steep path that wound down to the lake. A quick search along the bank revealed the telltale mark where the missing canoe had been dragged across the sandy soil. He shoved his hands in his pocket and stared out across the vast expanse of water.

“She was smart. She knew we wouldn’t be able to track her scent on the water,” Van commented.

“Yeah. There is no telling where she would go ashore,” he muttered.

They both looked up when a shadow passed over them. The screech of the Golden Eagle made them both lift their hands to shield their eyes from the brilliant sunlight. Rigo swooped down over their heads before soaring upward again.

“Show off,” Van said.

“It’s a shame wolves can’t fly,” he mused, following Rigo as he headed outward over the water.

“I wish there were fish-shifters. I’d love to know where in the hell she went,” Van said.

The low rumble of an outboard motor alerted them that additional help had arrived. Beau slowed the nineteen-foot center console watercraft to an idle and raised the outboard engine. The boat glided toward the shore.

Van and Peterson both stepped into the icy water and caught the bow. With a quick flick of his wrist, Beau shifted the gearshift into neutral, signaling to him and Van to join him. Seconds later, they were aboard. With an affable grin, Beau put the engine into reverse. The low rumble of the boat reverberated under their feet as he propelled them back into deeper water.

“Grayson is keeping an eye on the complex with Tracy and a few others. We decided that it would be smart to have a way to bring your lady-friend home once we found her,” Beau said, turning the steering wheel and aiming them out toward the wide expanse of the lake.

“Thanks,” he said.

He stood next to Beau at the console while Van sat on the bench in front of it.

Clouds were rolling in from the west and a brisk wind created whitecaps on the lake. He could smell rain in the air. He looked back toward the shore. If Grayson and Beau hadn’t realized Jayden was missing for a few more hours, any evidence of her escape would have been erased.

He focused on the darkening skies, a sense of foreboding creeping over him. If Rigo didn’t spot her, they still might not find her before the storm hit. Van must have sensed the same thing because he abruptly looked up from his cell phone, his expression filled with foreboding.

“Weather service just posted a flash flood warning for the area west of us,” he said.

“I hope you two don’t mind getting a little wet,” Beau said as the boat hit a wave and water sprayed over the bow.

Torrents of rain fell, creating miniature rivers along the animal trail Jayden was following. She shivered and cringed when lightning created a spiderweb effect across the sky. She counted, waiting for the crack of thunder.

Three seconds.

Desperate for shelter, she scanned her surroundings. The last bolt of lightning was less than a mile away, and the storm seemed to intensify. Her heart sank as she felt the pelts of hail assaulting her, confirming her fears.

Another flash of lightning illuminated a fallen tree, prompting her to abandon the narrow trail and ascend the rocky outcrop. The tree, a massive spruce, had toppled onto a steep incline of jagged rocks. The natural lean-to offered her protection from the rain, hail, and lightning.

Carefully navigating through the dense foliage, she finally discovered a narrow opening beneath the protective bark. Sinking down to her knees, she crawled under the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough rock mixed with dried needles and soil under her hands. As she pressed back against the rock, a wave of uncontrollable shivers ran through her body. She struggled to control her shaking limbs, her breath visible in the chilly air.

Shrugging the backpack off, she cradled it against her chest and drew her knees up as far as she could. She needed to gather her strength. The first thing she needed to do was build a fire. Once she had one, she would change into dry clothes, eat, and try to get some rest. Exhaustion plagued her. It had been almost forty-eight hours since she had last slept.

Two days before, she had paddled until dawn. Once she reached a section of the lake where a tributary ran into it, she had scuttled the canoe, piercing the bottom with her knife to create a series of holes before pushing it back into the lake. She had wasted precious time making sure it sank before she began her trek along the river.

She had made good progress until the storm hit yesterday afternoon, filling the air with the sound of thunder and rain. Once the sky opened up, the rain fell in torrents, giving the impression that it would never end. The sky was illuminated once again by a sudden flash of lightning, prompting her to bury her face against her bag, seeking refuge from the blinding light and the relentless, uncontrollable shivers that shook her body. Her fatigue was overwhelming, but she pushed through, determined not to succumb to sleep. She understood that changing out of her soaked garments was crucial for her chances of surviving the night.

With a sigh of exhaustion, she pushed her backpack off her lap and began the arduous task of shedding her wet attire. As a cold draft of wind cut through her meager shelter, goosebumps formed over her skin. She reached into the dry bag she had taken from the supply tent and retrieved a fresh set of clothes.

Relief swept through her almost immediately at donning the dry clothing. She pulled the tie from her wet hair and combed it out before braiding it again. More refreshed, she studied her shelter. There was enough dry wood underneath from the bark that had fallen off for her build a small fire. If she pulled the surrounding branches across the opening. They would help block the wind and rain that was beginning to dampen her dry clothes.

Thirty minutes later, she had a fire going. Holding her frozen fingers out, she closed her eyes, savoring the heat beginning to defrost the bone-numbing chill. Once her hands were warm, she collected rainwater in a metal cup and placed it as close as she could to the flames to heat it. She felt in a second dry pouch for the bag containing a variety of herbal teas.