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He’d gone to jail after stealing money from his company to pay the mortgage after much of his salary had gone into car repairs, a new roof after theirs was lost to a storm, and to cover a series of bad investment choices he’d been certain would turn them around financially.

The day it had all come out was permanently burned into her memory.

“You stole money?” Her mother had been in the process of putting on her earrings for a church meeting, and she stood there, gold circle suspended in her fingertips, staring at her husband.

“I did. I’m sorry. I told the cops everything. Took full responsibility. I’ll go to jail and afterward I’ll work the rest of my life to repay what I’ve taken.”

Kit had held her breath as the seconds ticked by, stricken by the utter defeat in her father’s voice as her mother answered.

“How am I going to hold my head up in this town? I’m humiliated. Completely.”

She’d been too young then to understand why the comment bothered her.

I’m humiliated.

It was true, what her mother said. She’d borne the label of being married to a criminal, lost friends who’d cut her off, endured whispers of acquaintances in the supermarket.

The impact on her mother had been terrible.

But in the space of that single remark, her father had shifted from husband to criminal, and nothing he’d ever said or done later had changed that in her mother’s mind.

Kit had never thought of him that way, though.

He was her father, her hero, who’d made a colossal mistake.

Who’d apologized and tried to make amends like he’d taught her how to do since she was a toddler.

“You’re gonna hurt people in this life , Kit.” He’d pointed to her chest. “That line of sin runs through every human heart. You gotta ask for forgiveness and mean it.”

He’d asked.

And he’d meant it.

So what did it say about the person who would not grant it? The Christian woman who’d been forgiven but couldn’t forgive?

The ringing of the phone each week, her father calling, filled her grandparents small house in a nearby town where they’d moved.

She’d been forbidden to answer, and the letters he’d written were destroyed before she could read them.

Her mother would only speak of her father when pushed to the limit.

At seventeen, Kit made elaborate plans to run away.

She’d apply the pittance she earned cleaning offices after school to a trailer, get her license, sweep up her father, bolt.

They’d live together on the road like they’d planned.

But she’d been a minor, and he’d grown sick by the time he was released four years later. Upon his discharge from jail, he’d worked two minimum wage jobs, rented a room in a converted garage, and died within six months, before he’d actually repaid all the money he’d taken. His dream dried up.

Kit’s never had.

A feather stuck to the window, broken at the tip. She hoped the bird had flown away, undamaged, to a safe place. Moisture collected under her lashes. Cullen’s gaze flicked briefly to hers in the rearview mirror as if he knew she was washed in sudden grief.

Tot wriggled and she resettled her, keeping her own gaze away from Cullen’s.

He’s not part of your future.

You’re on your own.

Like she’d been since she was a teen.

“Left turn,” Archie said.

“There is no left.” Cullen gripped the wheel in exasperation. “There’s only a bunch of rocks that look like the other rocks.”

“Left turn there,” Archie said, pointing. “See that flat spot? That’s the start of the Silver Canyon trail. We turn off here and it’s twenty more miles to the evacuation site.”

Cullen snorted. “Practically a hop, skip, and jump.”

“Don’t be snarky.”

“I’m entitled to be snarky.”

“You’re entitled to nothing whatsoever, son.”

Cullen laughed. “Sorry, sir. Moment of self-pity. Won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.”

Kit smiled. Listening to the two of them bicker was the only bright spot in a dark journey.

Cullen made the turn, which put them on a slight incline, the path wide enough for the ATV and a more level surface than she’d imagined.

Fortunate, since Tot was winding up for a good cry, turning her mouth away from the bottle and wrinkling up her forehead.

Kit hoisted her enough to rhythmically pat her back like Cullen had done at his cabin.

That did the trick, but it was a temporary fix.

Tot bunched her knees up and writhed against Kit, rejecting the binky.

What should she try now that the bottle and pacifier had lost their soothing powers?

No way she was going to sing “Jingle Bells” with Nico sneering at her.

She was mulling it over when Cullen hit the brakes.

“Would you look at that,” Archie said.

Cullen whistled. “I must be hallucinating.”

Kit looked through the front window and gasped.

Through the smear, she saw a filthy white truck with amber lights parked midtrail.

Her whole body prickled with gooseflesh.

A rescue worker, her disbelieving senses told her.

An honest-to-goodness official who could get them out of there.

She wanted to fling open the door and run to him, but Cullen held up a palm.

“Archie, stay in the car and watch Nico. I don’t want Kit and the baby to be out in this until they have to be.”

She felt something warm in her belly. Was it tenderness at his care? Self-consciousness? Impossible to decipher especially with her nerves cascading with excitement.

“Hey, Tot,” she whispered as Cullen got out. “We made it.”

The worker was covered in yellow neoprene overalls and wearing a National Park Service hat.

His face was the same color as the grimy brim.

He’d been studying something on the ground, but at the sight of the ATV, he straightened so suddenly, he dropped his clipboard.

Papers fluttered loose as he took in the sight of Cullen’s big frame, from his boots to his battered face and the gun tucked in his waistband. He flicked a hasty look at the ATV.

Kit didn’t miss the way the man’s hand flew to his holster. Obviously he’d noticed that Cullen was armed and maybe gotten a peek at Nico in the back seat with his mouth taped. He drew his weapon. Her heart beat faster.

Cullen’s palms went up.

She cracked the window, desperate to hear.

“Hello, sir. My name’s Cullen Landry. I own a ranch off Pine Hollow Road. We need help.”

Still holding his weapon, the man cocked his head. “Stay right there. Why are you here?” He jerked a look at the vehicle. “Guy in the back seat’s mouth is taped. Why?”

“He’s a human trafficker.” Cullen shook his head. “Let me start over. I’m with Kit Garrido, Archie Esposito, and a baby we found.”

The man gaped. “You found a baby? Out here?”

“Yes, sir. Guy in the back seat trafficked her mother.”

The man’s expression, even in the near darkness, was incredulous. She understood why he edged toward his truck and tightened his grip on the gun. Her entire experience since she’d crashed had been completely incomprehensible. She wouldn’t believe their story either if she hadn’t lived it.

Cullen was still talking, jerking a thumb at the ATV, but the man’s body language did not indicate he was buying what Cullen was selling. There was more talking but little progress that she could see, so she rolled down the window, Tot’s cries loud and clear.

The man stared in her direction.

“He’s telling you the truth. I’m Kit Garrido,” she called out.

“I was giving a woman named Annette Bowman and her baby a ride.” She explained how they’d been shot at and she’d crashed.

“But Annette ran. Something’s happened to her.

” When the worker let his gun down slightly, she called, “I’m getting out, okay?

” She ignored the warning look from Cullen and handed Tot to Archie.

“Stay here, Tot. I’ll be right back.” When had she picked up the habit of explaining everything to an infant?

Archie thrust his chin at her. “Move slow. Guy’s got a lot to absorb and he’s jumpy.”

That made two of them.

She eased the door open and stepped out, approaching at a snail’s pace and keeping her palms up like Cullen.

“So you’re the truck driver?” the emergency worker said.

“Yes. Everything he’s telling you is true, even if it does sound totally bizarre.”

The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, grime caking the wrinkles around his mouth.

“We’re trying to get to the evac zone via Silver Canyon trail,” Cullen said, “but we didn’t figure on running into any personnel so soon.”

“Shouldn’t be any here to run into. I got an alert there was a woman spotted a couple hours from here, so I checked it out. Then I helped a guy with a broken-down truck full of goats. He’s back in action, and now I’m headed out of here.”

Kit froze. “Where was the woman seen?”

“Juncture of Pine Hollow and Mountain Valley Roads. I didn’t find her. Only a wrecked rig.”

“That’s mine.” Her voice wobbled for a moment. “Did you have a description of the woman?”

“Small, young, wearing a pink coat.”

The memory sizzled through her, a woman in pink fleece that dripped with moisture, waving desperately for her to stop. She’d geared down her engine, halting right there in the middle of the road. “I remember.”

Cullen bent toward her. “You remember meeting Annette?”

She nodded. “She startled me, stepped out into the road wearing a pink coat and ratty sneakers. She was shivering, holding a bundle, but I didn’t realize at first it was a baby.” She rubbed her forehead. “I can’t remember anything else right now.”

Cullen nodded. “Kit gave Annette and her baby a ride. Annette was running from that guy.” He gestured to the ATV. “His name’s Nico Phillips. He showed up to retrieve his ‘property’ while we were sheltering in Grandlake, and we got the upper hand.”

Tot’s cries grew louder. “Are they still looking for Annette, sir?” Kit pressed.

“John. Call me John.” He slid his weapon into the holster.

Kit and Cullen let down their hands.