Page 25 of Wilderness Search (Eagle Mountain: Unsolved Mysteries #2)

Willa had seen Sheriff Travis Walker around town, on search and rescue calls and during the search for Olivia.

With leading-man good looks and a solemn, reserved demeanor, he had attracted the attention of more than one lovestruck tourist who had gone on to learn he was a happily married father of two.

But it wasn’t his looks or his attitude that intimidated Willa.

As she sat across from him in his cluttered office at the sheriff’s department, she was all too aware that he was a man with the power to put an innocent man—like her brother—behind bars.

And the power to dismiss the concerns of someone like her.

“Aaron tells me you have some information that may help us in our search for Olivia Pryor,” he said after Aaron had formally introduced them. Aaron sat in a second chair next to Willa, a silent, encouraging presence.

“I gave a first aid class at Mountain Kingdom Kids Camp this morning,” Willa said.

“The girls from Olivia’s cabin were in my first class and one of the girls, Stella, told me Olivia confided in her that she—Olivia—had seen something she shouldn’t have.

She was clearly frightened, but she wouldn’t tell Stella what she had seen or what had frightened her.

She said she was afraid that Stella would be hurt, too.

And the next night, Olivia ran away.” Did summarizing the story this way made it sound trivial?

“Stella was really afraid for Olivia. Whatever Olivia saw must have been bad. If we could find out what that was, maybe that would help us find a way to bring Olivia home safely.”

“Tell me the timeline,” Travis said. “When did Olivia see this event that upset her?”

“The night before she disappeared,” Willa said.

“That would have been Saturday night,” Aaron said. “The night of the bonfire.”

The sheriff nodded. “Olivia was reported missing on Monday. We believe she ran away Sunday night.”

Five days ago. For five days Olivia had been out there in the wilderness. Alone. Afraid. Hungry and thirsty. Cold.

“Stella has been leaving food for Olivia in a tree at the edge of camp,” Willa said. “She doesn’t know if Olivia is coming at night to take the food, or if animals are eating it. She swears she doesn’t know where Olivia is now, and I believe her.”

“We’ll talk to her,” Travis said.

Willa leaned forward. “Please be careful. Stella is terrified. She knows about the bloody shirt you found and she’s afraid whoever hurt Olivia will come after her. I’m afraid of that, too. I think she needs to go home, away from the camp.”

“We’ll need to get in touch with her parents,” Travis said. “Do you know their names?”

“I have their names and a phone number.” Willa opened her purse and took out the receipt on which she had written the information and passed it across to Travis. “Try not to frighten her more. The poor girl is miserable, between worrying about her friend and being afraid.”

Travis picked up the handset of his phone and punched in the number.

“Mr. Ireland?” he asked. “This is Sheriff Travis Walker in Eagle Mountain, Colorado… Your daughter is fine. I’m calling because we would like to talk to her about the disappearance of her friend Olivia, and we would like you and your wife present when we do so…

Stella is not in any trouble. We understand she’s very upset about her missing friend, and we believe she may know some small details that could help in our search for Olivia Pryor…

It’s very important that you bring her in as soon as possible…

Tomorrow morning would be good. I know Stella will be happy to see you.

One thing I have to ask is that you don’t tell the camp or Stella ahead of time that you’re coming.

Simply show up and bring Stella here to the sheriff’s department.

We’re on Second Street in Eagle Mountain…

The camp might object, but they can’t keep you from your daughter.

If they give you any trouble, call me. I’m going to give you my direct number.

” He recited a phone number, then repeated it.

“Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”

He ended the call. “They’re bringing her in tomorrow,” he said.

“That was good, telling them not to contact the camp ahead of time,” Willa said. “Will you tell them after the interview that Stella needs to go home with them? I’m afraid if someone at the camp did hurt Olivia, they might go after Stella, too.”

“I’ll tell them.”

He thanked her again for coming in and she walked with Aaron to his truck.

He had offered to drive her to the interview and she had gratefully accepted.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” she said as he started the engine.

“Gary is there and he’ll ask about the interview. I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

“Where would you like to go?”

“Someplace quiet and private.”

He considered this a moment, then shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking space. She didn’t ask where they were going, merely stared out the window, her expression pensive.

Aaron drove to his house and pulled into the driveway. “Is this all right?” he asked as he shut off the engine.

Willa studied the A-frame, with its fading paint and ragged yard. It wasn’t that different from her own rental. A comfortable place to stay, but not yet a home. “This is fine,” she said, and got out of the truck.

She was waiting at the door when he came up behind her to open it. The living room was as she remembered from her visit three nights ago, cluttered and comfortable, dust motes drifting in the sunlight that arced through floor-to-ceiling front windows.

“I can make coffee,” he said, shutting the door behind them. “Or tea.”

“Let’s just sit for a minute.” She sat on the sofa. He started to take the chair across from her—the one she had chosen the other night—then shifted to sit beside her. Close, but not touching.

“Sorry the place is such a mess,” he said, following her gaze to the shirt draped across the back of the chair and the empty glass on the coffee table.

“It’s better than the place you were living in when we met,” she said. “There were boxes everywhere.”

“I had just moved and wasn’t unpacked yet,” he said. “It got better.”

She angled toward him, smiling at the memory. “Do you remember the first time I saw it? The first time we went out?”

“The day we met. I remember.”

She put a hand to her cheek, which felt hot. “I still can’t believe how fast I fell for you. You brought in that prisoner to be stitched up and we started talking and the next thing I knew I was agreeing to have dinner with you. That night.”

“I couldn’t believe my luck,” he said. “The minute I saw you I was just…bowled over. I knew I was completely monopolizing your time but I couldn’t stop talking to you. I was sure you were going to think I was the biggest fool you had ever met.”

“I didn’t think that. I was just…mesmerized.”

He laughed, from nerves as much as amusement. “No one has ever said that about me before.”

“I don’t know what it was about you,” she said. “It was like…we had so much to say to each other. I didn’t want you to leave, and I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

“When I asked you back to my place after dinner, I was sure you’d turn me down,” he said. “I was already planning to ask to see you the next day. And I knew I’d call you the next morning, but you said yes.”

“I had never done that before—gone back to a man’s place when I’d known him less than twenty-four hours.

Even as I was saying yes, I couldn’t believe I was doing it.

” She fell silent, remembering what else she had done that evening—falling into bed with him as if they had known each other for months instead of hours.

It was as if they had come down with a fever that left them only able to think about each other.

“That was a good night,” he said. “A special night.”

He slid his hand into hers and the warmth of him wrapped around her.

That hadn’t felt rushed or tawdry or any of the things she might have imagined sex with a man she scarcely knew would be.

It just felt…right. She looked down at his hand.

She would have denied she ever believed in love at first sight, but looking back, she could see she had started falling in love with Aaron during that first conversation, while she cleaned the cut hand of a bleeding prisoner and they talked about the phenomena of emergency rooms being busier during the full moon.

She closed her eyes against sudden tears, the pain of missing him overwhelming her. How had something so right ended so badly?

“Willa?” He stroked her hair, and turned her toward him. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, his features blurred but familiar—strong jaw, thick eyebrows, dark lashes any woman would envy. “I loved you so much,” she blurted.

“I know.”

His lips on hers were firm, not hesitant or doubting. This is what I want, the kiss said. And everything in her echoed, This is what I want.

She reached for him, sliding her fingers around the back of his neck to the warm, soft place beneath a tickling fringe of hair.

She opened her mouth and more warmth flooded her as his tongue tangled with hers, every sensitive nerve alive to his touch.

He slid his palm up to cup the side of her breast and she knelt on the sofa cushion beside him, then crawled into his lap, straddling him, hands gripping his shoulders while his fingers dug into the curve of her hips.

They began to undress each other, not talking.

Not needing to talk. She pushed back his shirt and the cool metal of the St. Michael medallion brushed against her palm.

He lifted his hips and she tugged off his jeans, then straightened so that he could pull her top over her head.

She stripped off her jeans and underwear with no self-consciousness.

She had been here before, with this man, and she had never felt safer.

Her fingers moved without her having to think, rediscovering territory that had once been as familiar to her as her own.

His skin was firm and warm, taut over a muscular chest and arms. There was the mole on the left side of his ribs, and the perfect whorl of dark hair centered between his nipples.

There was the lopsided indentation of his navel, and the small silvery white scar from the appendectomy he had had at age twelve.

She pressed against him, and felt the rigid heat of his erection, and the answering flood of warmth within her.

He gripped her bottom and settled her more firmly against him, then kissed her long and hard until she was dizzy and breathless, trembling with need.

“Condom?” she asked, no longer capable of full sentences.

In answer, he gently shifted her off of him and stood, then took her hand and tugged her upright. She let him lead her down a hall to a bedroom—comforter pulled up over pillows, a single lamp casting a pool of light over the right side of the bed in the gloom of drawn curtains.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

She lay back on the bed, the thrill of anticipation washing over her.

She didn’t allow herself to think—didn’t give doubt time to take hold.

Aaron returned in moments, a foil packet in his hand.

The bed dipped as he lay beside her, and when he pulled her close she surrendered everything, no longer fighting what she had needed for so long.

Aaron had dreamed of making love to Willa again—tortured dreams after which he woke frustrated and grief stricken. There was no grief now, only the joy of knowing she was just as he remembered—just as beautiful. Just as passionate. Just as able to make him feel so much better than he deserved.

He wanted to take his time—to reacquaint himself with every inch of her.

But neither of them could wait for that.

When she whispered for him to hurry, the urgency in her voice sent a tremor through him.

He unwrapped the condom and slid it on, then moved toward her.

She moaned as they came together, and that was almost his undoing.

Nothing had felt this right—ever. When he began to move, she moved with him, and smiled up at him, his own delight reflected in her eyes.

Then she laughed, and he laughed, too, increasing the pace of their rhythm, wanting to memorize the incredible feel of her—of them together.

Then the intensity of the moment silenced them both, and they communicated only with a shifting of hips or the nudge of a hand.

His heart pounded, and when he rested his palm between her breasts he felt the thud of her heart, too.

Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed, and he knew she was close to the edge.

He slid his hand down between them to touch her and felt her convulse around him, a tension that triggered his own release, powerful and overwhelming and humbling.

They lay together for a long while afterward, thin bars of white light showing around a gap in the curtains in the otherwise dim room.

She rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder, one thigh draped over his thigh, her skin soft as satin, the perfume of her hair mixed with the musk of sex, taking him back to other bedrooms they had shared, as if scarcely a day had passed since they had last been together, instead of almost a year.

“I hope that wasn’t a mistake,” she said, breaking the silence.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said. The words hadn’t alarmed him.

He had known she would think this, even if she didn’t say it.

Willa had lost so much in her life she lived with the fear of loss even in the midst of bounty.

He had tried to be that bounty for her. That he had failed still haunted him, but he was not one to dwell on the past. He could only look forward, and try to prove she had nothing to lose with him this time.

She shifted, and raised her head to look at him. “It can’t be like before between us. I can’t be that…consumed…again. I can’t lose myself that way again.”

“I never wanted you to lose yourself.” He stroked her arm, the fine hairs soft against his fingers. “I don’t want to own you or monopolize you or do anything but love you.”

Her eyes met his, her gaze as open and honest as he had ever seen it.

“I’m scared,” she stated.

“I know. I’m scared, too. Scared of screwing up. Scared of losing you again. But isn’t it better to be scared together than apart?”

She lay down again, curled against him. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s better.”

He rested his hand on her back, and felt her relax and fall asleep. But he lay awake a long time. Being with her was better than anything else. But he didn’t know if he could survive losing her again.