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Sawyer turned toward Zak’s voice. “I haven’t seen anyone in a long time, man.”
“I’m serious. Have you talked to him?”
The note of concern raised the little hairs on Sawyer’s neck. “Not since…” He trailed off. Pierce hadn’t been right since they rescued him from the Hope’s Embrace compound. He’d always been a silent, intense presence in the room, but the intensity had felt ramped up, his silence screaming louder than any words.
“Not since he picked up Raszta after he was discharged from the hospital,” Sawyer finally finished.
“Shit,” Zak muttered. Sawyer heard the scrape of a chair and the thump of Zak’s prosthetic on the hardwood as he stood. “I’m gonna go talk to Rylan.”
But if Pierce had confided in their resident shrink, Rylan wouldn’t be able to discuss it with Zak or anyone else.
Sawyer came to a decision then. Call it a hunch, call it instincts honed from years in combat, but something told him that Pierce was in hiding, licking his wounds… and he had a good idea where he might find him. The last thing Pierce needed was isolation. He needed support from people who truly understood war scars and how they could rear their ugly heads even when you thought they’d fully healed. He needed his teammates. His friends. His family-by-choice.
“Come on, Zelda.” Sawyer patted his thigh, and she sprang up, bumping her head against his hand as if to say, I’m here.
“Up for a walk?”
Her tail wagged. He felt it swish against his leg and saw the blur of it shifting through his hazy field of vision.
There was nothing better than watching her tail wag.
He strapped her into her harness and packed a backpack with water, protein bars, dog food, and treats—then he doubled up on everything. He also threw in a First Aid kit just in case. Then at the last moment, added extra bear spray and a gun. He didn’t plan to be gone long—he was just going to hike up to Pierce’s usual camping spot—but in his mind, you could never be too prepared when you were a blind man hiking alone in the rugged Northern California mountains.
The sun was high in the sky by the time they reached the base of the mountain, and in the heat of the afternoon, sweat was sweeping into his clothes.
Shit, it was hot.
He muttered a curse under his breath but told Zelda to walk. She knew the trail intimately and easily guided him around obstacles. It was only about three miles of moderately difficult terrain up to Pierce’s favorite camping spot, but by the time he got there, he was drenched in sweat.
“Pierce,” he called.
Silence.
No answering whistle.
No raspy hello bark from Raszta.
He took a step, and his foot hit something soft. Heart in his throat, he bent down and groped around until he found soft nylon—a sleeping bag. He felt around some more and found a backpack, its contents spilling across the ground.
“Pierce!”
Still nothing.
Only the rustle of the hot breeze through the trees and the crunch of rocks under his own feet.
Or… no.
He strained, listening for the sound that had caught his attention.
Someone nearby was talking.
So, not Pierce.
Probably other hikers, but maybe they had seen where Pierce had gone.
He straightened and ordered Zelda to follow the sound. “Hello?”
The talking stopped.
