Laughter laced Logan’s voice. “Your life is so hard. What’s on the agenda? Hiking? Rappelling?” Logan knew how to dish it back. “Helping any beautiful campers locate a lost child’s mother today?”
“You saw that? You didn’t save it, did you? I went back to screenshot the photo, but it was gone.”
“Sorry. Don’t tell me you didn’t get her number. Liam, Liam. You’re losing your touch.”
Logan had no idea. “If Mom and Dad hadn’t moved to Heritage, you’d still be pining over Devin from a distance.Speaking of your better half, how is she doing? Having fun planning the wedding?”
“Who knew so much went into it?”
“Uh,everyone.”
Liam had run the circle of sites. Hardly anyone seemed awake, so there was probably no hope of spotting her.
Instead, he headed toward the back corner of the campground and aimed for the trail that led up to the staff cabins. The sun was above the tree line now, and the high elevation made the direct rays uncomfortably warm even with the cool air.
A shower was definitely his next stop. He wiped sweat from his forehead with the edge of his T-shirt.
Logan’s voice dropped to a more serious tone. “So about the early run…”
Liam rounded the final loop before the trail, and his steps halted.
Thebus.The one he’d seen on the ridge. The thing was vintage—a repurposed city bus painted in mint greens and earthy browns that almost blended with the trees, except for the garish hippie stickers plastered around the door. Peace signs, tie-dye swirls, a handful of state decals—Texas, Oregon, Montana.
“…I know there’s something going on that you don’t want to talk about, but?—”
Right. Logan.“We’ll talk soon. I have to go.”
“Liam—”
“I’m not just avoiding the topic. There’s this bus. Long story, but I need to go. I’ll call later.” He ended the call.
Everything about the bus should scream eccentric camper, but it all seemed too intentional. Too purposeful.
He scanned the surrounding pines and froze. Another camera, small and discreet, peeked from the branches, its lens glinting faintly in the morning light.
Gotcha.
The door clicked, and out stepped a woman who made Liam’s morning run suddenly feel like the least important thing on his schedule. Dark hair tumbled past her shoulders in loose waves, framing a face dusted with freckles across olive skin. She wore workout leggings and a fitted tank that suggested she’d either just finished a run or was about to start one.
“Nimue?”
Her eyes stopped him cold—amber brown that seemed to catch and hold the morning light, with hints of gold and…
He needed to stop staring.
Her feet halted on the step, and her face went blank—a flash of panic flickering through her eyes as her gaze shot past him, around the area, as if scanning it, and then back to him.
And then she seemed to place him.
Well, that hurt. He thought he’d made more of an impression.
But just like that, then, she shifted from alert to casual camper. “Ranger Liam. Do you always run this early?”
If he hadn’t seen the transformation happen before his eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. But he had, and he had no doubt the person she was right now was pure performance. But why? The more he saw this woman, the more questions he had.
She owned the mysterious bus? And why the surveillance equipment?
“I run every morning at six,” he said, also playing a role. “Helps clear my head.”
