Page 12 of When the Silence Breaks

Ryder’s breaths quickened as frustration coiled in his gut. Why did he care if Dean took her? He shouldn’t care. Finally, through the window, he saw Sarah paying for her food. Dean had moved to the back of the store, disappearing from Ryder’s view. Sarah exited and headed south on Main Street without giving him another look. She had to know he was still there and waiting—just in case. But he was relieved she didn’t return because she would only try to convince him again. Then again, he wanted to know if she was hiring Dean instead.

He slammed his hands on the steering wheel. Started listing all the reasons taking her was a bad idea.

He’d lost Dad on that mountain and refused to go back. Well, until recently. The sheriff had wanted him to work with at-risk teens, leading day hikes and conducting survival workshops. His father’s dream, really. But in order to do that, Ryder had to go back up the mountain and face the dread and heartache. So he had.

Three weeks ago.

What he’d found left him more than disturbed, and he was waiting to learn more. The weather was going to turn, and adding to that, the increased seismic activity left him unsettled. Even one of those reasons was enough for him to say no.

He navigated the truck away from the curb, steered through town, and spotted Sarah walking through the parking lot of the Trailhead Motor Lodge. He idled at a stoplight and watched her enter a room there. She was safe for now. He headed to his house on the other end of town from Mom’s and called her on the way. She was settling in to watch old episodes ofGunsmoke, and Timber was resting at her feet. Everything was fine.

At home, he headed to his shop behind the house. Pulled out the box and stared at the remnant he’d found on the mountain. All the years he’d grown up here and hiked the mountain, he’d never come across it before, but that was because he’d never hiked that way. He’d been finding his way back, overcoming his fears and the memories by carving out a new path.

He raked a hand across his unshaven jaw.

Opening the box, he stared at the rectangular piece of metal the size of a playing card. Dull and pitted, the surface had been scored by time and weather, and one corner of it curled from heat exposure. The faded lettering once again stunned him. Much of the information was missing, blackened, or scratched so he couldn’t read it all.

U.S. Army Air Forces

Contract No.AC-1942

Type:B-24

Serial:41-

The rest was unreadable.

He’d told one person—the local Mercy Ridge historian, Vivian Knox. She’d said she would research and get back to him. Well,hecould do that but had hoped she would know something. Part of the plane that was supposed to have crashed in the Pacific was here on Blackspire Mountain. Everything his grandfather had told him, everything he’d learned in school, was a lie.

And out of the blue, this woman—Sarah Ellison—showed up wanting to hire him to find the rest of the story. He suspected she was working for someone, but then why would they send her?

Who wassheto hire Ryder for this?

The possible answer to that question set him on edge.

Five

Irritation at Ryder Goodwin gnawed at her.

And that Dean guy—something about him rubbed her the wrong way too. She couldn’t see herself spending a day or two or three with him up on the mountain. But how did she convince Ryder to help her? He was dead set against it, and there was something behind his flat-out refusal that went beyond the reasons he’d given.

He’d quit guiding two years ago? If she remembered correctly, his father had died in that accident, that SAR, two years ago. So Ryder Goodwin was a hero who couldn’t go back and face tragedies. Good to know.

Or maybe his own failures. Did he blame himself? Of course he did. Sarah didn’t have time to psychoanalyze a man she didn’t know, even though, yeah, she’d read a lot in his file that maybe even his mother didn’t know. And none of that information helped her now. She couldn’t use it to somehow convince him to assist her.

Sarah had been good at her job.Hadbeing the operative word here. She had to either try again with Ryder or pivot and shift her plan. Somehow, she had to get up on that mountain,even if, yes, she hired Dean Rourke, who seemed more than willing to take her.

Back in her motel room, she sat on the squeaky bed—the two thin pillows stacked at her back less comfortable than she’d hoped—and finished off the bag of Cheetos that had called out to her in the grocery store. She didn’t need them after the chicken pot pie, but man, after the day she’d had—she was going to eat them and finish them off like a pro.

She watched the local news and noted the mudslide wasn’t even mentioned. That incident had literally thrown her into Ryder Goodwin’s arms. For all the good that had done. And Sarah had thought it was a sign. A confirmation. Maybe it was, except Ryder hadn’t seen it that way. Dinner had gone about like she’d expected. Even though he understood his mother had pressured her, he had also seen through Sarah and somehow strongly suspected—okay, he’d known—that she had ulterior motives. Maybe reading minds or seeing behind smoke screens was part of SEAL training.

What’s your problem, dude?

Honestly, she hadn’t believed he would refuse. Or, at least, she thought she still had the ability to persuade others. She’d considered he might already be booked or otherwise unavailable, but to outright refuse her for no other reason than he didn’t want her to get hurt? Or that he thought she was a treasure hunter? Who was he to judge? Maybe it really had to do with the possibility of the weather changing and that she wasn’t a group. She was one lone woman. With his disdain for treasure hunters, he’d had all the reason he needed to turn her down.

If only you knew, Ryder Goodwin. If onlyyou knew just how alone I am.

She’d had enough of sitting here feeling like a failure. She shoved aside the exhaustion. Even though it was nearingnineo’clock at night, the pot pie and the argument with Ryder had infused her with energy. She wiped the cheesy crumbs off her hands and washed them. Gathered her gear and pulled on her backpack, since she might not come back to the motel. No better time than the present and under the cover of darkness to get her vehicle out of the woods. She hadn’t seen her followers again and needed her vehicle sooner rather than later.