Page 30 of When the Silence Breaks

“Can I ask why you decided to take her up? You’ve refused the mountain for so long now.”

“It’s complicated. I called for a reason, and I need your help. Thereissomething you can do for me.”

“What’s that?”

Holt was an intelligence operations specialist with Homeland Security—one of the few people Ryder trusted to handle sensitive information without blowing the entire thing wide open. Ryder didn’t want to put him in a bad situation ... still ... he would be foolish not to inform him—at least to a point.

Carrying a personal locator beacon or satellite messenger was always important, but the beacon pinged too wide, and considering Sarah had followers, he couldn’t risk anyone picking up that signal. “I’m setting my device to private tracking—it’s only going to send coordinates to you, and only if something goes wrong.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that much, but he needed Holt to know, to watch. To be aware.

Silence met him over the line. Then, finally, Holt said, “Care to give some context?”

“You’ll get a static grid if you don’t hear from me in seventy-two hours.”

“I don’t like this, Ryder. I need more information. What’s this about?”

He wished he could say Sarah’s words,“I’ve said as much as I can.”He’d use Sarah’s line, only different. “You’re the only one I trust.”

“See, this is what happens when I listen to my gut. Something told me things were off about this. Mom sent me a picture of the woman. I’m—”

“Then tell no one else. No one. I shared some of it with Wade, but he doesn’t know the rest. Do you hear me? You trust me, don’t you?”

“I’ve got your back, bro, but only if you tell me what this is about—as soon as you can.”

“I will. I’ll tell you what I know now.” Ryder went through the high points.

“A treasure hunter? Come on, Ryder.”

“No, Holt. You aren’t getting this. Sarah ... I suspect she was some sort of fed before, worked for the government. I don’t know, but there’s something very nasty swirling around this.”

“You haven’t gotten Mom into danger, have you?”

“Mom is the one who invited Sarah over to dinner. Wade and Harlan are Mom’s heroes while I’m on the mountain. Timber too.”

“Do I need to disentangle from work and come out there? If not for you, then for Mom?”

“You need to watch and wait. As mentioned, if you don’t hear from me in seventy-two hours from now, not even anemergency ping, then something is very wrong.” He hung his head. “I hate involving you.”

“Just, please ... this isn’t some kind of effort on your part to redeem the past, is it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” But sure, maybe. He hadn’t thought about it that hard. But maybe deep down, this was his subconscious urging him forward as if he could, somehow, make up for the past.

“You did the right thing, Ryder. No matter what I do for my job, we’re brothers first. I’m going to dig a little ... under the radar. Answer if I message you while you’re on the mountain. It means I learned something.”

“I will.” Ryder ended the call with the strongest sense that Holt might even now be planning to head to Mercy Ridge.

He returned his attention to unloading the truck, only to discover that Sarah had finished instead of taking the break she’d mentioned. He found her sitting on the living room floor, assembling her backpack like a pro. He knew so little about her, and everything new he learned intrigued him all the more.

Later that evening, Mom brought over burgers from the diner. She loved feeding people, but she also loved learning everything she could about Ryder’s latest endeavor, especially when it involved Sarah Ellison. Mom had gotten the idea that Ryder liked Sarah as more than a client, a woman in trouble he was helping, and that idea had burrowed deep inside his mother. And maybe even Ryder too.

Because what wasn’t to like? Except maybe danger and trouble and secrets. He shoved all those concerns aside for the moment and piled their gear and his pack by the front door, and he would load it in the truck before the sun rose. Via an old logging road, they’d drive up to Lost Signal Trailhead atjust over 4,500 feet—a high enough access point to take them closer to their destination.

They’d get started on the mountain. Sarah claimed she’d been a triathlete. Maybe he should have tested her athletic abilities beforehand, but they usually didn’t test clients. They trusted them.

He’d asked her to put her backpack next to the door, but it was missing. He moved down the hall and lightly knocked on the guest bedroom door.

Wearing panda pajamas, she opened the door and moved back to the writer’s desk in the corner.

“I’m here for your gear,” he said.