Page 34 of When the Silence Breaks

An hour and a half into the hike, she was sweating but invigorated. Ryder stepped off the trail onto a ledge, and she paused next to him as he pointed. The Blackspire Mountain summit was dark against the early-morning light. “See the ridgeline along that spire? It’s white from last week’s snow.”

“I get it. It’s already been snowing on the mountain.” She’d lived in Oklahoma, Indiana, and briefly in Denver, and then, during a stint with her previous job, in Portugal.

“I’m not concerned. We’ve packed for all potential threats,” he said.

Ryder continued along the trail—at least, she hoped it was a trail, but she couldn’t tell—and her pulse kicked up. The muscles in her thighs burned. She tried to hide that maybe she was a little out of shape. But she was too stubborn to let her physical inadequacy win. Still, she couldn’t hide her gasps for breath. Her deep need for air. The fifty-pound pack was making her work for it.

Ryder stopped. “We’re above six thousand feet now. Let’s stop and rest. Hydrate.”

“I thought you wanted to keep a fast pace.”

“We are.”

The altitude, along with the pack, was getting to her. She drank from the hydration bladder and tried to ignore that the air once again had that sharp edge to it that came before a storm. Though the sky remained clear, a few clouds gathered up top, where they were headed. Zipping her fleece jacket, she glanced sideways at Ryder. He adjusted his straps on his back.

“Still think we can make it in and out before the storm hits?” she asked.

“As long as we keep up the pace.” He gave her a once-over, then stared ahead. She didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his eyes as he scanned the ridgeline again. “Snow should hold off until late tomorrow. By then we should be on our way back down.”

“Is that the weather forecast talking or your experience?”

“A little of both.”

“Then we’d better not waste time.” Sarah feared they’d make this trek and not have the time required to find what she needed to find, and she wasn’t even sure what that was. Proof, maybe. Ryder had proof that had been stolen, but she needed more than a piece of metal.

The million-dollar question—What was her brother killed over?

Break over, Ryder continued on the narrow trail that snaked into the trees. Sarah followed, the crunch of their boots muffled by fallen pine needles and patches of frost clinging to the earth. Frost. Yeah. October in the mountains could mean freezing temps at night. The forest quickly enclosed them, lofty evergreens reaching to the sky. She expected to hear birdsong, but it was still and quiet in the cold woods. No breeze blew thetreetops. Nope. Just the rhythm of their breathing—at least she wasn’t the only one breathing hard—and the steady crunch of footsteps on the cold earth.

At least no arctic air blasted them. She could find the things for which she could be grateful. The path grew steeper, and her leg muscles burned. Time to admit her triathlete years were far behind her. But she’d continued to jog five miles a day, so at least she had that going for her.

After what felt like ten miles, Ryder slowed ahead of her. Letting her catch up? Hands on his hips, he stretched and peered at the surrounding mountains.

Majestic.

But so was Ryder Goodwin. The man was a sight to behold, if anyone asked her. Good thing no one did. He glanced her way. “You okay?”

“You don’t have to keep checking on me.” She flashed him a tight smile. “I might have grown up in Oklahoma, but I’ve been on a mountain hike or two.” Maybe the plane crash, escaping these mountains, was the reason Grandpa had settled in Oklahoma, where it was painfully flat for the most part. Grandpa raised her and Aaron after Mom and Dad died ... ironically ... in a plane crash.

Ryder’s gaze softened. “Even so, what’s waiting at the top has to make you anxious.”

Sarah didn’t answer. He was right. She wouldn’t argue.

God, please let me find answers.What waited at the top might not just be wreckage—it might be a buried truth, something dark and dangerous that her grandfather never intended her to find. Why else would he change his name and identity? Then again, if he truly hoped no one would find it, why leave even the smallest of cryptic clues? Why write a letter or leave a map? No. He wanted someone to find the truth, eventually.Maybe that’s what deathbed confessions were about—the realization that the truth should never have been buried.

Oh, Grandpa Walt...

To think he’d lived that long while carrying such a morbid secret crushed her. But he did it for them—Sarah and Aaron. Family was everything. He’d instilled that much into them. Still, maybe Grandpa Walt would have buried the secret forever if he had known his grandson would be killed for what had been hidden. She pushed the thoughts away to focus on keeping up with her guide.

Ryder continued forward and up, and the trail narrowed even more as they climbed. She was thankful for small things. At least for now there was a trail to follow. Blackspire rose above them, sharp-edged and waiting. And behind them, the clouds began to gather in earnest.

“Forecasts lie.”Wow. She didn’t want to be up here in an actual snowstorm, even if this wasn’t Everest.

She focused on putting one painful foot in front of the other. Hiking. Plodding. Trudging. Dragging her feet. Until finally...

Sarah wasn’t sure when it happened, but they’d lost the trail, and Ryder led her along rugged backcountry, going higher and higher. This was why she’d wanted him. Was she imagining it or had the temperature dropped below freezing? No matter. Ryder would keep her safe, and he would take her where she needed to go when no one else could. He knew his way around, and she just had to trust the process.

They’d stopped a few times to rest and eat a protein bar. The usual. But her whole body was feeling it. She’d keep that to herself. No complaining from her. None. Didn’t mean she couldn’t whine to herself inside.