Page 5 of When the Silence Breaks

She was about to turn and walk away, but she paused as her gaze lifted to look over his shoulder at something behind him. Almost imperceptibly, her eyes widened with a look of fear. She recovered and hid her reaction, but Ryder didn’t miss much, if anything.

“I have to go.” She slowly and casually backed away, but he imagined her nerves were vibrating underneath. “I’ll see you around.”

She turned her back to him and hurried off, then shifted into a slow jog.

What was that about? Now that the rain had stopped, no chance he wasn’t still caked in mud. He started toward Good Adventures located on the far side of town. He’d left his vehicle in the parking lot. He took the opportunity to glance at Main Street, acting like this was just another mudslide day in the region and he was just one of many mud-covered guys on the street.

He’d be noticed—probably—so he wouldn’t make his curiosity obvious. Something had spooked Sarah—of that he had no doubt. As he walked, he didn’t see anything suspicious, but that didn’t ease the unsettled feeling in his gut. Maybe she was fleeing an ex or a stalker. Even though Sarah’s obvious negative reaction wasn’t his business, he’d stay watchful. Maybe he’d been a SEAL before, but he’d left the fight behind and chosen this quiet, peaceful town and these mountains as his sanctuary ... only to lose again.

And every day was a fight to put those shadowed memories behind him.

Three

After a long, hot shower to wash away the mud and grime, Sarah towel-dried her hair, grateful she’d escaped with only minor scrapes, thanks to her outerwear. A few raw welts bloomed on her back, but nothing serious. Surviving a mudslide hadn’t exactly been on her bingo card when she’d set out on this self-imposed mission. She cleaned the grime off her backpack, making sure to get the mud out of every crevice, then she cleaned her Sig.

Moving to the window, she cautiously peeked past the curtain. Her cheap motel was located on the outskirts of this town nestled against the mountains. The plan had been to blend in with the tourists who flocked here. If anyone came looking, she’d be just another face in the crowd.

Mercy Ridge was tucked deep in the Cascades—hard to reach yet somehow still a magnet for visitors. The towering peak of a nearby volcano loomed in the distance like something out of an Alpine fairy tale. No wonder the Cascades were nicknamed the Alps of America.

The town leaned into the theme too. Sloped chalet-style roofs. Carved wood trim. Flower boxes bursting with color.Even cobblestone streets in places. The whole thing felt curated, quaint—almost too much so. Whose idea had that been?

And she just realized that she’d arrived here in October. The townspeople must celebrate their version of Oktoberfest. Had she missed it?

A car turned in to the parking lot, then peeled out, bringing her focus back to where it should be. Her heart rate jumped at the disturbance, though, as she searched the parking lot and across the street where the downtown art district started.

At least she’d seen no sign of the silver hybrid that had followed her for almost thirty miles.

Unfortunately, she might have seen a former colleague—Reid Maddox. That couldn’t be good. Not good at all. Except, after the trauma she’d been through, coupled with paranoia and fear, she must have been seeing things. She was still reeling from her collision with the wilderness guide—the very man she sought to hire. She should have explained that to him, but she needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Besides, he was focused on the mudslide and getting them to safety. She’d do better to walk into the Good Adventures establishment and book her trip with him when he had the capacity to listen to her specific request.

If those who’d tried to follow her had figured out that she’d come to Mercy Ridge or even driven through town to search for her, they wouldn’t find the old Explorer parked at the motel. She was glad she’d left it in the woods. Yes, if she’d driven all the way in, she would have been here without the mud and wouldn’t have run into Ryder. Maybe the serendipitous connection would help. But something he said disturbed her. He mentioned that heused tobe a wilderness guide. Was he no longer guiding? She’d just have to convince him.

In the meantime, she needed to relax and catch her breath.

Now that she was finally here in Mercy Ridge, she had work to do. She’d figure out how and when to get the rest of her stuff from the vehicle she’d left in the woods.

Meeting Ryder the way she had confirmed that, without a doubt, she’d picked the right person for the job. He’d pulled her right out of a ferocious mudslide. Reached in and grabbed her. She relived that moment repeatedly—not the bad, terrifying part of it but the good part...

The hero she’d come here to find had been in the right place at the right time to pull her from the jaws of death. That idea left her stunned. Especially considering that she had half expected he would be out guiding a group and she’d have to book ahead and wait for him to return for her particular search. Time was short, and so she’d tell him what she could, what she must, to convince him to help her.

He wasn’t a guide, he’d claimed, and wasn’t a scientist, so why was hereallysurveying the region? Unstable ground was another issue entirely, and she could only worry about ten things at a time.

That would be number eleven, so no, thank you.

Maybe she was thinking about this all wrong in trying to hire a private guide to search for something that—as far as anyone knew—was a myth. A fairy tale. Just a story. But this buried truth had gotten Aaron killed, and she would uncover it. Expose it. Get justice. And save Tessa and Jeremy from further threats.

She’d seen a picture of Ryder because she’d gotten his file, but she hadn’t recognized him today, especially with his wavy, shoulder-length hair. In the image she’d seen, he was tall, broad shouldered, and had the hardened physique of a former Navy SEAL who now guided people through the mountains—or used to, per his claim. His hair was sun-streaked, and his eyes were a sharp gray.

At least, she’d seen those features through the mud.

When he’d shared his name, she’d been stunned but shouldn’t have been. Who else could have pulled her right out of the mud—a singular, deadly force of nature—other than Ryder Goodwin?

With several hours of daylight remaining, she made sure the Sig Sauer was clean and tucked in her ankle holster, then exited her room. Kept her head down and curled into her Nordic sweater on this beautiful fall day—beautiful now that the rain had stopped. Before heading to Mercy Ridge, she’d dyed her hair a drab brown and tried to look plain and unassuming.

Unnoticeable. Unmemorable. And yeah, that seemed to be working. Not one person looked at her as she hiked a couple of miles to the other end of town and up the pebbled trail to Good Adventures. Through the glass door, she caught sight of a woman with silver-blond hair—kind of like Paula Deen’s—locking up. What? It was only four thirty. Not closing time yet, at least in her mind.

Sarah rushed forward and gently knocked. “Oh, please, let me in. I need ... Please.”

“We’re closed for the day.” Speaking through the glass door, the woman gave a warm and friendly apologetic look.