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CHAPTERONE
Harrietta Theresia Ballard, Hattie to everybody who wanted to stay on her good side, and most smart people did, screamed like a banshee as she tugged on her paraglider brake handles. She was desperately hoping to slow herself down and somehow land in the meadow she saw up ahead without a broken neck. She only succeeded in spinning a fast circle, nausea rising quickly in her throat and cutting off her scream. She was still a hundred feet off the ground and descending far too fast. Was today finally her day to die?
This adventure had been a very bad idea, and it had only gotten worse. She’d trusted the too-handsome, too-charming Franz Wengreen and he’d taken care of all the arrangements. The helicopter had picked them up at the Grand Resort in Bad Ragaz, Switzerland and flew them to the top of a mountain peak so high it was above the tree line.
Bad Ragaz had a lame name, but it was one of the cooler mountain towns in the Swiss Alps—and she’d been to plenty of amazing Alps towns. The town had thermal springs, insanely gorgeous mountains, insanely gorgeous hotels, and a charming downtown. The only drawback she could see was its proximity to the kingdom of Augustine. Augustine was the one place Hattie could never return. She’d be arrested as soon as they figured out who she was.
Not really a worry at the present moment as she’d die before she got there.
She’d been excited an hour ago as she was strapped into the paraglider. She’d only done it as a tandem before today. She wasn’t excited any longer. Terrified. Full of regret. Wishing she could restructure her decision-making paradigm.
At least she’d see her parents soon.
The ground zoomed toward her. Too fast.
“No!” she screamed.
A current caught the thin fabric of her sail and swooped her back up. She might live one more moment, but death, or at the best every bone in her body broken, was imminent. Cold sweat covered her skin. Why had she trusted Franz?
She’d met him a couple weeks ago at some party in London. He’d promised her the ‘most memorable and picturesque summer of her life.’ So far the hiking, biking, and adventuring throughout the Alps had been out of this world. As usual, she paid for everything, and she’d placed lots of boundaries. Franz had honored her rules, only occasionally trying to steal a kiss or a hug. He’d been a decent guy and travel companion.
The only fault he’d shown so far was claiming he knew how to paraglide, could ‘easily’ teach her, and that today would be a safe adventure. Lies. Well, maybeheknew how to paraglide, but he had failed as an instructor. It was highly possible she stunk as a student, too—she’d never been known to listen well or follow instructions. Maybe the wind had simply been more vicious than he’d foreseen. At the moment, she chose to lay all the blame on Franz. He wasn’t around to defend himself.
The fact that she couldn’t see him or hear him frantically screaming instructions to her any longer didn’t bode well for his teaching abilities, his paragliding abilities, or his promise of safety. He also had her phone, credit card, cash, and her favorite lip balm in his fanny pack that she loved to tease him about. ‘Safekeeping’ them for her since she had no zip pockets on her shorts.
Safe? Ha!
The wind had been vicious and separated them quickly. Now she was pulling, tugging, and screaming. Sometimes she’d catch a wind current and drift up, but sometimes the wind current would fling her down. She hadn’t hit the ground yet, but that event was in her near future. How to make this stupid sail float her down nice and calm? She had no idea. If Franz had told her in his brief instructions she hadn’t listened.
“Help!” she hollered, knowing no one could help her now.
Pray. Her mom’s voice.
“I love you, Mom,” she said to the wind, trying not to look down as she horrifically bypassed the meadow and the lake. Wouldn’t water be better to crash into? She was now swooping toward the thick forest of trees and the steeply sloping mountainside. “But I amnotpraying.”
Pray. Her cousin Sadie’s voice.
“Dang you, Sadie!” she screamed. “You know I’m a lot of things, but a hypocrite isn’t one of them!”
She hadn’t prayed since she’d unwittingly taken part in and witnessed a murder in Traverse, Augustine, over five years ago now. The innocent Jane had done nothing to deserve being stabbed through the heart by a jerk-bait loser on a dare. Treven Rindlesbacher was in prison, but only as an accomplice to murder. Hattie had been framed as the murderer. Two Augustine police detectives had found her knocked out on Jane’s body, holding the knife. They had miraculously believed her tale, and spirited her out of the country. She’d never breathed a word of the heart-wrenching nightmare to anyone, not even Sadie.
When her saintly and charitable and never-failing-to-believe parents died two and a half years ago, it had sealed her conviction that heaven didn’t care about her and she might as well embrace her wealthy, spoiled, playgirl lifestyle and pretend to enjoy life.
Heaven had refused to help her when she’d needed it, with the exception of Detective Jensen and his nameless partner rescuing her from a life in prison. Sometimes she wondered if that would be any worse than the emptiness and loneliness of traveling and never knowing if anyone was a true friend or only wanted her around to pick up the tab.
What was up with all this philosophizing? She was going to die. She could pick her bone with her Father above when she got there. She actually doubted she could charm her way past the pearly gates. That had never bothered her … until this moment.
Those trees were coming up really fast.
“No, no, no!” she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut but unable to block the sensation of rushing wind, her body hurtling too fast, and her certain demise.
Pray. Her dad’s voice.
“Dang you, Dad!” she screamed. She opened her eyes and screamed louder. She was above the tree line but dropping. She was going to hit a tree, and soon.
“Heavenly Father,” she said solemnly. “I’m sorry for blaming You for everything.”
That was it. That was all she had. She wasn’t going to beg. She wasn’t going to do some deathbed repentance. An apology was the extent of her prayer.
