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All kinds of terrifying possibilities charge through my head, and my grip tightens on my phone.
9
Troy
June, Present Day
Maple Ridge
* * *
Garrett and I head to the closest trail. Lucas and Kellan are driving to two other locations where I’ve taken Jess hiking, in case she went to either one of them. The first step is locating my truck. The second will be calling in search and rescue once I find evidence of where she is.
The tension in the SUV stifles all conversation. Even if Garrett were talking, I wouldn’t hear a word he was saying. My attention is focused on our surroundings. Pine trees pass us in a blur.
Ahead of us, the metal guardrail that separates the road from the steep incline catches my eye. The railing should be upright and continuous. It shouldn’t be ripped from the road and split in two.
Long black marks streak the road. Skid marks leading to the broken guardrail.
“What the hell happened here?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
Garrett pulls over to the shoulder. A black truck lies on its side farther down the incline, the roof dented. The bumper is facing uphill, and I can make out the familiar yellow sticker. The Marine Veteran bumper sticker.
My bumper sticker.
A frigid chill settles in my bones, steals my breath. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think that’s my truck.” I scramble out the passenger door. There’s barely enough space between Garrett’s SUV and the guardrail for someone my size, but I squeeze past and stare down the steep incline. Stare at the wreck and search for signs of life.
Stillness stares back, giving no indication Jess survived the crash or is even in the truck.
“Jessica!” I yell, praying she can hear me.
If she replies, it isn’t loud enough for me to make out her voice.
I tear my gaze from the mangled wreck and survey the area for a way to get to it. I take a step toward the gap in the guardrail, ready to run down the slope if I don’t have any other choice.
Garrett grabs my good arm before I can do exactly that. “You won’t get to it that way. The ground’s too wet. And you’re gonna fuck up your shoulder again if you attempt it.”
I yank my arm from his grip. “I have to check on her. I have to make sure she’s okay.”
Garrett’s usually good at keeping his emotions off his face. It’s something that was grilled into us when we were in the Marines. But this is one time even he fails to keep the flicker of what he’s thinking from his expression.
And what he’s thinking pisses me off.
“She’s alive,” I grind out. She has to be. She’s already survived a lot. I’m not going to lose her now.
He heads to the driver side of his SUV and out of sight. I vaguely hear him talking to the 9-1-1 dispatcher. My attention is focused on finding another way to my truck.
But there is none.
Ignoring the truth of Garrett’s words, I start walking down the slope. It’s not a sheer drop like the one I rescued Christopher and his father from. I have that in my favor.
The ground is muddy from last night’s storm, but if I perform a switchback instead of going straight down, I might be able to get to the truck without sliding onto my ass.
I can’t just stand on the sidelines, waiting for someone to rescue my girlfriend.
