Freefall. Jill Sorenson
Bear Stetson.
At least Morgenstern was up-front about his prejudice. She’d take bald sexism over the subtle, insidious bullshit any day.
Morgenstern took another bite of his sandwich and set it down next to a cell phone. He eyeballed Sam, still chewing.
Hope considered the possibilities. If the guy in the red truck wasn’t her suspect, who was the seventh person in Ron’s group? “Oh my God,” she said, an icy hand trailing down her spine. “He’s on the rafting trip.”
“Who?”
“The killer!”
Morgenstern harrumphed in disbelief. “Ron wouldn’t add a random stranger on a whim. Reservations are made months in advance.”
“Did you see them depart?”
“Yes. Three men almost missed the van.”
“Can you describe them?”
He thought about it, squinting. “Two college-kid river rats, one tall, one short. They were with a medium-sized guy in a gray hat.”
Hope referred to the list of items in the stolen backpack. Gray beanie was number four. “That’s him.”
“He might have been Mexican.”
She thanked Morgenstern for his trouble and walked away from the trailer with Sam. Heart racing with distress, she picked up her radio to call Dispatch. “I need to talk to Ron. It’s an emergency.”
“I’ll try to reach him, but he isn’t due to check in again until evening.”
“Get Dixon.”
The dispatcher asked her to wait a moment. It felt like an eternity. Sam stood beside her, close and silent. “He’s on three,” she said when she returned.
Hope switched to channel three, which was used exclusively for communications with the park manager.
“Banning?”
Although she was on a first-name basis with Doug Dixon, he didn’t show familiarity during work hours. She told him about her suspicions in a rush. “I need a helicopter team to take me downriver.”
“Hold on,” he said. “We don’t know it’s him.”
“There were three men scheduled for the rafting trip. One went home.”
“Maybe the other two called a friend.”
Her gut said otherwise. “I have to go after them.”
“Negative.”
“My sister is in that group!”
“Which is exactly why you should take a step back. I’ll talk to Ron and assemble a whitewater team. Or a helicopter crew, if it comes to that. I don’t want you involved. You’ve made too many rash decisions.”
“What do you mean?”
“You left base without a team yesterday.”
“Only because SAR was busy and I couldn’t reach you.”
“Continuing to Kaweah was also ill-advised.”
She clenched the radio in her sweaty grip. He’d never reprimanded her before, and it didn’t feel good.
“Take a break, Hope. You’ve covered a lot of ground in twenty-four hours.”
“I’m fine.”
“Go home and get some rest. We’ll do everything we can to catch this guy.”
Hope stared at Sam, swallowing hard. She couldn’t believe Dixon had ordered her to stand down. This wasn’t just unfair, it was humiliating. Was he cutting her out of the action because she was too emotionally involved, or because he didn’t want her to get hurt? She was the only female law enforcement ranger in the park. Maybe her boss wasn’t much different from Morgenstern after all.
“Is that clear, Banning?”
“Yes, sir.”
She clipped the radio to her waist with shaking hands. Ron might not check in until dark. His group would be thirty miles downriver by then. The Kaweah ran along the east side of Angel Wings, through the most remote area of the park. It was pristine wilderness, totally undeveloped. There were no roads, only a few hiking trails. The only way to reach the rafters quickly was by helicopter.
Or kayak.
If she left now, and paddled hard, she could catch up with the group by nightfall. She’d planned to do that anyway. Dixon wouldn’t be pleased with her insubordination, but she doubted he’d fire her. She had some pretty good dirt on him.
Hope hurried toward the ranger station, where the rescue kayaks were housed.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked.
“Taking my vacation.”
CHAPTER SIX
RANGER CORDOVA UNLOCKED the storage shed at Hope’s request.
She removed the necessary supplies from her pack and shoved them into a dry sack, along with her service weapon. Then she slammed a helmet on her head and wrestled into a life jacket.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked.
“I’m borrowing a kayak. For recreational purposes.”
“Recreational purposes, my ass!”
As she reached for the kayak on the middle shelf, she gave him a sidelong glance, surprised by his vehemence. He was standing in the doorway, blocking her exit. His chest rose up and down with agitation. She wasn’t sure why she had such a strong effect on him. The night she’d slept with him, he’d responded to the barest touch, a whisper of breath. Whatever had drawn them together still hummed beneath the surface, ready to ignite.
“Dixon told you to go home.”
She unstrapped the hull, her pulse racing.
Sam turned to Ranger Cordova, who was watching with wide eyes. “Are you really going to let her do this?”
“She’s my superior, Mr. Rutherford.”
“Then call her superior!”
“Don’t you dare,” she said, pointing her finger at Cordova.
“I’ll call him,” Sam threatened.
“Go right ahead. Get on the phone with your crony and throw some more money at him. I’ll be ten miles downriver by then.”
“You’re really prepared to attempt Class Five whitewater on your own?”
“I’m an experienced kayaker.”
“Those rapids are brutal.”
She removed the kayak from the rack. “You free-solo a thousand feet above the ground, so spare me the safety lecture.”
“They have more than a day’s head start,” he said through clenched teeth. “If, by some miracle, you don’t get slammed in the slickies, you’d have to paddle like hell on the slow sections. Only an expert could catch up with them.”
“You’re familiar with this river?”
Cordova made a coughing noise. She knew something Hope didn’t.
“I used to be a guide here,” he said.
He’d grown up in nearby Tulare, so it made sense. He must have honed his Olympic skills on the three local rivers as a teenager. “Great,” she said, unzipping the kayak cover. Now she understood why he was so agitated. He felt obligated to come with her—again. “I don’t need your assistance this time, Sam.”
“You need a partner.”
“I’ll go,” Cordova said, her expression