He put his hand on her shoulder.

“I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Even if whoever is doing this is only trying to harass me, accidents happen—like that climber who fell the other day. I can’t risk you being injured.”

She looked away, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes. “I want to see you,” he said. “But I need to come to you.”

“All right,” she said. “But you have to stay in contact and let me know you’re all right. I care about what happens to you, too.”

“You’re a caring person,” he said.

She gripped his arm, her fingers surprisingly strong. “You’re not just anybody, Ian. Not to me.”

Before he could think how to reply, she released him and hurried away. He stared after her, heart pounding. Other people had told him he was important to them at various times in his life—other women. People who depended on him. But he had never believed them the way he believed Bethany.

Canyon Killer

Cindi Myers

Note to Readers

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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9781335457394

For Susan

Cindi Myers is the author of more than seventy-five novels. When she’s not plotting new romance storylines, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.

Books by Cindi Myers

Harlequin Intrigue

Eagle Mountain: Unsolved Mysteries

Canyon Killer

Eagle Mountain: Criminal History

Mile High Mystery

Colorado Kidnapping

Twin Jeopardy

Mountain Captive

Eagle Mountain: Critical Response

Deception at Dixon Pass

Pursuit at Panther Point

Killer on Kestrel Trail

Secrets of Silverpeak Mine

Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue

Eagle Mountain Cliffhanger

Canyon Kidnapping

Mountain Terror

Close Call in Colorado

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Bethany Ames—The only female Ames sibling, Bethany struggles with her close family’s overprotectiveness and her own insecurities since being dumped by her fiancé.

Ian Seabrook—The millionaire’s son has a reputation as someone who will run over others to get what he wants, but there’s a softer side to him no one sees.

Abby and Gerald Boston—Newlyweds who disappeared fifty years ago. The discovery of their remains in a cave on Ian’s land brings old secrets to light.

Craig Boston—Gerald’s nephew was once one of his best friends. He’s troubled to have the pain of the past resurface after all this time.

Walt Spies—Ian’s nearest neighbor has made it clear he wants to stop Ian’s new business from opening.

CHAPTER ONE

“I love my family. I really do. But sometimes they annoy me almost beyond bearing.” The infant in Bethany’s arms stared up at her with wide blue eyes, then blew a bubble. Bethany laughed. “Yeah, why am I complaining to you? But give it twenty years or so, and you’ll understand. Families are wonderful, but sometimes…”

She shifted the infant, Joella, to her other arm and turned back to the computer at the front desk of Peak Jeep Tours and Rentals. The message blinking there, from her mother—who also happened to be her boss—informed her that Mom had made a dentist appointment for her for the following month. As if Bethany, at twenty-three, wasn’t capable of making her own appointment. She was tempted to call and cancel it, but in the small town of Eagle Mountain, Colorado, there really was only the one dentist, and she liked him.

She sighed, closed the message and turned her attention back to the baby.

“Uh, Bethany, is there something you’ve been keeping from us?”

She looked up from admiring the infant to find her brother Dalton regarding her with a quizzical expression. She had three brothers, and Dalton was the youngest, two years younger than Bethany. Tanned, with a scruff of a beard and a faded Alpine Adventures T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, he looked as if he had lived in Eagle Mountain all of his life, instead of only two months. Locals still looked her up and down and said things like “You’re not from around here, are you?” And she had lived here nine months. It really wasn’t fair.

“She belongs to a couple who booked a Jeep trip up to Portnoy Basin,” she said and smiled down at the baby again.

“Are we offering free babysitting with our tours now?” Dalton leaned over and snagged a handful of jelly beans from the bowl on the corner of the desk.

“They thought they would be able to take her with them.” She settled Joella into her carrier and tucked a soft yellow blanket around her. “I had to explain we couldn’t allow an infant, even in a carrier, in an open-topped Jeep on a rough four-wheel-drive road.”

“And they talked you into watching her.” Dalton chuckled. “You’re such a sucker.”

“It’s not as if she’s much trouble,” she said. “And the trip was her mom’s birthday present. She was really looking forward to it.”

“Sucker,” he repeated. “I’m going to see what I can find for lunch.”

Dalton moved past her, into the back room, as the front door opened and a man entered—tall, twentysomething, bronzed, chiseled features and close-cropped hair, aviator sunglasses, dressed in khaki cargo pants and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. Your basic gorgeous, outdoorsy type this town seemed to be full of.

Bethany smiled broadly. “Hello. How can I help you?”

“I need to rent a Jeep,” he said.

“Great.” She returned to the desk and pulled up the Jeep rental form. “How long would you be needing it? We rent by the hour, but the daily rate is a better deal.”

He moved in closer. He smelled like leather and some exotic spice. Expensive. “I need it for a couple of months,” he said. “Until the project I’m working on in town is finished.”

“Oh.” She looked back up at him. He had removed the sunglasses to reveal blue eyes, fine lines at the corners. “Most people just want to take them into the mountains for a day or two.”

“I need it for at least a couple of months,” he repeated.

“Sure. We can do that.” Bethany forced her attention back to the form. It was either that or keep staring at him like a smitten teen. “Since you want it for that long, I could offer you a ten percent discount.” That wasn’t an official policy, but it made sense to her. And it wasn’t as if Mom and Dad were going to fire her for trying to please a customer.

“Thanks.” He handed over a matte black credit card. The kind that screamed high credit limit.

“I’ll just need your name and contact information.”

“Ian. Ian Seabrook.”

She filled in his name and the address and phone number he rattled off, copied off his insurance and driver’s license information, then checked the board to see what was available. They had a couple of their usual blue rental units available. And a brand-new black one. The black one wasn’t officially in the rental pool yet. Dalton and his twin, Carter, were lobbying hard to put it in the tour fleet so they could drive it. But hey, Ian looked like he would take good care of it. She grabbed the keys off the hook.

The door opened and Carter came in. He and Dalton weren’t identical twins, but they looked enough alike that people who didn’t know them well sometimes got them confused. Carter was an inch taller and five minutes older and a little beefier than Dalton. “Whose Porsche is that parked out front?” he called.

Ian turned to look at him. “It’s mine.”

“Are you taking a tour with us?” Carter leaned back against the desk, focused on the newcomer.

“Mr. Seabrook is renting a Jeep,” Bethany said. She inserted Ian’s credit card into the card reader.

“Seabrook.” Carter straightened. “Ian Seabrook?”

“Yes.” Ian accepted his credit card from her.

“You’re the guy who bought Humboldt Canyon and closed it to climbing.” Carter turned to his sister. “Some of the guys were talking about it at the last search and rescue meeting. Humboldt was a popular climbing spot, and this guy closed it and is going to develop it.”

“I’m going to build a via ferrata,” Ian said.

“What’s a via ferrata?” she asked.

“It’s Italian for iron way,” Ian said. “It’s a climbing route with steel cables, platforms and walkways. It will be open to the public.”

“It’s a tourist attraction.” Carter spoke with a sneer.

“Like this Jeep tour company.” Ian slipped his credit card back into his wallet.

Touché. Bethany bit back a grin. Carter definitely deserved that comeback. “It sounds like a lot of fun,” she said.

Actually, anything to do with climbing scared her, though training with search and rescue was helping her conquer that fear. So far she had been content to help the really skilled climbers with their gear, but she had taken a couple of training sessions navigating some less technical terrain. She had joined search and rescue when she’d first moved to Eagle Mountain to push herself out of her comfort zone, and it was definitely doing that.

“It sounds to me like a rich guy looking to make a profit off something that used to be available to everyone for free,” her brother said.

“Carter!” She glared at him. “Nobody asked you.”

She wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of the look Ian sent Carter. “Why don’t you wait and see what I do before you pass judgment?” Ian said.

Joella chose that moment to start crying. Bethany rushed to the carrier and picked up the baby. “Sorry,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the wailing. She bounced the infant in her arms as she returned to the desk. “Let me finish up the paperwork and get you on your way.”

“Cute.” Ian leaned closer. He smiled and extended one finger. The baby immediately fell silent and grasped his finger.

Uh-oh. Call her a cliché, but she couldn’t think of anything more devastating than a good-looking guy smiling at a baby. She blamed evolution, stirring up all those hormones. He looked up and met her gaze. Yep. Devastating.

“How old is she?” he asked.

“I don’t really know.” One-handed, she grabbed the paperwork from the printer tray. When she turned back, she caught his puzzled look and laughed. “I’m watching her for a couple of customers.”

He accepted the paperwork. “Thanks. Um, I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Bethany. Bethany Ames.”

“She’s my sister.” Carter still looked out of sorts. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Her face heated, but she stayed calm. “Ignore him,” she said to Ian. She handed him the keys. “It’s parked at the end of the row. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks. I’ll check it out, then come back in an hour or so to pick it up.”

“Then I’ll look forward to seeing you again.” She put a little extra warmth behind her smile. She wasn’t dating anyone, and no matter what Carter said, Ian Seabrook seemed really nice.

He nodded and left.

As soon as the door closed, Carter turned on her. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he simpered. “Honestly, Betty. You sounded pathetic.”

Her brothers only called her Betty when they were annoyed with her. “And you sounded out of your mind.”

“What are you two fighting about?” Dalton came in, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand.

“Ian Seabrook was in here, and Bethany was flirting with him,” Carter said.

“I wasn’t flirting.”

The door that led to the back office opened again, and their mother entered. Trim and athletic, with blond, curly hair and freckles, Diane Ames could probably pass for ten years younger than fifty-two. She stared at Bethany. “What are you doing with a baby?”

“She’s the Hendersons’—on the ten-a.m. tour. They didn’t realize they couldn’t take her with them.”

“You could have refunded their money and suggested they hire a babysitter,” Carter said.

“And have them leave disappointed or even angry?” Bethany smiled at Joella. “Besides, she’s no trouble.”

“When they come back, ask them to give us a good review on social media,” Dalton said.

He was the business’s IT and media manager, in addition to one of their tour drivers. Carter maintained all the Jeeps. Everyone wore multiple hats in a small business like theirs.

“Did I hear a customer in here just now?” Mom walked over to the desk and bent over the computer screen.

“A guy rented a Jeep for two months,” Bethany said.

“Not just a guy,” Carter said. “Ian Seabrook.”

Dalton let out a whistle. “Let’s hope nobody vandalizes the Jeep. A lot of people around here are really upset with him.”

“Who is Ian Seabrook?” Mom asked. “Why are people upset with him?”

“He’s, like, a billionaire who bought Humboldt Canyon and closed it to the public. He’s going to build a climbing area for tourists.”

“Is he really a billionaire?” Bethany asked. He had looked so ordinary. Well, gorgeous and ordinary.

“The son of a billionaire,” Dalton said. “His dad owns Seabrook Holdings, one of those big companies that buy up little companies, drain them dry, sell them off, then move on.”

“He seemed very nice,” she told her mother.

“Which Jeep did you rent him?” Carter asked.

“The black Wrangler.”

“The new one?” He loomed over her. “Why did you do that?”

“It was purchased for the rental fleet,” she said.

“That wasn’t for certain,” Carter said.

“I think a man who owns a Porsche knows how to take care of an expensive vehicle,” she said.

Her brother’s lip curled in disgust. “Like you’re such a good judge of character.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“You thought Justin was a great guy, too.”

Justin Asher, Bethany’s former fiancé. The man who had waited until the invitations had been sent and all the nonrefundable deposits paid before he’d decided she wasn’t the woman for him.

“Carter, that was uncalled for,” Mom said.

He looked at the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But the new Jeep? And to a guy like Ian Seabrook?”

“Just because he has money and he’s starting a new business doesn’t make him an awful person,” Bethany said.

“It does if he closes off land people have been using for free for decades,” Carter said.

“Both of you, stop arguing,” Mom said. “People are here for the one-o’clock tour.” She nodded toward the front window, where they could see half a dozen people getting out of two vehicles. “Boys, get the Jeeps ready.”

Grumbling to themselves, Carter and Dalton exited. Mom and Bethany started checking in new arrivals. As soon as they were out the door the morning tour returned, and they had to see to them. The Hendersons were thrilled with the trip and happy to see Joella and to hear that she had been a perfect angel in their absence. They promised a good review online and left a generous tip.

By the time Mom and Bethany were alone again Mom had apparently forgotten about Ian. “Your dad and I have chiropractor appointments this afternoon,” she said. “You shouldn’t run into any problems, but if you do, you can always call us. And don’t forget to lock up after the last tour returns.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” Bethany wanted to remind her that she had been working for the company since before they’d bought out the previous owners, but thought better of it. Nothing she said could get past this image her family had of her as flighty and irresponsible. For some reason she had never ceased to be their silly little girl, despite all evidence to the contrary.

She said goodbye to her mom, and settled in to file paperwork, confirm reservations for the next day’s tours—and possibly daydream about a certain blue-eyed billionaire.

CHAPTER TWO

Obviously word had gotten around town about what Ian was up to. As soon as he’d put up the Closed to the Public sign at the head of Humboldt Canyon, he’d expected to get some criticism, and it didn’t really bother him. He had a thick skin. But he had been pretty steamed at that guy at the Jeep place for bad-mouthing him in front of Bethany. At least he hadn’t let his temper get the better of him and gone off on her brother.

She’d been cool about the whole thing. She’d even come to his defense, which didn’t happen that often. He had noticed right away that Bethany had that pretty girl-next-door vibe going for her. Then he had seen her with the infant, and the disappointment he’d felt had taken him by surprise. A baby meant there was probably a partner somewhere. Then she’d revealed she’d just been babysitting, and the relief he’d felt was all out of proportion to the moment.

She wasn’t the type he usually went for. That was his first clue that there was a lot more going on under the surface than he was ready to acknowledge.

Traffic came to a stop. Eagle Mountain didn’t have any traffic lights, but he could see a big truck up ahead backing out of an alley. He waited, window rolled down to catch the breeze. Hard to believe it was July, the weather was so pleasant.

A leggy blonde woman on the sidewalk stopped to stare. “I like your car,” she called.

Ian nodded. A person didn’t buy a car like this and expect to be inconspicuous. But he hadn’t counted on just how noticeable the Porsche would be in a small town like Eagle Mountain. He hadn’t bargained for how big of a pain it would be, either. Not only did the town not have traffic lights, it didn’t have much pavement. And the roads in and around Humboldt Canyon were narrow, winding, steep and rocky. About ten minutes after arriving to oversee the Eagle Mountain Via Ferrata, he’d realized he needed a Jeep. But Eagle Mountain didn’t have car rental companies, either.

They did, however, have a Jeep tour company that also rented Jeeps. Now all he had to do was get a lift back into town to pick up his new ride.

Traffic started moving again, and he turned off onto the county road that led to Humboldt Canyon. He had to slow down when the pavement ended and carefully steer the low-slung Porsche the rest of the way. He pulled up to the RV that would be his new home/office for the next few months and looked around. No sign of George, the guy he had hired as sort of a general handyman to get things ready for the major construction. George’s pickup truck, which Ian had been counting on for a ride back into town, was nowhere in sight.

A note on the door of the trailer provided an explanation: Gone to Junction for parts.

Junction was an hour away. Ian didn’t know how long-ago George had left, but he figured it would be at least a couple of hours before he made it back. Peak Jeep Tours closed at three.

He went inside and sat at the desk in what would have been the RV’s living area, which he had turned into an office. Another note was on the desk, this one written on cardboard that looked like it had been ripped from one side of a beer carton, three-inch-high letters written in black marker: NO VIA FERATA. There was an obscenity after the word no, and they had misspelled ferrata.

George had left a sticky note beside it. Found this on the front gate.

Ian tossed the sign into the trash and sat back. He needed that Jeep, and he couldn’t leave the Porsche on the street in front of the rental place all week. As soon as people found out it was his…no telling what they’d do. He tried to think of anyone else in town who might help him, but he had only been here one day and didn’t know anybody.

Bethany’s smiling face popped into his mind. He didn’t really know her, but at least she’d been friendly. She had been obliging enough to babysit a customer’s infant, so maybe she would help him out, too. He pulled out his phone and punched in the tour company’s number.

“Hello, Peak Jeep Tours. How can I help you?” She sounded every bit as friendly on the phone as she had in person.

“Bethany, this is Ian Seabrook. I need a favor.”

“Hey, Ian. What do you need?”

“I’m looking for a way to get the Jeep I rented out to my place,” he said. “The guy I was counting on to give me a ride had to go to Junction. If I drive back to town, can you follow me to my place in the Jeep? I’ll see that you get home safely.”

Silence.

Right. What young woman would agree to drive to an isolated location with a guy she didn’t know?

“You can bring your brother along if you like,” he added. Ian didn’t like him, but he wanted to put her at ease, and he really needed that Jeep.

“That’s okay, Ian. I’m happy to help you. But I will leave a note for my folks, telling them where I’ve gone. And you don’t have to drive all the way back here to guide me. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll meet you.”

“Great. Do you know where Humboldt Canyon is? I have a trailer set up there.”

“Sure,” she said. “You’ll have to wait until I get off at three thirty.”

He checked his watch. Another hour, but he didn’t really have a choice. “I’ll see you then. And thanks a lot.”

Ian spent the next hour reviewing communications from the design team and answering emails from his contacts in various locations overseas. He wasn’t someone who had trouble focusing—he had been accused of being too single-minded at times. But he kept checking the time and trying to calculate how long after three thirty it would be before Bethany got here.

Finally he heard the Jeep’s approach on the rough road and was waiting in front of the RV when Bethany rolled up and parked next to the Porsche.

“I can see why you wanted a Jeep,” she said as she climbed out of the driver’s seat. “But hey, this is gorgeous.” She turned her back to him to look up at the canyon walls.

He came to stand beside her and joined her in admiring the view. The canyon walls rose straight up over two hundred feet, the jagged rock in rich shades of orange, red and purple. Dark green conifers jutted from the rock in places, while in others yellow and lime-green lichen glowed in the afternoon sun.

Bethany smiled up at him. One of her upper front teeth was crooked, the slight imperfection appealing in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Tell me about this via ferrata,” she said.

“The idea is to have a route of walkways, rungs, ladders and platforms that people can follow as they make their way up and along the canyon walls,” he said. “The iron road. It’s challenging but doable for most people, especially if they hire a guide to coach them along—which we’ll recommend they do. It’s a way to share my love of climbing with other people. A via ferrata is set up so that people who wouldn’t normally be able to experience the sport—people of all different ages and abilities, even with certain disabilities—can climb, with the right gear and assistance. They started out in Europe and have spread to the United States. They’re really popular, and this is the perfect place for one.”

“We have a big climbing community around here,” she said.

“Are you a climber?”

She shook her head. “But I volunteer with search and rescue, so I’m starting to learn. It’s not required for the work we do, but it comes in handy. Fortunately we have a number of skilled climbers on the team.”

“Search and rescue? That’s amazing. What kind of calls have you been on?”

“All kinds,” she said. “We get cars that go off the road in the canyons and crash, lost hikers, people who get hurt on the trails and can’t get down under their own power. Falls in the mountains. And we get our share of climbing accidents.”

Ian had experienced a couple of bad falls—fortunately nothing that had resulted in permanent injury. “The locals are lucky to have people like you on call,” he said.

“Do you know many of the local climbers?” she asked.

“I’ve met some of them. I know a few of the local guides. Most of my climbing has been in Europe and Asia, though. I spent six months last year in Tibet.”

“My brothers said you’re a billionaire. Is that true? Or is that a really rude question to ask?”

Her smile was so disarming, he couldn’t be offended. “My dad is a billionaire,” he said. “I’m not in his league.” Time to change the subject. “If you’re not in a hurry, I could show you around.”

“I’d love that.”

“Are you up for a little hiking? The trails can get rough.”

“I’m ready.” She extended one foot to show that she was wearing hiking boots.

“Then let’s go. I’ll show you the general route for the via ferrata.”

He led her up a rocky path he had hacked out with a machete the day before. “This first section will feature a rope bridge, then there will be some iron rings set into the cliff face to traverse, then a platform where people can catch their breath and enjoy the view.”

“It sounds just challenging enough to be fun,” she said.

“That’s the idea.” He leaned down to help her onto a large boulder.

“Where did you live before you came to Eagle Mountain?” she asked. “I mean, before Tibet?”

“I grew up in Upstate New York, but I haven’t lived there for fifteen years. Mostly I’ve traveled. Before I came here, I was living in Maine, near Mount Katahdin,” he said. “What about you? Have you always lived in Colorado?”

“No, I’ve only been here nine months. I’m originally from Vermont.”

“What made you decide to come to Eagle Mountain?”

“I came here to take a job at the Jeep rental place where I work now,” she said. “My parents came to visit and ended up buying the business and moving the whole family here.”

“How many are in the whole family?”

“My mom and dad and my three brothers.”

“Do they all work with you?” he asked.

“The younger ones—the twins—do. You met Carter. His twin is Dalton. My older brother, Aaron, is a sheriff’s deputy.”

He couldn’t imagine what that would be like, surrounded by family. “I’m an only child, and my folks divorced when I was pretty little. I don’t see them much now that I’m grown.”

“Oh, I missed them all when they weren’t here, but it would be nice if they weren’t quite so involved in my life.”

“I guess I could understand that.” They detoured around a washout in the cliff face. “There was some flooding this spring and a mudslide that took out a big section of the cliff,” he said. “We’ll have to reinforce this area and put in some drainage.”

“Are those caves up there?” She pointed to a shadowed area high above them.

He stepped back and looked in the direction she indicated. “I think you’re right. The mudslide must have opened up some pockets in the cliff face.”

“It looks like there’s a ledge up there. I think we could get to them.”

Before he could say anything, she was already headed up the slope, scrambling around rocks, squeezing past trees, steadily gaining altitude.

He hurried after her. “Careful!” he called as one foot slipped, sending loose dirt rolling toward him.

“I’m fine!” she called, and kept going.

He stepped onto the ledge right behind her. The rock shelf was scarcely a foot wide, so they had to turn sideways to make their way along it. A rush of cooler air greeted them when they reached the opening to the first, largest cave.

“Wow, look at this.” She stepped under the overhang.

Ian followed, bending down to avoid hitting his head.

“I wish we’d thought to bring a flashlight,” she said.

He pulled out his phone. “We can use this.” He directed the beam from his flashlight app onto the walls of the cave, estimating the space to be about five feet tall and six feet wide, with an undetermined depth. Jagged rock around the opening showed fresh scarring, as if pieces had broken off in the mudslide.

“I wonder how far back this goes,” Bethany said and started deeper into the cave.

“The rock could be unstable,” he called, even as he followed her. She might not have been a climber, but she didn’t lack nerve—he’d give her that.

“Shine the light back here,” she said. “I want to see how far this goes.”

Ian moved in behind her and directed the light over her shoulder, onto a wall of rock. “It looks like it stops right here.” He swept the light down across the floor.

“What was that?” She put her hand on his arm. “I thought I saw something white. Swing the light back that way.”

He moved the light more slowly, back across the floor, and focused the beam on a strange tableau. It took a moment for the scene to register.

Bethany clutched him more tightly. “Is that…a skeleton?”

CHAPTER THREE

Bethany averted her gaze, then forced herself to look back. Working with search and rescue meant facing difficult things, she told herself. After the initial horror of realizing there was a human skeleton on the floor of the cave, curiosity took over, and she was able to study the scene before them more closely. “It’s not one skeleton,” she said. “It’s two.” There were definitely two skulls, side by side at one end of the tangle of bones.

“It looks like they’re…embracing?” Ian asked.

“Are we sure they’re even real bones? Maybe it’s just a prank.” She started forward, but Ian held her back.

“I don’t think they’re fake.” He pulled her farther away.

“What’s that around them?” she asked. “Rags or a blanket?”

“Maybe their clothing, rotted away.”

“Which would mean they’ve been here a long time.” That would also explain why there wasn’t more of them left and no smell of decay, just a mustiness to the air.

Ian tugged her arm again. “Let’s go back down and call the sheriff. There’s no cell reception in here.”

She had little memory of the journey down, her mind still back in that cave, picturing what looked like two Halloween decorations, cuddling like lovers. How could that be real?

When they were back at the trailer, Ian called the sheriff’s department to report that he had found what looked like human remains in a cave in Humboldt Canyon. His voice was calm, though she noticed his white-knuckled grip on the phone.

He ended the call and looked at her. “They’ll be right here. We’re supposed to stay put and wait.”

“I still think they’re not real,” she said. “Someone must have put them up there.”

“You mean to scare me off?”

She shrugged. “My brothers said people are upset about you closing the canyon to the public.”

“I don’t think they were fake,” he said.

“How can you be sure?”

He shook his head but didn’t answer. They fell silent, seated on opposite sides of the desk in his office. Waiting.

Not much time had passed before the crunch of tires on gravel propelled them out of their chairs and outside.

A Rayford County Sheriff’s Department black-and-white SUV rolled to a stop in front of them. Bethany tensed. Only one thing could make all of this more awful.

The driver’s-side door of the vehicle opened, and Sergeant Gage Walker stepped out. The sheriff’s brother was familiar to her from search and rescue calls, and she relaxed a little as he came toward them.

“Bethany, what are you doing here?”

A second deputy had emerged from the passenger side of the vehicle. She let out a groan. Her older brother, Aaron, followed behind Gage, a scowl making him look fierce. Like Bethany, Aaron had inherited their dad’s dark curls, which he kept clipped short.

After four years with the Waterbury, Vermont, police department, he had agreed to help his parents and brothers move to Eagle Mountain and ended up accepting a position with the Rayford County Sheriff’s Department after one of their long-time deputies had left to run a family business.

She ignored his question and turned away.

Gage nodded to Bethany, then addressed Ian. “You called in about human remains.”

“We climbed up to those caves to look around.” He pointed out the caves, high on the opposite cliff wall. “We found two skeletons. They look like they’ve been there a long while. Just bones and rotting clothing.”

Gage squinted up at the caves. “How did you get up there?”

“There’s a trail,” Ian said.

“Then let’s go see.”

Ian led the way, Gage and Aaron close behind. Bethany trailed after them.

Aaron stopped and turned to her. “You need to stay down here.”

“No.” She kept walking, prepared to push past him if necessary.

“Let her come with us,” Gage said. “We’ll need to get her statement, and I might have questions.”

She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at Aaron. Childish, maybe, but if he was going to be the big brother bossing her around, it was so tempting to slip into the role of bratty little sister.

No one said anything on the climb up. The various implements attached to Gage’s and Aaron’s uniforms rattled together as they moved. By the time they reached the top, both men were sweating. Bethany remembered that they would be wearing ballistics vests. Aaron had let her try his on one time—it had been heavy and hot. She felt a stab of sympathy for her brother, though she didn’t say anything.

“In here.” Ian led the way along the ledge to the cave. He stopped at the opening and pointed.

Gage moved in first, followed by Aaron. The beam of a flashlight bounced off the rock walls. Ian and Bethany moved in a little closer.

“The bones look old,” Gage said. “The clothing is rotted away. That takes years in this climate.” Still holding the flashlight beam on the bones, he looked back at Ian. “This isn’t as popular as Caspar Canyon, but climbers have been coming out here for years. How did no one find this before now?”

“I don’t think these caves were visible before that mudslide a few weeks ago,” Ian said. He pointed at the slide path, still evident above and below the cave opening. “This whole section of the cliff sheared off in that slide, revealing these caves. This is the largest, but there are two others.”

“Have you looked in them?” Gage asked.

Bethany gasped. “Do you think there are more bones?”

“We didn’t look in them,” Ian said.

“Aaron, check out the other two caves,” Gage said.

Her brother moved past. The rest of them focused on the skeletons once more.

“If this was all covered by rock and dirt, how did the bones get here in the first place?” Gage asked.

“Maybe there was a smaller opening?” Bethany speculated. “They could have climbed in and gotten trapped.” She shuddered at the thought.

“There are holes in both skulls.” Ian pointed. “I didn’t get a really good look, but I thought I saw something metallic in the skull on the left. Like a bullet.”

Gage moved nearer, keeping close to the cave wall until he was beside the bones. He shone the light on the skulls. Now Bethany could see a small, round hole in both—above the temple in one, in the middle of the forehead in the other. Gage nodded. “I think there is a bullet in there.”

Bethany looked at Ian. “You didn’t say anything about a bullet before.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Ian. I work search and rescue. I’ve dealt with more upsetting things.” A child in pain was a lot tougher to deal with than these dry, long-dead bones.

“Sorry,” he said.

Aaron returned. “The other two caves are empty,” he said. “Neither of them are as large as this one.”

“Let’s go back down, and I’ll call the coroner and we’ll get your statements,” Gage said.

Back at the trailer, Gage made a phone call, then sent Aaron to take Ian’s statement. He turned to Bethany. “Tell me what happened.”

“Ian rented a Jeep from us,” she said. “I agreed to deliver it. He offered to show me around, so we decided to hike around the area. We found the caves, looked inside and there were the bones.”

“Whose idea was it to go into the caves?” Gage asked.

“Mine. I don’t think he’d noticed them until I pointed them out.”

“What do you know about Ian Seabrook?”

What did she know? He was good looking. He drove a Porsche. He seemed to like babies, and he seemed to like her. “He’s planning to build a via ferrata here in the canyon, and I guess that’s upset some people in town,” she said. “His father is a billionaire. And I guess he’s a really experienced climber?”

Aaron emerged from the trailer, where he had been interviewing Ian. “We’ve got to wait for the coroner,” Gage said to him. “Take your sister home, then come back here.” He tossed Aaron the keys.

“Come on,” Aaron said and headed toward the SUV.

Bethany looked back to the trailer. “I should say goodbye to Ian.”

“We have to go.” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She was tempted to return to the trailer and refuse to leave, but she wouldn’t have put it past Aaron not to pick her up and put her into the SUV, which would be beyond embarrassing, so she climbed into the passenger seat.

Aaron didn’t wait until they were out of the canyon before the grilling began. “What are you doing with that guy? You don’t know anything about him. For all you know he murdered those two people,” he said. “You should have waited and had Carter or Dalton deliver the Jeep. It’s dangerous for a woman alone with a strange man. Don’t you have any sense?”

“If you think Ian had anything to do with those two people who probably died a hundred years ago, you need to go back to Law Enforcement 101,” she said.

“You still don’t know anything about him. You shouldn’t have come out here alone.”

“If I’m never supposed to be alone with a man, how am I going to date?”

“Now you’re saying this was a date?” he said. “With a guy you met, what, five minutes ago?”

“Listen to yourself! You’re being ridiculous.”

Aaron’s face was red. He didn’t look at her as he turned onto the county road. “You don’t know what it’s like, getting a call about two bodies, then finding your sister on scene. For all I knew when we showed up, there was a murderer nearby.”

She hugged her arms across her chest. “Obviously whoever killed those two is long gone. And you don’t need to worry about me. Or Ian. He’s a nice guy.”

“He’s good looking and he’s rich. That doesn’t mean he’s a nice guy. He sounds pretty ruthless to me, finding a way to make money off of something that was free to everyone for decades.”

“I’m not going to talk to you when you’re blathering nonsense like this.”

Bethany looked away. She understood why the climbers were angry with Ian, but hearing him talk about the via ferrata, how it would allow people who weren’t serious climbers to enjoy challenging themselves, she had felt his excitement. Just because you made money off of something didn’t mean it was a bad thing.

“I’m not going to tell Mom and Dad about this,” Aaron said.

Just when she was ready to stay angry with him, he did something like this. “Thanks,” she said.

“I’m not doing it for you. I don’t want to upset them.”

“Nobody needs to be upset. I’m a grown woman. I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself.”

He shook his head but wisely said nothing. She sat back, fuming.

Even Aaron must’ve seen that she had never been in danger today. She was curious about the bones and a little sad about the people who’d died, but they had nothing to do with her.

* * *

The Rayford County coroner turned out to be a stout older man named Butch Collins, who scrambled up the path to the caves with more agility than Ian would have expected. Ian followed Butch and Gage up the trail, half expecting one of them to tell him to go away, but they didn’t. He stood outside the cave while they went inside to reexamine the bones, and tried to think how those two people had ever gotten up here. Maybe more of the cave opening had been exposed years ago.

Butch and Gage emerged from the cave. “The bones are quite old,” Butch said as he stripped off nitrile gloves. “I’ll know more once I’ve done some tests, but I’d guess they’ve been in that cave for several decades at least. There’s some evidence of gnawing by rodents, but apparently no large animals could get to them. If we can learn their identities maybe we’ll have a better idea how they ended up there.”

“Once we have a few details about age and gender, we’ll search missing persons,” Gage said. “If we get some names, we can look for dental records. Barring that, we’re lucky to have a top-notch forensic facial reconstructionist in the area. She could recreate the victims’ faces, using their skulls, and that might help us identify them. But that kind of work is expensive, and it takes time. We’ll start with the simplest approach first. Even with names, finding the murderer is going to take real luck.”

“I’m supposed to start construction soon,” Ian said. How long was this going to hold things up?

“We’ll get a team up here to examine the area for evidence,” Gage said. “Depending on what we find, you should be able to clear the area, though it may be a few weeks.”

“I could shift the work to the other end of the canyon for the time being,” he said.

“That would be good,” Gage said. “Just keep people away from here until we’ve finished our investigation.”

They followed Butch down the trail and met the investigative team at the trailer. “We’re going to be here a while,” Gage told Ian. “You’re free to go home.”

“This is my home, for now,” he said. “I live in the rest of the trailer.”

“The trailer isn’t part of the crime scene, so you can stay here, but you’ll have to keep out of our way.”

“Of course,” he said.

“Bethany mentioned some in the climbing community aren’t too happy with your plans for the canyon,” Gage said. “Have you had any trouble?”

“A few nasty notes. A few remarks from people.” The sign left on his gate today had been typical. “Nothing that felt like a real threat.”

“Not much of a welcome to town.”

“I can deal with it.” He studied the man in front of him. Gage Walker came across as a straight shooter. “Do you know Bethany well?”

“Not well. We’ve run into each other on a few search and rescue calls.”

“Her brother didn’t seem too happy about her being here with me.”

“They’re a close family.”

“I met one of her other brothers when I rented the Jeep. They come across as a little overprotective.”

“I have two daughters,” Gage said. “Having a job like mine, where you see all the terrible things people do to each other, it feels like there’s no such thing as overprotective.”

Ian couldn’t argue with that. “Do I need to be worried about those two skeletons?” he asked. “I mean, whoever killed them is probably long gone, right?”

“Probably,” the sergeant said. “I’d like to know what happened to them, but I don’t know if we ever will. It’s hard to investigate a murder so long after the fact. The best we can do is try to identify them. At least then we might give their families some closure.” He glanced toward the cliff face, which now had a line of people making their way up the trail and swarming around the caves. “We’ll be out of your way in a few hours, I expect. If we have any questions, we’ll let you know.”

Ian went back into his office and tried to focus on work, but his mind kept replaying the events of the afternoon. Not just finding the bones, but being with Bethany. She had left without saying goodbye. She probably never wanted to see him again. Nothing to put a damper on a budding friendship like a couple of skeletons.

CHAPTER FOUR

“So were they dry bones, like a Halloween skeleton, or was there rotting flesh and stuff?” Carter sat across the dinner table from Bethany and helped himself to mashed potatoes.

“I’m trying to eat,” Bethany said. Though she didn’t have much of an appetite. Her dream of keeping the afternoon’s discovery from her family had been shattered when Carter and Dalton had burst in to report they’d heard about the find from fellow search and rescue volunteers Ryan and Eldon, who had seen the parade of sheriff’s department vehicles headed toward Humboldt Canyon and gotten the details from a 911 dispatcher Ryan knew.

“I don’t like the idea of you being involved in any of this,” Mom said from one end of the table.

“I’m not involved in anything,” she said.

“You and Ian Seabrook got friendly really fast,” Dalton said.

“He rented a Jeep and I delivered it,” she said.

“And stuck around to take a hike with him. Where he showed you a couple of human skeletons.” Carter made a face. “Not my idea of a fun date.”

“It wasn’t a date. And it was my idea to go up to those caves, not Ian’s,” she said. “He was just as shocked as I was to find those bones up there.”

“I think you should stay away from the whole thing.” Her father, a tall, broad-shouldered man whose dark hair showed slashes of silver at the front, looked up from his hamburger steak and gravy. “From what your brothers tell me, this young man doesn’t have the best reputation.”

“He’s only been in Eagle Mountain two days,” she protested.

“All the more reason to stay away from him,” her mother said. “We don’t know anything about him.”

“He talked about his plans for the via ferrata,” she said. “I think it’s going to be something a lot of people will enjoy.”

“People who have no business climbing, you mean,” Carter said.

“Who are you to say who can climb and who can’t?” Bethany countered.

“That’s enough, children,” their mother said.

Bethany pushed back her chair. “May I be excused? I have a search and rescue meeting.”

“So do we.” Dalton pushed back his chair, and Carter did as well.

Bethany didn’t wait for her brothers. She headed out in her Subaru and arrived at search and rescue headquarters ahead of them. Then she sat in the parking lot for a few minutes and pulled herself together. Time to put aside her frustrations over family and lingering upset over the afternoon’s events. She was here to focus on her search and rescue training and learning how to better help other people.

The large training room was already filling up by the time she made her way inside. “Hey, Bethany,” her best friend, Chris, greeted her. The two friends embraced.

“It’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” Bethany said.

“I know. But I’ve been so busy with the wedding and Serena and everything.” Chris and her fiancé had recently adopted a little girl and were getting ready for their wedding this fall. As happy as Bethany was for them, she couldn’t help but feel her friend was slipping away. Chris had other priorities now, some of which Bethany could admit she envied.

But she was determined not to reveal any of that. She turned to greet the other volunteers around her. Across the room, she heard Carter and Dalton arrive. They were quickly surrounded by other young men in the group.

Bethany turned her back on them. She still resented that her brothers had decided to join SAR—something that, until their arrival, had been one thing she didn’t have to share with her family. But they were good volunteers, fit and capable, so she couldn’t very well protest their acceptance into the group. All she could do was focus on her own training and being the best team member she could be.

“Bethany, you have to tell us about the bones they found in Humboldt Canyon.” Eldon Ramsey, a big, burly guy who was originally from Hawaii, cornered her as she was grabbing a cup of coffee from the urn on a side table.

“Um, there’s not a lot to tell,” she said. “Except they looked like they had been in that cave a long time.”

“I heard there were two bodies.” Ryan Welch, Eldon’s best friend, joined them. “Is that true?”

“Yes. Well, more skeletons than bodies.”

“And they were murdered?” Ryan pressed. “How?”

“I’m not sure I should talk about it,” she said. “And I don’t really know anything.” She turned away, spooning too much sugar into her coffee.

“Maybe this will stop construction on the via ferrata,” someone she couldn’t see said.

“We should be so lucky,” someone else said.

“It might make Seabrook think twice about his project.” That was Carter’s voice, as familiar as her own.

“Some folks are talking about organizing a protest,” Eldon said. “If enough people show up to picket, maybe he’ll realize how unpopular his closing the canyon is.”

“I didn’t even know the canyon was for sale,” Caleb Garrison said.

“I think the old guy that owned it died and his heirs decided to sell,” Ryan said.

“Whoever bought the property probably would have closed it to climbing,” Sheri Stevens said. “Everyone is worried about liability these days.”

“At least Ian is doing something that will allow more people to enjoy the canyon,” Bethany said. “A via ferrata sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like a way for a lot of inexperienced people to get hurt,” SAR Captain Danny Irwin said. “Anybody who pays the fee can do those courses, whether they know what they’re doing or not.”

“Ian said he’s going to recommend people hire a guide,” she said. “And there will be safety equipment.”

“Sounds like you’ve gotten pretty friendly with Ian Seabrook.” Chris nudged her. “Pretty fast work there, considering he’s only been in town for a couple of days.”

Bethany tried to fight down a blush, aware that everyone was looking at her. “I’ve just talked to him,” she said. “Maybe if some of you would do the same, you wouldn’t be upset about what he’s doing.”

“He has a reputation in the climbing community,” Sheri said. “And it’s not all good.”

“What do you mean?” Bethany asked.

“He’s one of the top-ranked climbers in the world,” she said. “But there’s bad blood between him and some of his competitors. There was an incident with Tyler Grey in Indonesia last year.”

“I remember hearing about that,” Eldon said. “Tyler accused Seabrook of moving some anchors he’d set.”

“And there was that trouble two years ago in Mongolia,” Ryan said. “Seabrook organized an expedition to Khüiten Peak and bailed at the last minute. A lot of people had made plans, and he left them hanging.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Ian Seabrook I met,” Bethany said. Though really, they had only been together for a couple hours. He’d made a good impression on her, but still…

Danny checked his watch. “We’d better get started, or we’ll be here all night.”

They returned to their seats, and Bethany tried to focus on the review of best practices for transporting injured persons. But she was aware of curious looks and whispered comments from those around her. The image she had of Ian—of a thoughtful guy with good intentions—was so at odds with the picture they had painted of him. Was he really a selfish braggart who ran over others to get what he wanted?

And if their impression of Ian was closer to the truth, was she yet again attracted to the wrong man?

* * *

Ian had an appointment two days later with the county to finalize the permits for constructing the via ferrata. He hated all this behind-the-scenes bureaucracy but had learned to gut it up and plow through. He intended to be as physically involved in the construction as he could, but first he had to jump this hurdle.

“Your building permits appear to be in order,” the woman at the clerk’s office told him. “Here’s the inspection schedule that must be completed throughout the construction process. And you’ll need to have final approval from the county commissioners before you can open for business. Has anyone from the commissioners’ office contacted you?”

“No. They should have a copy of my business plan,” he said. “What else do they need?”

“They may have questions for you.”

“Fine. How can I get in touch with them?”

“You’ll need to contact the chair, Walt Spies. His office is across the hall.”

Ian accepted the schedule from the woman and crossed the hall to the office labeled County Commissioners. The woman at the front desk informed him that Walt Spies wasn’t in. Ian left his number and returned to his Jeep.

He headed toward the canyon, anxious to get started. He slowed as he passed the Peak Jeep Tours office. He should stop and say something to Bethany, see how she was doing after the shock of the other day. As he hesitated, a Jeep pulled up to the office and Carter Ames got out. Ian pressed down on the accelerator and sped by. He had caused enough friction between Bethany and her family.

As he neared the turnoff for the canyon, he was surprised to see a number of cars and trucks parked along the side of the road. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Had people come to gawk at the place where the skeletons had been found? They couldn’t ignore the signs he had posted, which meant they were deliberately trespassing.

At the end of the road, his way was blocked by a crowd of people milling about. He inched the Jeep forward, but they pushed in close. “No via ferrata!” they chanted. They leaned over, glaring into his windshield. “Open Humboldt Canyon!” others shouted.

He tapped his horn, but they pressed in closer. Finally, he shut off the vehicle and shoved open the door. “You people are trespassing on private property,” he said. “If you don’t leave, I’ll have to call the sheriff.”

“We have a right to peacefully protest!” a woman shouted.

“Not on my property!” Ian pushed through the crowd. He wanted to get a better look at the situation before he called for help.

The demonstration seemed to be concentrated at the entrance to the canyon, right outside the gates. So, technically not on his property. At least thirty people milled about, some with signs, others focused on a man who had climbed into the bed of a truck, bullhorn in hand.

Now that he was away from his Jeep, people didn’t appear to recognize Ian. They probably assumed he was another protester. He took advantage of that and hung back as the man with the bullhorn began to speak.

Unlike many of those gathered to demonstrate, this man was older, with a deeply lined face and stooped posture. He wore jeans, boots, a snap-buttoned shirt and a straw cowboy hat. His voice, amplified by the bullhorn, echoed around the canyon. “We’re here today to protest the privatization of a public asset,” the man boomed. “We’re here to take back Humboldt Canyon!”

Cheers rose up from the crowd. Ian leaned down to address a petite brunette beside him. “Who is that?” he asked.

“That’s Walt Spies,” she said.

“The council chair?” Ian remembered the name.

“I think so. I know he owns a ranch near here.”

“We’re here to peacefully exercise our right to free speech,” Walt said. “Our goal is to make it very clear to Ian Seabrook that him and his via ferrata are not welcome in Eagle Mountain!”

More cheers. Ian’s stomach clenched. He moved toward the pickup. He had every intention of grabbing that bullhorn and telling everyone here exactly what he thought of them.

“Mr. Seabrook. Do you have something you’d like to say to us?” Walt leaned over the side of the pickup bed to address Ian.

Ian was startled that Walt had recognized him. But a simple online search would have brought up his picture. “You’ve all had your say. Now you need to leave,” he said.

“Do you still intend to go through with building a via ferrata here?” Walt asked. “Despite the public’s objections?”

“A couple of dozen people with signs don’t necessarily reflect the opinion of everyone,” Ian said.

“What about those two skeletons you found?” Walt asked.

He frowned. “They don’t have anything to do with the via ferrata.”

“You don’t think they’re a sign that you should leave well enough alone?”

“I don’t believe in signs,” Ian said.

“Maybe you should,” Walt said. “The universe doesn’t look kindly on disturbing a grave.”

The crowd pressed in around him, but Ian remained focused on Walt. He didn’t like the man, but considering his position in the county, Ian needed to tread lightly.

“I’m leaving the mystery of what happened to those two people to the sheriff,” he said. “I’m focused on building an attraction the whole town can be proud of.”

“We were proud of this canyon before you came along,” someone shouted.

“No via ferrata!” someone else shouted. The crowd took up the chant. “No via ferrata. No via ferrata!”

Ian turned and stared at them, struggling to keep his face expressionless. He couldn’t remember when he had felt so helpless—and so alone.

Two men ran toward him, and he braced himself for an attack. “Mike is hurt!” the first to reach him yelled, not at Ian but at Walt Spies. “Mike Addison is hurt. He fell and is hanging by one rope. We need help—quick!”

CHAPTER FIVE

Bethany was at work Friday afternoon when her phone alerted with a message asking for search and rescue volunteers. “Mom, I need to go,” she said. “Someone is hurt.”

“Oh no.” Her mother frowned. “Carter and Dalton are both leading tours.”

“They’re probably out of cell range right now anyway. But I can go.” She hurried out the door.

She kept her gear bag in the back of the Subaru and had only to change into sturdy boots—also tucked in the car—to be ready to roll.

The scene at search and rescue headquarters was organized but tense. “We’ve got an injured climber in Humboldt Canyon,” Sheri said. “Danny is at work, so I’m stepping up to command.”

Bethany helped load gear, then got a ride with Grace Wilcox and two others in Grace’s car. Chris wasn’t here today, she noticed. Probably busy with family.

They were getting ready to leave when Carter and Dalton raced in. “Just in time,” Dalton said as he crowded in beside Bethany. Up ahead, Carter found a place in Ryan’s truck.

“I thought Humboldt Canyon was closed to climbing,” Bethany said as they headed out.

“I heard there was a group organizing a protest there today,” Dalton said. “Carter and I were going to go, but we couldn’t figure out how to get out of work.”

“Why aren’t you at work now?” she asked. “I thought you were leading a tour.”

“We were almost finished when we got the alert,” he said. “So we raced back to the office.” He chuckled. “We gave those tourists the ride of their life.”

“You’d better hope no one complains.”

“They won’t. They loved us. When we told them we had to get back to save someone’s life, they cheered us on.”

She believed that. Carter had yet to meet a person he couldn’t charm. “You’re not saving a life,” she said. “It’s the whole team.”

“Right. But we didn’t want to miss out.”

She was surprised to be greeted by a crowd at the entrance to the canyon. Tony Meisner, at the wheel of the specially outfitted Jeep that served as the search and rescue vehicle, had to blip the siren to get people to let them through.

They parked at the base of the cliff and piled out of the vehicles. Bethany stopped to gaze up at the figure caught like a fly in a tangle of ropes near the top of the cliff. A short distance away, a white banner had been plastered to the rock. No Via Ferrata it declared, in slightly crooked lettering.

“We tried to haul him up, but then we were afraid we were hurting him more.” A lean, narrow-faced man in climbing gear was talking to Sheri when Bethany moved in to help unload gear.

“Tell me what happened.” Sheri stared toward the suspended climber.

“Mike had just finished hanging the banner and repositioned to start down,” the other climber said. “I think an anchor must have pulled out? All I know is that one minute he was fine, and the next he was falling. The belay did its job and held, but somehow his arm became entangled in the line. I don’t know if his arm is broken or what, but when we tried to haul him up, he screamed and passed out. Now he’s just hanging there.”

Sheri turned to the others. “Ryan and Tony, I want you to climb up to Mike from the canyon floor, one on either side. I’m going to descend from the top, along with a litter. Once we’ve assessed Mike’s condition, we’ll cut him free, maneuver him into the litter and bring him up.”

“You’ll need a couple different riggings up top,” Ryan said.

“Eldon, you and Caleb work on those,” Sheri said.

“Dalton and I can help,” Carter said.

“Bethany, you and Grace and Anna help up top with the ropes.” Sheri assigned others to be in charge of other gear, and still others were tasked with keeping the crowd away from the cliff.

“Do you know how to get to the top of the canyon?” Ryan asked her.

“There’s a dirt road that heads up that way, but you have to park and hike through the woods,” Sheri said. “We’ll take the Beast.” She opened the passenger door to the rescue vehicle. “Pile in, everybody.”

Bethany was climbing into the back of the Beast when a commotion rose up behind her. “What do you people think you’re doing?” Ian shouted.

He wasn’t addressing the rescuers but the crowd of onlookers. “You’re all trespassing,” Ian said. “The sheriff’s deputies are on their way now.”

“Our friend is up there, hurt,” one man protested.

“And he wouldn’t be hurt if he hadn’t been climbing illegally,” Ian said. “Search and rescue are here now. The rest of you need to leave.”

“He wouldn’t have been up there if you hadn’t closed off the canyon,” someone else shouted. “We have a historic right to be here.”

“You don’t have a right to anything,” Ian said. His face was flushed, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. Sunglasses hid his gaze, but Bethany could hear his anger.

The climber lunged at Ian, who fought back. Eldon and Ryan moved in to separate them.

“Everybody calm down.” Eldon said as he dragged Ian away. “Leave the crowd control to the cops.”

The climber was still shouting as Ryan and another man tried to calm him, but Ian immediately quieted. He looked over and saw Bethany but quickly looked away before she could react. The sight of him facing the crowd of angry protestors alone sent an ache through her. She wished she could go to him, to let him know he had at least one other person on his side.

“Come on—we need to go,” Grace said.

They had to travel less than a mile to reach the spot overlooking the injured climber, but it took the better part of an hour to do so. Once they reached the parking area on the narrow dirt forest road, they had to unload a mountain of gear from the vehicle. Bethany and the others staggered under the weight of ropes, pulleys, break bars, anchors, pitons, a winch, the parts for a wheeled litter and other first aid gear.

Another thirty minutes passed as they assembled a spiderweb of ropes anchored at various points along the top ledge and fed through pulleys. Caleb and Eldon worked together, talking of DCDs, tie-offs, belays and jiggers. Bethany and Grace laid out what seemed like miles of brightly colored climbing ropes and passed them to Carter and Dalton, who relayed them to Tony and Caleb.

“What’s a DCD?” Bethany asked Grace.

“Descent control device,” she said.

“Like a brake bar or certain kinds of hitches,” Caleb said.

“How do you keep track with so many ropes?” Bethany asked as lines crisscrossed at the top of the cliff.

“Every rope has a specific purpose,” he said. “If you know the purpose, you can remember how to set it up to work most effectively.”

“How did you learn to do this?” She handed him the end of a coil of climbing rope, which he fed through a brake bar.

“There’s an organization called Rigging for Rescue that teaches seminars on this stuff,” Caleb said. “Week-long hands-on practice. It’s pretty intense stuff. Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue footed part of the tuition for me to attend this spring. Ryan and Eldon went, too. And Tony has taken several advanced courses. I think Danny and Sheri have, too.” He tested his knot.

Sheri joined them, having donned a climbing harness and helmet. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“We’re ready when you are,” Caleb said.

The radio mounted to her shoulder crackled, and she keyed the mike. “Go ahead.”

“Ryan and I are with Mike,” Eldon said. “He’s in and out of consciousness. He hit his head when he fell. He says he was wearing a climbing helmet, but it must have come off. His right arm is caught in the ropes and I think it’s broken, but the head injury is the real problem. He’s not really able to assist much with the rescue. We’re going to set some anchors and rope him to those so he’s not swinging by his belay rope.”

“I’m headed down, and the litter will be right after me,” Sheri said.

“Grace and Bethany, I’m putting you on the litter,” Caleb said. “It will be light and pretty easy to lower down. Just try not to bang it into the cliff face too much.”

“What if we drop it?” Bethany asked.

“You won’t drop it. As soon as Sheri is down safely, I’ll show you what to do.”

Bethany leaned over the edge to watch Sheri descend. The tall, lithe blonde was a fast, agile climber who made difficult pitches look easy. Even wearing a bulky pack with first aid supplies, she seemed to float down the face of the cliff. Only the trickle of gravel from the occasional foothold and the quiet grunts as she worked the ropes betrayed any sign of effort. Eventually she stopped just below the injured man. She spent a few minutes talking quietly with Ryan and Eldon, then she signaled for the litter to be lowered.

Other volunteers had assembled the lightweight aluminum litter, which broke down for easier transport. They had fastened lines to either end and a guide line in the middle. Bethany focused on not getting anything tangled as she and Grace carefully lowered the whole thing until Sheri could reach up one hand and grab hold. Then, with Ryan and Tony’s help, they maneuvered the litter until it was beneath the injured climber.

“Hold steady while we get him secured,” Sheri instructed over the radio. “We’re going to have to cut his ropes, but we need to make sure he doesn’t fall when we do.”

“We can send down a sling if you need it,” Caleb radioed back.

“Do that,” she said. “I think I’m going to have to stand in it to take care of him. There’s no ledge or other good foothold in this section of wall.”

Bethany looked over the edge again, fighting a slight sensation of vertigo. She could see the tops of the rescuers’ helmets in the nest of ropes below. They all seemed so calm and focused. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to dangle on the end of a rope a hundred feet above the ground and remain so serene.

“We’ve got him on a safety line and cut his arm free,” Sheri radioed a little while later. “I need to splint the injury before we maneuver him into the litter. Tony’s going to get the air splint from my pack. Mike could use some pain meds, but we’re short medical personnel today.”

“He’ll feel better once the arm is splinted,” Caleb said. “And the ambulance will be here soon.”

Another long wait. This was the hardest part of rescue work, Bethany thought. You couldn’t rush, but every minute that passed meant more suffering for the injured person.

A siren’s wail drifted up from below, gradually growing louder. An ambulance drove into the canyon and parked at the base of the cliff. Bethany noticed that several sheriff’s department vehicles had also arrived and the crowd had thinned out. She wondered where Ian was. He had been so upset. What a terrible thing to have happen in what was essentially his home.

“We have Mike secured in the litter,” Sheri radioed. “We’re ready to bring him down.”

“We’ve got him now.” Caleb and Eldon moved in to take over handling of the litter.

Sheri had positioned herself underneath the litter to guide it to the ground and keep Mike calm. Ryan and Tony waited until she was on the ground before they began their own descent. The team at the top of the canyon watched as Mike was transferred from the litter to a gurney and loaded into the ambulance. As soon as the doors were closed, they moved in to disassemble the delicate network of ropes and equipment.

By the time they drove away from the cliff, there was no one left in the canyon. Sheri had sent the other rescuers back to headquarters. They spent another hour unloading and stowing gear.

“Good job, everybody.” Sheri came in to report as they were preparing to leave. “Mike has a concussion and he may need surgery to repair the damage to his arm, but he’s going to be okay.”

“Did anyone retrieve the banner he was hanging?” Bethany asked. She had just remembered it.

“You mean the sheet that said No Via Ferrata?” Sheri asked. “I think we left it up there.”

“It’ll give Ian Seabrook something to think about,” Ryan said.

Bethany opened her mouth to argue, but Carter took her by the arm. “We need to get home,” he said.

She glared at him, but he only shook his head. “This isn’t your fight,” he said quietly.

She was too tired to argue, drained by the day’s exertions and the turmoil of her emotions. And maybe Carter was right. What was Ian to her but a good-looking man she had spent a few hours with? For all she knew, he blamed her for finding those skeletons on his property, drawing attention he didn’t need or want.

* * *

All that night, Ian kept replaying the events of the day, from his first sight of the protesters to Walt Spies’s taunts about disturbing the dead to the injured climber dangling from the cliff. He hadn’t handled any of it well. As the first rays of the sun lit up his bedroom, he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. He knew what his father would do. Phillip Seabrook would order up a fleet of armed guards to protect the property. Then he’d find a way to cajole or outright bribe the proper county officials into approving the project.

Ian didn’t want to bully his way into acceptance. But he didn’t want to waste time trying to change the minds of people who had already condemned him. Which left the people out there who hadn’t yet made up their minds.

He showered and shaved, then headed into his office. George was waiting for him. A stocky, bow-legged man whose résumé included everything from bull riding to well digging, George seemed a good choice to handle all the jobs associated with this project that Ian wasn’t equipped to do.

“I stopped in to tell you I’m quitting,” George said.

“Why are you quitting?” he asked.

“I could deal with the nasty signs and people giving me the stink eye when they found out who I worked for. Then that business with the skeletons happened, and I was pretty creeped out. Then yesterday, with that climber getting hurt…that was the last straw. Maybe Walt Spies is right and this project is cursed. Whatever. I don’t want any part of it.”

Ian’s first instinct was to argue that George wasn’t thinking straight. He was letting people he didn’t even know drive him away from a good job. But did he want someone working for him who didn’t really want to be there?

“I’ll send your last paycheck to the bank in a few days,” Ian said. “Good luck to you.”

“You need that luck a lot more than I do,” George said and left.

Ian couldn’t even muster any anger over this latest setback. The only thing to do was move forward. He disagreed with his father about a lot of things, but that was one bit of his dad’s advice that he had found useful. Do the next thing.

With that in mind, he grabbed the keys to the Jeep.

The first thing he saw when he stepped outside was the banner the protesters had affixed to the cliff. No Via Ferrata, in crooked black letters on what must’ve been a bed sheet. One corner had come loose and rippled in the breeze. He would have to figure out how to get it down—or maybe the wind would do the job for him. Right now, he had more important things to do.

His first stop was Peak Jeep Tours. Bethany’s smile when he walked in made him feel at least two inches taller. “I came to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he said.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said.

“Yes, I do. You and the rest of the search and rescue team were there to help that climber, and I distracted you, almost brawling with that protester. I should have waited for the sheriff’s department to handle the crowd.”

“I don’t blame you for being upset,” she said.

“Not everyone is as understanding as you are.” He came to stand beside her desk. “How are you doing? That was an impressive rescue yesterday. It looked intense.”

“The people on the ropes were doing all the hard work. I was just there to assist.”

“Still, that’s an important job, too.”

She nodded. “It takes the whole team. That was something I learned really quickly.”

He looked around the office. “Are you here by yourself?”

“I am. Dad is having a root canal and Mom drove him. Carter took one of the Jeeps to a glass place for a new windshield, and Dalton is leading a tour.”

“Do you have a minute to talk?”

She swiveled her chair toward him. “Of course.”

“I want to offer you a job.”

She stared. “Um, what kind of job?”

“Administrative assistant. I need help juggling everything to do with this construction project. After that, I’ll need someone I can trust to run the via ferrata in my absence.”

“Won’t you manage it?”

He shook his head. “My main focus is still climbing. And I have other projects I need to check in on. All that involves a lot of traveling. I rarely spend more than a few months in one place. I need someone here to keep an eye on the everyday operations.”

“And you want me to do that? I don’t know anything about climbing or via ferratas.”

“I’ll teach you what you need to know.” He bent down beside the desk so that he was more at her eye level. “I’ve seen how good you are with people, and you’re calm under pressure. I’ll pay you more than whatever you’re making here.”

“Wow.” She sat back. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about yes?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said.

He stood. “That’s fair enough.” The door opened and a couple entered. He moved away. “Let me know when you decide.”

Ian hurried out, feeling more optimistic than he had before he’d walked in. He had one person on his side at least.

His next stop was the sheriff’s office. A trim woman with short white hair, red eyeglasses and red hoop earrings greeted him. “Good morning, Mr. Seabrook. What can I do for you?”

“How did you know my name?” he asked.

“You were pointed out to me in town the day before yesterday, and you have a face a woman doesn’t forget.”

Had she just winked at him? He blew out a breath. Okaaay. “I’d like to speak to Sergeant Walker.”

“Let me see if he’s available.”

A few minutes later, Gage Walker entered the lobby. “Hello, Ian,” he said. “Come back here.”

“I wanted to know if you had found out anything more about those two skeletons.”

Gage leaned into an open door. “Aaron. Ian Seabrook is here. Let’s bring him up to date.”

Aaron Ames gave Ian a wary look, then followed him and Gage across the hall to another office. “Sit down,” Gage said, as he settled behind the desk on one side of the small room. “Aaron, close the door.”

He did so, then leaned back against it, arms crossed.

“We have a good lead,” Gage said. “We’re waiting on dental records to confirm the identities.”

“Do you have any idea who killed them?” Ian asked.

“None,” Gage said. “But we’re looking into it.” He shuffled through the papers on his desk and pulled out a couple of eight-by-ten black-and-white photographs. “I had the local historical society pull these photos of Humboldt Canyon as it looked approximately fifty years ago. This is from a newspaper story at the time about a local canyoneering club.”

Ian examined the photographs, which depicted half a dozen young people, some at the base of the cliff and some halfway up the steep slope.

“I think in here is where those caves are located.” Gage pointed at an area above the climbers. “You can see it’s just an area of underbrush. No sign of the caves.”

“So they didn’t show up until the mudslide took out part of the slope,” Ian said.

Gage nodded. “This is a photo taken about ten years ago. It’s actually from a previous attempt to sell the property that didn’t go through.” He passed over a second photo, this one devoid of people, and pointed out the same area at the top of the photo. “A lot of the brush had been cleared away or died off by this time. There’s some shadowing here that might be openings to the void below. They might have been there before, obscured by the brush.”

“And what—those two just crawled in there?”

“We don’t know. But maybe when we confirm their identity, we’ll know more.”

“Is it still okay if I proceed with construction?” Ian asked.

“Go ahead. I think we’ve gotten all from the site we’re going to. Have you had any more trouble?”

“No. I’m hoping that climber’s accident made the protesters think twice about their misguided efforts.” He stood. “Will you let me know when you find out the identity of these people?”

“Why do you want to know?” Aaron asked.

Ian turned toward him. “They were found on my property. I’d like to know their names. I think most people would.”

Aaron looked like he wanted to answer, but he glanced at Gage, then pressed his lips more firmly together.

“We’ll keep you posted,” Gage said.

“Thanks.”

His final stop of the morning was at the city offices. “Is Walt Spies in?” he asked the woman behind the desk.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

He looked past her to the frosted-glass door of an office with Walt’s name in gold on the front. He could make out a shadowy figure inside. “Tell him Ian Seabrook wants to speak with him.”

The door to the office opened and Walt stepped out.

Ian moved toward him. “We need to talk,” he said.

Walt looked him up and down. He was at least six inches shorter than Ian and almost fifty years older, but he did his best to look intimidating. “I don’t think we have anything more to discuss.”

“I think it will be worthwhile for you to listen to me.”

Interest sparked in his eyes, and he opened his office door. “Come in.”

Walt settled behind his desk and didn’t say anything. Ian waited. He was good at this game, had seen his dad use silence to his advantage many times. Blowhards like Walt liked the sound of their own voice too much to keep quiet for long.

“So what do you want?” Walt asked at last.

“You’re head of the county commissioners,” Ian said.

“Yes.”

“So you’ll be voting on the operating permit for the via ferrata.”

“I will.”

“Then I want to invite you and the rest of the county commissioners to come to the canyon. See what I have planned there. See how it’s going to benefit this community.”

Walt leaned forward. “And what’s in it for me if I do?”

“You’ll be making an informed vote. One based on facts, not just public opinion.”

He laughed. “You don’t know anything about politics, do you, Mr. Seabrook? Public opinion is all that really matters.”

Ian remained silent. Walt sobered. “I’ve been doing my research on you. Your father has made billions in business. I figured he taught you a few tricks.”

“What do you mean?”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “When you said it would be worthwhile for me to listen to you, I thought you were going to offer up cash. Isn’t that the way your old man does it?”

“You thought I was going to bribe you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.” Ian stood. “The offer still stands to come see for yourself what I’m doing.”

“I don’t have to do that. If the voters don’t like it, then I don’t like it. And something else I don’t like is people coming in here and trying to change the way we do things. People move here because they like our way of life. They like being able to drive out to a canyon and climb or hike there.”

“They have plenty of public land where they can do those things,” Ian said. “Humboldt Canyon is private land, and it always has been.”

“Private land that climbers were allowed to use.”

“What do you think would have happened to that land if I hadn’t purchased it?” Ian asked.

“That doesn’t matter because you purchased it and you’re trying to change things. I’m on the side of the people who are against that.” He stood. “Quit while you’re ahead, son. That’s my advice.”

“You didn’t do enough research when you looked into me,” Ian said. “If you had, you’d know I’m not a quitter.”

CHAPTER SIX

At dinner with her family Saturday, Bethany picked at her plate and half listened as Dalton regaled them with the story of a woman on that afternoon’s tour who had been shocked to discover there were no coffee shops in the high country and the only restroom was a pit toilet beside the road. “She may never forgive her husband for signing her up for the tour,” Dalton said. “But he tipped me twenty bucks, I think for putting up with her.”

“It always pays to be nice to people, no matter how difficult,” Mom said. “Bethany, did anyone interesting stop by the office this afternoon?”

Bethany fumbled her fork. For a moment she wondered if her mother had heard about Ian’s visit. But no, Mom’s bland expression showed she was merely repeating the trick she had used when they were small, of asking each child to contribute something about their day. “As a matter of fact, Ian Seabrook stopped by,” she said.

“What did he want?” Carter asked.

“He offered me a job.”

She had to fight back a grin at the silence that followed.

“A job doing what?” her father asked. One side of his face was swollen from his dental work, but he still managed to look stern.

“Administrative assistant now, but transitioning to manager of the via ferrata when it opens,” she said.

“It’s never going to open,” Carter said. “The climbers are organizing to speak against it at the county commissioners’ meeting. The county will never approve an operating permit.”

“I hope you turned him down,” her mother said. “It doesn’t sound like a good opportunity at all.”

“I told him I’d think about it.” Bethany focused on her plate, too afraid to let them see her disappointment. She had hoped that the announcement that a man like Ian—a person who could hire anyone—had offered her a job managing a big concern like the via ferrata would have impressed them, if only a little. Maybe it would have helped them to see her in a new light, as a mature woman with talent and intelligence.

“You have a job,” her father said. “You don’t need another one.”

“I’d like to find something with a little more potential for advancement than working the front counter at the family business,” she said.

“When your father and I retire, you and the boys will take over the business,” her mother said. “That day will be here sooner than you think.”

The last thing Bethany wanted was to run a business with Carter and Dalton. Her brothers would always team up against her when any decision had to be made, yet they were sure to leave her the bulk of the paperwork because you studied accounting and we’re more people-oriented. That last part was true, but it didn’t mean she wanted to be the office drudge. Ian was offering her the opportunity to run her own office.

“I don’t have to decide anything right away,” she said.

“You heard your brothers,” her mother said. “It sounds to me like this Ferrari thing, whatever it is, doesn’t have much chance of succeeding. And then where would you be? We’d have to hire someone to fill your position, and you’d be unemployed.”

Right. Because no one else would hire poor little Bethany. “I’d find a job, Mom. I’m not incompetent.”

“I didn’t say that, dear. But things aren’t always as easy as you think. One of the reasons your father and I decided to buy this business was to offer you and your brothers security.”

“Aaron is doing all right without your help,” she said.

“Aaron may not want to be a cop forever,” her dad said. “Twenty years and he’ll be eligible for a pension, and then what will he do? He can help with the Jeep tours.”

He sounded so pleased and proud. Bethany offered him a smile. “That’s really sweet of you, Dad.”

“Sweet. And smart. So see? You don’t need another job.”

Why were families so hard? Everything her parents did for her, Bethany knew they did out of love. She’d needed a job, so they’d made one for her. She’d needed a place to live—Here’s an apartment right here. How could she make them understand that all she really wanted was to make her own choices and stand on her own feet? If she failed, she liked to believe that she was strong enough to get up, dust herself off and move on. All she wanted was the chance to try.

Bethany shoved back from the table. “I have to go. I’m meeting Chris at Mo’s.”

She and Chris had a tradition of meeting at Mo’s Pub on Saturday nights to catch up on the week. Originally they had spent the time bemoaning their single status, but that had changed since Chris had met Rand Martin, a gorgeous trauma surgeon who had won her heart. Together they had adopted a nine-year-old girl who’d escaped from a cult in the area. The child, Serena, and plans for her upcoming wedding were keeping Chris busy lately.

“I can’t stay long,” Chris announced as she slid into a booth at Mo’s across from Bethany. She swept her blue-dyed hair out of her face, the bright colors of her full-sleeve tattoo flashing in the overhead light. “Serena has that flu bug that’s going around, and I hate to leave her too long.”

Bethany stuffed down her disappointment. A sick child trumped a dateless friend any day of the week. “Poor kid. I hope she feels better soon. What else is new with you?”

“Not a lot. Except I’ve decided to take a leave of absence from search and rescue. I have too much else to deal with right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I understand.” Because that was what friends did, right? They understood. “I’ll miss seeing you.”

“You’ll see me plenty,” Chris said. “After all, you’re my maid of honor. By the time the wedding rolls around, you’ll be sick of me.”

Bethany forced a smile. She wasn’t losing her friend. She was only losing that closeness of knowing she could call any time and Chris would be there for her. Chris had other priorities now. She listened to Chris’s description of her hunt for the perfect bridesmaid’s dress and remembered her own excitement before her wedding-that-didn’t-happen. And then Chris was standing.

“I’m sorry. I really have to go,” she said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Bethany watched her leave, then stared at the half-eaten plate of nachos they hadn’t really shared. If things had worked out with Justin, she could have offered advice and maybe a few funny anecdotes for her friend. She would be moving ahead with exciting plans for her own life instead of just being…stuck.

She wasn’t stuck, she scolded herself. She was moving, if not very fast. She had a new job offer. And an interesting new man in her life. Possibilities. The trick was to keep from screwing things up.

* * *

Ian spent Sunday setting pins in the canyon walls to mark where the various features of the via ferrata would go. He didn’t have to do this himself, but it felt good to get out his climbing gear and stretch his limbs. He scouted interesting routes up the face of the cliff, stretching for hand- and footholds, the familiar smell of sun-warmed rock flooding him with memories of so many other climbs, from the first scrambles in the White Mountains of New Hampshire to his summit of El Capitan in Yosemite on his twenty-first birthday.

He had gone on to establish new routes and lead climbing expeditions all over the world, but even the most extensive expedition was reduced to the simple act of the next move and then the next, relying on his body to carry him up and up, testing his nerve and his limits, believing he would always reach the top.

Late afternoon, he was resting on a ledge halfway up the cliff after driving in a pin to mark the beginning of a walkway that would jut from the canyon wall when a Rayford County Sheriff’s Department SUV crawled down the road into the canyon and parked in front of the trailer. A deputy exited.

“Up here!” Ian shouted and waved, catching the deputy’s attention. “I’ll be right down.”

He was down in a matter of minutes and walked over to meet Aaron Ames.

“I heard you were a big-time mountain climber,” Aaron said by way of greeting.

“It’s been my focus the last few years.”

“So why come to Eagle Mountain and do this?” He gestured toward the wall Ian had just descended.

“I saw my first via ferrata in France. I was struck by how it brought so many different people to challenge themselves in the mountains. I wanted to recreate that kind of community.”

“I see that banner is still up there.”

Ian looked over his shoulder at the sheet the protesters had hung. Only two sides remained fastened, so the cloth draped, a limp flag. “I thought I’d see how long it would stay up there,” he said. “Not much longer, I don’t think.” He turned back to Aaron. “What brings you here?”

“We’ve identified the remains found here.”

“Come in and let’s sit down.”

Inside the trailer, Ian filled a glass with water from a pitcher in the refrigerator and drank it down. “Would you like some?” he asked Aaron. “Or I could make coffee.”

“Nothing for me, thanks.”

Ian sat at his desk, and Aaron took the chair opposite. “The couple in your cave were Abby and Gerald Boston,” Aaron said. “They were a newly married couple who disappeared from Eagle Mountain almost fifty years ago. Their families thought they had left town and cut ties with everyone. If they were planning to leave, they didn’t get very far.”

“How were you able to identify them so quickly?” Ian asked.

“We got lucky. Gerald’s driver’s license was in a rotting billfold beneath the body. Since he was from Eagle Mountain, we contacted the local dentist. He’s the son of the dentist who cared for the Bostons,” he said. “We were able to get his dental records from storage and confirm the identity. From there, we obtained his wife’s records and confirmed the second skeleton belonged to her.”

“Fifty years. And no one knew what happened to them?”

“We found a relative still living in town—a nephew. And we talked to the nephew’s dad, who lives in Phoenix. They all said Gerald had talked of making a fresh start someplace new. When he and Abby disappeared, the relatives assumed that’s what they had done.”

“Any idea who killed them?”

“None. We recovered the bullets that killed them, but it was a common caliber. Any other evidence like DNA rotted away a long time ago. We’ll probably never know what happened to them.”

Ian nodded. “It’s strange to think they were up there all those years and no one knew it.”

“Bethany says you offered her a job.”

The abrupt shift in conversation didn’t surprise Ian. He had been expecting it ever since he’d seen it was Aaron in the sheriff’s cruiser. “I did.”

“Why her?”

“She’s smart, friendly and calm in a crisis. She’s dependable. I need someone like that.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes, as if weighing the truth of Ian’s statement. “You saw all that in her?”

“She volunteers with search and rescue. That takes courage. Dedication. Hard work. I saw her in action when that protester was hurt. She’s respected by the other team members.”

“She shocked us all when she moved down here and joined search and rescue.”

“Maybe because you only saw her as your little sister. But she’s not so little anymore.”

“That’s what worries me,” Aaron said. “She’s still naive about a lot of things. She’s not used to high rollers like you.”

Ian laughed. “I’m not a high roller. I’m just a rock jock.”

“You drive a Porsche. That’s a high roller in my book.”

“I drive a Jeep now.”

“I don’t want to see my sister hurt. I think she might be a bit infatuated with you. That could end badly.”

The words reverberated through him, as if he’d hit his elbow on a jagged rock. He resisted the urge to ask for details—what did Aaron mean by infatuated? Had Bethany said anything about him? What did she think of him? Instead, he kept his voice neutral. “I’m not going to hurt her. It was a legitimate job offer.”

“And if she turned you down?” Aaron asked.

“I like to think we’ll still be friends.”

Aaron didn’t comment, but he didn’t seem as hostile as he had before. “Call us if you find any more bodies,” he said after a pause.

The comment surprised a laugh. “I hope not.”

Aaron cracked a smile. “Me, too.”

Ian followed him outside. “Will you continue to investigate Abby and Gerald’s murders?” he asked.

“We’ll do what we can, but with so little to go on, it won’t be a priority.”

“That’s understandable, I guess.” He looked up at the caves. “Still, it would be good to know what happened to the—”

The crack of a rifle cut off his last word. The window behind them shattered.

“Get down!” Aaron shouted and dove for the SUV.

Bethany guided her Subaru around a deep pothole on the road to Humboldt Canyon. She hadn’t called to let Ian know she was coming. She hadn’t even been sure about it herself until she had turned onto this road. She still didn’t know what to tell him regarding his job offer, but she wanted to talk to him. Maybe they could laugh over her parents’ reaction to the news that someone had offered her a new job.

She braked to avoid hitting a rabbit that raced across the road in front of her—a snowshoe hare—big white feet standing out from its summer-brown body. She was about to speed up again when a pickup truck shot from a narrow side road she hadn’t noticed before. The truck skidded in front of her, fishtailing wildly before the driver regained control and rocketed past her.

Some people, she thought and continued cautiously toward the canyon.

Her mood didn’t improve when she pulled up to Ian’s trailer and saw a black-and-white sheriff’s department SUV parked next to Ian’s Jeep. She pulled in beside it and looked around but saw no one. Maybe Ian was inside with the sheriff’s deputy. She started to open the car door to get out.

“Bethany, get down!”

Aaron’s voice cracked with anger, but she heard the fear behind his words. He peeked out from behind the SUV.

She stared at him, confused. “What?”

“Get your head down. Someone just shot at us from the cliff.”

She ducked her head below the level of the door but turned to look up toward the cliffs. All was still. Then she carefully eased open the driver’s door. “Where’s Ian?” she asked.

“I’m under the Jeep,” he said.

“Stay in the car and stay down,” Aaron ordered.

His radio crackled, and he said something she couldn’t make out. Bethany sat with her body twisted awkwardly and folded forward, her head pressed against the steering wheel. She tensed, waiting for a gunshot or a shout or anything but the ticking of her car’s engine as it cooled.

“I think whoever was up there is gone,” Aaron said.

She turned her head and saw that her brother had emerged from behind the SUV, so she started to straighten up. “Stay down!” he barked.

Ian scrambled from beneath the Jeep and moved, crouched down, to her side. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to see you.” She glanced toward her brother, who was talking on the radio again. “What’s going on?”

Aaron was off the radio now. He moved toward them. “Bethany, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see Ian. What is going on? Why are you here, Aaron?”

“Ian and I were talking. Someone took a shot at us.” He looked over his shoulder. She followed his gaze and saw the shattered window on Ian’s trailer.

That had her up and out of the car. “Are you okay?” she asked Ian.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m fine, too,” Aaron said.

“I can see that,” she said. “And at least you’re wearing a ballistics vest.” She turned back to Ian. “Who was shooting at you?”

“We didn’t see them,” he said.

“They had to have been up on the other side of the canyon,” Aaron said. “Though I don’t know how they could get up there.”

“There’s a dirt road,” Bethany said. “Just a track, really. We used it to get to the cliff top to rescue that climber. You have to park and walk about a hundred yards.” Fear jolted her. “I may have seen the person who shot you. Or seen their truck.”

“What?” Ian asked.

“Who was it?” Aaron asked.

“I didn’t see the driver, but as I was coming up here, a white pickup truck came shooting out onto the road from that dirt track. He was going so fast, he lost control for a minute, then straightened out and flew by me. I wondered why someone would be driving so recklessly on that rough road.”

“Can you describe the truck?” her brother asked.

She frowned, trying to remember. “It was just a truck. White. Two doors, I think.”

“Ford, Chevy, Dodge or Toyota?”

“I don’t know.” She gave Ian an apologetic look. “I’m not a car geek. I don’t notice them much.”

“Someone’s coming,” Aaron said as the crunch of tires on gravel reached them.

Ian stepped in front of Bethany. “Stay behind me,” he said.

The car turned out to be another sheriff’s department SUV. Deputy Jamie Douglas parked next to Aaron’s vehicle and got out. “I got your call about the gunshots,” she said. “Is everyone okay?”

“Just one gunshot,” Aaron said. “And we’re okay. It took out a window.” He indicated the shattered glass. “I’m pretty sure they’re gone now. Bethany just got here, and on her way in she was passed by a white truck driving erratically. She said it came from a dirt road that leads up to the other side of the cliff. That’s the direction the shooter was firing from.”

Jamie moved over to the window and examined it. “Can I go inside?” she asked Ian.

“Of course.”

She went into the trailer and emerged a few moments later with a plastic evidence bag. “I found the bullet. Remington .223.” She showed it to Aaron.

“Let’s take a look up on the cliff top,” he said. He and Jamie returned to her cruiser and drove away.

When they were gone, Bethany wrapped her arms around Ian. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt,” she said.

He held her for a moment. He felt good. Solid. Sexy, too. On that thought, she pulled away. She had no idea how he felt about her, and she didn’t want to come on too strong.

“Come inside,” he said.

He didn’t say he felt vulnerable standing in the open, but in his place, she would have. She followed him into the trailer, where he grabbed a broom and began sweeping up the glass. She fetched a trash can and helped him clean up the area. Only then did they sit, side by side on a love seat on the end wall.

“It’s good to see you,” he said. “I was worried that the shooter was still around.”

“Thank goodness they left.” She angled toward him. “What was Aaron doing here?”

“He came to tell me they’ve identified the two bodies we found in the cave.”

“Already? Who were they?”

He told her about the newlyweds who had disappeared fifty years before. “And their families really thought they had left without bothering to ever get in touch?” she marveled.

“I guess. They supposedly have a nephew who lives here in town. The sheriff spoke to Gerald’s brother. They couldn’t think of anyone who would have wanted to kill the couple.”

“What a mystery.” She sat back. “It’s such a sad story.”

“Yeah, but at least they died together,” he said.

“In each other’s arms. Still, it must have been horrible.” If she kept thinking about it, she was going to depress herself. “When I saw Aaron, I was afraid he came to warn you away from me.”

“He did that, too.” Ian’s eyes met hers—a little bit teasing, a little bit fond. “I think I persuaded him to let you make your own decisions.”

“Thanks.”

“And have you made a decision?”

“I want to make sure you’re going to get county approval to open to the public before I say yes to the job,” she said.

He nodded. “It’s not the answer I wanted, but it’s probably a smart one.”

“I could still help you out. In my spare time.”

“I’d rather, if you aren’t going to work for me, you’d go out with me.”

Bethany stared at him, aware that her mouth was open. She probably looked like a stunned trout. She closed her mouth and tried to muster some composure. Sure, she really liked this guy, but what did he see in her? “After my brother told me who you were, I looked you up online,” she said. “You’ve dated models. Actresses.”

“I went out with one actress. One time. As for the models…” He shrugged. “They’re not that special.”

“Still, why do you want to go out with me?”

“For one thing, you’re not impressed by me,” he said. “Or at least you hide it well. You’re smart, and you’re not afraid to stand up to people, even your own family, and say what you really think. Do you know how rare that is? That first day I met you, when your brother was giving me a hard time, you defended me. And you didn’t even know me. That made an impression.” He leaned closer. “You’re also beautiful, and I’d really like to kiss you.”

“Yeah. I’d like that, too.”

He slid one hand behind her neck, his fingers rough but warm. She leaned into him, and their lips met. Oh, yes, the man knew how to kiss—soft and firm, receiving as well as giving. The sensation moved through her, like ripples in a pond, warmth and awareness and anticipation flowing down her body.

He lifted his head and smiled down at her, a smile full of heat. She reached up to kiss him again, but the rattle of the door had them pulling apart.

Aaron and Jamie entered. “We found a bullet casing,” her brother said. “Same caliber as the bullet that took out your window. Someone has been up there, but they’re long gone.”

“We spoke with the workers at the end of the canyon,” Jamie said. “They didn’t even hear the shot over the sound of their equipment. And none of them saw anything.”

“Why fire just one shot?” Ian asked. “They had us pinned down. They could have kept shooting.”

“Maybe they just wanted to frighten you,” Jamie said. “Warn you off.”

“It frightened me at first,” he said. “Now it just makes me angry.”

Aaron turned to Bethany. “I don’t want you working out here,” he said.

“I’ve already told Ian I want to wait until the via ferrata is up and running.” And after that kiss, she might still turn him down, in favor of a different relationship.

Early days, she reminded herself. Don’t rush things. Just enjoy yourself.

Aaron nodded and turned to Ian. “Maybe you should think about moving into town.”

“I’ll think about it. But I’m going to be here all day working anyway. If someone is out to get me, they’ll know where to find me.”

“I can’t believe people are getting so upset about one canyon,” Bethany said. “There are so many places around here to climb.”

“Maybe this isn’t about the via ferrata,” Aaron said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, a bullet seems a lot more personal to me. Have you made any enemies, Ian?”

“There are people who don’t like me,” he said. “But nobody who would want to hurt me.”

“This place was for sale before you bought it,” Jamie said. “Did you beat out another buyer? Someone who might be upset that they didn’t get the property?”

Ian’s expression hardened. “I did beat out someone,” he said. “And they were plenty angry about it.”

“Who?” Aaron asked. “We should try to find out if they’re behind this harassment.”

“You won’t find out anything,” Ian said. “If he’s responsible, he knows how to cover his tracks.”

“Who is it?” Bethany asked.

He looked at her, eyes filled with pain. “My father. Phillip Seabrook can’t stand for anyone to get the best of him. Not even his son.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ian wished he could take back the remark about his father as soon as he had uttered it.

“Are you serious about your father being responsible for trying to kill you?” Aaron asked.

“The shooter didn’t really try to kill either one of us, did he?” Ian looked at the shattered window. “He broke the window and left. He was trying to frighten us, not murder us.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Aaron said. He took out a note pad. “What’s your father’s contact information? We’ll need to talk to him.”

“No—forget I said anything. And don’t spread word of this around town. It’s just a broken window.” He moved to the door and opened it. “I need you all to leave now.”

Aaron was going to argue, but Jamie said, “Call us if you see or hear anything suspicious.”

When they were alone, Bethany moved closer to Ian. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“You said your dad wanted to buy the canyon. What was he going to do with it?”

“He wanted to open it up for mining. Studies have shown traces of copper and tellurium in similar rock formations. He planned to strip out the rock, crush it and extract as many precious minerals as possible.”

“He would have destroyed it!” she said.

“I couldn’t see that happen. I have money of my own, from my grandmother and from investments I’ve made. I used some of it to make sure I made the highest bid for the canyon.”

She clutched his arm. “Ian, you saved it! People need to know that.”

He covered her hand with him. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because half of them won’t believe you and at least some of the other half will decide I’m working on my father’s behalf and using the construction of the via ferrata to test the ore or something. Then there will be people who decide mining would be a better use of the property and put pressure on me to use it for that. It’s not the kind of attention I want.”

“All right. I won’t say anything.”

His eyes met hers, searching. “You need to go home now,” he said. “I know we both thought it would be safe for you here, but clearly it isn’t.”

“I’m not the one someone fired at,” she said.

Ian put his hand on her shoulder. “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Even if whoever is doing this is only trying to harass me, accidents happen—like that climber who fell the other day. I can’t risk you being injured.”

She looked away, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes. “I want to see you,” he said. “But I’ll need to come to you.”

“All right,” she said. “But you have to stay in contact and let me know you’re all right. I care about what happens to you, too.”

“You’re a caring person,” he said.

She gripped his arm, her fingers surprisingly strong. “You’re not just anybody, Ian. Not to me.”

Before he could think how to reply, she released him and hurried away. He stared after her, heart pounding. Other people had told him he was important to them at various times in his life—other women. People who depended on him. But he had never believed them the way he believed Bethany.

* * *

Bethany kept her promise not to say anything about Ian’s father or about what had happened in Humboldt Canyon on Sunday. The sheriff’s department had apparently also managed to keep quiet about the incident because all talk at the regular search and rescue meeting Wednesday was of the rescue of the climber Mike Addison, with those who had been on the scene providing a play-by-play for those who hadn’t been able to participate.

Talk of the protests at Humboldt Canyon naturally led to debate of the pros and cons of the via ferrata. While most of the skilled climbers—those who spent much of their spare time on the cliffs around town—disliked the idea of the via ferrata, Bethany was gratified to hear a few defenders.

“I had a chance to try out the via ferrata over in Telluride,” Danny said. “It was a blast.”

“It will just bring more unqualified people onto the cliffs,” Ryan groused.

“It also might bring more people to the sport,” Sheri said. “Once they get a taste of it, they might want to pursue it more seriously.”

“It could mean more business for local guides,” Bethany said, remembering what Ian had said about encouraging people to hire someone to escort them through the course.

“I met Ian Seabrook years ago, climbing Katahdin,” Tony said. “He had a good reputation in the local climbing community.” He shrugged. “Of course, that was years ago.”

“I really think he wants this to be a positive thing for our community,” Bethany said.

“Bethany just wants the via ferrata to go through because Seabrook offered her a job,” Carter said.

Her face heated as everyone turned to look at her. “Nothing’s decided yet,” she said. “He just mentioned it. And Carter had no business bringing it up.”

He held up his hands. “Hey, nobody said it was a secret.”

Dalton rested one hand on Carter’s shoulder. “If you get the job, promise you’ll ask Ian if I can drive his Porsche.”

“That is a sweet car,” Caleb said.

“The Porsche is in storage somewhere in Junction now,” Bethany said. “Ian said it wasn’t practical to drive here.”

Which led to a discussion of the merits of different sports cars. Had that been Dalton’s intention all along? He was generally more thoughtful than Carter, though sometimes the two paired up to tease her.

But eventually the conversation turned back to the via ferrata. “I heard Walt Spies is leading the push to turn down the operating permit for the via ferrata,” Carrie Andrews, a local architect, said.

“Why is Walt against it?” Sheri asked. “He’s not a climber.”

“His ranch borders that property,” Tony said.

“Then I’m surprised he didn’t try to buy the place,” Carrie said.

“Maybe he did,” Ryan said.

“Let’s get started, everyone.” Danny directed their attention to the front of the room. “In light of last week’s rescue operation to retrieve an injured climber, we’ve decided this week’s training will include an overview of the equipment involved and the roles of team personnel in a rescue pickoff,” he continued. “Next Saturday, we’ll meet up in Caspar Canyon to practice what we’re reviewing tonight. It’s important for everyone to be familiar with the equipment and roles in a rescue like this, even if you aren’t a part of the pickoff team. Your handout includes a list of terms you’ll need to memorize. There will be a written test on Saturday.”

Bethany studied the handout. She recognized a few of the terms—belay, anchor, and twin tension lines were familiar to her. But others she didn’t remember hearing before. She listened intently as Tony described each item on the list, showed slides that demonstrated the various equipment in use, then passed around examples of the various items.

By the time the evening ended, Bethany’s thoughts were as tangled as climbing ropes, extending in every direction. As she tucked away the handout to study later, she reminded herself that no matter how chaotic a rescue rigging appeared, it was actually very organized.

Dalton appeared beside her. “Come on—we’re ready to go,” he said. She had ridden to the training with her brothers.

Bethany shouldered her backpack and followed them into the parking lot. She was startled to see the black rental Jeep idling out front. As she jogged over to it, Ian opened the driver’s door and got out.

“Ian, what a surprise.” She stopped in front of him. She wanted to throw her arms around him but was aware of her brothers right behind her and most of her fellow volunteers looking on.

He glanced around at all the people, then turned to her. “I had to make sure you were okay,” he said. “I stopped by the rental office and no one was there, so I went to your parents’ place. They told me you and your brothers were here.”

“Why wouldn’t she be okay?” Carter put a hand on Bethany’s shoulder.

Ian looked pained. He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Carter. Bethany looked on as her brother unfolded the note. Printed in block letters was the message LEAVE HUMBOLDT CANYON ALONE OR NEXT TIME I’LL AME MY SIGHTS ON BETSY.

* * *

“My name isn’t Betsy.” Bethany sounded and looked much calmer than Ian felt as she studied the note. “And they misspelled aim.”

“I think they’re trying to make a pun on our last name,” Dalton said. He was reading over Carter’s shoulder.

“Where did you find this?” Carter asked.

“It was tucked under the wiper blade on my Jeep when I came out of the Cake Walk Café tonight,” Ian said.

A dark-haired man with an air of authority shouldered his way through the crowd gathered around Ian’s Jeep. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Jake is a deputy with the sheriff’s department,” Bethany explained.

“I found this note on my Jeep.” Ian took the note from Carter and handed it to Jake. “I came here to make sure Bethany was all right.”

The deputy read the note. “Where were you parked?”

“In the alley behind the Cake Walk Café.”

Jake nodded. “From what I remember, that alley is pretty dark. I can ask around, but I don’t think the chances are good that anyone saw whoever put this on your Jeep.” He turned to Bethany. “Who calls you Betsy?”

“No one.”

“Dalton and I call her Betty sometimes,” Carter said. “But only because we know she doesn’t like it.”

“Someone who heard your name once or twice and didn’t really know you might get mixed up and think it was Betsy.” A petite redhead woman joined them.

“This is Hannah, Jake’s wife,” Bethany said. “She’s a paramedic with Eagle Mountain EMS.”

“Why would someone leave a note threatening Bethany on your Jeep?” Jake asked.

“Someone must have seen us together,” Ian said.

“But we haven’t been together,” she said.

“You came to the canyon Sunday afternoon,” he said. His heart pounded. Had the person who’d fired at him and Aaron still been there when Bethany had arrived? Watching them?

“Bethany, has anyone threatened you directly?” Jake asked.

“No.”

“It might be nothing,” he said. “But considering someone has already shot at Ian once, it would be a good idea to play it safe.”

“Someone shot at you?” Carter shouldered through the crowd that had gathered to stand beside Bethany. “When? Who?”

“Sunday afternoon,” Ian said.

“And you were there?” Carter’s face was red, his voice raised. “Bethany, you need to stay away from the canyon and from Ian.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she countered, then she turned on Jake. “You need to find out who’s making these threats. Have you looked at Walt Spies?”

“Why Walt Spies?” he asked.

“He owns land next to Humboldt Canyon,” she said. “Maybe he wanted to buy it and Ian beat him to the punch. And he’s leading the protests against the via ferrata.”

“Leaving vague notes like this doesn’t seem like Walt’s style,” Jake said. “But we’ll keep an eye on him. In the meantime, let us know if you notice anyone following you or anything at all happens to unsettle you.” He held up the note. “Can I keep this?”

“I don’t want it,” Ian said.

“So many people have handled it at this point that we won’t be able to recover fingerprints or DNA, but maybe the handwriting will tell us something,” Jake said. “If nothing else, it could be evidence when we do find who’s threatening you.”

The crowd began to disperse. “We need to go,” Carter said.

“You two wait at the car,” Bethany said. “I want to talk to Ian.”

“Bethany.” Her brother looked stern.

She glared at him, and after a moment, he backed off. “Don’t be too long.”

When they were alone, Bethany moved closer to Ian. He started to apologize for putting her in this predicament, but she put a finger to his lips. “I’m not going to stay away from Humboldt Canyon, but I’ll only come in the daytime.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together,” he said. “That’s what made you a target in the first place.”

“I don’t care what some jerk thinks of me,” she said. “But as long as we’re in public, they can’t do anything to me.” She put her arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder.

His arm went around her automatically and pulled her close. He wasn’t convinced she would be safe with him, but how much more would he worry if he couldn’t see her? “All right,” he said. “As long as we’re in public, we can still see each other. I can come to the office.”

“Or to my house.”

He suppressed a groan. “Your brothers already don’t like me. And when I went to your parents’ house looking for you tonight, they didn’t seem too happy to see me, either.”

“Once they know you better, they’ll learn to love you.”

Ian wasn’t so sure about that, but for her, he was willing to give it a try.

“Come by the office tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “I want your help with something.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to try to find out more about Abby and Gerald Boston. Maybe the historical society has old newspapers we can look through. If they were newlyweds, there should have been a wedding announcement.”

“That probably won’t tell us anything about who might have murdered them,” he said.

“No, but I’d like to know more about them.”

“Yeah. I would, too. All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bent and kissed her lightly, aware that her brothers were probably watching. But he had spent a lot of years not caring what other people thought of him. No need to change now.

* * *

Bethany had never visited the Eagle Mountain Historical Society—or any historical society, for that matter. The Victorian-era cottage two blocks off Main Street housed a museum focused on local history as well as an archive of documents, books and photographs related to the area’s past.

“This is so cute,” she said as she and Ian stopped just inside the doorway to admire a wall display of household items from two centuries before, carefully labeled for modern visitors—a button hook, butter churn, collar stays, bed warmer and ink well.

“Hey, Bethany.”

She turned and was surprised to see fellow search and rescue volunteer Caleb Garrison. “Caleb! How nice to see you. Do you know Ian Seabrook?”

“I’ve heard of you.” He offered his hand to Ian, and they shook. “Caleb Garrison.”

Bethany noticed the name tag pinned to his shirt. “Do you work here?”

“I’m a volunteer. My day job is teaching history, but it’s my hobby, too. Have you visited the museum before?”

“No,” she said. “And I’d love to tour it some time, but today we’re here to do some research in the archives.”

“Sure.” He led the way across the hall. “The archives room was added a few years ago. Much better than the basement where everything was stored previously. What can I help you with?”

“We’re looking for anything we can find about Gerald and Abby Boston, who lived in Eagle Mountain fifty years ago.”

“Can you tell me anything else about them?” he asked. “Do you know what jobs they held or if they had any children?”

“I don’t think there were any children,” she said. “All I really know is that they were newlyweds who disappeared not too long after their wedding.”

“Let’s start with the census records. That will give us more information about their families.” He moved to a table in the center of the room and opened a laptop. “We used to keep census records on microfiche, but now they’re digitized online. You can search by name and location and should find a match pretty quickly. When did they live here?”

She glanced at Ian. “We’re not sure,” she said. “They died fifty years ago. Approximately.”

“No problem. Let’s start with 1970 census and work forward from there.” Caleb typed rapidly, then turned the screen toward them. “I think this is the man you’re looking for. Gerald Boston, born 1949, death date unknown.”

Bethany met Ian’s gaze. She turned back to studying the computer screen and gasped. “This says he was married to a woman named Katherine Berringer.” She leaned closer. “Born 1950, died 1985. Only thirty-five years old. But that would have been after Gerald died.”

“Maybe Katherine’s middle name was Abigail?” Ian suggested.

Bethany shook her head. “This shows her middle name as Elizabeth.”

“Maybe it’s a different Gerald Boston,” Ian suggested.

“This is the only one on record living in Eagle Mountain in 1970,” Caleb said. “Let’s try the 1980 census.” He typed again, then shook his head. “No Gerald Boston here.”

“Try Katherine Boston or Katherine Berringer,” Bethany suggested.

More typing. Caleb nodded. “Katherine Boston was living here then. The same address as before.”

“Maybe she was a first wife,” Ian said. “Can we find out if Gerald was divorced?”

“You can request that information in writing from the state archives,” Caleb said. “Though without a specific date, that might take longer to find.”

“What about marriages? Can we find out if there’s any record of Gerald marrying Abby?”

“Marriage records after 1960 are private,” Caleb said. “Though if there was an announcement in the paper, you might find it there.”

“How do we do that?” Ian asked.

“Follow me.” He led them to the far end of the room and a shelf stacked with oversize folders. “These are all the issues of the Eagle Mountain Examiner prior to when they began digitizing them, about 2010.” He reached up and pulled a volume off a shelf. “This is 1975. Even then, the paper only came out once a week, so you should be able to get through them fairly quickly.”

“I’ll take 1975,” Ian said and reached for the folder.

Bethany took the folder for 1976, and they moved to a large worktable in the center of the room and began flipping through the papers. Bethany scanned the pages of newsprint, stopping to marvel at photographs of young women in short skirts and men with long hair and sideburns. “Did you know you could buy a hamburger for thirty-five cents in 1976?” she asked.

“You’re supposed to be looking for a marriage announcement,” Ian said.

“Sorry. You’re right.” She flipped faster, scanning the pages and forcing herself not to stop to read the articles about local politics or school events.

Halfway through the folder, she realized there was a section at the center of each issue of the paper that listed events that had taken place in the previous week, from birthdays of people in town to anniversaries, funerals and marriages. She scanned this column closely, learning that Patsy Lehring turned six years old Friday, celebrating with a family party with cake and ice cream. And Pete and Donna Farber celebrated twenty-four years of wedded bliss on Tuesday.

“I think I found it,” Ian said.

Bethany moved over to stand beside him. His finger hovered over the page, pointing to an item. She leaned forward and read, “‘Gerald Boston and Abigail Simpson were wed in a civil ceremony at the Rayford County Courthouse last Wednesday afternoon, Judge Patrick Simmons presiding.’” She grinned at Ian. “That’s it. Katherine must have been George’s first wife.”

“Would she hate him enough to kill him?” he wondered.

“Find what you need?” Caleb rejoined them.

“Yes,” Bethany said. “But how can we find out more about Katherine Berringer Boston?”

“We could start with a web search of the name.” He moved to the laptop. After a few moments of typing, he shook his head. “I’m not finding anything. And the census records show she lived here most of her life. She never remarried and apparently didn’t have any children.”

“Aaron said George’s nephew still lives in town,” Ian said. “Maybe we can find and talk to him.” He checked his phone. “But I really need to go now. I have a teleconference.”

“I’ll do a little more research online at home and see if I can find Gerald’s nephew,” Bethany said.

They thanked Caleb and left the museum. “Have you heard from any more protestors?” she asked.

“Nothing. What about you? Anyone suspicious hanging around? Any odd phone calls or notes left on your car?”

“Nothing. I think that note was just someone’s lame idea of trying to get your attention. I haven’t felt like I was in danger for even one minute.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“And I hope all of this will blow over,” she said. “It’s so silly anyway.”

He studied her for so long that she grew warmer in the heat of his gaze. She put a hand to her cheek. “What are you staring at?”

“I want to tell you to stay away from the canyon for your own good, but I’m beginning to realize you’re going to do what you want to anyway.”

“You’re a smart man.” She smiled. “And admit it—you want to see me, don’t you? And you want to show off what you’re doing in the canyon.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips across her cheek, sending a thrill through her. “Yes, I want to see you. And yes, I want you to see what I’m doing. But be careful.”

“Always.” Careful with her person. Not always careful with her heart.

CHAPTER EIGHT

On Friday, Bethany woke with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She picked up her phone and stared at the date, and the black feeling intensified. One year ago today she was supposed to have stood in front of friends and family and declared her love to Justin Asher, the man she had believed she would spend the rest of her life with.

Instead, she had spent the day in tears, she and her mother packing up wedding gifts to be returned to the well-wishers who would never hear her vows. Her wedding dress had been packed away, never worn, in an archival box now relegated to her parents’ attic.

She allowed herself a few tears in the shower, then headed downstairs. This was just a day, like any other day. She wasn’t going to spend it in mourning.

But when her mother greeted her at the office with a hug, her face solemn, Bethany almost broke down. Dalton and Carter avoided the office altogether, although when she went outside she caught them glancing at her with the same expression they might have worn if a bear had wandered into the office.

I’m fine! she wanted to scream at them. Then again, that might not be very reassuring.

By the time the day ended, she was jumpy and irritable enough that everyone was leaving her alone. She debated retreating to her apartment for a bubble bath and a bottle of wine—or maybe just a pan of brownies. When, instead, she received a text from search and rescue, it was like being pricked with a pin, some of the pressure of the wound she had been nursing all day relieved.

The call was for a missing hiker. “Craig Boston is seventy, six feet, one inch tall, with long gray hair and blue eyes.” Deputy Ryker Vernon read off the description from his phone to the volunteers who gathered at a local trail head. “He left home wearing navy hiking pants and a black T-shirt and carrying a blue daypack. He may also be wearing a red windbreaker and a Houston Astros ball cap. He left home this morning a little after eight a.m. and told his neighbor he intended to hike the Bridle Reins Trail at the base of Mount Wiley. We’ve verified that his car is at the trailhead parking area.”

“Any history of medical problems or dementia?” Danny asked.

Ryker shook his head. “The neighbor says no. He hikes every week. Her words when I talked to her were, ‘He could out-hike you any day of the week, Deputy.’”

This brought a few laughs from the assembled searchers, but they quickly sobered. Danny spread out a map on the hood of the search and rescue Jeep, and they gathered around him.

“The trail gains eight hundred feet in elevation in the first mile, traveling pretty much straight up the slope,” he said, indicating a highlighted route on the map. “There’s a split at the one-mile point where the Laughing Johnny Mine Trail comes in from the east. It’s possible to take that trail up, connect with the Silver Chip Trail and make a loop back to a point two miles up the Bridle Reins Trail.

“It’s eight miles round trip,” Danny continued, “but if Mr. Boston is the hiker his neighbor says he is, he might have taken that route. Or he may have continued straight up the Bridle Reins Trail, which ends at an overlook at about the three-mile point. The last section of the trail is less well-defined. It’s possible he got off the main path and ended up somewhere he didn’t want to be. Maybe even cliffed out.” He raised his head. “We’ll divide into teams of three and search all the possibilities.”

Bethany was assigned to a team with Caleb Garrison and Grace Wilcox. “I wonder if Craig Boston is Gerald Boston’s nephew,” she said as they started up the trail. Their assignment was to hike the Laughing Johnny loop from the west. Carter and Dalton were in the group that would hike from the east.

“He might be,” Caleb said. “When you find him, you can ask him.”

“Who is Gerald Boston?” Grace asked.

“He’s one of the people whose skeleton was found in that cave in Humboldt Canyon,” Bethany said.

“He and his wife,” Caleb said. “A sad story.”

“They were murdered, right?” Grace asked. “I remember now.”

“Yes. I’d like to ask Craig about his relative, provided he’s in any shape to talk.”

Caleb led the way, setting a brisk pace up the trail. Bethany did her best to keep up, though the steep pitch soon had her panting. She reminded herself that if Craig was injured or ill, they needed to reach him as soon as possible. Focusing on this idea—and the possibility that he might provide some answers to the mystery of what had happened to Gerald and Abby—kept her going.

After they turned onto the Laughing Johnny Mine Trail the path became less steep, and Bethany was able to catch her breath. They halted for a drink, and she gratefully pulled out her water bottle.

“How is Ian?” Caleb asked.

“He’s okay. Busy with construction.”

“Have you seen it yet? The via ferrata?”

“Not yet.” She didn’t elaborate.

They continued up the trail. “Craig!” Caleb shouted. “Mr. Boston!”

“Mr. Boston!” Bethany echoed. But no answer came.

They had been hiking about an hour when the trail was blocked by the massive trunk of a fallen fir. The trunk was almost as wide as Bethany was tall, and dozens of branches poked up from it like porcupine quills.

“We’ll have to go around,” Grace said.

“Which is probably what Craig Boston did,” Caleb said.

“He might have lost the trail and been unable to get back,” Bethany said, remembering their training on the behavior of lost persons.

“Let’s look for any sign he came this way.” Caleb moved to one side of the tree, while Grace and Bethany moved around the other side. Bethany studied the ground, looked for a crushed branch or a foot impression in the leaves or even a thread from a piece of clothing caught on a branch. Grace walked ahead of her, doing the same.

“Over here.” Grace stopped and pointed to the low-hanging branch of a young spruce that had been broken off. “It was probably hanging down in his way. He’s pretty tall, right? So he broke it off.” She raised her voice. “Caleb, we’ve found something.”

He examined the broken branch and agreed it might be an indication that Craig had headed this way. They moved more carefully through the underbrush now, watching for signs that Craig had passed this way and for hazards such as holes, uneven rocks or sudden drop-offs.

“How far have we walked?” Bethany asked after they had been walking a while.

Caleb checked his handheld GPS. “About one and a half miles.”

“Would he have come this far off course?” she asked. “Wouldn’t he head back toward the trail? He was just trying to detour around the tree.”

“He might think he was heading toward the trail,” Caleb said. “It’s easy to get turned around out here.”

“We’ve found people who were miles away from where they were supposed to be,” Grace said. “And some of them we’ve never found, even though it seemed impossible that they could have disappeared so quickly.”

“Let’s hope this isn’t one of those cases,” Caleb said.

They continued through the woods, stopping to call Craig Boston’s name, listening for a response. After another twenty minutes had passed, Grace halted and said, “I thought I heard something.”

Bethany held her breath, straining to hear anything besides her own pounding heart. Then a new sound cut the stillness, a distant voice that might have been crying, “Help!”

“This way,” Caleb said and struck out to their left. “Craig! Craig Boston!”

“I’m here!” came a stronger shout.

They were nearly on top of him before they saw him. He was lying behind another downed tree, almost hidden by its still-green foliage.

“Am I glad to see you,” he said when they clambered over the trunk to join him.

“Are you Craig Boston?” Caleb asked.

“Yes.” He grimaced and gripped his calf. “I got caught up trying to climb over this tree and fell. I think my ankle is broken.”

“We’re with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue,” Grace said. She knelt beside his head. “We’re going to take care of you.”

Caleb radioed that they had found Craig and gave the rest of the team the GPS coordinates for their location. Meanwhile, Grace and Bethany gave the injured man water and cut away some of the tree limbs so he could rest more comfortably. “We’re going to have some people here soon with a splint for your ankle and a litter to get you down to an ambulance,” Caleb said.

“I feel so stupid,” Craig said. “I’ve been hiking these trails for years, and I know better than to put my foot down anywhere I can’t see clearly.”

“Accidents happen to even the most experienced, prepared people,” Grace said.

“How did you know to look for me?” he asked.

“Your neighbor called 911 when you were late getting home,” Caleb said.

“She worries about me, hiking alone at my age. I guess this time her worries were justified.”

“I’m going to put some cold packs on your ankle to help bring down the swelling,” Caleb said. “When the nurse gets here he’ll fix you up with a proper splint and something for the pain. That will help you feel a lot better. Are you having any other pain? Any trouble breathing or chest pains?”

“No, it’s just the leg that’s bothering me.”

Bethany had learned that it could be helpful to distract alert patients with conversation while they waited for help to arrive. “Mr. Boston, are you related to Gerald Boston?” she asked.

“Call me Craig. Why do you want to know?”

“I’m one of the people who found his, um, remains. In the cave in Humboldt Canyon.”

He studied her more closely. “What is your name again?”

“Bethany. Bethany Ames.”

He looked lost in thought.

“Are you Gerald’s nephew?” she asked.

“I am,” he said. “Gerald Boston was my uncle, but he was only a few years older than me.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bethany said. “That must have been hard, learning what happened to him all those years ago.”

“It was, and it wasn’t,” Craig said. “The family story was that he and Abby had run away, but I never believed he would vanish like that without saying anything. He and my dad were close.”

“Do you mind telling me something about him and Abby?” she asked. “I’ve been really curious.”

“I didn’t know Abby all that well. But Gerald was head-over-heels in love with her. She was a pretty thing, very sweet.”

“I read that he had been married before.”

“Where did you hear that?” His voice was sharp.

She drew back. “I visited the historical society, trying to find out more information about them. I wanted to know them as more than bones in a cave.”

He calmed a little. “Yes, Gerald was married before. His first wife, Katherine, never forgave him for divorcing her. But they’d known each other only a short time before eloping. Then he learned how unstable she was. She drank to excess almost every day, lied about everything and flew into jealous rages over imagined slights.” He shook his head. “Gerald thought they would both be happier divorced. He met and married Abby, but Katherine continued to plague him. We thought that was the reason he and Abby supposedly left town—to get away from Katherine.”

“Do you think she would have been angry enough to kill them and hide them in that cave?” Bethany asked.

Craig sighed. “I can’t help thinking she had something to do with it. Except Katherine had a disability, and it prevented her from walking very far. Gerald always said that was why she was so bitter. She blamed him for the accident that injured her leg, but Gerald said she was drunk and fell out of a car she was riding in with another man. The car tire crushed her leg,” he explained. “The other man—we had no idea who he was, though there were rumors about Katherine being seen around town with a man who wasn’t her husband—drove off and left Katherine lying by the side of the road. After that, she used a crutch even to walk across the room.

“I can’t see how she would ever have gotten up to that cave or overpowered Gerald and Abby, who were both young and fit,” he said, “but maybe she and the other man—whoever he was—were in it together.”

“Such a sad story,” Grace said.

“It is,” Craig said. “The sheriff’s department said they would investigate the murder, but I don’t see how they’re going to find out anything after all this time.”

A shout from a short distance away distracted them all. “Here comes the rest of the team,” Caleb said.

Bethany moved over to make room for Danny, who quickly assessed Craig’s condition. “You’ll need X-rays to confirm, but I don’t think the ankle is broken,” he said. “Probably just a bad sprain. I’m going to splint the ankle and give you something for the pain, then we’ll get you down off the mountain.”

While Danny tended to Craig, the others assembled the wheeled litter, then moved their patient into it. “Are you ready for your ride down the mountain?” Carter asked.

“More than ready,” he said, a little drowsily. His features had relaxed and some of the color had returned to his face as the pain medication did its work.

The litter had one large wheel in the center, which made it easier to navigate the narrow hiking trail but required volunteers at each corner to support it and guide it over rough spots. Volunteers took turns on litter duty, which was more tiring than Bethany would have expected, since it required supporting part of the patient’s weight as well as maneuvering over rough terrain without a clear view of the ground. But they had all practiced the job, and the trip down the mountain went smoothly. An ambulance was waiting when they arrived at the trail head, and paramedics transferred Craig into it and drove away.

“Another job well done,” Carter said as he and Dalton caught up with Bethany in the parking lot at search and rescue headquarters. “I’m starved.”

“Let’s get pizza,” Dalton said. “You want to come, Betty?”

She glared at him for using the nickname she despised. “No, thanks.” She clicked her key fob to unlock her Subaru.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Carter asked.

“None of your business,” she said, then got into the car and started it before they could quiz her further.

Yes, she had promised to stay away from Humboldt Canyon, but she wanted to see Ian’s face when she told him what she had learned from Craig Boston.

CHAPTER NINE

Ian met her at the door of his trailer, brow furrowed. “Bethany? Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” She hurried up the steps. “And before you say anything—I have a good reason to be here. Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

She was prepared for him to argue, but instead he ushered her inside and locked the door behind them. “What’s going on?” he asked. Good. He didn’t appear angry, only concerned. Maybe a little worried on her behalf.

Bethany moved to the sofa and sat. “Search and rescue got a call late this afternoon about an overdue hiker,” she said.

“Did you find him?

“We did. He had a sprained ankle, but he’s going to be fine.” She patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”

He sat. “Guess who the hiker was?” she asked.

“A celebrity? Some famous actor or something?”

“No, he was Gerald Boston’s nephew.”

“No kidding? Did you ask him about Gerald and Abby? Or is that kind of thing not allowed in search and rescue?”

“We’re encouraged to make conversation when the patient is alert, in order to take their mind off their troubles and pass the time. We had to wait for the rest of the team to show up with the litter and the first aid supplies.”

“So you figured talking about his dead relatives would be a good distraction?”

She made a face. “He didn’t mind at all. And I did tell him I was sorry for his loss.” She flushed. “I know some people think I’m impulsive and even rude at times, but I always figure I should be upfront with people. And in this case, I learned a lot of interesting stuff.”

“Such as?”

“Craig—his name is Craig Boston, which is how I guessed he was the nephew we’d heard about—he said Gerald really loved Abby and that she was pretty and sweet and very different from Gerald’s first wife.”

“Katherine.”

Bethany nodded. “Katherine sounds like a real piece of work. She drank and told lies and was very jealous. And apparently she ran around on Gerald, because Craig said there were a lot of rumors about her being seen in the company of another man,” she explained. “And while she was with that man, she fell out of a car he was driving. The wheel of the car ran over her leg, and he drove off and just left her there! Can you imagine? Craig said instead of blaming the other man for her accident, she blamed Gerald. After the accident, she had to walk with a crutch and couldn’t go very far.”

“So she couldn’t have killed Gerald and Abby.”

“Craig didn’t think so. But he said he wouldn’t be surprised if Katherine’s unknown boyfriend had been involved. He had no idea who the man might be. He said the sheriff’s office promised to investigate, but he doesn’t think, after all this time, they’ll find the killer.”

“Abby could have been the original target,” Ian said. “Maybe a jilted lover, or just some guy who was obsessed with her, who was upset that she married Gerald and decided that if he couldn’t have Abby, no one would.”

She sat back and chewed her thumbnail. “You’re right. I should have asked him more about Abby. By then the other SAR members had arrived, and they needed to get Craig ready for transport to the ambulance.”

“Maybe we can talk to him again sometime.”

“Maybe so. Have you been back up to the caves since we found them?”

“No. The sheriff’s department had people up there for a couple of days, taking photographs and collecting anything that looked like evidence, though I don’t think they came up with much. After that, I never went back up there.”

“I’d like to go up there again to look around,” she said. “Not that I think I would see anything the sheriff’s deputies missed, but now that I know more about Gerald and Abby, I can better envision their situation.”

“Won’t that just make you sad?”

“A little. But I want to see.”

“It’s too late tonight.”

“I know that, silly.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed.

“Rough day?” he asked.

“A little.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “Want to talk about it?”

Did she? Maybe. “Today was supposed to be my wedding day. Well, not today, but this date a year ago.”

He grew very still. Maybe not even breathing. She raised her head and looked at him. “I’m not pining over him—my former fiancé,” she said. “Just, well, grieving what might have been.” She could have been married by now. Maybe even planning for children.

“What happened?”

“He changed his mind about wanting to marry me. But he waited until one month before the wedding—after we had made all the reservations, hired the caterer and the photographer and the DJ. After we’d sent the invitations. We’d already had one wedding shower. I had wedding gifts at my house. It was humiliating.”

“That’s tough,” Ian said. “But maybe better to know that about him before you were legally tied.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it was. But I wasn’t thinking about that when I was calling people and canceling, and hearing we couldn’t get our deposits refunded. Or when I was returning gifts and being asked over and over ‘What happened?’ I couldn’t help translating that question as ‘What did you do wrong?’”

“I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong.”

She blew out a breath. “Maybe not. But Justin was such a great guy. I mean, that’s what everyone said. Even after I told them he had called off the wedding, at least sixty percent of the people said, ‘But Justin is such a great guy.’”

“Justin sounds like a grade-A jerk.”

She laughed—at the words themselves and the fierceness with which he said them.

He pulled her close once more. “Where does this guy live? Next time I’m in the area I could stop by his house and punch him.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I think it would feel pretty good.”

“You feel good.” She snuggled closer. For maybe the first time since Justin had told her he didn’t love her enough to spend the rest of his life with her, she felt truly grateful for his decision. If he hadn’t dumped her, she wouldn’t be here now with Ian.

He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. One by one, brushing them with his tongue, like flames licking along her body.

Bethany tilted her mouth to meet his, his lips caressing, carrying a heat that flowed through her. She slipped her arms around his waist, reveling in the feel of his body, all taut muscle and masculine angles.

His fingers threaded through her hair, cradling her head as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, gentle and teasing. His other hand slid down her body, his palm tracing the fullness of her breast and the curve of her waist and hips. She gripped his hips and then his buttocks, bringing him closer still.

Ian moved his lips to kiss her neck and then her ear. “I want to make love to you,” he growled.

“I want to make love to you,” she echoed.

“Let’s go into the bedroom.” He moved back enough to take her hand.

She was too focused on him to register more than an impression of the bedroom—dark colors, a big bed, the soft glow of the lamp he switched on beside the bed. He pulled his shirt off, revealing a sculpted chest and ridged abs.

Her heart pounded and she was hot all over. Yes, she was definitely wearing too many clothes.

He apparently had the same thought and moved in to slide his hands beneath the hem of her Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue T-shirt. She lifted her arms, and he tugged it over her head, then reached around to unhook her bra. “Nice,” he said as he tossed it to the floor, and she wasn’t sure if he meant her choice of undergarment or her naked breasts, the nipples taut with both arousal and the sudden draft.

They finished undressing, and Ian led her to the bed. Once there, he lay back and beckoned her. She didn’t move in close right away, preferring to sit back and admire him. How had she never appreciated the benefits of climbing before? “I’ve fantasized about you naked, but the real thing is even better,” she said.

“Mmmm.” He sat up and cupped her breasts. “Even better,” he murmured, then drew one taut peak into his mouth.

Arching her back, Bethany laughed. He looked up at her. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m just so happy.” She wrapped her arms around him, and they fell back together on the pillows.

“I love that I don’t have to guess how you’re feeling,” he said. “Because you always tell me.”

“Some people see that as a flaw.” She kissed her way along his jaw. “But right now I’m feeling like I don’t want to wait any longer.”

He leaned over her to reach into the drawer of the bedside table. She kissed his chest, then slid lower, kissing her way down his body. He groaned but stayed still on his hands and knees as she moved down…down.

“You keep that up, and this is going to be over before we’ve really started,” he said after a moment.

With feigned reluctance, she slid up to lie beside him and watched as he rolled on the condom. A flutter of nervousness passed through her. This man had dated actresses and models, athletes with perfect bodies like his own. What was he going to think of her?

He rolled over and took her in his arms. “Come here, beautiful,” he said.

He kissed her, and in that moment she did feel beautiful. Desirable. His every movement communicated how much he wanted her. She relaxed and focused on enjoying the moment—on giving and receiving pleasure with a man who was helping her to trust again.

Ian told himself not to rush. They had waited for this moment. He wanted to enjoy it. One thing he had already learned about Bethany was how much she could surprise him. She was so open with her feelings—so willing to laugh and to risk being awkward or different from everyone around her. In lovemaking, that translated to a contagious enthusiasm. As they moved together and came to know each other’s bodies, he found himself feeling more sheer joy than he had in a long time. He didn’t have to impress her or live up to some myth of the perfect partner.

With her, it was enough to caress and hold, to give and receive all the pleasure they could find. When he finally moved into her she accepted him with an openness that pulled at him, somewhere deep inside. Though his instinct was to close his eyes, to keep her from seeing how much she moved him, he forced himself to keep them open, to keep looking into her eyes, seeing his own desire and need and satisfaction reflected back at him.

Bethany’s climax shuddered through him, and she cried out her pleasure, uninhibited and delighted. His own climax overtook him, and he shouted her name, something he had never done before. She had vanquished his famous reserve, tearing aside the aloofness that had earned him a reputation as someone who was hard to get along with.

“Do you know how special you are?” Ian asked as he cradled her to his side moments later.

“I’ve always been different,” she said. “I used to think it was a bad thing, then I decided every one of us is set apart from others in some way. When I started to embrace my quirkiness I felt better about myself, even if not everyone understands me.”

“I don’t have to understand you to appreciate you.” He’d almost said love—but that was too soon. Ian couldn’t remember using the word with anyone, even his parents.

But here with her, in this moment in the darkness, hearing her heart beat against his side, feeling the sigh of her breath across his chest, he felt closer to knowing the meaning of love than at any other time in his life.

CHAPTER TEN

Bethany awoke to the insistent jangle of her phone. She groped for it on the bedside table and levered up onto one elbow, squinting at the bedside clock as she did so—7:00 a.m. “Hello?”

“Bethany?” her mother asked. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Why are you calling me?”

“I came in to open the office and went upstairs to your apartment to say hello, and it was obvious you hadn’t been home all night.”

She sat up, suddenly a lot more awake. “You went into my apartment?”

“I had to make sure you were okay. You could have fallen in the shower and hit your head. Your bed was still made and yesterday’s breakfast dishes were still in the sink.”

“How do you know they were yesterday’s breakfast dishes?”

“Because they were there when I went up yesterday to borrow a cup of rice. You really should transfer your rice from the plastic bag to a glass jar, you know. Mice or bugs can get into the plastic.”

“Mom! You can’t take things from my cabinets without asking first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m your mother. And don’t try to change the subject. Where are you?”

“I’m at Ian’s.”

Long silence. “You’re sleeping with him now?”

“Mom!”

“I’m just trying to determine how serious you are about this man.”

“When I’m ready to share that information, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to be there with him.”

Because of Ian, or because of other people? But she didn’t ask. She didn’t really want to know the answer. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“When are you coming home?”

“My work shift starts at ten. I’ll be there then.”

“Your father isn’t going to like this.”

“Then don’t tell him. I have to go, Mom.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Ian is waiting.” She ended the call. Let Mom imagine what he was waiting for.

Ian was coming out of the bathroom when she exited the bedroom. He was freshly shaved and smelled of mint and soap. “Good morning,” he said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“My mom woke me.”

“Is everything okay?”

“She went up to my apartment this morning—just to make sure I was okay, she says. And she noticed I hadn’t come home last night. Because she was in there yesterday, too, and saw the dirty dishes in the sink. I have no privacy!”

“I’m sorry. That is aggravating.” He wrapped his arm around her, and she leaned into him briefly.

Then she straightened. “I’ll survive. But it’s just as well she woke me. I have to be at work at ten, and I want to revisit the cave first.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “Let’s have breakfast first.”

She hurried to get cleaned up and dressed, and met him in the kitchen, where he handed her a mug of coffee. She drank deeply. Nothing like that first cup to improve her mood.

They ate toast and peanut butter, finished their coffees, then stepped outside. Bethany breathed deeply of the cool morning air, the scent of evergreens detectible beneath the construction dust. She followed Ian across the canyon. Colored stakes and paint marked the location of various structures, mazes of scaffolding rose up in several places and bridges and platforms were beginning to take shape.

“Will the via ferrata extend this far?” she asked as they approached the trail up to the caves.

“I originally thought it would, but the engineer determined the soil is too unstable in this area. That’s probably why the mudslide did so much damage. We’ll stick to the areas with more stable rock formations.”

They climbed toward the cave. The trek seemed easier this time, the trail better defined than before, she supposed, because of all the trips various law enforcement personnel had made back and forth to the Bostons’ unfortunate gravesite.

At the entrance to the cave, Ian switched on a flashlight and played its beam across the floor. The opening itself was smaller than she’d remembered, dark and musty and swept clean.

“You say this wasn’t here when you purchased the property?”

“No. The sheriff’s department has pictures taken fifty years ago that show a lot of trees and underbrush here. The cave openings might have been in there somewhere, but they weren’t obvious in the photos. We think the mudslide last month took out a good chunk of hillside and revealed these openings.”

“Then how did Gerald and Abby get in here?”

“They may have crawled in to hide from someone. Or been forced in here at gunpoint, then shot.”

She shuddered. “I’d really like to know who Katherine’s boyfriend was,” she said. “If he was ruthless enough to run over her and leave her lying in the road, he might not balk at murder.”

“If Gerald’s nephew doesn’t know his name, I don’t see how we’ll figure it out,” Ian said.

“I want to try again at the historical society,” she said. “I’ll bet those old newspapers have more about Katherine. They probably would have reported the accident that injured her leg. Maybe we can find out more about her. And we can look for information on Abby’s family as well. Maybe they were locals, too.”

“It would be interesting to know more about them,” Ian said.

“Let me see.” She took the light from him and directed the beam along the walls, then shifted it to the floor. The impressions of many shoes showed in the dust, along with drag marks and flat areas where the deputies had set equipment. Something glinted in the light on the floor of the cave. She moved to examine it more closely. “Ian, look at this.”

He came to stand beside her. Spotlighted in the beam of the flashlight was a thin gold band.

She bent and picked it up. “It looks like a wedding ring.”

Bethany studied the ring. “Maybe it was Abby’s?” Ian sounded doubtful.

She shook her head. “Look at this place. The sheriff’s department swept it clean. How could they have missed this?”

“We’d better take it to them.”

She looked around the cave once more. “Do you think someone was here after the police left?” she asked. “Someone who left this?”

“I haven’t seen anyone unfamiliar around here,” Ian said.

“They could have come here while you were busy supervising the construction or running an errand in town. If they parked somewhere else and slipped in on foot, it would be possible.”

“But why even come here?” he asked. “And why leave this ring?”

“I don’t know.” She pocketed the gold band. “But I’m interested in hearing what the sheriff’s department has to say.”

* * *

Aaron examined the thin gold band Bethany had handed over when he’d first met up with her and Ian at the sheriff’s department. “There’s no inscription or anything,” he said. “It could belong to anyone.”

“But does it belong to Abby Boston?” Bethany asked. “Did the investigators somehow overlook it when they were collecting evidence from the cave?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They were very thorough.”

“Was Abby wearing a ring?” Ian asked.

Aaron frowned. “I’ll have to check.”

“Then do it,” Bethany said. “This could be important.”

He left the room. Ian and Bethany sat side by side at the table, the only sound the ticking of a clock as each minute advanced. “I never spent so much time in a sheriff’s office before this,” she said. “Or any law enforcement office.”

“Where did Aaron work before he came to Eagle Mountain?” Ian asked.

“Waterbury, Vermont, police. But I never visited him at work.”

The door opened and Aaron returned, followed by Gage. “Abby Boston was wearing her wedding ring when we found her,” Gage said. “A gold band with an inset of diamonds.” He held up the plain band Abby had found. “Where exactly did you find this?”

“It was on the floor of the cave,” she said. “The beam of my flashlight caught it, very near where the skeletons were. I think it would be hard to miss, especially if you were trained to look for evidence.”

“We’ve got photographs taken at the scene,” Gage said. “None of them show a ring like this.”

“Do you think someone came to the cave after your investigators went away and left this?” Ian asked.

“Have you seen anyone hanging around?”

“No. But there are a lot of construction workers coming and going these days. It wouldn’t be too difficult for someone to slip in on foot.”

“Why leave a wedding ring?” Aaron asked. “Even one this small and plain would be worth something.”

“I could make up a hundred stories about why someone would leave a wedding ring at the site where two lovers died arm in arm,” Bethany said.

“You could?” Ian sounded surprised.

She was aware of all three men staring at her. Did they not have any imagination? Or see the romantic possibilities? “Maybe someone’s own marriage ended and they felt sympathy for Abby and Gerald,” she said. “They left the ring as a symbolic gesture.”

“Or maybe they just wanted to confuse all of us,” Aaron said.

“We’ll keep this and see if anyone comes looking for it,” Gage said. “I don’t think we can do more than that.”

“What about the man Katherine was seen with?” she asked. “The one who left her lying hurt after she fell out of the car?”

“When we interviewed him, Craig Boston said he didn’t know who he was,” Gage said.

“If he left her after his car ran over her, I can’t imagine they were ever close again,” Aaron said. “Why would someone like that kill Abby and Gerald? And don’t say you can think of a reason because whatever it is, it’s as illogical as your ring story.”

“I didn’t say the ring story was true,” she said. “And people do behave illogically. Every day. Especially when it comes to strong emotions like love.”

“If you find out anything else, let us know,” Gage said. “Thanks for bringing in the ring.” He turned to Ian. “Have you had any more trouble out at your place?”

“Things have been quiet,” Ian said. “I think everyone is waiting to see what happens at the county commissioners’ meeting to discuss the operating permit for the via ferrata.”

“There’s still a lot of opposition to the project,” Aaron said.

“As the project takes shape, I think more people will see how it will be good for the community and for climbing,” Ian said. He offered a hand. “Thanks for your help with all of this.”

Aaron hesitated, then shook Ian’s hand. Ian and Gage exchanged handshakes as well.

“I think you’re winning Aaron over,” Bethany said when they were outside again.

“Maybe he’s accepting that his sister can make her own decisions.”

She took his arm. “Wouldn’t that be something?” She wanted to tell him that she had made some decisions about him—that she might be falling in love. But an uncharacteristic caution held her back. As impulsive as she was with some things, she had learned the hard way to guard her heart.

* * *

By the following Friday, the via ferrata was beginning to take shape. The contractors had set anchors and supports all along the canyon wall for walkways and platforms and begun drilling for setting iron rings and ladder rungs into other sections of the course. The sound of drilling and hammering reverberated through the canyon all day, but as the sun set the clamor ceased. Ian walked through the construction area, assessing that day’s progress and anticipating what was to come.

The construction crew didn’t work weekends. Ian rose early Saturday, planning to inspect the previous day’s progress, then maybe find somewhere to climb. Though he and Bethany had talked almost every day, he hadn’t seen her since the previous Saturday. He had been working late every day, pulling the via ferrata project together. A Friday dinner date had been canceled by a summons for search and rescue volunteers to help look for a lost child who had wandered away from a local campground. The boy had been found safe after midnight.

Today, Bethany had a climbing clinic for search and rescue in Caspar Canyon. As much as he would have liked to see her and cheer her on, he thought it best to avoid that area, especially given the animosity of some of the hard-core climbers to him and his project.

Yesterday afternoon, the construction crew had installed the supports for a catwalk two-thirds of the way up the canyon wall, to be reached via a series of iron rings embedded in the rock face. The support system consisted of short lengths of iron beams inserted in thirty-six-inch-deep holes drilled in the rock, set with concrete. The contractor had suspended scaffolding from the top of the cliff to facilitate the work, and this was still in place. The workers had used a boom truck to lift them up to the scaffolding, but Ian settled for free-climbing, finding easy hand- and footholds in the rough rock.

There were seven supports for the ten feet of walkway. Ian stepped onto the first one, testing its sturdiness before stepping fully onto it. He grinned. These things weren’t going anywhere.

Movement down below caught his eye. He looked down to see a figure moving around in front of the trailer. “Hey!” he shouted.

The figure started and looked up at him. From here, it looked like a kid. “What are you doing here?” Ian called.

“I just wanted to look around!”

“You need to leave.”

The kid didn’t answer but turned and ran back toward the gate. Ian waited to make sure he had left, then moved forward to the next support. He could extend one arm to touch the rock wall to steady himself, but he didn’t need to. He moved to the next support and looked down. It was a long way to the bottom, but he had never been afraid of heights, and he had certainly been in more precarious positions with much farther to fall.

He stepped onto the fourth support, and fear gripped him as it wobbled. As it gave way beneath him, he leaped to the fifth support, only to find himself falling, his screams echoing through the canyon.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Saturday found Bethany at Caspar Canyon with search and rescue, contemplating a spiderweb of ropes and miscellaneous hardware arrayed at the top of the cliff. “We’re going to run a couple of scenarios today to teach you more about working with rigging for rescue work,” Tony told the gathered volunteers. “You’ll learn some terminology and safety rules and get a feel for the kind of scenarios you might encounter—situations some of you have already encountered. We’ll have a volunteer play the role of injured climber, and Ryan and Eldon will be in charge of the rigging.”

Carter stepped forward. “I volunteer to be the injured climber.”

“Thanks,” Tony said. “But Grace is going to fulfill that role.” He gestured to the equipment laid out in front of them. “Bethany, can you hand me a DCD?”

She scanned the array of tools and selected the descent control device and handed it to him.

“Good job,” he said. “You’ve been studying the list of terms we gave you.”

Bethany nodded. She didn’t want to be the person who made the wrong choice in a real emergency or the one who couldn’t find what a fellow volunteer needed at a critical moment.

“Grace is going to climb down and pretend to be injured,” Tony explained. “Then it will be up to us to set the proper rigging in order to send someone down to rescue her.”

Grace, in harness and helmet, began her descent. Halfway down the face of the cliff, she stopped. “What do I do now?” she called up.

“Call for help,” Ryan said.

“Help! Help!”

Bethany bit her lip to keep from laughing. Grace sounded like the victim in the local melodrama.

“What’s wrong?” Tony called down.

“I’ve hurt my ankle.”

“Can you put weight on it?” he asked.

“No. It hurts too bad. Help!” Grace added a note of hysteria.

The volunteers gathered around Tony. “We’re going to set up a rigging that will allow us to lower and raise a sling,” he said. “Rigging makes use of various systems of pulley, ropes and other equipment to work around obstacles, multiply force or allow safer access. Today you’ll see some examples and learn some terms, but it can take years and more advanced courses to become proficient. You won’t be called on to set rigging by yourself, but we want everyone to be familiar with the terms so that you can assist in rope rescue if needed.”

Thus began two hours of tying knots, affixing various equipment and discussing angles, degrees of force and a lot of other terms Bethany was sure wouldn’t stick in her head. But as she watched and listened, and occasionally assisted, she began to connect certain actions with specific results and the ropes became less confusing spiderwebs and more beautiful, and practical, designs.

She approached Tony when they were packing up to leave the canyon. “I want to do more of this,” she said.

“More climbing?”

“Not so much the climbing as the rigging,” she said. “I love seeing how everything fits together. It makes sense to me.”

He nodded. “Watch for the announcement of beginner rigging for rescue clinics, and sign up for one,” he said. “We can always use more volunteers with that training.”

On the ride back to SAR headquarters, Bethany sat between Carter and Dalton. “Today was great,” she said. “I may have found my search and rescue specialty.”

“You don’t like to climb,” Dalton said.

“I’ll get better at climbing,” she said. “But this isn’t about climbing. It’s about using the tools to help climbers.”

“I think you should leave that kind of thing to people with more experience.” He patted her knee.

She glared at him, but he was already looking in another direction. Never mind. She wasn’t going to let her brothers dampen her enthusiasm. She couldn’t wait to tell Ian about today’s discovery. He could help her with the climbing aspects. It would be something they could do together.

* * *

Ian was falling, arms flailing, desperately trying to grab hold of something but only grasping air. He slammed into unyielding rock, and pain ripped through his body. His fingers instinctively closed around something—part of the scaffolding? So much pain, white hot, stealing his breath. His grip loosened as consciousness faded. Sliding into empty air once more…

He emerged again, like a diver breaking the surface of the ocean. He was on his back on some hard surface. The ground? No. His legs dangled unsupported. He forced open his eyes, trying to see past the gray fog. Red rock. Blue sky. Where was he?

“Hey! Hey, mister!”

He turned his head toward the side but could see nothing. He tried to respond, but the words emerged as a groan.

“I’m gonna go for help. Hang on.”

Another groan, then he slipped beneath the fog again…

Sun burned his face, but the rest of his body was icy. So cold. He ought to be numb, but pain gripped him like a vise. What had happened? A fall, but where was he climbing? Red rock and hot sun. Was he in Yosemite? Morocco? He couldn’t remember.

Where was his team? Had they abandoned him? Had they left him here to die?

* * *

Back at search and rescue headquarters, the volunteers unloaded their equipment and stored it away. They were almost done when their phones starting going off with alerts from their first responders app. “Injured climber at Humboldt Canyon,” Grace said as she read the same words on her phone.

“Another protester?” Ryan asked.

“Maybe,” Tony said. “Let’s get all the equipment back out and loaded up. The emergency dispatcher has already contacted EMS, and they have an ambulance on the way.”

Bethany sent a text to Ian: Headed your way. What’s going on?

She didn’t get an answer, but he was probably busy with whoever was injured. She wouldn’t allow herself to think it might be him.

The ambulance was waiting in Humboldt Canyon when the search and rescue team arrived. Captain Danny Irwin also met them.

Hannah Gwynn walked over to meet them as they exited their vehicles. “He’s up there, on the ledge,” she said.

Bethany followed Hannah’s pointing finger and spotted the crumpled figure on a narrow ledge halfway up the canyon. From this distance, she couldn’t tell much about it. “Who is it?” she asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Hannah said. “We called up to him, but he didn’t answer. We checked him out with binoculars, and we’re pretty sure he’s still breathing.”

Danny turned and began hauling gear out of the Beast. The others pitched in to do the same, though Bethany kept looking back at the small figure. “Where’s Ian?” she asked.

Hannah turned to her. “Is he supposed to be here? We haven’t seen him.”

“He lives here.” Bethany felt sick and stared back at the figure on the ledge. Could that be Ian?

“Who called this in?” Grace asked.

“They refused to identify themselves,” Hannah said.

“What’s that hanging above the ledge?” Tony asked. He had come to stand beside Danny, who was scanning the scene with binoculars.

“I think it’s some kind of construction scaffolding.” Danny handed the binoculars to Tony. “One end is collapsed, like maybe our guy fell from above it and it broke when his body slammed into it.”

“Ouch.” Sheri had moved in on Danny’s other side. “Hitting the scaffolding could have caused more injuries.”

“But it also would have slowed him down, maybe changed the angle of his fall,” he said. “We need to figure out the best approach to get to him.”

After a brief consultation, they elected to send Danny and Tony up to the ledge. As an RN, Danny could assess the man’s injuries and try to stabilize him. Tony could help transfer him to a litter.

“That ledge doesn’t look wide enough to hold anyone else,” Sheri said. “You’ll need a sling. I’ll take care of that.” She turned and started calling for the equipment they would need.

Bethany tried to focus on helping, but once the climbers started up the canyon wall, all she could do was watch.

Carter moved in beside her. She stiffened, bracing herself for some barbed remark about Ian. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulder. “If it is Ian, he’s in good hands now,” he said. “You know Danny and Tony will do everything they can to save him.”

She bit her lip to keep from crying, unable to speak. But she leaned against him, grateful for his comforting presence.

* * *

Someone was shouting. Noise reverberated off the rock. Ian couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t have the strength to answer. He closed his eyes and drifted away again…

“Ian. It’s Tony Meisner. We met climbing Katahdin years ago. I’m with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue. We’re here to help you.”

Ian focused. On breathing, though it hurt to do so. On opening his eyes and pushing back the fog. A weathered, bearded face leaned over him. That face receded, replaced by a second, a blond man. “I’m Danny,” the man said. “I’m a nurse. I’m going to assess your injuries and try to make you more comfortable.”

Another groan. He had to do better than that. “Thanks,” he whispered. Had they even heard him?

“It looks like you fell from above,” Danny said. “Maybe hit the scaffolding on the way down and landed on this ledge. Does that sound right?”

Did it? He couldn’t remember. “Where…where am I?”

“Humboldt Canyon. Eagle Mountain, Colorado.”

Concentrate. Why was that familiar? The via ferrata! His via ferrata! Memory returned. “The catwalk supports failed,” he said, speaking slowly and carefully enunciating each word. He wanted to be sure they understood. “Someone sawed through them.”

“What catwalk?” He thought Tony asked this.

“Up…above.”

They all looked up, but all he could see was the broken catwalk, jagged pieces hanging over them.

“Where are you having the most pain?” Danny asked.

Everything hurt, but when Ian focused, he could identify the source of the worst of it. “Ribs,” he said.

“Does it hurt to breathe?”

“A little.”

“You may have cracked a few ribs, but your oxygen levels are good. No blood from your head. Do you think you hit it on the way down?”

“Maybe,” Ian said.

“He was smart enough to wear a helmet. That saved him a lot of grief,” Tony said.

“They’ll run tests at the hospital to make sure,” Danny said. “But there’s no obvious swelling or bleeding, and his pupils are normal.” He addressed Ian once more. “We’re going to put you in a cervical collar. Then I’ll give you something for the pain.”

Any attempt to move him hurt, but Ian gritted his teeth and endured it. He had been here before—in Yellowstone, where he’d fractured his arm in two places in a fall, and in Africa, where he’d broken both ankles. He had recovered and climbed again.

A needle in his arm, then warmth flooding through him. The pain was still there but distant. Separate from him somehow. “Your legs and arms look okay,” Danny said. “You’re a lucky man. We’re going to get you into a litter now. Lie still. Let us do all the work.”

A flash of panic as they lifted him into the air, but that quickly faded as the litter embraced him and they roped him in. “We’re ready to go,” someone said, and they began to float, this man he didn’t know—Danny—literally embracing him as they gently descended.

Then he was on the ground, the ropes released. Other people moved in to check his vital signs and examine his injuries.

“Ian? Ian, it’s Bethany.”

She leaned over him, the freckles standing out against her pale skin. He tried to smile at her, but he couldn’t control his face. “You’re going to be okay,” she said.

I am. He didn’t know if he said the words out loud or not.

“Let’s get him to the ambulance,” someone said. Then he was moving again, and the fog descended once more.

* * *

Deputy Jake Gwynn responded to the call for assistance from the sheriff’s department. The search and rescue crew surrounded his SUV as soon as he parked it. Bethany stood at the edge of the crowd, curious, but most of her focus still on Ian. He had looked so pale and helpless, strapped into that litter, wrapped up like an infant in a cradleboard. Was he really going to be all right? How long before she could see him again?

“What happened here?” Jake asked.

“The 911 dispatcher got a call about a fallen climber in Humboldt Canyon,” Danny said. “Ian Seabrook was apparently up on some supports for a catwalk that was being built as part of his via ferrata project. The supports gave way, and he fell, hitting some scaffolding on the way down and landing on a narrow ledge. He may have some broken ribs. Maybe other injuries—we can’t be sure until he has a more thorough examination at the hospital.”

“I climbed up and took a look at those catwalk supports he was talking about,” Tony said. “It looks like someone cut through the last three. They left just enough metal connected to make them look intact, but any weight would cause them to give way.”

“How would anyone know he would go up there?” Jake asked. He looked to Bethany. “Was anyone else supposed to be here this morning?

“I don’t know,” she said. “Yesterday he mentioned the construction crew was finishing up the supports for the catwalk and then they were taking off for the weekend. They’d let the concrete set over the weekend, then finish the catwalk construction on Monday.”

“Did he have anyone else working with him?” Sheri asked. “An assistant or anything?”

“His assistant quit right after the trouble with those protesters,” Bethany said. I was supposed to be his assistant.

“What was he doing up there on the catwalk?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know,” she said again. “Maybe he just went for a climb?”

“He probably climbed up there to check out the construction,” Sheri said. “It’s something I would do.”

“Maybe the sabotage wasn’t aimed at Ian,” Carter said. “Maybe it was just meant to slow down the construction of the via ferrata.”

“Who called 911?” Danny asked. “I don’t think Ian could have done it in his condition.”

“The dispatcher said it sounded like someone young,” Jake said. “Maybe a teenager.”

“Maybe the kid cut through those supports as a prank, then when he saw Ian fall, he panicked and called for help, then ran,” Ryan said.

“It would take a torch and some time and muscle to cut through those supports,” Tony said. “That doesn’t sound like a mere prank.”

“We’ll try to track the caller down,” Jake said. He looked up toward the broken scaffolding. “It would take a lot to cut through iron or steel like that. You’d think Ian would have heard the commotion and come out to see what was going on.”

“Maybe they did it at night, when he was asleep,” Carter said. “And maybe they found some way to muffle the noise.”

“You don’t know anyone who would do this kind of thing, do you?” Jake asked. “Maybe you heard someone talking about sabotaging the construction?”

Her brother paled. “Me? No! I mean, I’ve heard plenty of people complaining about the canyon being closed and about Ian buying it. And someone already took a shot at him.”

“You’d think he would quit while he’s ahead,” Eldon said. “He’s got plenty of money—why does he need to build a tourist attraction to make more?”

Bethany turned on him. “You’re all wrong about him. Ian isn’t doing this because he’s greedy or selfish or any of the reasons you think. He’s doing it because he wants to share climbing with other people. And because his dad was going to buy the canyon and destroy it for mining.”

“Wait. Ian bought the canyon so his father wouldn’t destroy it?” Carter asked. “So he, like, used his dad’s own money to get the better of him?”

“Ian has his own money,” she said. “He doesn’t need his dad’s.”

The silence stretched. People began to drift away, back to the search and rescue vehicles.

“Let me know if you do hear anything,” Jake said.

He turned away, and the rest of the crowd dispersed. Bethany intercepted her brother. “You’d tell me if you heard of someone trying to hurt Ian, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“What? Of course!”

She wanted to believe him, but Carter was good at keeping things to himself when it suited him. “Tell Mom and Dad I went to the hospital in Junction to see Ian,” she said. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

“No.” The thought of facing the possibility of a horribly injured Ian filled her with dread, but this was one time when her family couldn’t help her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“We’ve taped your ribs, which should help you be a little more comfortable. Ice and anti-inflammatories and rest until they heal.”

Ian looked up from the emergency room bed at the young doctor standing beside him. “How long will that be?”

“At least a month. Maybe longer. If your symptoms don’t resolve within six weeks or they worsen, contact your doctor.”

A month was a long time to be limited in what he could do, but Ian knew from previous injuries that if he wanted to climb again, he had to obey doctor’s orders. “I’m a fast healer,” he said.

The doctor’s look said he wasn’t impressed. “You’ve got a lot of bruising that will be pretty sore for a few days, and you’ve got six stitches in your right thigh from a jagged tear,” he said. “You should see your primary care physician to have those removed in a week to ten days.” He patted Ian’s shoulder. “You’re a very lucky man. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you hadn’t landed on that ledge.”

“I guess not.” He didn’t call it luck that he had fallen in the first place. Someone had tampered with those catwalk supports, he was sure.

“I’m going to discharge you. You’re free to get dressed, though you’ll need someone to drive you home.”

The doctor was on his way out of the room when two men in uniform entered. Sergeant Gage Walker and Deputy Aaron Ames approached Ian’s hospital bed.

“How are you feeling?” Gage asked.

“Better than I was when they brought me in here,” Ian said.

“Are you up to talking about what happened and answering a few questions?” Gage asked.

“I’ll try,” he said. “Everything between the fall and arriving here at the hospital is a blur.”

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“I climbed up to take a look at the supports the construction crew had just set for the catwalk. I was walking on the supports when one of them gave way and I fell. I’m sure someone cut through the supports deliberately. The first couple were fine, but the ones at the end wouldn’t hold me. Has anyone taken a look at them?”

“One of the search and rescue people said he looked at them, and he agreed with you they’d been cut,” Aaron said.

“Did you see anyone else in or around the canyon that morning?” Gage asked. “Anyone who might have tampered with the supports?”

Something niggled at the back of Ian’s mind. He tried to bring it into focus. “There was someone…a kid.” He sat up straighter, the memory clearer. “I had just stepped onto the supports when I looked down by my trailer and saw this kid. I told him he needed to leave, and he did.”

“When you say a kid, how old do you think?” Gage asked.

“It was hard to tell from that distance. Maybe a young teen. Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“Had you seen him before?” Aaron asked.

“No.”

“Someone—the dispatcher said it sounded like a young person, maybe a teenager—called 911 to report a climber had fallen in Humboldt Canyon,” Gage said. “Do you think it could have been the same person?”

“Maybe.” Another memory surfaced, dim and mixed up. “I thought I heard someone shouting at me after I fell. But everything was pretty fuzzy by then. I was in and out of consciousness, I think.”

“We’ll try to find this kid and see what he has to say,” Gage said.

“Why would a kid cut through those supports?” Aaron asked.

“It wouldn’t have been easy,” Ian said. “He’d have to climb to the scaffolding and bring something to cut them with—a torch, maybe.”

“Did you hear anything unusual last night or early this morning?” Gage asked.

“No. But I’m a pretty sound sleeper.”

“Have you had any more threats?” he asked.

“No,” Ian said. “It’s been quiet.”

“We weren’t able to learn any more about the note threatening to harm Bethany Ames,” Gage said.

“We’re keeping Bethany safe,” Aaron said.

“That’s what I want, too,” Ian said. He met Aaron’s gaze, and the deputy was the first to look away.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Gage asked.

“Hello?”

Ian turned toward the door, and there was Bethany, still in her search and rescue uniform, her hair in two braids, framing her face. She glanced at Aaron and Gage. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“We were just leaving,” Gage said.

“What are you doing here?” Aaron demanded.

“I came to see Ian.” She sent her brother a defiant look, then strode over to Ian’s bed, bent and kissed him on the lips.

* * *

Steam wasn’t exactly coming out of Aaron’s ears, but he definitely looked uncomfortable, Bethany thought, as she perched on the side of Ian’s bed.

“We have to go,” Gage said, and Aaron reluctantly followed.

“That was the best medicine I’ve had all day,” Ian said. “Even if you kissed me to get a rise out of your brother.”

“That wasn’t the only reason—I promise.” She patted his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. They’re kicking me out of here. I need to get dressed.”

“Need any help?” The look she sent gave him something to think about beside his aches and pains.

“I think I can manage. But I could use a ride back to the canyon.”

“I can do that.”

“Thanks.” His expression sobered. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, though. It must have been a shock.”

“It was.” She cleared her throat. “The paramedics told us they were pretty sure you were still breathing, but until someone could climb up there, we didn’t know how bad off you were. What did the doctor say?”

“I’ve got a couple of broken ribs and a few stitches in my thigh. Nothing that won’t heal in a few weeks.”

“What happened? Tony said someone cut through some supports where you were climbing.”

“I think so. No idea who, though.”

“Is that why Aaron and Gage were here?”

“Yes. They wanted to find out what I knew.”

“Why would someone cut the catwalk supports?” she asked. “They couldn’t have known you would climb up there.”

“No. But the construction crew would have been up there to finish the work. One of them might have been hurt or even killed. Even if they had noticed the damage right away, it’s going to set back the project—probably a few days. They’ll have to remove the damaged support, cut new ones and install them.”

“This isn’t peaceful protesting,” she said.

“No. Someone really wants this project to stop. If we learn why, maybe we can figure out who’s responsible.”

“I still think Walt Spies is suspicious,” she said.

“I can’t see him climbing up to cut those beams,” Ian said. “He must be at least seventy.”

“There are plenty of seventy-year-olds in this town who are in great shape. Craig Boston was on a challenging trail when he injured his ankle the other day.”

“I can’t see why Walt would go to so much trouble. He’s in a position to vote against the project—and probably to influence other commissioners to join him. He doesn’t have to risk his own safety to attack me and my project.”

They fell silent. Bethany weighed the wisdom of saying what was on her mind, then decided she had to go for it. “What about your dad? You said he was upset that you outbid him for the property.”

“He was. He is. He hasn’t spoken to me since it happened, but that’s not unusual. Unlike your family, mine isn’t close. Dad pretty much disinherited me when I chose climbing over a job in the family business. It’s one reason my grandmother bypassed him and left all her money to me. But it was something else for him to resent.”

“Would your father hire someone to sabotage the via ferrata—as a way to get back at you or to force you to give up? Then maybe he could buy the property and mine it?”

“I don’t know. I hate to think of it, but maybe he would.”

“I’m sorry.” Bethany rubbed his hand again. “I have a confession to make,” she said. She had to get this out before she lost her nerve. “Promise you won’t be angry with me.”

“Why would I be angry?”

“I told some people—well, search and rescue volunteers and Deputy Jake Gwynn—the reason you purchased the canyon. I mean, I told them you wanted to build the via ferrata so all kinds of people could enjoy climbing. But I also told them about your dad wanting to destroy the canyon by mining it and how you bought it to save it.”

Ian closed his eyes and said nothing. He was so pale, his features sharpened by suffering.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have told you like this, when you’re in pain. I know I promised not to tell anyone, but I couldn’t stand there and have them all thinking you were only building the via ferrata out of greed or selfishness. I wanted them to know you’re not like that.”

He opened his eyes again. “It’s okay,” he said. “I know you meant well.”

“Do you want me to leave now?”

Ian took her hand. “No. Stay.” He even managed a smile. “It’s okay. Really. I doubt anything you said will change very many people’s minds. I learned that when I got into competitive climbing. People believe what they want to believe about you, all evidence to the contrary.”

“I overheard some climbers talking one day. They said you had a bad reputation in the climbing community.”

His expression darkened. “I like to think I have a good reputation with most people in the climbing world, but I have my enemies, and they like to tell unflattering stories. What did you hear?”

“Something about you moving someone else’s anchors?”

“Tyler Grey. I didn’t move his anchors, but he’s convinced that I did. He set a route, and I climbed it a couple of days after he did. There were no anchors then, and I said something to him about it. Because I pointed out they were missing, he jumped to the conclusion that I had removed them.”

“So who did remove them?”

“There was a group of environmentalists in the area at the time who were lobbying hard for legislation to prevent the installation of permanent anchors in climbing areas. My guess is one of them removed the anchors, but I don’t know for sure. But Tyler spread the story that I had taken them, and his friends believed him. I didn’t waste a lot of breath defending myself, and some people took that as an admission of guilt.”

“There was something else about bailing on an expedition you organized.”

He groaned.

“Are you okay?” She stood. “Should I call a nurse?”

“I’m just disgusted that story is still around.”

She sat again. “What happened?”

“I did organize an expedition to climb Mount Khuiten, in Mongolia. And I did drop out at the last minute. Because my mother was in a car wreck and ended up in the hospital. People always leave out that part of the story.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Some of them lost a lot of money on airfare and stuff. I offered to reimburse them, but that wasn’t good enough for some of them. Money can do a lot of good things, but it can also make people mean.”

“Do you think any of them could be behind what’s going on in the canyon?”

“I doubt it.” He sighed. “I’ll make some calls, see if I can find out what Tyler and a couple of others who had it in for me are up to, and I’ll try to get a read on my dad’s attitude toward me these days. There’s something else I’ve been thinking about, though.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Maybe these threats and vandalism and even the shot that was fired at me and Aaron aren’t related to the via ferrata at all but to us finding those skeletons,” he said.

“Gerald and Abby have been dead fifty years.”

“That doesn’t mean whoever killed them isn’t still alive. They’ve gotten away with murder for years because everyone who knew the Bostons thought they had moved away. I start work in the canyon and find those skeletons, and all of a sudden the killer might be discovered.”

“It wasn’t your fault that cave opened up. The mudslide a few months ago did that.”

“Right. But maybe there’s something else in the canyon the killer doesn’t want to come to light.”

“Or maybe they’ve heard we’ve been asking around about Abby and Gerald,” she said. “That might explain why I was threatened, too.”

“Or maybe the culprit really is a disgruntled climber who doesn’t want me to build the via ferrata.”

“Let’s hope the sheriff’s department comes up with something.” She stood. “I’ll step out for a few minutes so you can get dressed. Then I’ll take you home.”

While he was focused on seeing the via ferrata project through to completion, she would do a little more digging into the history of the area and the people associated with it on her own.

When Ian’s phone rang Monday afternoon, he debated not answering it. He was almost at the point where he couldn’t deal with one more thing. But he knew better than to think ignoring this particular caller would give him any peace. He clicked to answer. “Hello, Dad.”

“I heard you’re up to your elbows in alligators with this iron road project of yours.” Phillip Seabrook had a sharp, clipped way of speaking, emphasizing each word and talking a little louder than necessary. “I called to see if you were ready to cry uncle and let me bail you out.”

“You heard wrong,” Ian said. “Everything is going smoothly.”

“Ha! Don’t ever try to beat me in a poker game, son. You’re a terrible bluffer,” he said. “I can read, you know, and that little newspaper in Eagle Mountain reports that the locals have been protesting against your climbing playground and one of them almost died. Not to mention two skeletons found in a cave up there before you even broke ground. You’ve had enough bad publicity already to sink this project. I’m offering you a chance to get out while you’re ahead. Go back to climbing mountains in Peru.”

“No, thanks, Dad.” He tried to sound snide, but no one could layer on the disdain like his old man.

“You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

“You won’t get an offer like this from anyone else,” Phil said. “Of course, I’ll give you less than you paid for the place, but that’s to be expected since the property has a negative history now, what with finding dead bodies and people being almost killed.”

I was one of those people, he wanted to point out but didn’t. “If you think people in Eagle Mountain are going to welcome your mining project more than they’ve welcomed my plans for a via ferrata, you’re dreaming,” he said.

“The difference, son, is that I don’t care what the locals think. I’ll promise a lot of jobs and deliver on that promise, and I’ll be sure to contribute a lot of money to every local cause. They’ll hate me for a while, but by the time I’m done pouring on the cash, they’ll love me. I’ll own them and I’ll own their politicians, and I’ll be even richer from all the rare earth metals I’m going to pull out of the ground.”

“What happens when you’ve mined all the metals from the canyon?” Ian asked.

“I’ll throw more money their way to do what they want to about cleaning up the problem, and I’ll move on.”

“I’m staying right here,” Ian said.

“You’re so transparent,” Phil said. “I can sense your disapproval through the line. But you’re not any better than I am, deep down. You’re building your own climbing playground in the canyon and deigning to share it with the locals. At least the things I do feed more than my ego.”

“Why are you calling about this now, Dad?”

“Isn’t that clear? I thought you’d be ready to sell out.”

“But why call today? Did you know I just got out of the hospital?”

“The sheriff’s deputy who contacted me might have mentioned it. Did you really think I’m the one behind your accident?”

The sheriff’s department was leaving no stone unturned in their search for the person responsible for the vandalism. “I don’t know, Dad. You always said you did whatever it takes to succeed.”

“That doesn’t include harming my own son, even if you don’t have sense enough to give up on a bad idea. Sell out to me and go back to roaming the world. There must be a few peaks you haven’t climbed yet. Or you could finally wise up and come to work for me.”

They were back to an old argument, one Ian would never win. “I have to go, Dad.” He didn’t wait for an answer and ended the call.

His hands were shaking. He laid aside the phone and tried to focus on his breathing. He shouldn’t let his dad get to him like this. But it still galled that while his father had raised him, he didn’t know Ian at all.

He tried to focus on the computer screen and the presentation he was making to the county commissioners when they considered his operating permit. Despite a few setbacks, Ian thought the via ferrata would be ready in a couple of weeks. But his dad’s voice crowded out everything else.

If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you weren’t even my son. The incident that had prompted this outburst? Ian’s winning the top prize at a regional climbing competition when he’d been fifteen. Though he and his dad had had their share of disagreements over Ian’s devotion to climbing by that point, Ian had been sure his father, who liked nothing better than beating out the competition, would appreciate that he had come in first.

According to Phil, climbing rocks—even if the rocks were mountains—was a pastime for kids and losers. Phil had wanted Ian to come to work for him, to learn the ins and outs of dealmaking and leveraged buyouts, gamesmanship and climbing to the top of the business heap, by any means possible. When Ian had said he wasn’t interested, a wall had gone up between father and son that Ian had never succeeded in scaling.

He knew his dad would never love climbing. Ian only wanted the man to respect that the sport was important to him. Climbing had introduced him to the sensation of conquering something greater than himself, triumphant yet also humbled by the vastness of creation. He wanted to introduce others to that feeling. He wanted to shape Humboldt Canyon to a purpose yet respect it. That was something his father could never understand.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bethany had offered to bring dinner for herself and Ian Monday evening and to help him with any paperwork relating to the via ferrata project, but he’d turned her down. “I wouldn’t be very good company right now,” he’d said. “I’m going to rest and take it easy.”

She’d wanted to tell him that she saw through this transparent attempt to keep her away from Humboldt Canyon but held her tongue. He probably did need to rest and recover from his injuries, and she had things she wanted to do.

An attractive, middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Brenda greeted Bethany at the historical society. “I’d like to look through some older issues of the Eagle Mountain Examiner,” Bethany said. “From the 1970s.”

“Of course.” Brenda led the way to the archives. “Is there something in particular I could help you find?”

“It’s for genealogical research,” Bethany said. She had decided not to mention Gerald and Abby. She didn’t want to explain her admittedly far-fetched theory that their deaths fifty years ago might be linked to Ian’s troubles in Humboldt Canyon today.

“Here are the older issues of the paper.” Brenda showed her the large folders. “Let me know if I can help you with anything else.”

Bethany selected a folder and carried it to the worktable at the center of the room. The newspaper pages were yellowing and fragile, filled with images and articles from a time that she knew only from old television shows and movies. Eagle Mountain appeared on the page like a fictional small town, full of smiling cheerleaders, winning basketball players, hand-shaking city councilmen and women showing off flowers they had grown or prize-winning recipes. She saw no people of color, no females in positions of leadership and no mention of crime or controversy.

After pages of such blandness, the shock of a headline about a house fire, complete with accompanying photos of a building ablaze, startled her.

“Fire Destroys Newlyweds’ Home,” declared the bold headline. The home of Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Boston was consumed Wednesday evening in a blaze authorities suspect was the work of an arsonist.

Bethany checked the date. This had to be near the time Abby and Gerald had disappeared.

She turned her attention back to the newspaper. The couple escaped with only the clothing on their backs. They were asleep when the fire woke them and were able to escape out their bedroom window. The sheriff’s department has no suspects at this time.

She flipped through the issues of the paper that followed but found no further mention of this mysterious fire. Chin in hand, she tried to remember what else Craig Boston had told her about Gerald. She selected the folder for the previous year’s issues of the newspaper and flipped through it. Long minutes passed as she searched each issue, only the rustle of dry newsprint and a distant clock striking four interrupting her reading.

She stopped when she located a small headline: “Local Woman Injured When Car Tire Crushes Her Leg.”

Katherine Boston, 24, of 126 Bluebell Court, was hospitalized Friday after an accident in which the tire of a vehicle she had been riding in crushed her leg. Mrs. Boston says she was exiting the vehicle when the parking brake failed and the car moved forward. The momentum pushed her to the ground, and the tire rolled over her right leg and crushed it. She was found shortly after by her husband, Gerald Boston, and rushed to the hospital.

Bethany frowned. The article almost made it sound like Katherine had been driving the car. Or maybe Gerald. No mention of another man or if Katherine had been drinking.

She continued to search the papers and stopped again on a very small legal notice: A divorce was granted to Gerald F. Boston and Katherine E. Boston of Eagle Mountain.

Had her injury, possibly while intoxicated and possibly while out with another man, been the last straw for Gerald? Less than a year later, he had married Abby, and shortly after that, someone had set fire to their house. And not much later, the couple had disappeared. According to Craig—and the lack of any mention in the newspaper in the weeks after their disappearance seemed to back this up—everyone assumed they had simply left town. No one suspected murder, and their killer’s secret had laid buried for five decades.

Brenda entered the room. “We’re going to close soon. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I think so, yes.” Bethany closed the folder and stood. “Thanks for your help.”

Outside, clouds had rolled in, darkening the sky except for the occasional flash of lightning. She hurried along the empty sidewalk, the threat of rain apparently having chased most people indoors. It was downright eerie, being out here by herself.

Then she realized she wasn’t alone. Other footsteps echoed behind her, though when she turned to look back, the sidewalk was empty. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she held her breath. But only the throb of her own pulse sounded in her ears.

She shook herself and continued down the street. The weather had been beautiful when she’d left her apartment earlier, but her decision to walk to the historical society didn’t seem like such a great one now.

That echo again—definitely footsteps.

Bethany whirled around and caught a glimpse of someone disappearing into an alley. “Who’s there?” she called.

No answer. She started toward the alley, then thought better of it, a vision of herself being yanked into that narrow, dark space sending her hurrying in the opposite direction.

When she reached Peak Jeep Tours she was relieved to see Dalton out front, washing off one of the Jeeps. “Trying to get the worst of this mud off before the storm,” he said as he directed the hose nozzle toward the mud-caked rear tires.

Any other time, she might have pointed out the rain would likely wash off the mud, but she didn’t have the energy for that now. She tried to slip past him, wanting to call Ian and tell him what she had learned at the historical society.

“Where have you been?” Dalton asked over the gush of water.

“Shopping,” she lied.

“What did you buy?”

“Nothing.” She watched in silence as he continued to rinse mud from the Jeep. “Can I ask you something?”

He shut off the water and turned to her. “Go ahead.”

“You seem to be okay with Ian. Why is Carter so against him?”

“He doesn’t really hate Ian,” Dalton said. “I think he’s a little envious because Ian’s getting all the attention from the local women that he used to get.”

“He’s jealous of Ian?” In a way, it made sense. Carter was good looking and charming, and when he had first moved to Eagle Mountain, every woman in town had seemed to go out of her way to stop by the tour company to introduce herself. He’d kept a busy social calendar for months, but come to think of it, he didn’t seem to be going out as much anymore.

“He’ll get over it,” Dalton said. “It looks to me like Ian isn’t interested in those other women. They’ll figure that out soon enough and be back to fawning over Carter.”

“You really think Ian is the reason Carter hasn’t been dating as much lately?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Dalton said. “It’s what Carter thinks. He got used to all the attention when he first came here, and now it’s disappeared. It’s probably because the novelty of a new guy in town wore off or because he dated everybody in the small-town dating pool. But it’s easier to blame Ian. Plus, Carter would give his left ear to have a car like Ian’s Porsche.”

“What about you?”

“Nah, I’d rather have a Jeep.”

“You’re a new guy in town, too,” she said. “And you’re Carter’s twin. Why aren’t the women fawning over you? Or are they?”

“Nonidentical twin. I don’t have Carter’s smooth-talking charm. And I don’t really want to juggle a bunch of women. One is enough for me.”

“Any particular one in mind?” she asked.

“No. But I’ll know when I meet her. Until then, I’m keeping my options open.” His expression sobered. “But seriously, Bethany, be careful with Ian.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think he’s a bad guy, but you don’t really think he’s going to stay with you, do you?”

“You don’t think I’m good enough for him?” It was a good thing her brother had moved away because if he hadn’t, she would have been tempted to kick him.

“You have to be realistic,” he said. “You want the house and family and living happily ever after right here in Eagle Mountain. Ian has spent his adult life traveling the world, dating supermodels and conquering mountains. He’s not going to be happy with the kind of life you want. You two might have fun for a while, but he’s going to leave, and then you’ll be hurt.” Dalton spread his hands wide. “I don’t want that. You’ve already been hurt once. Don’t set yourself up to go through that again.”

She wanted to tell him that wasn’t going to happen. Ian had said he could depend on her. Didn’t that mean she could depend on him? But the truth of Carter’s words was like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She was famous for letting her feelings overrule logic. Was she making the same mistake with Ian?

* * *

“We found the kid who called 911 the night you fell,” Gage said. He’d invited Ian into his office Tuesday to update him on the latest in their investigation of the vandalism in Humboldt Canyon. “He said he was there that day because he wanted to see the via ferrata, figured he could sneak in and take a look after the construction workers left. He didn’t know you were living there.”

Ian scratched the back of his head. “I can’t really see a kid cutting through the supports on that catwalk. How old is he? How big is he?”

“Not big, and not that old—twelve,” Gage said. “We don’t think he’s responsible for the vandalism. He was pretty terrified when we questioned him. His mom and dad came with him. They seemed like good parents, and he’s a good kid.”

“I owe him for calling in the accident. No telling how long I would have lain there if he hadn’t.”

“How are the ribs?” the sergeant asked.

Ian shifted. “They’re okay.” He had dealt with worse. “Did this kid see anyone else lurking around that day?”

“He says he didn’t.” Gage sat back, studying him for so long Ian began to feel uncomfortable.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We talked to your father,” Gage said. “He said he was in Paris the night you were injured…and for four days prior to that.”

“He called me.”

“Did he say anything you want to share with me?”

“He told me to quit while I was ahead and offered to buy me out. About what I expected from him.”

“Is it possible your father hired someone to harass you into giving up on the via ferrata project?” Gage asked.

Ian had spent too many hours asking himself this same question. “Anything is possible with my dad. He’s known for being ruthless when it comes to his business dealings. And he and I don’t see eye to eye on most things. But I’m still his son. He doesn’t want me dead.”

“Do you think someone else wants you to quit and they’re behind these attacks?”

“Maybe. But I don’t know who.” Another question he had wasted too much time trying to answer. “What about Walt Spies? Did you talk to him?”

“Walt was at a planning commission work session that afternoon into evening.”

“So we have no idea who’s doing these things.”

“You could set up cameras,” Gage said. “That might help you see if anyone is messing around.”

Ian groaned. “I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that before.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to his notes app. “I’ll see about getting some installed.”

“Let us know if you see anything of interest,” Gage said. “Have you had any more problems at the job site or at your trailer?”

“No. The catwalk is repaired. The construction foreman says it’s stronger than ever. We should have most of the structures complete by the end of next week. Then it’s a matter of installing pit toilets, a building for a welcome center and gift shop, and delineating a parking area. As soon as the county approves my operating permit, I’ll advertise for employees.”

“You seem pretty sure the county is going to grant the operating permit.”

“They don’t have any real reason not to.”

“Reason and politics don’t always mix. Even locally.” Gage stood. “Thanks for stopping in. We’ll keep looking into this, but so far we don’t have much to go on.”

Ian left the sheriff’s department. The conversation hadn’t reassured him that he and the via ferrata were safe from further damage. He would only brood on the possibilities if he returned to the canyon. He needed something to take his mind off himself—he needed to see Bethany.

Bethany and her mother were reviewing something on the computer when Ian entered the tour company office later that afternoon.

“Hello, Mr. Seabrook,” Mrs. Ames said. “Can I help you with something?”

“Hi, Ian,” Bethany said. “I was going to call you when I got off work. I’ll be done here in a few minutes.” She focused on the computer, typing rapidly.

“You’re going out?” Mrs. Ames asked her.

“We are.” She glanced at Ian. “Right?”

“Right.”

Yesterday she had called and suggested they get together. She had hinted at news to share but refused to reveal more, saying, “I want to tell you in person.”

Bethany hit a few more keys, then stood. “Let me grab my purse.”

She exited the room, leaving Ian alone with her mother, who folded her arms across her chest and scrutinized him. Ian tried to think of something to say but drew a blank. He wasn’t used to trying to impress others. His family name or his fortune, his car and even his climbing prowess were usually enough to make a good impression. What could he say that would reassure Mrs. Ames that he was a good person?

“I know some people think we’re overprotective,” she said. “But Bethany is our only daughter. She almost died when she was born, and that made her even more precious to us. If you have children one day, you’ll understand.”

“I think a lot of Bethany,” he said. “I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Mrs. Ames’s expression didn’t soften, though she did uncross her arms. “You’d better not,” she said.

“I’m ready.” Bethany hurried into the room, headed for the door. “Bye, Mom. See you tomorrow.”

Ian might have been imagining things, but he would have sworn he felt Mrs. Ames’s gaze drilling holes in his back as he followed her daughter to his Jeep.

“I overheard what Mom told you,” Bethany said as she buckled her seat belt. “I can’t believe she dragged out that story about me almost dying.”

“I’m sure that was very traumatic for your parents,” he said.

“I’m twenty-three. You’d think they’d be over it by now.”

“I can’t blame them for loving you. I’d have given anything when I was growing up if my parents paid that much attention to me.”

“But you’re an only child, right? Weren’t you spoiled rotten?”

He shook his head. “My parents were too involved in their own lives to waste much effort on me. I had nannies, then went to boarding school and summer camps. My grandmother was the only person who was close to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

The pity in her voice tore at the long-buried hurt he didn’t like to examine too often. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” he said. “I learned to be independent from a young age. But watching my parents also made me think how I’d treat my own children differently.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a good father,” she said.

He didn’t answer. It unsettled him even more, talking about children with her. As if they were discussing their own children. The idea wasn’t an awful one. She would make a good mother. One day. In the future. After he had established the via ferrata and returned to traveling around the world to climb.

That had always been the plan—to spend a few months in Eagle Mountain, getting the project off the ground, then move on to another location, even another country. He wasn’t ready to settle down in one small town.

But the thought of leaving Bethany set his heart racing. He couldn’t decide which upset him more—the thought of never leaving or the thought of never seeing her again.

Ian cleared his throat. “What would you like to do?”

“Let’s go to the cemetery.”

He thought he was getting used to Bethany’s quirks—her impulsivity and outspokenness, and her sometimes imaginative view of a situation. But this caught him off guard. “Is there something at the cemetery you want me to see?”

“We can walk around and talk there and not be disturbed. It’s a beautiful place.”

“So is the park.”

She grinned. “And I want to look for Katherine Boston’s grave.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

“Okay.” He shifted the Jeep into gear. “To the cemetery.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bethany gave Ian credit for not freaking out when she’d suggested an afternoon at a graveyard. He’d even waited until they’d turned into the parking area for the cemetery before saying anything else. “Now do you want to tell me why we’re here?” he asked.

She told him about her visit to the historical society and what she had learned about the accident that had damaged Katherine’s leg as well as the fire at the newly wed Gerald and Abby’s home.

“If they went missing only a short time after someone tried to burn down their house, why wasn’t law enforcement more suspicious when they disappeared?” Ian asked. “Why didn’t they at least investigate the possibility of foul play?”

“Maybe because the family said Abby and Gerald had talked about moving to get away from Katherine’s harassment,” Bethany said. “I wonder if the sheriff questioned Katherine about the fire. I know she couldn’t walk long distances, but maybe she could have set the fire?”

“I don’t know if they have records going back that far, but we could ask,” Ian said.

“I also found the official notice of Gerald and Katherine’s divorce,” she said. “It was granted six months after Katherine’s leg was injured, a year before Gerald married Abby.”

“We know Gerald remarried,” Ian said. “Did Katherine?”

“If she did, I didn’t find any mention of it. But we know there were rumors she had a boyfriend—someone who could have set that fire for her and maybe even have murdered Gerald and Abby.” Excitement zinged through her. “I wonder how we could find out if she was seeing anyone special.”

“When did she die?” he asked.

“Nineteen eighty-five.”

“There might be something in her obituary, maybe mention of a close male friend.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Bethany said. “I’ll have to go back to the historical society.”

“There’s no guarantee he would be listed in the obituary if they never married,” Ian said. He turned into the parking area for the cemetery. “And she died ten years after Gerald and Abby. If she did have someone acting on her behalf to exact revenge, that person might have been out of the picture by then.”

Eagle’s Rest Memorial Park was a tree-shaded expanse of ground near the river, dotted with grave markers and monuments. Ian and Bethany stopped just inside the entrance and stared at the neat rows of graves. “How are we going to find her?” she asked.

“I guess we start walking and reading,” he said and led the way down the nearest aisle between graves.

They located Katherine Boston’s headstone after only fifteen minutes. Beneath her name and dates of birth and death was a single word: Beloved.

“Whoa!” Bethany gripped Ian’s arm. “Beloved of whom? A lover?”

“Or a relative or friend,” he said. “Beloved can mean a lot of things.”

“Who’s buried nearby?” she asked. “That might give us a clue.”

They scanned the graves to either side. One was a family of five named Creech, the dates of their deaths ranging from 1916 to 2018. On the other side was a man named Davies and his wife.

“Maybe she was Davies’s mistress?” Bethany asked.

“Except he died a year before she did.” Ian pointed out the date. “His wife died two years later, but I doubt she would have agreed to put her husband’s mistress next to him or order a grave marker with the word beloved.”

“I see what you mean.” She returned to stand in front of Katherine’s grave. After a moment, she straightened. “I just realized something,” she said.

“What is it?” Ian asked.

“Whoever loved Katherine, that person is still alive.”

“How do you—” Then he saw the flowers laid at the base of the marker. A bouquet of daisies, still fresh.

It stood out in the row of otherwise unadorned graves. Bethany knelt and checked the wrapping around the bouquet. “No indication of a florist,” she said. She looked around. “Let’s check that building over there. Maybe there’s an attendant or something.”

Before they reached the building, they encountered a man by a shed, filling a lawnmower with gasoline. “Do you work here?” Bethany asked.

The man straightened. He was very tall—six inches taller, if not more, than Ian, who was at least six feet. He had long arms, long legs and a long face with deep lines alongside his mouth. “I’m the caretaker,” the man said. “Can I help you?”

“We were visiting a grave,” Bethany said. “Katherine Boston. She’s over there.” She pointed toward the row that contained Katherine’s site. “And we noticed fresh flowers on her grave. Do you know who brought them?”

“Why do you want to know?” the man asked.

“Um, so I can thank them,” she said. “It’s such a nice thing to do.”

The caretaker didn’t say anything.

“Do you know who put the flowers on Ms. Boston’s grave?” Ian asked.

“Don’t know,” the man said and picked up the gas can once more.

“Have you seen anyone around her grave?” Bethany asked. “With or without flowers?”

The man shook his head and returned to pouring gas into the mower.

Ian took her arm. “Let’s go.”

Back at the Jeep, Bethany could scarcely contain her agitation. “I’m sure Katherine is the key to this mystery,” she said. “She was the woman scorned. Craig said she hated Gerald enough to kill him.”

Ian unlocked the Jeep, and they got in. “It’s a big step from resenting a former spouse to murdering him and his new wife in a remote canyon,” he said. “We know Katherine couldn’t have committed the crime herself. And we don’t know if she really had a friend who would have helped.”

“The logical part of my mind knows you’re right.” She grinned at him. “And yes, I do have a logical part of my mind.”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“Thank you for that, but I know I tend to rely more on impulse and instinct. I can’t shake the feeling that Katherine is involved in the murder somehow.”

“It happened such a long time ago,” Ian said. “Without DNA or some other conclusive evidence, you’ll probably never know what happened for certain.”

“Maybe not, but I think it’s important for us to try to find out.”

He angled his body toward her. “Why is it important?” he asked. “I really want to know.”

She glanced at him, then looked back at her hands, clenched in her lap. “This is going to sound silly…”

“Tell me and let me decide that,” he said.

She drew in a deep breath. “The way Gerald and Abby died was so horrible—all alone in that cave. And no one even looked for them for fifty years. Then we found them. That connects us with them, in a weird way. I think if we could find out who killed them, even if that person is long dead and can’t be punished for the crime, it would be a way of finally laying them to rest. Of giving them the peace they deserve.”

“That’s very sweet of you, to want to do that for them,” he said.

“And maybe silly. But there’s another reason to look for their killer. Maybe an even more important one.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You said it before—the vandalism and the attacks on you might not be because someone is opposed to the via ferrata project,” she said. “Maybe you’ve been targeted because you uncovered the killer’s secret.”

“I was only speculating. So you really think their killer is still alive and here in Eagle Mountain?”

“Why not? They would be older now—in their seventies or even eighties. But they could still be worried you’ll find out their secret and they’ll go to prison. It’s reason enough to threaten you.”

“As far as I know, the sheriff’s department doesn’t have a single suspect in Gerald and Abby’s murder,” Ian said. “I can’t see the murderer has anything to worry about.”

“Except that all these years, no one has even known there was a murder. The killer was perfectly safe. Now people are starting to ask questions. At least…you and I are asking questions. That’s making the killer nervous. If they can shut us up, maybe they can make this all go away.” She frowned. “I’m not saying that makes a lot of sense, but someone who would kill two innocent people and leave them in a cave for fifty years has to be a little unbalanced.”

He went very still. “If what you’re saying is true, you could be in real danger,” he said.

“So could you. So are you. Someone already tried to shoot you, and you could have been killed, falling off that catwalk.”

“Someone shot at me. And at your brother, the cop. And only broke a window. That doesn’t seem like a very serious attempt at murder to me. And the catwalk was more likely to injure one of the construction workers than me. Whoever sawed through those supports couldn’t have known I would climb up there. I didn’t even know I would until I did it.”

“The only thing that’s happened to me is someone sent a lame note.” She didn’t mention the feeling yesterday that she was being followed. That had probably just been her imagination.

He didn’t answer, only looked at her with a pained expression.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“I can’t decide if I need to tell you to stay away from me for your own safety or if it would be better for me to keep you close. At least then you’d have someone trying to protect you.”

“I have an entire overprotective family, remember?”

“No offense, but I’m not sure how much defense they would be against a killer.”

“Is there something else about you I need to know? A black belt in karate or training as a Navy SEAL that you neglected to mention?”

He pulled her close. “Haven’t you figured out that I’m incredibly stubborn? I don’t give up when it comes to scaling mountains, and I won’t give up going after anyone who tries to hurt you.”

Bethany had read about how love made people weak in the knees, but she had never experienced it before. If Ian hadn’t been holding her upright, she might have slid right out of her seat. “I never feel safer than when I’m with you,” she said, the words just above a whisper.

He kissed her, a kiss full of so much passion and tenderness and need that she wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go. When he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, she said. “I choose option B.”

He blinked. “What were the options again?”

“Staying with you.” She stroked one finger down his cheek, feeling the afternoon stubble against her skin, an erotic sensation, as if that same stubble was brushing against every nerve. “Let’s go back to your place,” she said. “Now.”

* * *

Ian wanted to figure out why sex with Bethany was so different. It was passionate and intense and satisfying, but it was different. For one thing, she talked while they made love. Not in an annoying way. She made him talk, too, about things he hadn’t spent much time verbalizing to anyone—what they liked to do in bed. What they didn’t like to do. How they thought about life and themselves.

And Bethany made him laugh. She had a wicked sense of humor that was sweet with a spicy kick. She made bad puns and told risqué jokes, and somehow that turned him on even more. She made sex fun. When they lay together afterward, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her, he thought he might know what people meant by the word bliss.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “What do you have to eat?”

Ian tried to think what was in his refrigerator. “Probably not much,” he said. “We could go out to eat.”

“I don’t want to wait that long.” She sat up and reached for her shirt. “Let’s see what you have.”

What he had was a can of tomato soup, some slightly stale bread and a lot of cheese. He was still protesting that they should go out while Bethany was opening the soup and making sandwiches. Ten minutes later, they were eating grilled cheese and hot soup.

“Sorry I couldn’t offer something better,” he said. “I don’t cook much.”

“This is perfect.” She grinned at him. “This whole evening is perfect.”

After they ate, they wandered back into the living room/office. He was going to suggest they watch a movie when she sat down at his desk. She studied the notes he had made on a legal pad. “What are these?”

“I was playing around with some ideas for the public areas of the via ferrata. I want to highlight the history of the area.” He leaned over her and indicated some sketches he had made. “There are places that will take photographs and transform them into weatherproof plaques. I remember that the historical society had a lot of photographs related to the area. The sheriff’s department showed me one of some climbers in the canyon fifty years ago. I’d like to find more photos like that or even of ranchers or anyone who visited the canyon decades ago.

“I could affix the photos to the walls at different rest stops along the climbing route,” he continued. “People could read about the people in the photos. It would be something unique to this area.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.” She slid into the desk chair and studied the drawings more closely.

Ian reached over and pulled up a website showing the kinds of plaques he was considering. “What do you think of these?”

“I love it. I could go back to the historical society next week and look for more photos for you.”

He moved in behind her and put his hands on her shoulder. “I’ve been feeling guilty about asking you to help me while you’re still working for your family,” he said. “You deserve your free time.”

“I don’t mind helping. And I like learning more about the business.”

He knew she wasn’t just saying that. Bethany brought enthusiasm to everything she did. “Have you thought any more about coming to work for me?” he asked. “I need a smart person I can rely on.”

“To run the place while you’re away.”

He had said those words himself, so why did hearing them now make him feel like he had swallowed stones? “Even if I’m here, I need a good manager,” he said. “You’ll have a lot of freedom to make decisions. My dad and I don’t agree on a lot, but he taught me to hire good people, then let them alone to do the job they’re skilled at.”

“Do you really think that would work—me being your employee?” she asked.

“We’d find a way to make it work.”

“I want the job,” she said. “But I think I should wait until you have an opening date for the via ferrata before I tell my folks. They’ll need time to find someone else to do my job.”

“I’m willing to wait.”

Bethany turned back to the desk. There wasn’t anything significant about the conversation, but the air suddenly felt ten degrees cooler.

She rifled through a stack of invoices. “Do you want me to enter these on your books? I recognize the accounting program you’re using.”

“That would be great.”

She nodded and began sorting the invoices from miscellaneous notes, flyers and receipts. She studied a hand-written note. Ian leaned over her shoulder and read the note. “You can toss that,” he said. Weeks ago, he had been looking up flights to Argentina on a passing whim.

“Are you thinking of going to Argentina?” she asked. Her voice sounded strained.

“I was thinking of spending next winter there, climbing. But I haven’t decided yet.” He silently cursed himself the moment he said the words. He hadn’t decided anything for sure. At the time, Argentina had sounded great. He hadn’t been there in years. But now, with the via ferrata just starting and with this new relationship with Bethany, he was in no hurry to leave Eagle Mountain.

I should tell her that, he thought. “I—” he began. And his voice failed.

“I’ll bet Argentina is great,” she said. She gave him a big smile. “You’ll have to send me pictures.”

She turned away, and the moment was lost. Never mind. He had plenty of time to figure out how to tell her what she was coming to mean to him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ian isn’t like Justin. Bethany reminded herself of this over and over in the next few days, as she kept replaying their conversation about Argentina. He wasn’t pretending he wanted to stay with her forever only to yank that dream away at the last minute. Ian was being upfront with her. This was his life. He wasn’t a family man. He didn’t come from that kind of background. She knew what she was getting into. If she wanted to be with him now, these were the terms she had to accept.

Did that make her a strong woman or a fool for willingly walking toward pain instead of protecting herself and running away?

Maybe a little of both. She wanted to be strong and she wanted to guard her heart against hurt, but she didn’t know how to pull away from Ian when being with him felt so good. Not just making love to him, but talking to him. Laughing with him. Enjoying the way he looked at her, as if he truly liked everything about her, just as she was. He thought she was smart. Capable. Brave. He laughed at her terrible jokes and kissed her as if he never wanted to stop. Who would ever want to pull away from that?

All she knew to do was keep moving forward, enjoying the good feelings for as long as they lasted.

While Ian focused on overseeing the last of the construction in Humboldt Canyon, Bethany paid another visit to the Rayford County Historical Society. “I’m looking for an obituary and some photos,” she told Caleb.

“You’ll have to search the newspaper archives for the obituary,” he said. “Do you know when the person died?”

“I do.”

“That will make it easier. Let me show you our photography index.” He led the way to a computer in a back corner. “You can search our photo collection by the name of a person or place,” he explained. “We have thousands of photographs, most donated by area families, as well as some of the old newspaper archives. Your search will pull up a call number and a brief description. Give me that information, and I’ll pull the photos for you.”

“This is going to be easier than I thought,” she said.

She typed in her search terms and came up with a list of possible photos. She gave these to Caleb, then turned her attention to issues of the Eagle Mountain Examiner from 1985. She found the obituary for Katherine Boston, accompanied by a grainy black-and-white photo of an older woman with short hair and a stern expression.

Katherine Berringer Boston was born in 1950 in San Antonio, Texas, the beloved daughter of Jacob Berringer, a successful merchant, and his wife, Nina Leon Berringer. The family moved to Eagle Mountain, Colorado, when Katherine was ten, and she quickly became known as a local beauty. Many a man competed for her attention until she met the love of her life, Gerald Frankline Boston, of Denver, Colorado. After her marriage to Gerald, Katherine became involved in all the social organizations in town, including Eastern Star, the Women’s Club and the Arts Guild.

Tragedy struck the couple when Katherine was injured in an automobile accident, which left her unable to walk without difficulty for the rest of her life. She never fully regained her health and finally went to her reward. Internment at Eagle’s Rest Memorial Park, Eagle Mountain.

Bethany reread the words. No mention of Katherine and Gerald’s divorce. Anyone reading this would think they’d had a happy marriage. There was no list of survivors, either. No mysterious lover who might have committed murder on her behalf.

“Here are your photographs.” Caleb returned with a shallow tray full of envelopes, each envelope containing one or more photographs.

As she had hoped, her search for Humboldt Canyon had produced a trio of shots of climbers from the 1960s, complete with bell-bottom jeans, striped rugby shirts and long hair. “Their equipment looks pretty primitive compared to what we use today,” Caleb said as he laid out the photos on the table in front of her.

“No helmets,” she said. “And is that one guy barefoot?”

He peered more closely at the photo in question. “I think he is. They’re obviously having a blast.”

She also found some undated scenic shots taken in winter, showing icicles on the cliffs and snow deep on the rocks. “Can I get copies of all of these?” she asked.

“Sure. It takes a few days to a week to get them produced.”

“No hurry,” she said. “I’ll probably want some of these others, too.”

“I’ll go get the price sheet while you finish looking.”

Her searches for Abby Boston and Katherine Boston or Katherine Berringer yielded nothing. She had better luck with Gerald Boston. At the last minute, she did a search for Walter Spies. One of the photos associated with Walt was the same as a photo she had requested of Gerald.

The first photo of Gerald showed a young man with side-parted brown hair long enough to touch his shoulders and a thick moustache. He was pictured with a group of men labeled as employees of Atlas Mining. She didn’t recognize any of the others standing with him.

The next photograph showed a group of three men and three women dressed in jeans and T-shirts, standing with several saddled horses against a backdrop of rock. Someone had written a list of names in the margins of the photo in blue ink: Walt S., Gerald B., Craig B., Abby S., Kate B., Susan M.

Bethany leaned over the photo, trying to bring the small image into better focus. Walt S.—that had to be Walter Spies. He had been a handsome young man—square jawed, sandy haired and blue eyed. He held the reins of a big black horse, the woman identified as Susan M. on the other side of the horse. Next to her stood Gerald with a brown-and-white horse, Kate B. beside him. Katherine Berringer? Or was she already Katherine Boston? Next to her was Abby S. The future Abby Boston? Then a roan horse and Craig Boston—floppy blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses. The girls all had long hair with feathered-back sides and wore lots of eyeliner.

Here was proof Walt Spies had known Craig and Abby. But hadn’t Craig said Abby and Gerald had met after his divorce? Had she misunderstood? If Kate B. and Katherine Boston were the same person, then Gerald had known Abby while he’d still been married.

“Here. This might help.” Caleb handed her a magnifying glass. “It can help with some of these older, blurry shots.”

Bethany thanked him and examined the photo again but found nothing of interest. None of the women’s hands were positioned where she could see a wedding or engagement ring, and all of them were looking at the camera, not at each other.

The other photographs of Walt were from newspaper ads for his campaign for county commissioner and a couple since he had taken office. Bethany requested a copy of the group photo and left the building mulling over the afternoon’s revelations.

She was crossing the street, headed back toward her apartment, when someone called her name. She turned to see Craig Boston moving toward her.

Bethany waited for him to catch up. “Hi, Craig. You look like you’re getting around pretty good.”

He leaned on his cane and frowned down at the walking boot. “I’m doing okay. The physical therapist says I’m ahead of schedule, but I’ve always been pretty stubborn. What have you been up to?”

“I just came from the historical society. I found the greatest photo of you and Gerald and some others. You were riding horses. I wish I had it here to show to you. The museum is making a copy for me. Do you remember that day? Walt Spies was with you, too.”

He scratched his cheek. “Can’t say as I do. When was this?”

“Sometime in the midseventies, I’d guess. There was a woman identified as Kate—could that be Katherine?”

“I think sometimes people did call her Kate. Who else was in the picture?”

“Someone named Susan and a woman identified as Abby S.—could that be Gerald’s Abby?”

“I doubt it. If he was with Katherine, Abby wasn’t in the picture yet.” His face brightened. “I think that must be Abby Smith. I went out with her a few times. Never anything serious.”

“Who was Susan M?” she asked.

Craig shook his head. “I don’t remember. Maybe Walt’s girlfriend at the time? He had a lot of them.”

“He was a ladies man?” She could see that. Even in that photo she had recognized a certain rugged sensuality.

“I guess so. Not me. I never had good luck with women. But hey, I’d love to see that photo when you get a copy.”

“I’d be glad to show it to you.”

“Did you find anything else interesting at the historical society?”

“Ian is looking for photos of people enjoying the canyon—early hikers and climbers and miners—to display at the via ferrata. I found a few things like that.”

“So you’re helping him with this via ferrata project? How’s that going?”

“It’s going well. He’s going to be ready to open soon.”

“Provided he gets approval from the county.”

“I think he’s winning people over. Now that they can see the course they’re getting excited about it. It’s going to be a good thing for the community.”

“Well, good luck with that,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

She watched him hobble away. His earlier comment—about not being good with women—saddened her. That photo had showed a smiling young man who had a bright future before him. Now he was old and alone. Had he made the choice not to marry, or had someone broken his heart?

Bethany turned and started walking again. Craig’s personal life was none of her business, but the romantic in her couldn’t help but wonder about his story. That was what had led her to dig into Gerald and Abby’s lives. She wanted to know what had brought them to their tragic end, as if figuring that out could inform how she lived her own life.

* * *

The next weeks passed in a blur full of packed days at Peak Jeep, training once or twice a week with search and rescue, call-outs for auto accidents and injured climbers, and not nearly enough time with Ian, since he was busy also. But one Monday in late July, he called her. “Are you free one afternoon this week?” he asked. “The via ferrata is finished. I want you to see it.”

“That’s wonderful! We can get together this afternoon.”

They agreed he would pick her up at four o’clock, and she ended the call. “What are you looking so happy about?” her mom asked.

“Ian’s coming to pick me up after work. The via ferrata is finished.”

The lines on her mother’s forehead deepened, but she said nothing.

“Don’t look like that, Mom. Ian is a great guy.”

“And I can see that you really care for him. You’ve always been so quick to give your heart. I’d hate to see you hurt again.”

Bethany started to protest that Ian wasn’t going to hurt her, but she already knew that wasn’t true. He probably wouldn’t mean to hurt her, but when he moved on from Eagle Mountain, she was going to be left with a hole in her heart. “I’m old enough to know that life isn’t all fairy tales and happy endings,” she said. “But I’m enjoying being with Ian right now.”

She was waiting when he pulled up to the Jeep rental office, and they headed for Humboldt Canyon. “I can’t believe it’s finished already,” she said.

“There are a few things I need to do before we can open to the public, but the climbing route is complete. I can’t wait to see what you think.”

She told herself she would act impressed, even though, as a non-climber, she might not share his excitement.

Ian parked by the trailer and led her to a cleared-off space deeper into the canyon. “Here is where we’ll have the welcome center,” he said. “I’m going to bring in a modular building once I have approval from the county. That will be trimmed out with rustic wood and rock to look like it’s been here for decades. Once climbers register, they’ll attend a mandatory safety briefing and sign a liability waiver and an agreement to wear the safety equipment at all times and abide by the rules.”

He walked to a section of canyon wall behind the welcome center site. “Over here will be a practice area for anyone who wants to familiarize themselves with basic techniques before they tackle the course. I’m thinking we’ll have some field days for kids, too, where they can get an intro to climbing and try out some of the simpler features.”

“That sounds about my speed,” Bethany said. She followed him along the canyon wall to a rock wall studded with iron pins.

“The main route begins here. You’ll start by clipping onto the safety cable there.” He indicated a steel cable. “Cables run the length of the route, and at every transition point you’ll clip onto a new section of cable. In case of a fall, the cable will catch you.”

He led her through the canyon, pointing out iron ladders, rungs, bridges and cabled walkways. The route took climbers up steep pitches and along narrow ledges.

“It looks like a pretty challenging climb,” she said.

“The idea is to give people a challenge but make it as safe as possible.” He glanced down at the dress and sandals she was wearing. “I should have thought to tell you to bring jeans and boots and could have given you a guided tour.”

“We’ll do that some other time,” she said.

“I’ve sent off the photographs you chose to be made into plaques,” he said. “I’m going to attach the plaques to the wall at various transition points. People can read about the history of the area.”

“Everything looks great,” she said when they reached the end of the route. She squeezed his arm. “People are going to be so excited once they see this.”

“I’m going to throw a party to thank everyone who has helped to bring this together,” he said. “The construction crew, county officials, law enforcement, search and rescue, local climbers. I already contacted Danny about having search and rescue tour the route, maybe even do some training here to familiarize yourselves with the layout.”

“Have you heard anything from the county about your operating permit?” she asked.

“There has to be a public hearing and an official vote before they can award the permit,” he said. “I’ve been speaking with the commissioners and county officials. They seem receptive at least. And I’m going to make a presentation to the commissioners at the hearing.”

“You’ll impress them, I’m sure.” At least, he would impress everyone except Walt Spies. But Walt was only one vote.

Ian put his arm around her. “I want to take you to dinner to celebrate,” he said. “I made reservations at Spruce Lodge.”

Spruce Lodge was a new inn high in the mountains with a restaurant that was already becoming known for fine dining. The restaurant itself was small and rustic, with stone-and-cedar walls and subtle lighting. White linen cloths and shining silver added to the atmosphere of elegance.

This was the kind of place Ian was used to dining in, Bethany thought as she studied the menu. A place where price was no obstacle. “This is amazing,” she said a short time later as she cut into her steak.

“It’s good, but I enjoyed soup and sandwiches with you just as much,” he said.

On the drive back to the canyon, he took her hand. “Can you stay for a while?” he asked.

“I can stay all night.” As long as he was here, she didn’t want to miss a moment.

* * *

The road into Humboldt Canyon was dark, without a single streetlight or glow from the window of a home to cut the night’s blackness. Once in the canyon, only a thin band of stars overhead provided any illumination beyond the narrow swath of the Jeep’s headlights. When Ian pulled up to the trailer and cut the engine, the silence of the place closed around them, as confining as the darkness. He reached over to take Bethany’s hand, wanting the feel of her close by, but she jerked forward and gasped. “What is that?” she whispered.

He stared out the windshield at the bulky figure that emerged from the shadows at the side of the trailer.

The Jeep’s lights switched off, and it was like being plunged into a pit. Ian held his breath, ears straining. The crunch of gravel being compressed by heavy footsteps sent a jolt of fear through him.

Bethany let out a whimper, then made scrabbling noises. “What are you doing?” Ian whispered.

“I’m looking for something to use as a weapon. Whatever that thing is, it’s headed this way.”

Ian turned the key in the ignition, and the headlights spotlighted the figure approaching. Not a bear or a monster, but a man.

Ian was out of the car before he even had time to think. “Walt Spies, what do you think you’re doing, lurking around my home?” he shouted.

“Stop!” Bethany ran past Ian and kicked Walt in the shin. “Get out of here!”

The old man bent double, swearing. “I could charge you with assault!” he shouted.

Ian took hold of Bethany’s arm and gently pulled her away. Seeing the old man looking so helpless had calmed him. “What are you doing here, Walt?” he demanded.

Walt Spies straightened. The harsh light deepened the lines on his face and left his eyes in shadow, giving him the appearance of a Halloween mask. “I came here to talk to you,” he said. “I didn’t expect to be attacked.”

“What are you doing lurking around in the dark at this time of night?” Bethany asked. “And then to come stalking toward us without saying a word? What were we supposed to think?”

Walt ignored her. “We need to talk,” he said to Ian.

“What do you want to talk about?” Ian asked.

“I came to warn you of trouble ahead if you keep moving forward with this project,” Walt said.

“Is that a threat?” he asked.

“Not from me, but someone has it in for you. If things keep escalating, someone is going to end up dead.”

“That sounds like a threat to me,” Bethany said.

Walt reached behind him, and Ian stepped in front of Bethany. “What are you doing?”

“I want to show you this.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket and thrust it at Ian.

Ian took the paper and unfolded it. “‘Stop the via ferrata, or you’re next,’” he read. “Where did you get this?”

“Someone left it in my mailbox this afternoon,” Walt said. “My home mailbox.”

“Have you shown this to the sheriff?”

“No. I thought you should see it first.”

Bethany looked over Ian’s shoulder. “It’s typed. Anyone could have written that. You could have written it yourself.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To shift suspicion away from you,” she said. “We know you’re opposed to the via ferrata. Maybe you’re behind all these ‘accidents’ that keep happening around here.”

“I don’t have time to waste with games,” Walt said. He took a step closer. “Look, I don’t like this via ferrata project because it’s going to bring more traffic to a county road we can barely maintain as it is. It’s going to bring a lot of tourists to an area without the facilities to take care of them. You might think a couple of portable toilets and a soft drink machine will be enough, but people are going to want indoor plumbing and a snack bar. They’ll want paved parking and lights at night. This beautiful canyon is going to turn into an amusement park, and I don’t want to see that.”

“I agree that the canyon is beautiful,” Ian said. “I want people to appreciate that beauty. I have no intention of installing a bunch of lights or a restaurant. If my facilities aren’t enough for people, then this obviously isn’t the place for them.”

“At the rate things are going, you might not get a chance to find out whether it’s enough,” Walt said. “Someone is going to a lot of trouble to keep your via ferrata from ever opening. I’m worried about you, son.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Ian said. “Now, you need to leave.”

Walt turned and stalked into the shadows. After a moment, an engine roared to life. Headlights illuminated and he jolted down the drive toward the county road.

Ian put his arm around Bethany. “Let’s go inside,” he said.

She followed him into the trailer and dropped her backpack onto the sofa in his office/living room. “That was weird,” she said. “Why was he even out here, waiting in the dark like that? He could have called you on the phone.”

“Maybe he thought it would be more intimidating to deliver the message in person.”

She looked him up and down. “You’re several inches taller and a lot younger than he is. Did he really think he was going to scare you?”

“He’s tougher than he looks,” Ian said. “When he grabbed my arm it was like being in a vise.”

She moved in and wrapped her hands around his biceps. The muscle bulged there, honed from years of climbing. “I still think he was being foolish, coming here at night like that.”

“I can’t believe you kicked him.” He pulled her closer and grinned at her.

“He frightened me,” she admitted. “And when I’m afraid, I fight back.”

“Good for you.” Ian rubbed her back, then looked thoughtful. “I wonder if maybe we frightened him, too. Or, at least, caught him by surprise.”

“Oh! You mean, maybe he wasn’t waiting for you, but he was up to no good and we interrupted him?”

“I don’t have any proof of that, but did you notice how he parked his truck some distance away from the trailer—farther back in the canyon where it really couldn’t be seen by anyone driving in?”

“He hasn’t made any secret of being opposed to the project,” she said. “I’ve always thought he could be behind some of the things that have happened.”

“The sheriff says he has an alibi for every time something has happened,” Ian said.

“He was here when that climber was injured.”

“Mike falling was an accident,” Ian said.

“Maybe that’s what gave the vandal the idea to cause trouble,” Bethany said. “They saw how much trouble it caused and thought it might be a way to stop the via ferrata.”

“I need to tell the sheriff’s department about the note Walt showed me,” he said.

“I don’t believe for a minute that anybody but Walt wrote that note,” she said. “He’s just trying to cover his tracks.”

“I’ll let the deputies decide about that.” He squeezed her shoulder.

She smiled up at him, and the band that had been tightening at the base of his neck from the moment they’d seen Walt emerge from the darkness loosened a little. He would worry about the man later. Right now, he and Bethany were alone, and he planned to take advantage of the opportunity.

Ian leaned down and kissed her. “I don’t want to think about the via ferrata or anything else right now,” he said.

“What via ferrata?” She wrapped both arms around his neck and arched toward him. “Kiss me like that again, and I’ll forget my own name.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me.” So he kissed her again and did his best to make them both forget about everything but this moment, in each other’s arms.

* * *

Bethany was lost in a haze of desire and pleasure. She and Ian were still standing in Ian’s living room, but they might have been floating on a cloud. Being with him was so amazing. How had she gotten so lucky? She pulled back enough to smile up at him, then frowned. “What’s that noise?” she asked.

“What noise?” He nuzzled at her neck.

“A crackling sound, almost like a campfire.” She pulled out of his arms and looked around. Ian didn’t have a fireplace. She sniffed and caught the definite scent of woodsmoke.

“Something’s burning.” Ian moved to the middle of the room, looking around. Just then, the smoke alarm began blaring.

“There!” She pointed toward the other end of the trailer. “In the kitchen.”

Ian started walking that way, but she caught the tail of his shirt and pulled him back. “We have to get out of here,” she said.

“You’re right.” He moved to the door and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge.

Panic climbed her throat. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why won’t it open?”

He shook his head. “The back door,” he said. He started that way, but the heat from flames licking up one wall of the trailer drove him back. Bethany stared as fingers of fire swept up the paneling, until the whole kitchen was aflame.

She pulled out her phone and stabbed out 911. But when she put the phone to her ear, she heard only silence.

“No signal,” Ian said, staring at his own phone.

“How could they both not be working?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here.” He tried the door again, and when he couldn’t open it, he slammed his shoulder against it. The whole trailer shook, but the door didn’t budge.

“The windows!” Bethany ran to the window and tried to open it. But it also refused to move.

“Stand back!” Ian shouted. He picked up the desk chair and hurled it at the window. It hit the middle of the glass, making a small crack, then bounced to the floor. Smoke was pouring into the room now, choking them. He coughed and picked up the chair again. This time he kept hold of it, battering it against the window until the glass shattered.

Cool air rushed in, and the heat of the fire intensified, fed by fresh oxygen. “Get out!” he shouted.

Bethany moved to the window and began pulling away shards of glass. Ian tore off his shirt, wrapped his arm in it and began punching at the glass, clearing it from the frame. “Go!” he shouted again. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She tried again to crawl through the window, but it was too high in the wall for her to get her leg over the sill. Desperate, Ian lifted her by the waist and pushed her through. She screamed, falling, and he dove out after her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The ground was cool, and Ian pressed his face to it, even as he wrapped both arms around Bethany and rolled her farther away from the fire. She clung to him, shaking with sobs.

“Shhh. You’re okay.” He kissed the top of her head and tried to soothe her.

After a while, she quieted, then pushed herself away from him and into a sitting position. “I’m okay,” she said and looked back toward the fire.

Only a few minutes had passed, but the trailer was almost fully engulfed now, the structure folding in on itself as the blaze roared. The stench of burning metal and rubber and wood filled the air, and the light from the flames bathed them in a ghastly, flickering light.

“Ian, you’re hurt!” She put a hand to his forearm.

He flinched and touched his own hand to the blisters rising on his skin. The backs of both hands were blistered, too. He looked away from the sight. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’ve got a few cuts from the window glass. They’re not too bad.” She indicated some scratches on her arms, blood beading along one of them. “And my hair and clothing are a little scorched.”

Hearing her words shook him out of the stupor he had been in since first seeing the blaze. He stood and reached down to pull her up. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Whoever set the blaze might still be in the area. Or they might come back. Come on.”

They jogged to his Jeep. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket. His fingers didn’t want to work right. But at last he had them and pressed the fob to start the vehicle. They climbed into the seat, and he put the vehicle in gear.

He was backing up while she was still grappling with her safety belt. The idea that whoever had set the fire might still be here, waiting for them, made his skin crawl. All he could think about was getting away.

“Why don’t our phones work?” she asked again. “They’re not landlines that someone could cut.”

“No, but here in the canyon I rely on Wi-Fi calling,” he said. “It works via a satellite dish. If someone destroyed the dish, the phones wouldn’t work.”

“Do you think that’s what happened?”

“Someone tampered with the front door so it wouldn’t open,” he said. “They didn’t want us getting out of there or getting help.”

He gripped the steering wheel more tightly, only dimly aware of the pain, too focused on his rage at the arsonist. They could have died in that fire. Bethany could have died.

“As soon as we get a signal, I’ll call 911,” she said.

Ian stretched out a hand and touched her shoulder. He wanted to stop the Jeep and pull her close to comfort her, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t trust whoever had done this not to come after them.

When they reached the highway into town, he slowed and pulled out his phone. Though Bethany had offered to report the fire, he wanted to talk to the operator himself. When his call was answered, he identified himself and reported the fire. “Tell the sheriff I’m pretty sure the fire was deliberately set,” he said.

“Where are you now, sir?” the dispatcher asked.

“We’re on our way to the hospital,” he said. “My girlfriend and I are both injured.”

“What is your location?” she asked. “An ambulance can meet you.”

He glanced at Bethany. She was weeping again. He had no idea about her physical injuries, but she was clearly traumatized. An assessment right away was probably smarter than waiting the hour drive to the emergency room in Junction. And both of his hands were beginning to throb with pain. He took stock of his location. “We’re almost to the turnoff for search and rescue headquarters,” he said. “We’ll meet the ambulance in the parking lot.”

Five minutes later, he pulled almost to the door of the search and rescue building. A light over the door flickered on.

Bethany had quieted. “I’m okay,” she said when he turned to her. “How are your hands?”

He didn’t want to look at his hands or think about the damage done to them. “The ambulance will meet us here,” he said instead.

Lights flashed behind him, but instead of the ambulance, a Rayford County Sheriff’s Department SUV pulled up. Bethany’s brother stepped out and approached the Jeep.

Ian rolled down the window. “Hello, Aaron,” he said.

“Hello, Ian.” He looked past him and his mask of calm slipped. “Bethany? The dispatcher said an ambulance was meeting us here. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just a little shook up. Ian is the one who’s hurt. He burned his hands saving us.”

Aaron looked at Ian again. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Ian held up his hands. Aaron shone a flashlight on the blistered flesh and winced. Ian closed his eyes against a wave of nausea. “Oh, Ian,” Bethany breathed.

Aaron swung the beam over to light up his sister. “You’re bleeding. And what’s that in your hair?”

She ran a hand through her hair, and bits of glass fell onto the seat beside her. “Ian broke a window to get out of the trailer. I think some of the glass cut me. The cuts aren’t deep.”

The wail of the arriving ambulance drowned out Aaron’s next words. He pulled open the Jeep door as the ambulance came to a stop. “Stay there,” he said as Ian started to get out. “Let them come to you.”

They arrived soon after, Hannah Gwynn and a hefty man, his dark beard shot through with gray. “Hannah, I’m glad to see you,” Bethany said as the woman leaned in to look at Ian.

“Hello, Bethany,” Hannah said. “What’s going on?”

“Ian’s hands are burned,” Bethany said before Ian could answer.

“I drove here no problem,” Ian said. “And I can get out of the Jeep.”

“If you’re sure there’s no other injuries,” Hannah said. “Adrenaline can mask a lot of pain, at least initially.”

“I’m okay.” He started out of the Jeep. Hannah put a hand out to steady him as he stood. On the other side of the vehicle, Aaron and the male EMT were helping Bethany.

Hannah led him over to the ambulance and had him sit in the open doorway. Bright lights from inside illuminated the area around them. “What’s your pain level on a scale of one to ten?” she asked.

“Um, five? Maybe six?” He was becoming more aware of the ache in his hands by the minute.

“Are you allergic to any medications?”

He assured her he wasn’t, that he didn’t have any underlying medical conditions and didn’t take any medications.

“Your arms and face are a little burned, too.” She carefully examined him. “First degree. They’ll be uncomfortable, but nothing worse than a bad sunburn. You’ll want to have a doctor look at those hands, though. I’m going to clean and bandage them, then we’ll transport you to the hospital. Are you experiencing pain anywhere else?” She strapped a blood pressure cuff to his arm as she spoke.

“No.” He looked over his shoulder toward Bethany. The male EMT was leading her to the ambulance.

“I’m going to dress some minor cuts and make sure we’ve got all the glass out of her,” the EMT said.

“I’m fine.” She flashed a smile at Ian. It was a wobbly smile, but it lifted his spirits. “How is Ian?” she asked Hannah.

“He’s going to be okay,” Hannah said. She removed the blood pressure cuff. “He’ll need treatment for his hands and they won’t feel that great for a while, but you’ll both be okay.”

Aaron moved over to Ian’s side. “What happened?” he asked. “The 911 operator said you called in a fire and that you thought it was deliberately set.”

“We were in the trailer when we heard the crackling and smelled smoke,” Ian said. “Then the smoke alarms started going off, and we could see flames coming from the kitchen.”

“Were you cooking earlier? Maybe you left a burner on,” Aaron said.

“We weren’t cooking. This wasn’t a cooking fire. When we tried to go out the front door, the door was jammed. I tried breaking it down, but I couldn’t.”

Bethany joined them. “When I tried to call 911, our phones wouldn’t work,” she said.

“I have satellite internet,” Ian said. “When it’s working, we can use Wi-Fi to make calls. Otherwise there’s no service in Humboldt Canyon.”

“How did you get out?” Aaron asked.

“Ian hit the window with a chair,” Bethany said. “He had to hit it a few times to get it to break, and as soon as it did, the fire really roared to life. It was terrifying. And then I had trouble climbing out of the window.” Her eyes widened as she remembered that terror. “Ian had to pick me up and throw me out.” She reached over and gripped his shoulder. “You saved my life.”

He couldn’t speak past the knot in his throat. All he could do was nod and blink back the stinging in his eyes.

“Did you see anyone suspicious in the area in the last day or two?” Aaron asked.

“Walt Spies was waiting for us when we pulled in tonight,” Bethany said.

“Walt Spies?” Aaron looked surprised. “What was he doing there?”

“He came to tell me if I didn’t stop the via ferrata project, bad things were going to happen,” Ian said.

“Walt threatened you?” Hannah asked.

Aaron sent her a quelling look. “What did Walt say, exactly?”

“He showed us a note he had received that said if he didn’t stop the via ferrata, he would be next.”

“The note said, ‘Stop the via ferrata, or you’re next,’” Bethany said. “It was typed. He said someone left it in his home mailbox. I think he was making up the whole story to divert suspicion away from him. He’s been the biggest opponent of the project all along, and now this fire starts not half an hour after he left us.”

“He could have driven a short way up the canyon and walked back,” Ian said.

“Did you see any other vehicles or any other people around when you left?” Aaron asked.

“No one until we were almost to town.”

“I’ll call this in,” he said. “In the meantime, you should get those burns seen to. I’ll take Bethany home.”

“No. I’m staying with Ian.” She glared at him, and Ian wondered if Aaron was going to make the mistake of ordering her to go home. Bethany was already furious, and that wasn’t going to help matters.

But apparently the man did have some sense. “At least call and let Mom and Dad know you’re okay,” he said. “Half the town listens to the emergency scanner. This is going to be all over the area by morning.”

“I’ll call them,” she said.

“I’m going to give you something for the pain,” Hannah said to Ian. “Then I recommend you let us transport you to the hospital. You need to have your hands seen to as soon as possible.”

He didn’t protest, since the bulky bandages on both hands made doing much of anything impossible, and the pain medication they had administered was already making his vision fuzz at the edges. Bethany kissed his cheek and promised to follow him to the hospital.

“Be careful,” he told her as he lay back on the gurney.

“Don’t worry.” Aaron spoke from behind her. “I’ll follow your Jeep all the way to Junction.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, anger sharpening her voice once more.

“Someone tried to kill you tonight,” he said. “I’m not willing to take a chance at them trying to force your Jeep off the road or ambush you on some dark stretch of road.”

“You should be doing something more useful than babysitting me—like trying to find the person who set the fire.”

They appeared ready to square off for an argument, so Ian interrupted. “He’s right,” he said. “Don’t take any chances. Let him follow you.”

She leaned into the back of the ambulance and touched Ian’s leg. “All right. I’ll do it for you. But they have to find out who’s doing these awful things. This can’t go on.”

Maybe it was time to give up, Ian thought, though he couldn’t say the words out loud. Risking someone’s life—Bethany’s life—wasn’t worth continuing.

But everything in him rebelled against quitting. Against letting his unseen enemy win.

* * *

Bethany waited at the hospital while the emergency room doctor treated Ian. Aaron had insisted on waiting with her. She ignored him, focused on her worry over Ian and her fury over whoever had done this to them. Remembering those frantic moments in the trailer when Ian had picked up that heavy chair and hurled it at the window, only to have it bounce off made her shaky inside. And then when he had finally broken the glass, the fire had roared to life. She had literally felt it licking at her back and smelled her own singed hair. She had been terrified and panicked as she’d tried to climb out through the broken glass.

Then Ian had grabbed hold of her and pushed her out. In those moments in his arms afterward, lying on the cool ground while the inferno had raged only a few feet away, she had never felt more cherished.

The doors from the outside hissed open, and Sheriff Travis Walker entered. Bethany sat up straighter. Everything about the sheriff, from his crisp, pressed uniform to his movie-star looks, made her want to be on her best behavior. He zeroed in on Aaron. “Deputy Ames,” he said.

Aaron sat upright, almost dropping his phone. “Sir.”

The sheriff turned to Bethany. “How are you doing, Miss Ames?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I mean, I’m pretty shook up, but physically, I’m fine. Ian was burned pretty badly when he pulled me out of the trailer, though.”

“I wanted to hear from you what happened,” he said. “And Ian, too, when the doctors agree it’s okay to talk to him.”

“Of course.”

The sheriff took the seat across from her, which Aaron had vacated. Her brother stood to one side, arms folded, like a bodyguard. “Tell me, in your own words, what happened tonight,” Travis said.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with when you got to the trailer. Was that this evening?”

“Yes. We got there about seven o’clock. It was already pretty dark.”

“Did you see any other vehicles on the way into the canyon?”

“Not after we turned onto the county road. But when we pulled up to the trailer, Walt Spies was waiting for us.” She told them about Walt and his warning to Ian and the note he’d said someone had sent him.

“We talked to Walt,” the sheriff said. “He says he was home by seven fifteen. His wife backs up that story.”

“He still could have started the fire and it didn’t burn enough for us to notice until half an hour later,” she said.

“We’ll be checking into all of that,” the sheriff said. “What happened after Walt left?”

Bethany told the same story she had related to Aaron and Hannah. “Ian said someone had jammed the door so it wouldn’t open. And our cell phones wouldn’t work. You should check to see if anyone tampered with the satellite dish.”

“We haven’t had a chance to examine the door,” Walker said. “But we found the satellite dish. Someone or something had smashed it.”

The door to the emergency room opened, and Ian stepped out. Both hands were wrapped in bulky bandages, and the skin of his arms and face were bright red, glistening with some kind of ointment or cream.

Bethany leapt up and went to him, though she resisted the urge to throw her arms around him, out of fear of hurting him. “What did the doctor say?” she asked.

“I’ll have some pain, not too much scarring. I have to come back tomorrow to have the burns cleaned and dressed, but I should regain full use of my hands.”

The sheriff joined them. “Mr. Seabrook, I have some questions for you.”

“He already talked to me,” Bethany said to Ian.

“All right.”

They returned to the grouping of chairs where she and the sheriff had been sitting. Ian took the chair beside Bethany, while Aaron resumed his place next to the sheriff. Travis went through the same questions he had asked Bethany. Ian confirmed their conversation with Walt. He hadn’t seen anyone suspicious around the canyon, and he hadn’t received any new threats.

“Walt gave us the note he received,” the sheriff said. “We’ll take a closer look, though I don’t know if it’s going to tell us anything else.”

“Do you know if the firefighters are finished in the canyon?” Ian asked. “Is the fire out?”

“They’re keeping someone there overnight to make sure it doesn’t flare up again,” Travis said. “The trailer is a total loss, but the fire didn’t spread to any equipment or construction supplies.”

“I’m sure the fire was deliberately set,” Ian said. “The front door was definitely jammed, and the damage to the satellite dish points to someone not wanting us to be able to summon help quickly.”

“We’ll know more after the fire department completes their investigation,” Travis said. “But the preliminary opinion is that this was arson.”

“Not just arson,” Ian said. “Attempted murder. Smashing the satellite dish made it impossible to call for help.”

“Who hates you enough to try to kill you—and Bethany?”

The questions jolted her. Part of her had known she could have been killed in the fire, but hearing the words out loud, and the acknowledgment that someone could have wanted her to die, threw her world off-balance.

“I don’t know,” Ian said. He didn’t look as afraid as she felt, but maybe that was the pain meds he had been given. Mostly he looked tired. Defeated.

“What about the protestors?” Travis asked. “Have any of them been particularly aggressive?”

“No. There hasn’t been any picketing or even anonymous notes since the day the climber was injured.”

“Do you have any security cameras?” Travis asked.

He grimaced. “I have a whole system of cameras ordered, but I’m on a waiting list to get the system installed.”

“Is there anything else we need to know?”

Ian shook his head. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Where will you be staying, in case we need to contact you?”

“I’ve got a hotel room here in Junction. Tomorrow I’m going to arrange for a new trailer for the worksite.”

“Is that safe?” Bethany asked.

“I’ll be fine.” His mouth tightened, and the defeated look receded. “I’m not going to let whoever this is put a stop to the project.”

“The site of the fire and the immediate surroundings are still cordoned off as a crime scene,” the sheriff said.

“I have contractors scheduled to work in the canyon,” Ian said. “They’re mostly cleaning up now.”

“They can do their work, as long as they avoid the cordoned-off area.” The sheriff turned to Bethany. “I’ll need you and Ian to come into the office and read and sign your statements—tomorrow, if possible.”

She nodded. “I’ll be there,” Ian said.

When the sheriff and Aaron were gone, she turned to him. “You didn’t have to book a hotel room,” she said. “You could come back to my place.”

“I’m not sure your parents would like that. And before you remind me that you’re a grown woman, they own the apartment.”

“They couldn’t expect me to kick you out on the street.”

“I’ll be fine in the hotel. It’s only for a couple of days. And I don’t want to do anything to come between you and your family.”

There were times when she would have welcomed more distance between herself and her parents and siblings, but probably not the kind Ian meant—the serious, even permanent kind.

“They just need to get to know you,” she said. Sure, Ian was reserved and a little intimidating. Maybe not the kind of man they had ever envisioned her with, if they had pictured her with anyone at all. But she had recognized the soft, vulnerable place inside him that very first day in the rental office, when he’d cooed at the infant she’d held. “I know they’d love you then.”

Ian patted her shoulder with one bandaged hand. “It takes time to get to know someone. Let’s give that to them instead of forcing the issue.”

He was also sensible. Not the daredevil she had expected when she’d learned he was a mountain climber who drove a Porsche.

“You may have noticed—I’m not the most patient person in the world,” she said.

“I’ve got more than enough patience for both of us, and you inspire me to be a little more impulsive.”

“I wouldn’t call you impulsive.” But he hadn’t hesitated when it had come to risking his life to save hers. She slipped her arm in his and leaned close. “I hate that your hands are injured. Do you hurt very much?”

“They’ll heal,” he said. “And you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m here because you saved me.”

“You would have gotten out on your own.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. The flames had come close to overwhelming her. Would she have found the strength on her own to escape them?

The door to the waiting room opened again, and Aaron reappeared. “Time to go home, Bethany,” he said.

“I have to take Ian to his hotel,” she said.

“I’ve called an Uber.” He stepped away from her. “Go with Aaron. The doctor said they’ll reduce the bandages tomorrow, and I should be able to drive again. My Jeep will be fine in the garage here until then.”

Bethany wanted to argue that he shouldn’t be alone tonight. But maybe that was being too clingy. “Call me tomorrow,” she said.

“I will.” He hesitated, then bent and kissed her. A proper kiss, too, which left her feeling a little dreamy. Cherished—there was that word again. Loved, but not overwhelmed by anyone else’s expectations. A feeling she could get used to.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Despite the pain medication that the doctor had assured him would knock him out, Ian slept fitfully that night. Dreams of Bethany, engulfed in flames, kept startling him awake. He finally fell into a fitful sleep and roused late the next morning, his hands aching and mind racing.

He ordered room service, then called Bethany. She answered on the second ring, her cheery “Good morning” making him smile. “I wanted to make sure you got home all right,” he said.

“I was exhausted. I tried to talk Aaron into running his police lights on the way home so we could get there faster, but the old stick-in-the-mud refused. Then he insisted on coming into my apartment and checking out everything before he would leave me to go to sleep in peace.”

“He’s a good brother,” Ian said.

She sighed dramatically. “He is. How are you feeling?”

“Not great, but the pain—and these awkward bandages—are more annoying than anything else. I’m going to talk the doctor into something less bulky and more manageable. After I’m done at the hospital, I’ll see about getting a new trailer delivered to the canyon. Then I’m going to drive out there and see how construction is progressing. And I have to find time to put the final touches on my presentation to the county commissioners.”

“When is the meeting about your permit?” she asked.

“Thursday evening. I just got word this morning.”

“You’re making me tired just listening to you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Stay safe.”

“You stay safe. I don’t like the idea of you moving back out to the canyon before the sheriff has figured out who’s doing these things.”

“I don’t think it’s a climber,” he said.

“Why not?”

“The climbers I know can be protective of their routes and competitive with each other, but they aren’t violent people. It’s not a violent sport—the opposite, really.”

“Maybe this is a climber who had a mental break or has anger issues,” she said. “Or something that makes him not-so-typical.”

“Maybe. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s something else behind this. If I could figure out what that something is, maybe that would point to whoever is responsible for this harassment.”

“Then I hope you figure it out. And I have to go. A tour group is arriving.”

Ian wanted to say something about how much she meant to him, but the words wouldn’t come out before she said goodbye and ended the call. He tried to turn his attention to his presentation to the county commissioners, but his thoughts kept returning to the puzzle of who could be behind these attacks. Who could be so upset about the development in Humboldt Canyon that they would resort to violence? Was it really Walt Spies?

He searched through the contacts in his phone and found the number for the county offices. When the receptionist answered, he asked to speak to Walt. “This is Ian Seabrook,” he said.

“I heard someone tried to burn down your place.” Walt sounded almost cheerful, but maybe that was Ian misinterpreting his hearty tone.

“They did,” he said. “Bethany and I came close to being killed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But none of that would have happened if you had stopped the project at the first sign of trouble.”

“Is that how you got to where you are today—stopping at the first sign of trouble?”

“I come from a different generation than you do, son. You don’t know what a real obstacle is.”

“You’re probably about the same age Abby and Gerald Boston would be if they had lived,” Ian said. “Did you know them?”

“That couple they found in that cave? I knew of them.”

“So you wouldn’t have any reason to be upset that their bodies were found in that cave?” Maybe they had been right when they’d speculated the attacks on him were linked to the Bostons.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Walt asked.

“I just thought the person who’s been trying so hard to stop me from building the via ferrata might object to what else I might find in that canyon. Maybe there are more secrets hiding underground, waiting to be uncovered.”

Walt snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I let the sheriff know you were hanging around my place in Humboldt Canyon right before the fire.”

“I already spoke to him about that. It’s an uncomfortable coincidence, but I didn’t set that fire. I haven’t had anything to do with the things that have happened in that canyon, and if I hear you’re telling people anything to that effect, I will sue.” Click.

Ian almost smiled. Walt had hung up on him. A sure sign that Ian had shaken him up.

* * *

Just after noon, Bethany was wondering if she had time to run up to her apartment and make a sandwich for lunch when the door to the tour office opened and Craig Boston came in. He was still in a walking boot, using a cane. Bethany stood to greet him. “Mr. Boston. It’s good to see you.”

“I wanted to thank you again for all your help the day I busted my ankle,” he said.

“I was happy to do it.”

His expression sobered. “I heard about the fire up in Humboldt Canyon last night. Somebody said you were there.”

“I think the whole town has heard,” she said. “I haven’t gotten this much attention from people since I fainted on stage during a Christmas concert when I was sixteen.” She had fielded at least six phone calls this morning from people she barely knew, asking about the fire. And four others had stopped by to see her.

“Is it true you were trapped in that trailer?” Craig asked.

“Yes. But I’m all right. Ian saved me.” She wanted people to know that about Ian—that he wasn’t the rich guy trying to take advantage of the town that some people had portrayed him as. He was the kind of man who would save a woman from a burning building. “He was burned pretty badly on his hands and arms, but he’s going to be okay.”

“That’s good.”

“Can I help you with something?”

He shifted his cane to his other hand. “My niece and her husband and their two children are coming into town to visit, and they’re looking for things to do. Are any of your tours suitable for kids?”

“What ages?”

“Boys, six and eight.”

“We have a tour to the old ghost town of Millford that would be perfect. Lots of fun but safe ruins to explore, and the guides tell fun stories along the way.” She selected a brochure from the rack to her right. “They talk about gold mines in the area and the mule trains that used to carry supplies up and down the mountains. It’s one of our most popular tours.”

“Great. I’ll give this to them.” He tucked the brochure into his pocket but showed no sign of leaving. “Did you ever find out any more about my late relatives, Gerald and Abby?”

“Not much. Ian and I visited the historical society and read through old newspapers. It seemed like Katherine was the only person who hated Gerald enough to kill him, but I don’t see how she could have done it.”

“Katherine would need help to pull it off. She could have never overpowered two people, even before the accident that made it difficult for her to walk.”

“Do you have any idea who she was with the day she was injured? The man who was driving the car?”

“We never knew for sure.”

She didn’t miss the hesitation in his words. “Did you have your suspicions?”

“I shouldn’t accuse anyone without proof.”

“This isn’t a court and I’m not a police officer,” she said. “I just want to know for my own curiosity.”

Craig looked pained. “I heard a rumor it might have been Walt Spies.”

“Walt!” She almost choked on the word.

“He and Gerald were good friends. And Walt dated Katherine before she and Gerald married. I heard a rumor they continued seeing each other, even after the wedding. Gerald found out about it when she was hurt, and that finally led to him filing for divorce.”

“Ian and I went to the cemetery to see Katherine’s grave,” Bethany said. “Someone has been leaving flowers there. Any idea who that might be?”

“Whatever you do, don’t say anything to Walt. He always had a terrible temper, and I don’t think that improved with age. In any case, Katherine was a very pretty woman. She probably had lots of admirers.”

“Were you one of them?”

She had meant the words as gentle teasing, but his reaction startled her. His face flushed bright red, and he fumbled with his cane. “Gerald was my uncle and my friend,” he said. “I never would have had anything to do with a woman he was involved with.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said. Why did she always say the first thing that came into her head?

Craig relaxed a little. “It’s okay. I’ve talked enough, keeping you from your work. Thanks for the brochure.”

He hobbled out of the building. Bethany picked up her phone to text Ian—she had to tell him about this new development. But the door opened again, and Dalton and Carter entered. They were scheduled to team up for a big group tour leaving at 1:00 p.m.

They stopped in front of her desk. “Are you okay?” Carter asked.

“Why does everyone keep asking that? I’m fine.”

“Aaron said you were almost killed,” he said.

“When did you talk to Aaron?”

They exchanged a look peculiar to them, as if they were communicating telepathically. “He called us last night,” Dalton said.

“He said we needed to help him keep a better eye on you,” Carter said.

“I’m not some child you have to babysit.”

“Okay, okay.” Carter held up both hands. “Don’t get so upset. It’s just…” He looked away, jaw clenched.

“You scared us, okay?” Dalton said.

Carter looked back at her. “You’re the only sister we’ve got.”

Her anger evaporated, and she blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging. “I love you, too,” she said. “But I’m okay. Really. And Ian and I are both going to be careful.”

“Do they have any idea who set the fire?” Dalton asked.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Have either of you heard anything?”

They both shook their heads. “No.”

“I don’t think it’s a climber,” Carter added.

“Ian doesn’t think so, either,” she said.

“Then who was it?” Dalton asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m going to be paying special attention Thursday night at the county commissioners’ meeting. You two could do me a favor to help.”

Carter looked wary. Maybe he was remembering other “favors” she had asked of him, from dating a friend of hers who’d been overly possessive to driving her and four preteen friends to a K-pop concert and serving as their parent-approved chaperone. “What do we have to do?” he asked.

“Attend the meeting and watch to see if anyone is acting unusual.”

Dalton nudged his twin. “What do you think?”

“I think I’d rather eat dirt than sit through a county commissioners’ meeting.” Carter blew out a breath. “But I’ll do it for you, sis.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

On Thursday evening, the county commissioners’ meeting was standing-room only, with the overflow crowd spilling into the hallway on the top floor of the county government building, across the street from Eagle Mountain City Hall. Ian eased past groups of people he recognized as climbers, their faces familiar to him from past expeditions and gatherings at popular climbing hot spots, as well as some who had protested against the via ferrata. Some of them greeted him by name or even patted him on the back, while others glared silently. A few stared at his bandaged hands—less bulky than the wrapping applied at the hospital, but the layers of stark white gauze still reminded him of cartoon hands on animated characters.

A woman with a dark ponytail and a clipboard checked his name off a piece of paper and directed him to sit near the front of the room on the right side. As he made his way to his seat, he scanned the other occupants of the room and spotted Bethany. She smiled and waved, and he nodded in greeting, a little unnerved by how glad he was to see her. One friendly face in a sea of faces he already thought of as hostile. Wasn’t that the people who attended this kind of thing—those who wanted to speak against the project?

He had just settled into his seat when a door on one side of the chamber opened and the five county commissioners filed in to sit along one side of a long table at the front of the room. Walt Spies took the middle seat. He was dressed as usual, in worn jeans and a checked shirt. Though Ian knew he was over seventy, he had the erect posture and broad shoulders of a younger man. Two men and two women flanked Walt at the table, all wearing casual clothing and sober expressions.

Walt banged his gavel once, and the crowd hushed. “I call to order this meeting of the Rayford County, Colorado, County Commissioners,” he said.

They sang the national anthem, followed by a prayer, then reviewed the minutes of the last meeting. “The only item on tonight’s agenda is the consideration of the application for an operating permit for the Eagle Mountain Via Ferrata, to be operated by Seabrook Enterprises, LLC.” Walt shuffled through a stack of papers. “We have a number of people who wish to speak on this issue, so we’ll begin now.”

A climber who introduced himself as Jeremy Leslie spoke first. Baby-faced and wiry, Jeremy fidgeted as he read from a piece of notepaper clutched in his hand. “I think you should vote against letting this via ferrata operate in Humboldt Canyon,” he said. “Climbers have used that canyon free of charge for decades now, establishing a precedent of public use. That precedent should be maintained.”

When Jeremy had finished his short statement, he looked up and grinned. Cheers rose from the back of the room, and Walt had to bang his gavel to restore order.

Next up was the president of the local tourism bureau. “We think this could be a very good thing for the community,” he said. “They’ve been huge draws in other locations throughout the mountain west. It would bring in tourists who would spend money on lodging, meals, gear and guides. We don’t see a downside.”

More cheers as he exited the podium, and Eldon Ramsey took his place. “I’m a local climber,” Eldon introduced himself. “I also volunteer with search and rescue. I had a lot of objections to this project initially. I didn’t climb a lot in Humboldt Canyon, but I liked knowing it was available—and free. As a SAR volunteer, I also worried about the potential for a via ferrata to attract unskilled daredevils who might get hurt and strain our resources.

“But after talking with Ian and seeing his plan for the canyon,” he said, “I feel better about the project. He’s got a lot of safety protocols built in. And he’s designing a course I think would be fun for beginners and more experienced climbers like me. So I think you should vote to approve the project.”

Next was a young woman who said she had heard a lot of talk against the via ferrata around town. “But what nobody ever talks about is that property was for sale,” she said. “Anyone could have purchased it and put up apartment buildings or a waste dump or anything else. The canyon is outside city limits, and it isn’t zoned. As much as we might all like to keep everything pristine and untouched, the truth is someone was going to buy that property and develop it in some way. I’m just glad it’s something like this, which leaves most of the canyon intact. So I think you should vote to approve the via ferrata.”

Half a dozen other people followed, speaking for or against the project. Animal lovers, outdoor enthusiasts, skeptics and all-around grouches had their turn at the podium. The commissioners listened and sometimes took notes. Then it was Ian’s turn to speak.

Calm settled over him as he approached the podium. He had been here before, at the start of a difficult pitch, harnessed and ready. He had all the tools to make this moment a success—all he needed was grit and a little luck.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Ian Seabrook,” he began. “I’ve been a professional mountain climber for ten years. I’ve met some of you at climbing venues and on expeditions over the years. I love the mountains and I love climbing. I want to share that love with other people—people who might not have the time or money or experience to climb on their own. They can come to the via ferrata and have an expert take them through the course. They’ll finish with a new perspective on the landscape they’ve been traversing and a new understanding of what they’re capable of. And some of them will go on to pursue the sport, as a hobby or even professionally.”

Ian studied the faces of the men and women behind the table in front of him. Only Walt Spies betrayed impatience, his lips thinning as he pressed them together, the lines around his eyes deepening. The others were impossible to read, blank and pleasant—skilled poker players revealing nothing.

He glanced at his notes once more. “I’ve heard from a lot of you since I arrived in Eagle Mountain and announced my plans for Humboldt Canyon. Some of what I’ve heard isn’t repeatable in public.” Nervous laughter. “A lot of you have offered constructive criticism and valuable input. I’ve met with search and rescue volunteers, and they’ve given me good ideas for how to make the course safer. The climbers in the community have pointed out ways I could make the course fun for more advanced climbers while still making it doable for beginners,” he continued. “Others have taught me about the history of the area, a history I’m trying to showcase both through design elements such as mimicking the old tramways and shaft houses used in historic mines in these mountains and in plaques that give visitors an insight into the history of the area. For those of you who have expressed concerns about the environmental impact of this project, I can assure you we’re following green principles and doing everything we can to lessen our impact on wildlife.

“I want to close by acknowledging that change can be hard. But change can also be a positive thing. I’m not here to sweep into town, make a big fuss and leave. I came to these mountains because they’re a special place. I want to stay and help make them even more special. Thank you.”

Applause. A few whistles. He turned to see Bethany standing, smiling broadly. Eldon and Ryan and some of the search and rescue volunteers stood also—along with, he was surprised to see, all three of the Ames brothers. He nodded to them in appreciation, then sat as Walt banged the gavel once more.

“I make a motion that we take a vote on whether or not to approve a preliminary operating permit for the Eagle Mountain Via Ferrata,” the blond-bobbed woman at the end of the table said.

“I motion that we table a vote until we can obtain more information,” said the man next to her.

Groans rose from the crowd. Walt tapped his gavel. “Do I have a second for the motion to take a vote now?” he asked.

“I second,” the other woman at the table said.

“All those in favor of granting the operating permit, signify by saying aye.”

“Aye!” Ian couldn’t be sure who had spoken.

“Opposed?” Walt asked.

“Nay.”

Walt studied his fellow commissioners. “I show three in favor and two opposed.”

A cheer rose from Ian’s supporters—a larger crowd than he had expected. Walt’s expression didn’t change. “Mr. Seabrook, we are granting the operating permit for the Eagle Mountain Via Ferrata, but if any safety or traffic concern arise, you will be asked to address them or risk revocation of the permit.”

Ian stood. “Yes, sir. And thank you.”

“Do I have a motion to adjourn?” Walt asked.

There was a motion, then a second, and the meeting came to a close.

A crowd swarmed around Ian, some asking questions, some wanting to compliment his presentation. He fended off handshakes with a show of his bandaged hands and looked past them all in search of Bethany.

At last he spotted her at the back of the room with her brothers. He made his way to them. “Good job,” Dalton said.

“You were wonderful!” Bethany threw her arms around him. Ian patted her back, aware of her brothers watching him with, if not outright hostility, a certain amount of wariness.

“Ian, before you leave, just a few questions for the paper.” A curly-haired woman with wire-rimmed glasses approached, notebook in hand. “Tammy Patterson, Eagle Mountain Examiner,” she introduced herself. “Now that the via ferrata has been approved by the county, do you think the vandalism you’ve experienced will end?”

“I hope so,” he said. “I’ve also added twenty-four-hour security to the site. Anyone who sneaks onto the property to make trouble will be arrested and prosecuted.”

“I’ll make sure people know,” Tammy said. “When will you open to the public?”

“I’m aiming for the middle of next month,” he said. “I’ll make an official announcement when I have a firm date. There are going to be lots of exciting things happening, for locals and visitors alike.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll look forward to hearing more about that.”

Arm around Bethany, he turned away.

Carter laid a hand on his shoulder. “Did you mean it about staying in Eagle Mountain?” he asked.

“I want to make my home here, though I’ll still need to travel—for work and to climb,” Ian said.

“And you really hired security guards?” Dalton asked.

“I should have done it weeks ago,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?” Carter asked.

Because he hadn’t wanted to believe things were that bad. Because he didn’t want to add to his image of the rich guy wanting to keep everyone else out. Because he’d been too proud to believe he needed help. “I should have,” he repeated. “No excuses.”

“I guess I’ll feel better about Bethany being out there with a security detail,” Carter said.

“I’m so touched,” she said and stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“Speaking of spending time in the canyon.” Ian looked down at Bethany. “No pressure, but are you ready to come work for me?” he asked.

“I am.” The look in her eyes made his heart leap.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he added.

Not just the job, but the future—something he hadn’t spent much time thinking about before. Bethany had changed that.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Three weeks later

“I guess this is the kind of party a millionaire throws,” Carter said. He surveyed the crowd gathered in Humboldt Canyon for the pre-opening bash for the via ferrata. Bar tents and canopied pavilions housing buffet tables were spread out around the canyon. A local band played soft rock and pop from a stage near the start of the via ferrata course, and the various platforms, bridges and ladders were festooned with lights that glittered against the canyon walls.

“I could get used to this,” Dalton said as he helped himself to a glass of champagne from a passing server. “Maybe you should marry this dude, Beth.”

“Hush!” Her cheeks burned as Ian hurried toward them. They hadn’t really talked about his decision to stay in Eagle Mountain or what that meant for them as a couple. It was enough that he wasn’t leaving. He had said before that he was patient, and she was trying to adopt that attitude, too.

Ian kissed Bethany, then shook Carter’s and Dalton’s hands. “Glad you could come.”

“We weren’t going to miss this,” Carter said. He turned to greet Ryan, Eldon and their dates as they arrived.

“I think most of the search and rescue volunteers are here already,” Ian said.

“I think everyone in town is here,” Bethany said. She had spotted several sheriff’s deputies, a group of local climbers and some volunteer firefighters. “Is that the mayor?” She gestured toward a silver-haired man in an aloha shirt who waved from one of the catwalks along the canyon walls.

“I’ve got some people giving him, the town councilors and the county commissioners a tour of the course,” he said. “Not all of it, but the easier stuff.”

“Is Walt Spies here?” She sipped champagne and tried to pick out the irascible commissioner.

“He is,” Ian said. “Though he declined to try the course.”

“Let’s hope he’s not looking for some way to sabotage everything,” she said.

“Another reason I invited the sheriff and his deputies,” he said. “In case of trouble, I’ll have plenty of help on hand.”

“And you have your own guards.” Her gaze shifted to one of several beefy, uniformed men who were patrolling the party.

“It may be overkill, but I want people to know I won’t stand for trouble,” he said.

“Ian, this is awesome.” A bearded young man wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed Eat, Sleep, Climb clapped him on the back. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it, too,” Ian said.

“Tomorrow?” Dalton asked after the climber had moved on.

“I invited a bunch of local climbing guides to play around on the course tomorrow,” Ian said. “I want them to get to know it so they can guide tourists on it.”

“A person doesn’t have to have a guide to climb, though, right?” Carter asked.

“They don’t. But we’re going to strongly recommend most people hire a guide.”

“Ian! Over here.” A photographer gestured to him, then motioned to the mayor and other gathered officials, who were grouped at the base of the cliffs. “We want to get some pictures.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

Carter and Dalton drifted away with some of the search and rescue volunteers while Bethany headed toward the portable toilets arranged behind a screen next to the newly completed welcome center. As she was leaving, she almost collided with a man with a cane. “Mr. Boston!” She hurriedly stepped back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No harm done,” Craig said.

She looked down at his leg. “You’re out of your walking boot.”

“Yeah. I still need the cane, but I’m doing good.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She touched his arm. “There’s something I want you to see.”

Bethany slowed her pace to allow him to keep up with her and led him to the base of the cliffs below the caves. “Ian put this up in memory of Gerald and Abby,” she said.

The plaque gave the years of Gerald’s and Abigail Boston’s births and estimated death and ended with the sentiment Together Forever in Love. Above this were headshots of each of them, taken from the photos Caleb had uncovered at the historical society, at Bethany’s request.

Craig stared, clearly so moved he couldn’t speak. His throat worked and his knuckles whitened on his cane. “Ian did this?” he asked at last.

“Yes. We wanted people to remember them.”

“Where did you get those pictures?” he asked.

“You remember I said I found some photographs at the historical society? I missed these on my initial search, then a researcher there found these for me. But you need to see this one, too.” She led the way to the image of him and Walt with Gerald and the three women. “I don’t know for sure that this was taken in Humboldt Canyon, but it’s a great shot of young people enjoying the outdoors. And I was able to confirm that Abby S. really is Gerald’s Abby. Her photo here matches the one the researcher found that was definitely identified as her.”

Craig remained silent, his mouth tight.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Bethany said. “We don’t identify you by name.”

He leaned closer to study the image on the plaque. “Has Walt seen this?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Craig shook his head. “He won’t like it. He won’t like people seeing that he knew Gerald.”

“Why would he object to that?” she asked.

“There was bad blood between them. Over a woman, I think.”

“Bethany! Come look at this!” She turned to see Carter gesturing for her to join him and the other search and rescue volunteers.

She wanted to stay and question Craig more. What woman had Walt and Gerald fallen out over? Did Craig mean Katherine? Was Walt angry enough to have murdered Gerald?

“I have to go,” Craig said.

“Wait!”

But he was already hobbling away, moving faster than she would have thought possible with a cane.

Still pondering his words, she went to join the SAR volunteers. “Get a load of this photo of you from the last climbing clinic,” Carter said.

She leaned in to view the image on Eldon’s camera. There she was, in helmet and harness, dangling off a cliff, a big smile on her face. “I look like someone who knows what she’s doing,” she said.

“I never knew you were such a good actress,” Carter said.

“Let me see.”

The others made room for Aaron, in his deputy’s uniform, to crowd in beside her. “Is everything okay?” she asked him.

“No sign of trouble.” He stepped back and pulled her with him. “Anything I need to know about?”

“No, it’s going well. We open in a week, and we already have almost all the entry slots filled.”

“Have you done the course yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. I’m waiting until Ian can take me.”

“Until Ian can take you where?” The man in question returned to her side. “Hello, Aaron.”

“You’re going to take me on the via ferrata,” she said.

“I want to do that,” he said. “I want you to be able to tell people about the experience and answer any questions they might have.”

“How’s the new job working out?” Aaron asked.

“I’m really enjoying it,” she said.

“Mom hired someone to take your place at Peak Jeep Tours.”

“Ashlynn. I trained her. She’s really nice.”

“I don’t think Mom is happy with someone she can’t boss around as much.”

“She still has Carter and Dalton.”

Aaron grinned. “Why do you think I refused to work for her and Dad?”

They bumped fists in solidarity, and he moved on. Bethany turned to Ian. “This is a great party,” she said. “I’m so proud of what you’ve done.”

“Thanks. Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

“Did you know Craig Boston is here?”

“I invited him. I didn’t know he made it.”

“I ran into him and showed him the memorial for Gerald and Abby. He was so moved he was speechless. I also showed him the group photo of him with Gerald and Walt and the three women.”

“What did he think of that one?”

“He asked if Walt had seen it. Then he said Walt wouldn’t like it because he wouldn’t want people to know he had been friends with Gerald. Craig said the two had a falling out over a woman. But he left before I could ask him what woman.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Craig mentioned one day that he had heard Walt and Katherine dated before Gerald married her. I wanted to follow up on it, but I couldn’t think where to begin. Then so much else was going on that it slipped my mind. But maybe Walt had a reason for wanting Gerald and Abby dead.” A chill swept over her as she spoke.

“Don’t let Walt hear you say that,” Ian said.

“I won’t. But I’m going to mention it to Aaron. Just so he can keep an eye on Walt.” She looked around at the milling crowd. “Where is Walt?”

“I don’t know,” Ian said. “Maybe he left already.” He put his arm around her. “Come on. It’s almost time for the ribbon cutting.”

* * *

Ian made a speech in which he thanked as many people as he could remember who’d helped make the via ferrata a reality. He introduced the mayor, the town council members and the county commissioners, along with the sheriff and the construction manager. The photographer from the paper took a lot of photos. Ian cut through a ribbon stretched across the front of the welcome center with a pair of giant scissors, then the band started up again and he invited people to enjoy the food, the music and the evening.

It was after ten when the last cars pulled out of the parking area. The catering crew cleaned up, the band packed its instruments, and Ian and Bethany were finally alone. They sat in two folding chairs in front of the welcome center, drinking the last of a bottle of champagne he had liberated from the caterers and admiring the lights strung across the canyon walls.

“It’s so quiet with everyone gone,” she said.

“There’s still a security guard here somewhere,” Ian said. Since the night of the fire, he had at least one guard on duty, twenty-four hours a day. No one had tried to enter the canyon illegally, but Ian wasn’t going to take chances. More sabotage to the climbing route could injure or kill a tourist. A tragedy like that would ruin Ian’s reputation—and be terrible for the town, beyond the impact it would have on an innocent family.

Bethany laced her fingers with his. “You’ve done a great job,” she said. “A lot of people would have given up.”

“I’m too stubborn to give up.” He sipped champagne, the bubbles fizzing on his tongue. “Besides, I had to make this project work so I’d have an excuse to stay here with you.”

When she didn’t answer, he turned to look at her. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I—” She cleared her throat. “I was so relieved when you said at the county commissioners’ meeting that you wanted to stay in Eagle Mountain,” she said. “Before that, I was trying so hard not to be upset about you going away. I mean, the very first day we met, you said you were only going to stay in Eagle Mountain until the via ferrata was complete. And then later, you talked about moving on to other places, to start new projects and do more climbing. Then I found those notes you made about Argentina… I knew you were going to leave and I was going to be hurt and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I couldn’t stay away because…because I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“Oh, Bethany.” Ian set down his glass and leaned toward her. He intended to put his arms around her, maybe even pull her into his lap.

She was crying now, dashing tears from her eyes with her fingers. “I’m just being silly.”

“You’re not being silly.” He touched her under the chin, nudging her until she looked up at him. “I couldn’t stay away from you, either,” he said. “It’s why I wanted to stay. Why I’m going to stay.”

He kissed her and tried to put everything he was feeling into that kiss. He wasn’t good with words, more at home alone on a mountainside than talking to anyone, even her. But he owed it to her—to them—to try to share his feelings, no matter how scary that felt.

She pulled away. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“I heard something.” She looked past him, searching the canyon walls. “What’s that up on that platform?” She pointed midway through the climbing route. “Is that a person?”

Ian followed her gaze and saw a shadowy figure, like someone sitting on the platform. “Are they asleep?” Bethany asked.

“Or drunk,” he said. Or dead? He pulled out his phone to call 911, then put it back. Drinking too much at a party wasn’t a crime. He’d go up there, help them down and call them a ride home.

“It’s not moving at all,” Bethany said. “I’m not sure it’s even a person. Maybe somebody put a stuffed dummy up there—as a joke.”

“Who would make a joke like that?” he asked.

“My brothers,” she said. “And half the volunteers with search and rescue. Maybe some of the local climbers.” She shrugged. “You should take it as a compliment, that they consider you someone they can joke with.”

He relaxed. A joke. That was nothing to get upset about. “I’ll climb up there and check it out.”

“You’re going to climb up there in the dark?” Her voice rose in alarm.

“It’s not that far,” he said. “And there are lights. You can go into the trailer and wait for me.”

“No way am I waiting down here by myself in the dark,” she said. “I’m going with you.”

* * *

Bethany had been prepared for Ian to argue with her, and she had been ready to point out that she was a trained search and rescue volunteer. If he got into trouble, he would want someone like her by his side. Which was a total bluff. Ian Seabrook needed her help on the via ferrata he had designed about as much as Miss America needed Bethany’s beauty tips.

But she didn’t get to try out her argument. Ian looked her up and down—she was wearing tennis shoes with her sundress because she refused to stand around in a rocky canyon in heels, and she had bike shorts underneath the dress because even at a party, she had to be ready for a search and rescue call. “Let’s get harnesses and helmets,” he said.

She had never climbed a via ferrata. She had never climbed any significant distance. She had never climbed in the dark.

“This is going to be easy,” he said as he showed her where to clip her safety line. “I’m going to tell you where to put your hands and feet. You just do as I say. Do you trust me?”

Bethany nodded. “I do.” She trusted him more than anyone else in her life. She trusted him with her life.

He put her in front of him so he could direct her as she climbed. The first pitch was easy, moving up a series of iron rings. Then a sideways scramble, using the hand- and footholds he directed her to. As unsettling as it was to climb in semidarkness, it helped that if she looked down, she couldn’t really see anything. She kept her eyes up and reminded herself that she was clipped onto the safety cable. She wasn’t going to fall.

The platform where they had seen the shadowy figure was a third of the way through the one-and-a-half-mile route. The platform itself was strung with white party lights, and as she drew closer, she could see that it was the figure of a man, slumped against the canyon wall, a hat pulled down low over the face. Could it be a person, sleeping off too much alcohol?

“Hello!” she called just before she stepped onto the platform. “Wake up!”

She took two steps forward, feeling a little foolish for shouting at a dummy, though it was a very realistic dummy. Ian moved onto the platform behind her. “What the—” But the words died as the figure lurched to its feet. A hand pushed back the hat and a familiar figure glared at them.

“Mr. Boston, what are you doing here?” Bethany asked, even as he raised a pistol and pointed it at them.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“How did you get up here?” Ian demanded. Though his gaze was drawn to the gun in Craig’s hand, he forced himself to look at the man’s face, though much of it was in shadow.

“My ankle has been healed for weeks,” Craig said. “I only wore the boot and carried the cane so you’d believe I was hurt worse than I really was.”

“What are you doing here?” Bethany asked.

“I’m trying to stop you from making a big mistake,” he said.

“What mistake?” Ian took a step toward the man, but Craig waved the pistol.

“Back off, or I’ll shoot,” he said.

Ian froze, acutely aware that Bethany stood between him and the gunman. He needed to find a way to get in front of her. “What mistake are you trying to prevent?” he asked again.

“Nobody even remembered Gerald and Abby until you came along,” Craig said. “If anyone did think of them, they believed they moved away. You had to go uncovering their bodies and letting everyone know they were murdered. And you won’t let people forget, with your photographs and memorial plaques. As long as people remember, they’re going to keep looking for the person who killed them.”

Had Craig killed his uncle? But asking that might anger him enough to pull the trigger. Instead, Ian asked, “Were you the one who shot at me? Did you set the fire?”

“I had to silence you.”

“We didn’t mean to upset you,” Bethany said.

Craig turned his head toward her, though the hand that held the gun remained steady. “That picture was the last straw,” he said. “With me and Abby.”

“Abby was with you?” she asked.

“She was mine before Gerald ever knew her. Katherine was mine first, too. Then Gerald decided he wanted them and took them from me. I was upset about Katherine at first. Who wouldn’t be? But then I saw he had done me a favor, taking Katherine off my hands. I met Abby, and I knew what love truly was.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” Bethany said. She sounded so calm. Had her search and rescue training taught her to be so calm in a crisis, or did that come naturally?

“Abby was with me that day we rode horses,” Craig continued. “You’re right. It was here in this canyon. Gerald had never even seen her before that day. But as soon as he saw her, he decided he had to have her. He didn’t stop until he had stolen her from me. He even tried to kill Katherine so she would be out of the picture.”

“How did he try to kill Katherine?” Bethany asked.

If only she could keep Craig talking, maybe Ian could get to his phone. He slid one hand toward his pocket.

“Gerald was driving the car the day Katy was hurt,” Craig said. “He ran over her and drove off. When she tried to tell people what had really happened, he told everyone she was a drunk, that she had been cheating on him with another man. She didn’t deserve that. I went to see her in the hospital—because I was a true friend, even though I wasn’t in love with her anymore. She told me the whole story. When Gerald divorced her and married Abby, it broke her heart. She really did start drinking then. He ruined her life.”

“Who set fire to Gerald and Abby’s house?” Bethany asked.

“That was me. I didn’t want to hurt them, just frighten them.” He chuckled, a sound more chilling than any of his previous anger. “He thought Walt set that fire. Gerald even accused him of it.”

“Why would Gerald accuse Walt?”

“Because Walt was Katherine’s friend, too. Walt believed her story about the accident. Told Gerald if he didn’t set aside money to support Katherine, he would tell everyone what he had done. The two of them argued, but in the end, Gerald gave in. He wanted everyone—especially Abby—to think he was a good person. Abby had no idea.” He jerked his head back toward Ian. “Stop fidgeting. Don’t think I don’t see you over there.”

“What did you do, Craig?” Bethany asked. “To Gerald?”

“All I wanted was Abby to leave him and come back to me. I asked them to meet me here, in the canyon, where Gerald and Abby first met. I told them I had a present for them. They had no reason to suspect me. I was careful to not let Gerald see how much I hated him,” he said. “All I wanted was to get him out of the picture. He didn’t deserve to live—after the way he had treated Katherine. The way he treated me. We were like brothers growing up, yet he had betrayed me twice. I knew if I could make Abby see what he was really like, she would love me again.”

He fell silent, head bowed. Ian tensed. They had to keep him talking. Talking and not shooting.

“They agreed to meet you?” Ian asked.

“Yes. I led them up to the caves. They had never been in there before. I told them it was incredibly beautiful, with a lot of crystals and stuff. I knew they would want to see it,” he said. “But when we got in there, I confronted Gerald about stealing Abby from me. I told her what he had done to Katherine, what he had done to me. Gerald denied everything, then he tried to shoot me. I wrestled with him, and the gun went off. Then I heard a scream and realized the bullet had hit Abby. I tried to go to her, but Gerald pulled me away.”

“Oh.” One soft syllable from Bethany, so full of sympathy and horror.

“He cradled her in his arms and told her everything I said was lies,” Craig said. “He told her I had never really loved her. I couldn’t stand it, knowing she would go to her grave believing the lies he was telling her. I picked up the pistol and shot him. Then I left them.

“I told everyone I knew that I had seen them leaving town. A few days later I came back and set off dynamite to trigger a rock slide. I worked with explosives in the mines and knew just where to set the charges,” he said. “I figured if anyone suspected it had been done on purpose, they would blame Walt because he lived next to the canyon, and I stole the dynamite he had left over from blasting out a foundation for a new house. But no one even suspected.

“And then you two came along and I was reading about the murders in the papers. Then you found out I lived here and brought me to the sheriff’s attention. I tried everything I could think of to get you to go away. Let the dead stay buried.”

“Did you put the wedding ring in the cave after we found their remains?” Bethany asked.

Craig nodded. “I bought that ring for Abby. I left it as a kind of memorial for her.”

He was looking down, the barrel of the gun aimed down as well. Ian pulled his phone from his pocket. All he had to hit was one number—

Pain burned through his shoulder even as the crack of the shot reverberated around the canyon. Bethany screamed, and Ian staggered back, then dropped to his knees, sick and dizzy. He gripped his injured shoulder, blood seeping through his hands then watched, helpless, as Bethany grappled with Craig.

He braced himself for the sound of another gunshot, but instead Craig shoved Bethany off the catwalk. She fell, her scream cut off like a door had slammed.

* * *

Bethany’s shoulder and hip crashed into the jagged rock below the catwalk, and she clutched in the darkness for any kind of purchase. Then she was jerked up short, like a yo-yo on the end of a string. She clung to the rock, one foot on a narrow outcropping, the other dangling free. The safety cable had done its job and arrested her fall, but how long could she cling here?

She looked up and, through the mesh of the catwalk, saw Craig kneeling on the edge, looking down. At the other end of the platform, Ian lay still. She choked back a sob and sent up a silent prayer that Ian was still alive. She couldn’t give into that fear, and she was afraid to make a sound. If Craig realized she was still here and not dashed on the rocks below, he might unclip the safety cable.

The catwalk began to shake, and footsteps thundered across it. A figure launched itself at Craig. “No!” a man shouted. At first Bethany thought it was the security guard, then the wrestling pair rolled into the light and she recognized Walt Spies.

The two men shouted obscenities at each other, then something bounced on the catwalk and dropped over the edge. The pistol. Walt was on his back now, Craig on top of him. Bethany stared up at the tableau, her arms and legs straining to maintain their precarious hold on the rock.

Ian rose to his knees, staggering to his feet. He moved toward the two combatants, then kicked Craig in the head. Craig howled and raised up, and Walt pushed him off. “You’re not going to kill me!” he shouted and punched Craig in the face.

Craig crumpled and lay curled on the catwalk. Walt pulled himself upright. “Make a move, and I’ll shove you right over the side,” he said. Then he turned to Ian. “The sheriff is on the way.”

“Ian!” Bethany shouted.

He looked down between his feet. “Bethany?”

“I’m on the rock, right under the catwalk. The safety line caught me. But I don’t think I can get up.”

“Hang on,” Ian said. “Help is coming.”

“What are you doing here, Walt?” she called.

“I came back to check on you two,” he said. “I saw the photo you posted, of the six of us riding horses. I’d forgotten about that day, but seeing it reminded me of all the bad blood between Craig and his uncle Gerald—things I hadn’t thought about in decades. It worried me that maybe he was behind all the trouble you’ve been having. Call it instinct, I guess. I wanted to come back and tell you to keep an eye on him, even though you didn’t appreciate my warning before.”

“You told us you didn’t know Gerald,” Ian said.

“I didn’t. Not really. I knew Craig. He knew our family rented out horses for rides in the canyons around here. He arranged that outing. That was probably the first time I ever met Gerald.”

“Who was Susan?” Bethany asked, remembering the third woman in the photograph.

“A woman I was dating at the time.”

“And Katherine was Gerald’s wife, and Abby was Craig’s girlfriend,” Bethany said.

“Abby was his date. I don’t know how serious things were between them.”

“Was he telling the truth when he said Gerald stole Abby from him?” Ian asked.

“I heard all about that later. Gossip spreads in a small town, and Eagle Mountain was very small back then. I know the day I took them riding, Gerald was flirting with Abby. She was flirting back. His wife, Katy, was plenty steamed. Craig was more sullen by the minute. I cut the ride short, it was so unpleasant. Then later I heard Katy and Gerald were getting divorced. When he married Abby I kind of put two and two together.”

“Craig said you knew the truth about Katherine’s accident,” Bethany said. “That Gerald was the one who hurt her.”

“Katy and I got to be friends after that riding trip. Nothing romantic, just friends. She liked horses and came out to the ranch several times to ride. She had a quick temper and was jealous of Gerald, but I guess he gave her reason to be. I saw him and Katy in his car the afternoon she was hurt. So when I visited her in the hospital and she told me Gerald was the one who had hurt her, I believed her.”

He turned to Ian, who was leaned back against the rock, clutching his shoulder. “When I got here, I found your security guard unconscious near the welcome center. It looked like someone hit him in the head with a rock. I called 911, then came looking for you.”

“Thank God you did,” he said and slid down to a sitting position.

Sirens wailed in the distance, and soon red-and-blue emergency lights strobed off the canyon walls. An ambulance, two sheriff’s department SUVs and the search and rescue Jeep parked in the clearing below.

Walt stood at the edge of the catwalk and waved. “We’re up here!”

Bethany winced in the sudden glare of a spotlight. “Bethany, is that you?” She recognized Aaron’s voice, tight with alarm.

“I’m okay!” she shouted. “I just need a little help getting out of here.”

“Ian Seabrook has a gunshot wound,” Walt shouted. “Craig Boston shot him.”

“No!” Craig staggered to his feet and lurched toward the catwalk railing. He started to climb over the railing, but Walt pulled him back.

“Somebody get up here and help me with this idiot!” Walt shouted.

Within minutes, the catwalk and approach to it were swarming with people. Aaron and another deputy placed Craig in handcuffs and led him away. Danny and Tony tended to Ian while Ryan and Sheri worked their way over to Bethany.

“Are you hurt?” Sheri asked.

“No. Just kind of stuck.”

“It’s going to be easier if you climb down from here,” she said. “We’ll help.”

With their assistance, Bethany made it to the ground. Carter and Dalton met her there and crushed her between them.

“What were you doing up there?” Carter demanded.

“It’s a long story,” she said. “Right now, I need to see Ian.”

Sheri helped her out of her harness. “The ambulance already left,” she said. “Ian lost some blood, but the gunshot wound doesn’t appear to have hit anything vital.”

“They’ve got a surgeon waiting to see him in Junction,” Danny said.

Aaron led Bethany over to the sheriff. “We need to know what happened,” Sheriff Walker said.

She sat in the front seat of the sheriff’s SUV and told him and Aaron everything that had happened on the catwalk, including Craig’s story of what had happened to Abby and Gerald Boston.

“It sounds like he suppressed everything over the years and the discovery that Gerald and Abby were murdered brought it all back,” the sheriff said.

Gage walked over to the SUV with Walt. “I’ve taken Walt’s statement,” the sergeant said. “He says he remembered there was bad blood between Gerald and Craig when they were younger and felt compelled to come back here and warn Ian to be careful of Craig.”

“Walt saved us.” Bethany slid out of the SUV and hugged the older man, who awkwardly patted her back.

She pulled away and looked him in the eye. “Why were you so against the via ferrata?”

“All the reasons I said in the meetings. I live right next door to this place. I worry about traffic, littering, even crime. But I was outvoted.”

“Ian will do his best to see that you aren’t bothered by any of that,” she said.

“I’m going to hold him to it.”

Aaron put his hand on her shoulder. “Let me take you home,” he said.

“I need to go to the hospital.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “All right. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Ian woke to the sharp tang of disinfectant and a monotonous beeping he couldn’t place. As his vision cleared, he recognized the bright lights and pale green walls of a hospital room. Then Bethany’s face loomed over him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Numb.” His head felt wrapped in cotton wool and disconnected from the rest of his body.

“That’s probably the anesthesia.” This from a man, who turned out to be Bethany’s brother, Aaron. The sight of the sheriff’s deputy uniform brought the memory of how Ian had ended up here rushing back. “Craig Boston shot me,” he said.

“Craig is in custody now,” Aaron said. “You don’t have to worry about him.”

“They operated on your shoulder to remove some fragments of bone and repair some ligaments,” Bethany said. “You’re going to be sore and you’ll need physical therapy, but you should regain full use of it.”

“That’s good.” He studied her, trying to keep her features focused. “You got off the cliff okay?”

“I did. And under my own power, with a little help from Ryan and Sheri.” She squeezed his uninjured arm. “When you’re well again, we can do the whole via ferrata. Together.”

Aaron cleared his throat. “I need to get your statement,” he said. “But tomorrow will be soon enough. I’ll give you two a few minutes alone, then I have to take Bethany home, or our parents will probably disown us both.”

Ian nodded, then looked back to Bethany. “It’s not doing anything for my image that you keep meeting me at hospitals,” he said.

“We’re both alive,” she said. “That’s all that matters.”

He caught her hand in his. “I love you. I should have said it before. I’ve almost lost you twice now, and I’m not going to let another day pass without making sure you understand that.”

“I know you love me, but it’s nice to hear it.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you, too.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” Ian said. “You know that, right?”

“I know.” She kissed him again. “I’m going to leave you now, but just for a few hours. Then I promise you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“I like the sound of that. There’s just one other thing.”

“Oh?”

“You’re fired.”

“What?”

“You can’t be my employee anymore. I want you to be my partner instead.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Your business partner?”

“Business partner. And life partner.”

“Are you proposing?”

Not the reaction he had expected. “Is this a bad time?”

She laughed. “I just want to make sure that’s not the anesthesia talking.”

“It’s not.” Ian kissed her knuckles—the only part of her he could reach. “I almost asked you last night, then I chickened out. Did I mention I’m a big coward when it comes to relationships?”

“I don’t think anyone is an expert at these things.” She stroked his cheek. “But I’m willing to figure it out together. I predict we’ve got years and years to find our way.”

“That’s what I want,” he said. “Years and years of being together.”

“It’s what I want, too.” Bethany bent and kissed him again. A kiss that told him everything he needed to know about how much she loved him—and how good they would be together.

* * * * *

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CHAPTER ONE

The cartel had come for one of their own.

Ivy Bardot tried not to let the heat get to her, but there was no fighting it. The body had been left in the middle of the desert. Just like the others. A message. For her.

Dark hair splayed out from around a thin face. Wide eyes that had seen so much within the walls of Socorro Security stared into the sky without any life behind them.

The elements had done their job, stripping moisture from the victim’s ocher skin and leaving nothing but a thick rawhide behind. Victim. That word wasn’t supposed to fit. It wasn’t supposed to touch anyone on her team. She’d tried to make sure of that since founding Socorro. Every operative was trained to take care of themselves. No matter the circumstance. Search and rescue, emergency protocols, food and supplies in every vehicle, combat training. It didn’t matter the face staring back at her had seen more violence and blood out of the field rather than in. Ivy was responsible for all of them.

What had Dr. Piel done wrong?

“That her?” Chief of police Baker Halsey let his shadow cast across the cracked desert floor. Alpine Valley’s protector had done his job. He’d taken Ivy’s suspicion and run with it. Right out here into the middle of nowhere.

Only problem was, this wasn’t the first time she’d been here.

In this exact spot. Staring at another victim who’d been stripped bare and left to rot. Not just one. Three before now. Déjà vu grabbed hold and refused to let up, dragging her back three years, when she’d still been working for the FBI.

“Yeah. That’s her.” Ivy tried to swallow around the mass in her throat, but there wasn’t going to be any relief here. Sweat gathered beneath her blazer, and her mouth dried. “Do we know anything about where she’s been the past three days?”

Right on time. The killer she’d known had taken and held his hostages for three days before dumping them in strategic locations in the middle of the New Mexican desert. She and her partner had never been able to narrow down the location of their final moments. Though, looking back, she’d known this day was coming. That she would pay for letting a killer get away.

She just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Or to one of her own.

“Nothing yet. The medical examiner is stuck in Albuquerque. Won’t be able to retrieve the body for a couple more hours,” Halsey said.

“She deserved better.” A pressure she’d become familiar with over the course of the past two years bubbled behind her sternum. Purpose replaced the cold leaking of grief in her gut, and the distractions bled to the back of her mind. Ivy cataloged everything she could about the scene. No tire tracks. At least, none that they would be able to match to a specific make and model. The man who’d done this was careful, calculating. He’d gotten the best of her once upon a time, but she’d changed. She could be just as calculating when she had to be. “Grab some gloves. We need to turn her over.”

Halsey seemed uneasy at the idea. There were rules in a crime scene. No one touched the body until the coroner or the medical examiner had a chance to do an external exam and document and photograph the victim, but they didn’t have two hours to wait for the right authorities to get here. The relentless heat could be destroying evidence as they spoke. “Like I said, the ME won’t be here for a couple hours.”

“I know that. I’m asking you to break protocol.” Ivy hated the manipulation lacing her voice, but there were times when it was all she could do to keep the bad guys from winning. “I need to see her back.”

Halsey considered her a moment. He’d been involved with one of Ivy’s operatives enough to get a read on her himself. That was one of the things she liked about the chief of police. Always asking questions, never satisfied with the answers. Eager to dig beneath the surface and find the truth. Whatever Halsey saw in her expression then had him convinced what she was asking was worth the risk of contaminating a crime scene. He pulled a set of latex gloves from his back pocket and shoved both hands inside before crouching beside the victim. “Looking for something particular?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Her breath seemed to double inside her chest, taking up too much space for her lungs to function properly. Nervous energy skittered up her spine as the chief gently rolled Dr. Piel onto her front.

And there it was.

The markings she’d decoded—too late—carved into the woman’s back. Fresh. Jagged. Unrepentant.

“What the hell is that?” Halsey asked.

A bead of sweat escaped her hairline, dissolving her controlled appearance in an instant as the secure world she’d built around herself cracked wide open. “A message.”

A shift rippled through the chief as the implications of her answer settled in. “A message. For who?”

She didn’t have all the information yet. She could be getting ahead of herself, but instinct said this was the same man. The same killer. The one she’d fought to what she’d believed to be his death two years ago at the hand of her trusted pocketknife. Only to learn he’d escaped that dark basement when she’d recovered. There was something she had to do. “Take care of her, Halsey. I’ll be in touch.”

The chief repositioned the body as though they hadn’t just broken the entire rule book of their investigative training manuals. “Where are you going? We need to coordinate so we can figure out where she’s been the past few days.”

“I need to make a call.” Ivy forced herself to take even steps in the direction of her SUV. To prove she could. That another body—a colleague—killed in the same manner as the victims from her last investigation for the FBI couldn’t get to her. That she was as untouchable as she’d convinced herself she was when she’d built the most resourced security company in the world. But she was quickly learning that no amount of training or weapons, no amount of operatives and their K-9 units, could protect her from the failure clawing up her throat.

She locked herself inside her SUV, not even giving herself the chance to find relief from the heat. Halsey blocked most of her view of Dr. Piel through the windshield as he draped a tarp over the body. They couldn’t risk the sun speeding up decomposition if they wanted an accurate assessment of time of death, but the woman’s feet were still visible. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d worked too hard and too long for the past to be able to reach her now. Ivy punched the vehicle’s start button with her thumb, and the engine came alive.

This wasn’t a onetime incident.

Her stomach rolled at the idea of another one of her operatives turning up dead. Jocelyn, Scarlett. But that wasn’t the only way to hurt her either. While the killer preferred female victims over male, every one of her operatives had bound themselves to their significant others and partners in the past two years. They’d built their own families, one even welcoming their first child. If anything happened to any one of them…

Nausea churned hot and acidic as she pulled away from the scene. She’d built Socorro Security out of a need to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Those like the three women abandoned and killed for no other purpose than to draw Ivy and her partner in. Cartels like Sangre por Sangre fed off innocent lives, poisoned the very people they went out of their way to use, abducted children into their ranks and killed anyone in their way. But Socorro had put a stop to that. Ivy and her operatives had sacrificed and risked their lives for this. They’d made a difference. According to their inside source, upper management within the cartel had gone into hiding. The few remaining lieutenants were on the run. She’d done that. She’d saved lives.

And yet she hadn’t been able to save one of her own.

Tears blurred her vision as she checked the rearview mirror. The crime scene was long behind her, but the weight of loss clung tight.

Dr. Nafessa Piel had been one of the first contractors Ivy had taken on. The work she and her operatives had engaged in came with casualties, mostly in the form of physical injury in the field. Bullet wounds, concussions, stab wounds. The cartels didn’t fight fair, and they certainly didn’t have any remorse for doing whatever it took to achieve their mission. Dr. Piel had been there right from the beginning. Ready to send contractors back into battle, a little more worn, but stronger.

Socorro Security was supposed to save the world.

Who was going to save its operatives now?

Ivy accelerated toward Albuquerque, letting the hour tick by without much thought. There was no point in heading back to headquarters now. She didn’t have answers for the team, but from the soft ping of her cell phone every few minutes, that didn’t stop them from trying to get them. She turned her entire focus on the mental map directing her to Fairview Memorial Park just as the air conditioner was beginning to penetrate through her slacks and blazer.

The cemetery wasn’t large in any sense of the word, but it had been constructed in that unique Mexican-inspired architecture of sandstone monuments, bare patches of dirt and white grave markers. Light stuccos and black metal rods made up the columns standing guard over the souls forever resting inside. Ivy parked along the side of the road, gazing through the gate. She’d never come here before.

There hadn’t been a need until now.

Ivy shut off her phone, disabling any kind of GPS. Though it wouldn’t be hard for her security consultant to track her down if Scarlett put her mind to it. That was what Ivy paid her for. Only it hadn’t saved Dr. Piel when they’d needed that skill the most, had it? Whoever’d killed their physician had known Socorro would find her. That had been his plan all along.

She shouldered out of the vehicle and rounded the hood. Slipping her hand into her blazer pocket, Ivy felt for the pocketknife she’d carried since leaving home at seventeen. The one that had saved her life when it mattered. She navigated through the gate and around the first few headstones. Once-pristine landscaping—dying grass, interestingly enough—spread out in front of her and made her search easier. A slope arched from her left, creating a slight hill with hundreds of markers, some a century old, staring back at her.

Seven from the right. Two back.

Ivy pulled the pocketknife and set it on top of the headstone of a name she’d never been able to forget. The third victim of her last investigation. The one that had led them straight to her killer. “It’s time for us to finish this.”

* * *

Carson Lang was waiting for her.

Tucked into the corner of the apartment in one of the well-loved chairs. Out of sight. Clear line to the front door. Just in case he had to make a quick escape.

He hadn’t bothered with the lights. Too exposed. Shadows hid the minute details of a woman who escaped here more than she wanted others to know. A knitting project—half-finished—splayed across the side table, her most recent read beneath it. This one a psychological thriller. Seemed she didn’t get enough real-life mind games and danger in her work. She had to seek them out in fiction. It all added up to a woman who took charge of her circumstances. Who didn’t wait for permission to take action or walk a straight line to get what she wanted, but there were softer sides to her, too. Ones she’d tried to hide her whole life. To prove she was worthy. That she wouldn’t fail. That she’d climbed free of her past.

The scar directly over his right kidney testified to her softer side.

He didn’t have to learn what kind of woman Ivy Bardot was by being in her personal space. He’d been watching her for a long time.

The front-door dead bolt flipped. The door cracked. Slower than he expected. Her outline maneuvered inside and closed the door behind her. Blocking his exit. A strong inhalation crossed the space between them. A distraction for him to focus on as she unholstered her sidearm.

She was good.

“Don’t bother with the lights.” He could practically feel the battle-ready tension ripple down her frame from here.

“It will look more suspicious if I keep them off.” Her voice erased years of doubt, secrets and violence in a single sentence. Hell, he’d missed it. That connection to the outside world. A place where he’d once thrived with her at his side. “Not to mention it’ll be harder to shoot you for breaking into one of my safe houses.”

“You’re the one who called me, remember?” He held up the pocketknife in front of the window to his right. Just enough light for her to register it. A piece of her he’d known had taken everything for her to leave on top of that gravestone and walk away.

Ivy set her bag on the entryway table beside the door, moving slower than he knew she wanted to go into the living room. Gun still in hand, she reached beneath the lampshade on the opposite end table. The entire space burst with brightness, and it took too long for his vision to adjust.

Except he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Under the wrong circumstances the perps they’d apprehended had made that very same mistake, only for an entirely different reason. Her guard was up, based on the way she was scanning the rest of the apartment with those intense eyes that seemed to know far more than she let on at any given moment.

Something had changed.

Something had gone wrong.

She crossed the room and retrieved the pocketknife. As though she physically needed it in her possession. “I had no other choice. Where’s my dog?”

Of course, that would be her most pressing question in this little exchange. It always was when they managed to debrief every few months.

“Max is downstairs in the SUV.” The German shepherd had been a parting gift before he’d gone undercover. One that had ended up saving his life a couple of times. “Couldn’t risk her drawing attention.”

“Right.” Ivy hadn’t moved.

“What do you mean you had no other choice?” A heavy weight pinned him into his seat. Carson sat forward. This wasn’t like her. Not the real her. Sure, she had to keep that legendary emotional armor in place when in the field and directing her team and Congress, but she didn’t need to do that with him. They were partners. Didn’t matter they were on two opposite ends of the spectrum at the moment. They would always be partners. “What happened?”

“One of my operatives is dead. Our physician.” Ivy disappeared behind the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, her heels echoing through the safe house. Her direction changed, farther down the hall as she swept the rest of the place for threats.

He wouldn’t take it personally. The things they’d seen as partners had nearly destroyed them. Any slipup, any mistake on their part, meant risking the very lives they were working to save.

“I’m sorry.” Carson shoved to stand with every intention of pulling Ivy into his arms, but she wouldn’t let herself slow down long enough for that to happen. Not now. “How?”

She slid back into his vision, holstering her weapon beneath the navy blue blazer that brought out the depth of emerald in her eyes. Ivy leaned into the wall, crossing her arms across her frame, and exhaustion caught up in her expression. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” he asked.

“That he was coming for me.” There was a bite in her voice. Accusation. “Our last case together. When three women were found dead in the middle of the desert with symbols carved into their backs. We caught up with the killer. We barely made it out of that house alive. He got away through an escape hatch that led beneath the house and emptied out onto the back of the property.”

“I remember the case, Ivy. The son of a bitch nearly killed you.” Where was she going with this? Why had she pulled him out of the field? Why had she risked blowing his cover? To rehash an old investigation? “If it weren’t for that case, we wouldn’t have known about Sangre por Sangre until it was too late.”

Sangre por Sangre. Blood for Blood. The cartel had clawed its way to the top of the food chain through brutality, abductions, underage recruitment, drugs and women. The organization demolished competitors and left nothing for police and the DEA to tie back to them. Socorro Security and Ivy’s team of private military contractors had been the only ones to ever get close enough to bringing the cartel to its knees. With him feeding her the information she needed to do it. Now Sangre por Sangre was on the run. Desperate to keep itself alive. Carson was close to identifying the head of the cartel.

“He’s been out there all this time, but no matter where I look, he’s a ghost. We agreed you would go undercover in the cartel to find him. I quit the FBI because I didn’t think the federal government could protect you as well as a private organization could, and I’ve kept my end of the deal. I built Socorro Security for you. You said you would find him, and we would end this. It’s been two years, Carson, and we’re as clueless as when we started.” She slid away from the brace of the wall, standing on her own two feet when it looked as though she wanted nothing more than to collapse right here in the middle of the floor. “Who is he?”

“What is this?” She was so close, it wouldn’t take much for him to reach out for her. But the distance she was purposefully putting between them set his nerves on edge. This wasn’t the Ivy he’d gone undercover for. This was his former FBI partner, before they’d risked their lives for one another. Before he’d been injured in the field. Before she’d donated a piece of herself to save his life. And, damn it, he hadn’t missed this version of her. He wanted more. He’d always wanted more for them. “Why the sudden interest in our last case? What is it you’re not telling me?”

Ivy turned on her heel, heading for the bag she’d left at the front door. In seconds, she’d pulled something from inside and thrust it against his chest, every ounce the woman with the capability to bring the world to a stop with a snap of her fingers.

He grabbed for the paper crumpled under her grip. Not a piece of paper. A photo. Carson slipped it from her hand, instantly victim to the softness of her skin against his. The past two years had put him in a position of power, of respect, of camaraderie within the cartel. He was trusted by upper management. Though he’d never met the leader of Sangre por Sangre, Carson had proved himself time and again as a valuable asset. He’d made friends. Some of whom he’d fought beside as they’d taken their last breath in the field. Some who’d sat beside him in cuffs when an assignment went south. His fellow soldiers had been there for him. And, yeah, there’d been women. Cartel bunnies who were always more interested in what his position could give them rather than what he craved. But this… He’d missed this connection. The feel of Ivy. Her warmth. Her compassion. His heart rate ticked up at her mere touch.

Until his brain cleared enough to process the subject in the photo.

Dr. Nafessa Piel. Dead. Exposed. Left to decompose alone. Complete with added wounds carved into her back. Carson had seen this before. He’d lived it. Only it had been a different woman then. The symbols were different this time, too. This wasn’t the same message the killer had left him and Ivy two years ago announcing Sangre por Sangre’s rise. “When did this happen?”

“The medical examiner hasn’t been able to determine time of death yet,” Ivy said. “But she’d been missing for three days.”

“Same as the others. Let me guess—nothing but mucus in her stomach? Dehydrated, starved and tortured.” The details would line up. She didn’t have to respond. The answer was written all over her face. Carson forced himself to study every detail of the photo in an attempt to pick up on something they’d missed before. “And the message?”

“I pulled the old case file and compared these symbols to the ones left on the other three victims. He’s evolving. Using a variation of the original, from what I can tell.” The fight seemed to drain right out of her then. “I have a member on my team who may be able to speed up the decryption, but it’s still going to take some time.”

“Why now?” Carson offered the photo. “Why her?”

“Socorro has practically driven Sangre por Sangre underground, thanks to your intel and our manpower. This could be a final attempt to survive.” Ivy stared down at the photo of her colleague, and a sadness Carson couldn’t stand etched deep into her features. She would blame herself for this. And without hesitation she would take on the entire cartel to make it right. It was one of the things he admired most about her. It was why they’d gotten this far. She swiped her hand under her nose and grabbed for the photo. “As for why he targeted Dr. Piel, I was hoping you might have some insight.”

He wanted to give it to her, but despite his years undercover, she knew everything he did about the cartel. “The last three victims betrayed the cartel. They were used as a warning to those who stepped out of—”

A red laser cut through the room between them.

“Get down!” Ivy lunged for him.

Just as a swarm of bullets exploded through the window.

Copyright © 2025 by Natascha Jaffa

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ISBN-13: 9780369752918

Canyon Killer

Copyright © 2025 by Cynthia Myers

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