“It didn’t hurt at the time. Adrenaline kicked in.”
“I’m sure it hurts now.”
“It’s not that bad,” Owen said.
Hope leaned over to kiss his forehead. “Thank you, all the same.”
Flushing, he mumbled an acceptance.
“Is there anyone you want me to call?” Sam asked.
“No.”
“What about your mom?”
“She’ll just worry.”
Sam frowned in concern. “Have you talked to Penny?”
“Not since the wedding.”
“I bet she’d like to hear from you.”
His scowl wasn’t difficult to interpret. He wanted Sam to drop the subject.
“Who’s going to take care of you after the surgery?” Hope asked. “You can’t recover in that closet.”
“He can stay with us,” Sam said.
“With us?”
“At my house.”
Although it was a good idea for safety reasons, she hadn’t made any arrangements to go home with him. It was sneaky of him to secure her agreement this way. “We’ll be here when you wake up from the anesthesia,” she promised Owen.
After he was wheeled away by a nurse, Hope and Sam had breakfast in the cafeteria. “Who’s Penny?” she asked, spreading jam on an English muffin.
Sam took out his cell phone, which had gotten wet earlier. He’d dismantled it to dry the components and now it was working again. After scrolling through a collection of photos, he handed the phone to her. “This is Penny.”
Hope saw a beautiful young woman with long, dark hair and a dazzling smile. Her simple flowered dress might have looked demure on a less spectacular figure. There was an adorable toddler in her arms. “Wow.”
Sam smiled, sipping his coffee.
“Is that her son?”
“Yes.”
“Where was this taken?”
“At a wedding.”
“Whose wedding?”
“Lauren and Garrett’s. We all met during the San Diego earthquake.”
Hope scrolled down to a picture of Owen standing beside them, tall and handsome in an ill-fitting suit. Borrowed from Sam, perhaps. She studied the little boy with interest. He had dark eyes like his mother, but his hair was tawny brown. “Is Owen the father?”
Sam almost choked on his coffee. “No.”
“They look like a family.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “He saved them.”
“Is she single?”
“I think so.”
“And he likes her?”
“Sure.”
“Does she like him?”
“As friends, yes.”
“Nothing more?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “She might go out with him. I doubt he’d ask her.”
“Why not?”
“He...doesn’t have a very high opinion of himself.”
Hope wondered how a boy who’d been in prison, and was covered in racist tattoos, could drum up the nerve to ask any girl on a date. “What if she said yes?”
“Her father is Jorge Sandoval. Former mayor of L.A. Current governor of California.”
“No,” she breathed.
“He’d disown her.”
She glanced through the set of photos, troubled. The bride and groom made a very attractive couple. Sam wasn’t in any of the pictures. Most were taken from a distance. “When was the wedding?”
“Six months ago. Just before Christmas.”
With a frown, she closed the images. “Do you mind if I call my sister?”
“Go right ahead.”
She sent Faith a quick text and handed the phone back to him. Suddenly her raspberry jam looked unappetizing. Disturbing thoughts floated through her mind. Owen’s mangled arm, the dog’s pitiful yelp, Kruger’s death grimace.
“You should eat,” Sam said, putting his phone in his pocket.
“I can’t.”
He took her plate away and came back with plain yogurt. She managed to eat a little, and drink some tea. Although he prompted gently, she didn’t want more. They returned to the lobby after breakfast. When he put his arm around her, she curled up beside him.
“I shot a dog,” she said.
“You did?”
She told him a longer version of the story, letting it pour out of her like a sickness. “If I hadn’t gone to search the cabin, Kruger and Morgenstern would still be alive.”
“Don’t think that way,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Your intentions were good. Theirs weren’t.”
As she snuggled closer, it occurred to her that they’d hooked up a week before Christmas, around the same time as the wedding he’d attended. “The night we met...was that before or after the wedding?”
“Directly after. I flew in from San Diego and went straight to the bar.”
“Why?”
“The ceremony reminded me of Melissa.”
No wonder he’d been drowning his sorrows. “Did you anticipate that?”
“Of course. I didn’t even want to go, but it meant a lot to Lauren. She took care of me when I was in a coma.”
“Do I look like her?” she asked, her throat tight.
“Melissa, you mean?”
She nodded against his chest.
“No.”
“That’s not the reason...”
He framed her face with one hand, meeting her eyes. “The first time I saw you, I felt this shift inside me, like a crack in ice. Being with you chipped away at the misery I’d built up, and that scared me. I was afraid I’d have nothing left without it.”
Hope couldn’t hold her emotions inside any longer. Instead of trying, she clung to his neck and cried.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE EARLY MORNING hours passed in a blur.
Special Agent Ling stopped by the hospital to interview Hope and give her an update on the investigation.
Deputy Phillip Meeks had disappeared in the middle of his shift. The sheriff went to question Meeks about his possible involvement, and caught him in the process of transporting a quarter million dollars’ worth of stolen drugs from his apartment to his car. The deputy confessed to everything.
Meeks and Kruger had been working with a local grower. During the summer months they distributed large amounts of marijuana to a member of the Gonzales cartel, who flew it to Las Vegas. According to Meeks, it was Kruger’s idea to go after the stash. Meeks had taken the investigators on a wild-goose chase to buy time, and his actions served a dual purpose of leading Gonzales’s men off track.
Meeks claimed that he didn’t know about Faith’s kidnapping. He said he’d never met the grower or worked with any cartel members. Kruger handled both ends of the business. Meeks was just a hired badge, paid to keep the heat off.
Rescue workers had found Hector Gonzales’s body in the Kern River last night, wrapped up with a rug Dixon recognized from his cabin. It was suspected that Bill Kruger had killed him. With both Kruger and Morgenstern gone, they might never know.
Hope was confident that Special Agent Ling would weed out any remaining corruption in the park. Ling vowed to put the staff under a microscope. She wasn’t going to let anyone sweep this scandal under the rug.
Owen’s surgery had gone off without a hitch. When he was a little more alert, they could take him home.
Hope learned that Owen’s surgeon had also worked on Caleb Renfro, the whitewater rafter who’d been shot twice in a valiant attempt to rescue Faith. While they waited for Owen, she decided to say hello. Sam accompanied her.
Caleb was lounging in a narrow bed, his cast elevated. He looked like many of the young men she saw in the park, long-haired and handsome in a surfer-dude kind of way. A friend of his, probably Ted Harvey, sat in a chair at his bedside. They were watching a crocodile eat a zebra on Animal Planet.
“Holy shit,” Caleb said, turning off the television. “You’re Sam Rutherford.”
With a tight smile, Sam came forward and shook
his hand.
“I’m Ted,” his friend said, equally excited. “Stoked to meet you.”
After a moment of gazing at Sam in adoration, Caleb finally noticed Hope. “You must be Faith’s sister.”
“How did you know?”
“You look alike.”
They exchanged a few words about Faith, and Caleb launched into a graphic description of the bolts and pins in his broken leg. The doctor said he’d run again, but with a slight limp. He gushed about rock climbing and whitewater kayaking for the next twenty minutes. Caleb’s voice was animated, his gestures wild.
When Sam gave Hope a pointed glance, she stepped in to save him. “Thank you both so much for helping Faith. I don’t know what I can do to repay you.”
The young men puffed up at the praise.
“If there’s anything you need, let me know.”
“I need something,” Caleb said.
“What?”
“A date with your sister.”
Hope rubbed her eyes, trying not to laugh at the request. Faith broke all the boys’ hearts. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Is she on Facebook?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
She didn’t know what to say. Maybe Caleb considered her an acceptable alternative. She had to admire the audacity of a college kid with a broken leg trying to hook up with two sisters at the same time.
“She’s with me,” Sam said, touching the small of her back. “Take care, you guys.”
As soon as they left the hospital room, Hope started giggling. She wasn’t sure if it was brought on by stress, or relief, but Sam joined in, laughing along with her. The humor had a hysterical edge. Soon she was close to tears again.
She took a deep breath to calm down. “Were you like that at his age?”
“Cocky, you mean? Only on the rock face.”
“Not with girls?”
“No.”
“I suppose they chased after you.”
He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. Despite his status as a local icon, he wasn’t comfortable with fan worship. He hadn’t talked about himself much the night they met. She couldn’t imagine him using his celebrity status to pick up women.
Owen was released from the hospital at midmorning, his legs a bit wobbly and his arm in a sling. He was instructed to rest for the remainder of the day. Sam said he could stay at his house while his arm healed.
She still hadn’t agreed to Sam’s plan, whatever it was. Did he expect her to spend a few nights with him, or move in? They needed to talk, and Hope wasn’t sure their fledgling relationship would survive a heart-to-heart. They had passion and chemistry and near-death experiences in common, but did they have staying power?
Faith told her to stop running away from her emotions and let Sam catch her. Although she longed to take that advice, her feelings for Sam didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t good boyfriend material. She wanted to settle down. She wanted a family. Only a fool would choose a free-solo climber with amnesia to father a child.
As Sam drove home, her anxiety grew and grew. Maybe she’d made an epic mistake by falling in love with him. Sam was a man on the edge. His touch thrilled her, and she’d never be bored with him, but he wasn’t a steady guy.
Owen dozed off during the trip, and he was kind of loopy from pain medication. Sam helped him inside the house. He stretched out on the living room couch, eyes closed. When Sam brought him a pillow and a blanket, he murmured thanks.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Sam said, giving him an affectionate cuff on the neck.
“I’m glad you got your memory back.”
Hope glanced at Sam, startled. Why would Owen say that?
“Me, too,” Sam said, clearing his throat. When he met her gaze, her stomach fluttered with trepidation.
He had some explaining to do.
* * *
SAM DIDN’T WANT to talk about his amnesia.
He hadn’t been able to find the right moment to explain it, and now he was in a predicament. Hope looked upset, as if she might bolt at any moment. He felt her slipping away from him, and he was desperate to hold on.
“Let’s go in the kitchen.”
She followed him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You recovered your memory?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The day I followed you to Mist Falls. I got hit in the head with a rock. I must have been unconscious for a few minutes before Owen pulled me out of the river. When I came to, my memory was back.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I haven’t had the opportunity,” he said, incredulous. “You wouldn’t return my calls, remember?”
“What about the other night?”
“Your sister was missing, and you were exhausted.”
“Not that exhausted.”
He felt a twinge of guilt, as if he’d taken advantage of her. Faith’s kidnapping had left her in a vulnerable state. Maybe he’d been a little too eager, or a little too rough. He probably shouldn’t have touched her at all.
She placed a hand over the center of her chest, her eyes flashing with hurt. “I can’t believe you kept this from me. I opened up to you about my daughter, but you couldn’t tell me you’d recovered your memory?”
“You were upset. I was trying to comfort you.”
“You comforted me, all right.”
He didn’t like the insinuation that he’d used her for sex. “I think you’re forgetting something important.”
“What?”
“I gave you exactly what you asked for in that hotel room. You didn’t want to talk. You begged me to touch you.”
She flushed, glancing away.
“It also wasn’t the right time,” he said, softening his tone. “You were hurting. I just wanted to be there for you.”
“Don’t pretend the choice wasn’t self-serving,” she said. “It’s easier for you to express yourself physically than emotionally.”
He was stunned by her insight. “You’re right,” he said, nodding. And getting defensive about it wouldn’t help win her over. “That night, I asked you to give me another chance to listen. Do you remember?”
Her mouth twisted. “Yes.”
“I’m not as good at talking, but if you’ll give me another chance at that, I’ll try.” He sat down at the kitchen table, his heart pounding.
She took a seat across from him, ready to hear him out.
“We’ve been on shaky ground since the beginning, and that’s my fault. I wanted to make it up to you, to show you I could be good to you. I probably would have told you in the morning, but you left without saying goodbye.”
“Don’t you know why?”
He swallowed hard. “No.”
“I thought you’d mistake me for Melissa again.”
Sam groaned at the realization that he’d been a fool. He’d screwed everything up—again. His deplorable behavior had doomed their relationship from the start. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She nodded, seeming to accept his apology.
“For the past two years, I’ve been obsessed with recovering my memory. I was desperate to know how she’d died. But as soon as I remembered, it didn’t seem important anymore. The only thing I cared about was you.”
Her brows drew together. “Will you tell me what happened?”
He took a deep breath, unsure where to begin. “The months leading up to the accident were good. We didn’t fight any more or less than usual. She was planning the wedding without much input from me. We were...happy.”
She waited for him to continue.
“The morning of the climb was the same as any other. I didn’t have nightmares or feelings of foreboding. Our gear was in excellent condition. The weather was perfect.” He stared at the surface of the table, unable to come up with a single incongruent detail. “There are times when I’ve had misgivings, but kept climbing anyway. This wasn’t one of them. I had no indication that an
ything would go wrong.”
“What did?”
“We were almost to the summit when a rock fell. I don’t know what dislodged it, because there weren’t any climbers above us. I heard it coming and shouted a warning to Melissa. She couldn’t get out of the way.”
“Was she wearing a helmet?”
“Yes. She always did. In this case, it didn’t matter. The impact broke her neck.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Sam.”
He glanced away, struggling with his own emotions. “She fell about twenty feet before her rope caught. I was in the lead, so I rappelled down to her. I couldn’t accept the fact that she was dead.”
“What did you do?”
“I put her on my back, as if she was just injured, and continued up.”
She covered her mouth with one hand, her face crumpling. He’d been a madman that day. Instead of belaying Melissa’s body to the ground, he’d taken her to the summit. The “rescue” had required superhuman effort.
“When I reached the top, I was delirious. I found some other climbers and demanded an emergency helicopter. They didn’t speak English, and I was out of my mind. Two men had to hold me down while medics examined her body. Of course they didn’t call for a helicopter. They lowered her to the ground like a haul sack.”
“I’m so sorry,” she choked.
He fell silent until he trusted his voice again. “The good news is that I remember the grieving process. I’m going through it all over again, but it’s easier now. I have a foundation to build on, instead of a black hole.”
She wiped her cheeks, sniffling. He didn’t have any tissues handy, so he offered her a paper towel. “Thanks,” she said.
He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. Melissa’s story wasn’t easy to tell, and sharing it hadn’t made him feel better. But he recognized the importance of communicating with Hope, even when it hurt.
“Have you spoken to a doctor?” she asked.
“Yes. The neurologist wants me to get another CT scan. He said a second blow to the head was more likely to kill me than cure me.”
“What about the psychologist?”
“I need to make an appointment with him, too.” The idea of returning to therapy didn’t terrify him as much as it used to. “There’s something else I should tell you.”
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