“I hate to tell you it’s not nothing.” He stopped about five yards away, a blue silhouette in the moonlight, and aimed a finger to his right. “Here’s another one.”
She glanced at her watch, then at the sky. They had only a handful of hours before the sun would start its rise and they’d have to take shelter again. She wanted to be at the river by daybreak. “I know we should keep moving, but...”
“But you want to get an idea of how big of a problem you’re dealing with?”
She nodded, and although he probably couldn’t see it, he knew. In a quick fifteen minutes spent pacing off the area, they located seven more holes.
They were on the move again before Eric spoke from behind as she navigated the sloped trail. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing good. Based on where we are, someone stole Hopi artifacts. There are protected spots in this area, and even though I don’t have GPS or daylight to be sure, I’d say we aren’t far from one of those spots.” Nausea stopped the rest of her words. The idea of someone profiting off Native Americans’ history was the height of disgusting.
Eric’s footfalls ceased behind her. “Morgan?”
“Yeah?” She turned and found him stopped on the sloped rock, staring at her. “I could be a complete conspiracy theorist, but earlier we were discussing... Hannah could have been taken by someone.”
The sick feeling sank deeper, sweeping through Morgan’s bones. “And she’s an archaeologist.”
“One who specializes in Southwest Native American culture, particularly in and around the canyon. She’d never participate in an illegal dig, but this is her area of expertise. In fact, our first day on the trail, she was talking about hoping a dig would open in the canyon someday. What if...” He swiped the air as if to wipe the thought away, but it came to completion and hung in the silence between them.
What if someone knew who she was and was holding her against her will?
* * *
Pain washed through Eric in waves, starting in his stomach and running through his body to his fingers and toes. Pain that had nothing to do with this insane nighttime flight through the backcountry of the Grand Canyon.
The thoughts he’d managed to squash pounded him with every step. Hannah lost in the wilderness was one thing. She was resourceful, smart...
But Hannah in the hands of someone who was up to no good...
He bit back a groan trying to work its way from his gut. If there was an illegal dig in the canyon, and whoever was in charge was holding Hannah, then it was likely whoever pursued them was also involved in this jagged, lethal puzzle.
Which would mean Hannah was being held by someone who wasn’t afraid to kill to get their way. They’d talked about a random stalker, but a targeted hit on Hannah and on them?
Which was scarier?
A deep, thundering roar throbbed in his head. It had started almost ten minutes earlier and seemed to grow louder with every step. Having run out of water a couple of hours earlier, he was probably in the early stages of dehydration, but it shouldn’t be affecting him this severely. Stress. Fear. Dehydration. Maybe the combination was all messing with his head.
Except it wasn’t in his head.
The noise beat him from the outside. The roar of a hundred jet engines, rumbling in the distance, grinding on his already shredded nerves. The canyon was supposed to be silent, but this? This was incredible. “What is that sound?” His voice came out as harsh as the roar.
Morgan didn’t seem to notice his tone when she glanced over her shoulder. At least, she didn’t respond to it. “There are rapids on the Colorado where we’re headed. Usually, they aren’t this loud on approach, but the rain lately must have the river higher than I thought.”
“Will your site be compromised?” The last thing they needed now, lost in the canyon with no water and little food, was to find the river was closed to rafters and had swept away their last hope for survival.
“It would take a five-hundred-year flood to wipe out where it’s hidden, but if the river’s high enough, it could be an interesting retrieval.”
“So we’ll get the cache and wait for a rafter to come along and radio for help like we planned.”
“Yes.”
“Except I want to change the plan.” The thought had dogged him for the past hour. He had to rescue Hannah. He was her only hope.
Morgan stopped and, when Eric stepped alongside her, faced him head-on. “We’re way past changing the plan.”
“I can’t leave with Hannah still out here, not if somebody’s holding her hostage. Not if somebody’s using her for an illegal dig.”
“Conjecture. I never should have said it.”
“You wouldn’t have kept me from thinking it.” Eric dragged his hand over his head and down to squeeze the back of his neck. “Have them bring supplies in rather than take us out of here. We can keep looking, start being boots on the ground to some of the sites where there are known artifacts. We can—”
“You’re forgetting someone has targeted us more than once. You need protection, too.”
“I can handle it.”
“Don’t do this, Eric. Don’t make me pull authority on you. We agreed on a plan.” She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. “At this point, we both need medics to check us out, because we’re pretty close to the danger zone. Even if we get water in the next hour, we still need to be cleared before we come out here again. I can’t...” Morgan pulled in a deep breath as though she could fortify herself for what she was about to say. “I can’t let you hurt yourself out here. Not when...” Her hand found his and she intertwined their fingers. “Not now.”
She was ripping him in two. Everything she said made sense, but Hannah... He looked away and tried to extract his hand from hers, but Morgan held on. “Hannah needs me.”
“She needs you alive and well.” Lifting her other hand, she gently pressed his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I know you want to rescue her. I know you want to find her. But sometimes you have to let go and let someone else be the hero. It can’t always be you. ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.’ It doesn’t say her help comes from you.”
Fire blew threw him. How dare she quote the Bible at him? And those verses no less? She had no idea what they meant to him, what—
“Our best option is to stay by the river and stick to the original plan. We can hitch a ride with a rafting party or use their gear to get a message out and help in. And, remember, I have to get word out sooner rather than later about someone digging, especially if—”
“Is that the most important part?” Eric jerked his fingers from hers, the full inferno of his anger burning in the dryness of his soul. “Letting them know your precious artifacts are in danger is bigger than finding my sister?”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Her voice hardened with an edge Eric had never heard before, but she couldn’t possibly expect him to walk away when Hannah might be in greater danger than they’d thought. “I was going to say if we can convince someone Hannah might have been kidnapped, we might be able to get a broad search reinstituted. No one searched this area because it didn’t seem she’d head this direction. It’s a long shot, but walking out today gives us a better chance of finding her tomorrow.”
She stepped closer to him and rested her palm on his cheek. “Will you trust me?”
That might be the problem. He did trust her. Trusted her with his life.
Whether he wanted to or not. This was Morgan. She’d said she still loved him, and that truth banked the fire raging in his emotions, though it did nothing to ease his pain. “I do, but it’s not easy to return to civilization knowing she’s out here.” Not when she needed a rescuer.
“I know.” Morgan turned and headed for the river, which roared louder. “If we don’t do s
omething to protect ourselves and bring help...” She picked her way along the slope.
Then all three of us are dead.
EIGHT
The day was creeping toward sunrise when they reached the river, the sky tinged a pinkish hue. They hiked in the open more than Morgan wanted, but it couldn’t be helped. Forging a path from the creek bed had been a rough go all night, walking off center with one foot higher than the other on the rocky slope. Then they’d found those holes...
Whoever was digging was bold. Tourist planes and helicopters regularly flew over this area. They had to be running a small-scale excavation under some sort of cover, perhaps in the dark. While not brand-new, the holes were probably dug within the past month. It was possible whoever was behind them had found what they wanted and left.
Or they’d merely relocated.
Morgan had kept her fears about Hannah to herself, but Eric had latched onto them anyway. It wasn’t much of a stretch. Having a local expert on-site would embolden anyone digging illegally. Hannah had done much of her doctoral research in the canyon and had been published. Anyone looking for information would eventually come across her name. But how would they have known when she would be in the canyon and where to find her?
Morgan stumbled over nothing and righted herself before Eric could reach out to her. If all of these random dots were truly connected and Hannah truly had been kidnapped, the perpetrator would almost have to be someone Hannah knew.
It was all so far-fetched, though. A missing hiker was one thing. An antiquities thief turned kidnapper and attempted murderer? That was the stuff of movies and TV shows.
The need for food and water must be getting to her. She’d already started developing a dull headache, having rationed her water a little too tightly. The sight of the Colorado River around the last bend had never been more welcome. The river tumbled through the rapids higher than usual, a foaming, churning mess. She wanted to dive in anyway and bury herself in cool water. To kneel at the edge, scoop it in her hands and drink.
Which would only lead to a whole lot more trouble. The thought of the aftermath of unpurified water made her stomach cramp.
She stopped a few feet from the river’s edge and glanced up and down the canyon. The cache was about a hundred feet away in a crevice about five feet off the ground. A five-gallon survival can of fresh water and some MREs would save their lives.
Eric stood beside her, but he turned and faced the way they’d come, his eyes narrowed and scanning from left to right slowly, methodically.
Morgan fought the urge to turn around. “What?”
“Nothing. Just...” His gaze roamed high to low once more, then turned to the river. “I had this funky feeling the day Hannah disappeared and I have it again, but it’s probably dehydration and adrenaline.” Exhaling loudly, he shook his head. “Which way now?”
Pointing to the right, Morgan eyed their intended path in the growing light. The canyon was narrow here, but the unusually high water had made it even more so. Only about two good feet of walkable space stood between rocks and river.
“This could get tricky.” Morgan dropped her bedroll. “We’re going to have to edge along where the river is high. Toting water cans and a pack with MREs is going to take work. Worse, with the river this high, they may not be letting anyone raft. We could be sitting here for a couple of days.” At least they had filtration kits and the hours to let water settle so it could be filtered. Dehydration wouldn’t kill them, although something else might.
“Been thinking about ways to make contact.” Eric’s eyes took on their first spark of life since they’d left the shelter of the cave after sunset last night. “High water in the canyon won’t stop tourist flyovers, right?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, the slope we walked along is only about twenty degrees and it climbs about fifteen hundred feet.”
Morgan turned on her heel and eyed the path they’d traversed. The land sloped to a mesa over a thousand feet above them, and the angle wasn’t horrible. “Totally awed by those math skills you pulled out of nowhere.”
He actually winked. “Yeah, well, the army still believes in old-school orienteering. Drop you in the middle of nowhere, hand you a map and a compass and that’s it. Get to Point Bravo by zero six hundred and have fun, soldier.”
“So I should have been letting you take the lead all along?”
He offered a one-shouldered shrug. “The cans in MREs are highly reflective, right? So I say we eat breakfast, hydrate, then tackle the slope. As soon as the planes or helicopters are up, we’ll be there with a signal mirror, ready to make contact.”
Morgan gauged the route he suggested. His plan was doable, though it would put them in the open. She glanced at the river, then to the mesa. “It’s risky, but it may be our only chance of getting help. If they’re digging at night and we can get some thermal-imaging equipment in the air, things could get interesting.”
“Sounds good. The quicker we get out of here, the quicker we return. So where’s this cache?”
“About a hundred feet along that very narrow space between the river and the rocks. A bit above eye level. I’ll get it and—”
“No, I’ll get it.”
Morgan dug her fingernails into her palms. She wasn’t afraid of the river, and she wasn’t some damsel in distress. She was a competent ranger who could take care of both of them. “I think I can handle a cache retrieval.”
“I’m taller than you, and the idea of you stretching on your tiptoes above raging water isn’t a pleasant one for me, okay?” He jabbed his finger downriver. “It might be tranquil there, but you know...”
Yeah, she knew. If she slipped while reaching, the current would sweep her past the small beach and into the rapids. While she’d seen people flip canoes and survive, she’d also witnessed the aftermath when someone didn’t.
Including Eric’s parents.
She blinked away sudden tears. There was no way he’d risk letting her fall. And there was no way she’d ask him to. The thought had to terrify him.
She gave a quick nod. “There should be a small triangle painted on the rock at about your eye level. The cache is in a cleft above it.”
“Thank you for understanding.” He hesitated, then planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back in a few.”
He headed upriver and onto the narrow path at the edge, pressing against the rock to keep his feet from the edge, where loose rock could slide into the water and take him with it.
Morgan turned toward the trail behind her as a strange sensation crawled along her spine. No one was there. The path turned a few feet from the small beach, but there was no indication anyone had followed them. Eric’s paranoia had infected her.
Walking to the water’s edge, she watched Eric pull the food pack out and sling it onto his back, then heft one of the five-gallon plastic water cans out of the site. If he was smart, he’d grab one now and carry it two-handed in front of him, then return for the other. It would make balancing easier and would—
She heard a soft sound from behind, and then a force caught her in the small of the back, shoving her into the water.
She stumbled and hit with a splash, the chilled river water sucking the air from her lungs as she first went under, then fought to stand in the shallows. The water wasn’t deep but it was cold, and the current tugged with unbelievable strength.
Morgan struggled to get to her feet, but the river sucked her legs from under her, dragging her on her back along the bottom, pulling her head beneath even rougher water. She tried to dig in with her fingers but the current ripped her away as rock tore at her nails. She had to stop. Had to get out of the current before...
Before the rapids. Before the jagged rocks that split and foamed the water.
Without a life jacket, she’d get sucked under and beaten to death.
The current zip
ped wildly, shoving, tossing. Water and sky tumbled. She lifted her head to gasp air, then went under again, fighting to keep her face to the surface as the river flipped and rolled.
Everything was numb. So cold. She needed air. Needed to stop moving, but everything jumbled together. Air and water. Pain and nothingness.
The cold, the water, the exhaustion... Blackness tinged the edges of the world, but she couldn’t let it engulf her, couldn’t give in to it. She had to fight.
Eric couldn’t lose her to the river, too.
With a massive shove, she planted her feet and wedged them against the side of a rock, stopping her movement and sending a shot of adrenaline to her muscles. She’d done it!
But a shift in the current around the rock caught her shoulder and shoved her up and forward, toward the river and toward the rock. Her ankle wrenched. Her abdomen slammed into rock, sending her face-first into the water...
Into darkness.
* * *
“No!” The word tore from Eric’s throat, shredded and raw.
His muscles locked. His mind froze.
All that existed was Morgan, bobbing limply down the river, the sound of her pained cry echoing in his mind as the rapids threw her.
Past. Present. His parents. Hannah.
Morgan.
Dropping the water can, he leaped in, his foot slipping into the water and soaking to his shin. Eric stumbled, recovered and raced as fast as he dared to the small beach, slinging the pack of food to the ground.
Morgan tumbled. She fought for the surface, gulped air and disappeared. Over and over. Again and again. In the fight for her life.
In a fight Eric couldn’t win for her.
He ran into the water nearly to his knees. The strong current threatened to swamp him. He would be of no help to her if he hurled himself into the flow, trapped himself in the fast-moving water.
They’d both be dead.
Canyon Standoff Page 15