Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
The image of his face kept me going. His eyes. His smile. His patience and care. That same dependable steadiness I’d seen at eleven, and sixteen, and then again nineteen, when I’d left Thornton.
He’d been the only one to pull me back from my own demons at Fisherman’s Wharf. His soft, unshakeable support had made me want to hurl myself into sea-lion-infested waters rather than disappoint him.
I felt that same way now.
I wanted him to know that he could depend on me, too. That he could trust me. That I was willing to fight to be with him, even if it meant crawling miles on muddy knees.
Even if it meant facing down Jake and whatever plan he had in store.
After a while, I began to doubt myself when I was even colder, even muddier, and with throbbing hands and knees, in addition to the head and ankle. I wondered if maybe I wouldn’t get out of there before Jake returned. There’d been several trails leading from the single trailhead. Even if Trace managed to find out where we’d gone, it would take him hours to narrow down which trail I was on.
And what would happen if Jake came back when Trace was here? My brain spun with horrible possibilities until my body decided to take a break with or without my consent.
I crawled off the side of the trail and into the trees, hoping to at least stay hidden while I talked myself into getting back on the trail and continuing.
And that’s when I heard the sound of heavy boots approaching.
22
TRACE
When I found the trailhead parking area and pulled in, I was relieved to see there were no vehicles, only puddles reflecting my headlights in the dim half-light of a stormy sunset.
I threw the car into Park and got out, grabbing the small pack I’d scrambled a few supplies into, including a headlamp, water bottle, granola bars, and a leftover banana from lunch. I pulled the headlamp out, slung the pack onto my back, and then pulled on my rain gear over it.
Several trails started from this one parking area, like Shay had said, so I studied each one before continuing. The freshest boot prints seemed to come from the trail labeled Kinnear Overlook. It wasn’t conclusive, by any means, but it was better than nothing.
I approached the trailhead, scrolling on my phone to familiarize myself with this particular trail. It was a five-mile loop, split unevenly around the open viewing spot at the top. A few dozen yards into the trees, the trail split in two directions, left and right. I was faced with a fifty-fifty choice. One direction was two miles to the top. The other was three.
Even though I wanted to race up the nearest trail and start shouting for Wolfe, my training kicked in, and I forced myself to spend time thinking before acting. Which way would they have gone? Get the bulk of the hike done before a picturesque lunch break, or get to the view as quickly as possible?
I decided they’d do the first since they would have gotten to the trailhead too early for lunch with such an early start. And if they’d gone up the three-mile way, they’d be coming down the two-mile way. So that was where I’d start.
When I first stepped onto the trail, I shouted Wolfe’s name as loud as I could, no longer caring that people in Hush knew him as Will. If he wanted to yell at me for spilling his secret, well, that was fine. As long as he did it from the warm safety of his van while he was tucked in my arms.
There was one fresh-ish boot print at the entrance to the longer side of the loop, but the rest was a muddy, graveled mess. It would be quicker for me to hike the entire five miles than spend time guessing based on boot prints while the scant daylight remaining slithered into night.
After quickly texting Clay Dennison to let him know what I was doing, I set off. If he was starting his drive from Montrose, chances were good I’d be most of the way around the entire loop before he even arrived at the other trail.
The shadows took over what scant light there’d been once I was under the drippy canopy of the trees. I picked up the pace until I was moving swiftly up the trail at a speed I could sustain, shouting periodically for Wolfe as I went. With every silent response to my shouting, my stomach twisted even more.
“Wolfe!” I called again, feeling a cold trail of water down the side of my face. My hands were freezing without gloves or at least shoving them in my pockets, but I needed them free to swing back and forth as I hustled along the trail.