The litter had reached the lip of the canyon, and Willa stepped back to allow those managing it to haul it to the top.
“Did you find any identification?” Aaron’s voice shook her once more, but he wasn’t speaking to her. He moved forward to meet Sheri and Ryan, who were climbing out of the canyon.
Ryan handed over a worn leather wallet. Aaron opened it, then passed the driver’s license to Jake.
“Trevor Lawson,” Jake said. He looked at the volunteers who had gathered. “Do any of you know him?”
“I know the name.” Grace Wilcox stepped forward. “I’m pretty sure he works at Mount Wilson Lodge.”
The lines around Jake’s eyes tightened. “That’s Dwight’s place.”
“Dwight Prentice?” Aaron asked. “The former deputy?”
“Right. He inherited the lodge from his uncle and he and his wife, Brenda, decided to continue operating it.” Jake tucked the wallet in his pocket. “Any sign of other passengers?”
“No,” Ryan said. “We took a good look around, but I’m pretty sure he was alone.”
Sheri stepped out of her climbing harness. “He was wearing his seat belt and the air bags deployed, but the car is destroyed.”
“Does he have family in town?” Aaron asked.
No one knew. “We’ll talk to Dwight,” Jake said. “Did you find anything else we should know about?”
“We smelled alcohol,” Sheri said. “Like he’d been drinking a lot. That could be a factor in the accident.”
“We’ll ask the coroner to run a tox screen.” Jake looked down into the canyon. “We’ll have to arrange to get the car out later, line up a wrecker and schedule with the highway department to close the road while we haul up the vehicle.”
He and Aaron walked back to the sheriff’s department SUV and stood, heads together, talking.
Willa didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t help it. Aaron’s and Jake’s khaki uniforms and duty belts stood out in the sea of tactical black and navy worn by the SAR volunteers. Her eyes met Aaron’s and she felt again that buzzing acknowledgment of a connection, humming through her body like a low-voltage current.
She looked away, but his expression stuck with her—not hurt or angry, justintense.She had appreciated his serious approach to life when they first met but now, after all she had been through with Gary, she needed more light in her life. She had hoped to find that here in Eagle Mountain. She wanted a refuge and a fresh start, not reminders of the past.
Chapter Two
Aaron and Jake stayed to process the accident scene—at least the portion of it on the highway—then made the drive to Mount Wilson Lodge to meet with Dwight Prentice. Aaron had yet to meet the popular former deputy, though he had heard a few stories. And he was aware that the reason he had a job was that Dwight had left an opening on the small force when he decided to leave and run his late uncle’s hunting and fishing lodge.
The lodge itself was a soaring A-frame made of massive logs with large windows looking out onto a turquoise lake—the kind of place people pictured when they heard about a retreat in the Colorado mountains. Smaller cabins were scattered like dice around the lodge, and a sign at the entrance advertised the availability of fishing, hunting and boating access.
Dwight Prentice waited on the front porch as Jake parked the SUV. “Civilian life seems to suit you,” Jake said as he and Dwight shook hands. “This is Aaron Ames.”
“My replacement.” Dwight shook Aaron’s hand. A tall man with a thick shock of dark hair, dressed in faded jeans and a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he fixed Aaron with the assessing gaze of a law enforcement officer. “Good to meet you. What brings you two here?”
“Can we go inside and talk?” Jake asked.
“Sure.” Dwight led the way through a lobby area with soaring ceilings, to a cramped office.
A freckled blonde, her hair caught up in a clip on top of her head, fine lines at the corners of her eyes, looked up from behind the desk. “Hello, Jake.” Her gaze darted to Aaron. “Is something wrong?”
“This is my wife, Brenda,” Dwight introduced her to Aaron. He leaned against the end of the desk and crossed his arms. “What is this about?”
“Do you know a Trevor Lawson?” Jake asked.
“He’s one of my employees,” Dwight said. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“I’m sorry to tell you he’s dead. His car went off Dixon Pass, along that big straightaway on the descent toward town.”
“He went off the road?” Dwight uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.
