“Goddammit. The weather report said we were in for a hell of a storm today.” Corey’s voice is strained, and I study him, trying to figure out why warning bells are going off in my head. But I’m so worried about Mikayla, I can’t think straight.
Focus. You’ve been trained for this.
“You’re sure you can find her?” Isaiah asks. “She has asthma. If she had an attack hiking, she could be in real trouble.”
“If you can get me the GPS coordinates for where she was going and show me the route she’d take to get there? Yes. I can.”
Corey staggers towards the other two, with all the grace of a guy who’s spent the entire day throwing up, and as I take a step closer to Isaiah’s room, the stench—like a garbage can lined with shit left out in the sun too long—hits me like a sledgehammer. “I’m in two-three-six. You three figure out what the fuck you’re going to do. I’m going to gear up so I can find her.”
“I’m still going to call the police,” Corey says and pulls a cell phone from the pocket of his pajama pants. “But you’re really in the Air Force?”
“Was. Twenty-four years, six months, and nine days. Look, I get that you don’t know me. But we’re wasting time. I can make a few calls, probably find out where your Site One is in an hour or two. But that might be an hour or two Mik doesn’t have.”
They’ve got all of ten seconds before I call Ryker McCabe. Because his wife, Wren, is the best hacker I’ve ever worked with. She could break into the Smithsonian’s computer system and probably into Mik’s email faster than I can pack up my shit. “Fucking ridiculous,” I mutter as I turn on my heel and stride for my room.
“Wait!” Corey calls just as I pull out my key. “I have a map and can get you the coordinates. But we should get Dr. Mik’s key from the front desk. She has spare inhalers in her room. If she’s hurt out there, she might need one.” The kid sounds like he’s about to lose his shit, and even though I could pick the lock on Mikayla’s door faster than any of them could make it to the front desk and convince them to give them a key, I nod.
“Fine. You,” I say as I point to Isaiah. He straightens with a groan. “You get the key. Li and Corey, you’re going to show me where you last saw Mikayla and the route she’d take to get to the site.”
Li sitson the floor next to my bed with her arms around her knees. “I should have gone with her,” she says while Corey pulls up a map on his laptop.
“If you had, both of you could be out there. And we wouldn’t know,” Corey replies and zooms in on a remote area a good forty minute drive from the hotel. “Site One is here, and Dr. Mik would have taken this trail.”
I enter the site coordinates in my GPS, along with those for the mobile lab unit. “Give me all the other sites as well. You keep supplies there?”
“Not really. A spare bottle of water. A protein bar.”
Isaiah bursts through the door with two inhalers and a small plastic box of pills clutched in his hands. “Take these. The meds are anti-inflammatories.”
“You have a car?” I ask. Shoving the inhalers and the box into my waterproof rucksack, I yank open my dresser drawer, grab my hunting knife, and strap it to my thigh. The second knife—my backup—is already sheathed to my belt.
My pack is kitted out with everything I’d need if I were stranded for up to three nights. Two Mylar heat blankets, a camping mat, waterproof fire starters, MREs, a full first aid kit, flares, and a solar-powered battery for the GPS. If only I’d listened to my dad and packed a sat phone, but those damn things are heavy.
Li hands me a set of keys. “It’s the black Land Rover at the end of the first row of the parking lot.”
Shouldering my pack, I usher the three of them out of my room and lock the door. “As soon as I can get a cell signal, I’ll call the hotel and let you know she’s safe.”
“You say that like you’re sure you’ll find her,” Li whispers.
“Failure is not an option.” I zip up my windbreaker, then pat myself down, expecting to find half a dozen weapons and a tactical vest, but that’s not my life anymore. Still, some habits don’t die as easily as we hope.
Every time I blink, I see her face. Hear her laugh. And regret not sharinganythingbeyond the superficial with her last night. If I never see her again, I will curse my cowardice for the rest of my life. Because Mikayla? She’s mine. I don’t know how or why I know this, but I’m as sure of it as I am my own fucking name.
Chapter Ten
Austin
The closer I get to the mobile lab, the worse the weather turns. Thunderstorms in New England don’t have anything on the ones in the mountains around here. If Mik is out in this, I hope to all that’s holy she found shelter somewhere.
With the cloud cover, it’s pitch dark all around me, outside of the headlights and semi-regular lightning strikes, which means slow going. The last thing I need is to drive off a cliff. GPS is a gift from the technology gods, but it’s not foolproof.
My fingers ache from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Every scenario running through my mind is worse than the last. Mikayla injured somewhere after a bad spill. Suffering an asthma attack halfway back to the lab and being unable to get to her inhaler in time. Falling to her death—No.
I can’t let myself go there.
I could drive halfway to Site Three. It’d be dangerous, but this vehicle can handle it. If I did that, though, I could miss something. Some sign of Mik.
Or her body.
