The last guy she’d dated had tapped out after three months, claiming she was too intense, too focused, too much.Too bad.
Sabrina wasn’t about to dial herself back just to make some man comfortable with her strength. What she really wanted was someone who matched her in every way. Who was man enough from the first moment that it never occurred to him to feel threatened. A guy who could keep up, be a companion. Make her feel like being feminine might have some pluses in certain situations.
A unicorn, basically. So she’d be single for the next seventy-five years. It was fine. Watching her parents go through a bitter divorce had cured her of any happily ever after dreams long before the reality of the dating pool had.
The cold bit through Sabrina’s heavy coat as she jumped into her Forest Service vehicle, then navigated it up the winding access road. Heavy cloud cover turned the sandstone rock ahead a grayish color.
She’d learned to read these canyons like other people read books, each shadow and contour familiar. But wrong. Everything should be draped in white by this late in the season. Even the air felt off, heavy with potential energy that made her skin prickle.
She tried to shake it off.
Her radio crackled. “West, what’s your position?”
“Approaching Peavine Canyon access point,” she responded calmly, even though Bonner’s voice alone chafed against her skin. “Beginning segment sweep from the northwest quadrant. Over.”
“Let me know if you need backup.”
She rolled her eyes. Bonner was something else. “Copy that. I’ll radio Reynolds if I need support.”
The road ended at a small turnaround. Beyond, the wilderness yawned, stretching as far as the eye could see, both stark and beautiful at the same time. Sabrina grabbed her pack and stepped out into the crisp morning air.
Now she could breathe. Finally.
The vast open space of Dark Canyon called to her soul. Out here, she wasn’t Officer West or the product of a broken home—she was simply herself, fierce and free. Part of the land, part of the sky.
A red-tailed hawk screamed overhead, the sound echoing off the canyon walls. She tracked its flight, noting the wind direction. The missing couple—Jason and Sarah Miller, according to their backcountry permit—were supposed to have made camp in the sheltered valley two miles into Peavine Canyon, a logical choice for its protection against the wind and for its proximity to seasonal water sources.
She pulled out her GPS unit and marked her starting coordinates. The Millers were experienced hikers, according to their permit application, but experience didn’t always translate to good judgment. Sabrina had seen too many seasoned outdoorsmen make rookie mistakes, especially when unusual conditions lulled them into complacency.
The first mile of trail showed no signs of recent passage—no scuffed rocks, no disturbed vegetation, nothing to suggest anyone had come this way in the past twenty-four hours. She documented her observations into her field notebook, keeping her notes concise. Detail work like this bored some officers, but Sabrina liked everything about her job.
She liked being good at it more than anything. Even in this small, likely insignificant area of note-taking. That’s what integrity and excellence meant—doing your best despite the lack of an audience.
Bonner could take a lesson.
She’d be sure to teach it to him when she got the district ranger position and became his boss.
The trail wound through stands of juniper and piñon pine before opening into a rocky stretch that required careful navigation. Each step carried her deeper into the canyon, the walls rising steep and unforgiving on either side. The Millers’ planned route would have taken them through here yesterday afternoon.
A splash of color caught her eye—a granola bar wrapper wedged between two rocks. The wrapper was fresh, the foil still bright. Someone had passed this way recently. She photographed it to mark its location and condition before retrieving it with gloved hands. No one liked to think about the possibility of a search mission turning into an investigation, but it happened.
She grabbed her radio. “Dispatch, West checking in. Found signs of recent hiking activity along the main trail. Continuing northwest.”
“Copy that.” The dispatcher’s voice crackled with static. “Bonner reports contact with target subjects at Elk Ridge. He’s bringing them in now.”
Of course he was. Biting back a grimace, she switched off the radio with more force than necessary and pressed on. Now she had double the reason to prevail in her search.
The trail grew more challenging as it climbed, loose rubble making each step treacherous as it shifted beneath her boots. Each step required her full attention. She picked her way carefully across a particularly exposed section, very aware of the steep drop-off to her right.
Not because it scared her. Because it didn’t.
This was the stuff she lived for. The sharp edge of danger, the breathless pulse of knowing one wrong move could change everything—it made her feel alive in a way few things could.
Clouds were closing in, thick and ominous, painting the sky in shades of gray that matched the rock around her. She needed to find these campers before the weather turned and the canyon became even more unforgiving. Another fifteen minutes in, she still hadn’t found any definitive sign of the Millers. She paused to radio her position, scanning the jagged ridgelines and shadowed slopes below.
A glint of metal flashed up on the ridge where no metal should be. Or people.
Maybe the Millers had climbed higher for a better view of the canyons. Or maybe it was nothing. Another scrap of foil caught in the wind.
