Chapter1
September 15
Scarlet Springs, CO
Sasha Dillon senta quick text message to Nicole Turner, her best friend, to tell her where she was going. Years of doing search-and-rescue work had taught her that there was no such thing as being too safe. She always told someone where she was going and when she expected to return.
Going for a ride. Caribou loop. Back in two hours.
She strapped on her helmet, climbed onto her trail bike, and pedaled through Scarlet Springs toward the highway. She wanted to get in another conditioning ride, and the Caribou loop was both strenuous and beautiful, with steep switchbacks and views of the high peaks that stretched all the way to the Divide. So much of rock climbing was leg strength and endurance, and a good ride improved both while giving her upper body a much-needed rest.
Next week, she would pack up for the long flight to Bratislava, Slovakia, where she would defend her title at the sports climbing world championships. Though she was excited to see her international climbing friends again, she wasn’t a fan of long international flights—or flying in general. She felt safer roped in on a two-thousand-foot cliff than she did strapped into an airplane seat.
Sasha pedaled hard, savoring the rush of wind in her face and letting her mind go, the stress of the upcoming competition melting away. She’d promised herself years ago that she would leave competitive sports climbing if it started to feel like work. Climbing was supposed to be fun, even at the professional level. If competition became too stressful, she would quit and go back to climbing for the joy of it.
A red fox darted across the road ahead of her.
“Hey, little guy.”
It glanced her way before disappearing into the pines on the other side.
Sasha loved living in the Colorado mountains. She’d grown up in San Jose, California, where both of her parents still worked as software engineers. But life in the suburbs of Silicon Valley, with its traffic, industry, and boutiques, had been too mundane for her. She’d take a snowy conifer forest over palm trees and traffic jams any day.
The sound of an engine approached from behind.
As a battered, black SUV roared by, the man on the passenger side stuck out an arm, his middle finger raised. “Suck my dick!”
Jerks.
How unhappy he must be to treat a stranger that way.
She glanced at the Colorado license plate and memorized the number.
Sasha had tried to grow a thick skin when it came to harassment and sexism. The world of professional sports was rife with it. From men whose egos were bruised when she climbed better than they did to random creeps on the Internet who threatened her because she was a successful, single woman, she dealt with jerks almost every day.
Forget them.
She turned her mind away from the guys in the SUV and focused on her ride. She was in the best shape of her career, and the exertion felt good—the sweat on her face, the rush of air in her lungs, the nice burn in her quads and glutes.
A truck engine.
Sasha glanced over her shoulder to see a white truck with the wordsRANGERandForest County Parks and Open Spacepainted on the side. She smiled, waved. Austin Taylor, a park ranger and a good friend, waved back as he passed.
Like Sasha, Austin was a Rocky Mountain Search & Rescue Team member. Founded by Megs Hill and Mitch Ahearn, two legends of the climbing world, the Team conducted hundreds of rescues every year, saving dozens of lives and earning the reputation of being the best high-risk SAR team in the nation.
Not that Sasha was biased or anything…
She had joined the Team after its volunteers had rescued a buddy of hers who’d broken both ankles taking a whipper onDesdichado, a route in Eldorado Canyon State Park. Sasha hadn’t been there to watch them work, but she’d heard about it. When she’d learned who managed the Team…
Megs Hill had always been her idol.
Sasha downshifted as the road sloped more steeply uphill. She passed the sign that marked Scarlet’s town limits, the turnoff for Caribou just ahead on the left. Then she saw it—the black SUV.
Damn.
It sat in a vehicle turnout, just ahead to her right, engine running, windows down, heavy metal blaring. She would have to pass them to reach the turnoff, and for a moment, she thought about turning around and finding a different route today.
To hell with that!
