“I know her a little bit,” he said. “She sings with my dog.”
“Oh—oh, yes, you’re Graves and Goth-hound,” she said. “I’m sorry, I should have put it together. What I mean is, if you think for a second that Sommer would deviate from her plan and not call in, then you don’t know her.”
“You were looking for her spare key?” Gabriel’s gaze cast about for the most likely place Sommer might have hidden one.
“My husband took my keys for the SUV because the kids had soccer, and Sommer’s keys are on that ring.” She was rubbing her belly with both hands in agitation. “I have pregnancy brain, and I can’t remember which mountain Sommer is on and which trail she was taking so I can reach out to the rangers. Sommer always leaves her itinerary on the kitchen table and a spare key hidden in her yard. I need to get in and get it.” And that’s when she started to cry.
Not little sad tears.
Not sniffs and dabs.
But big, sloppy, loud sobs. “Sorry.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a wad of toilet paper. “Pregnant.”
“Did you try the back door?”
Sloane nodded and blew her nose.
“The windows?” he asked.
She patted her belly.
“I’m going to leave you for a minute to go see if there’s anything left open.” He looked down at Whiskey. “I’ll be back. Stay here, Beautiful.”
The kitchen door was, in fact, locked, but Gabriel found an open window and wondered if Good Samaritan laws covered breaking and entering.
He hadn’t broken.
And he’d do as little entering as possible.
It didn’t count if his feet didn’t touch the floor, he reasoned.
With his torso through the kitchen window, and the itinerary just out of reach on the table, Gabriel jumped up until his hips rested on the sill. Stretching to the fullest length of his arm, Gabriel was just able to make contact with a corner. Pressing down and curling his fingers under, he was able to inch it closer, then snag it.
Jumping down, closing the window, he read it over.
Four days…
Leaving Wednesday -- driving my car to meet Marna and Abbie. Sterling Pass Ranger Station parking lot. Backpacking White Tail Trail. Thirteen miles to camp at midway point.
Thursday -- Thirteen miles, camp on summit.
Friday -- Loop trail back to midway camp/ same as Wednesday night.
Saturday – back to Ranger Station. Home by dark. I’ll call you when I’m in cell range and again when I’m home.
White Tail Trail, Gabriel had trained on that route. It was advanced, but not intrinsically dangerous. The weather had held steady. There shouldn’t be any new challenges from that direction.
Sloane said she had pregnancy brain; perhaps she was just mistaken about the return date.
But as Gabriel held the paper, rounding toward Sloane, his gut said danger.
Gabriel took the steps onto the porch and took a knee by Sloane’s side, handing her the paper to see how she’d react.
She didn’t look at it. Instead, she looked at him with such determination and conviction that the sense of dread running through Gabriel’s system hummed louder.
“She’s my identical twin.”
“Yes,” he managed.
