uncommon man. And I just wanted to personally thank you for it.'
Merritt softened subtly, but he could sense the other shoe hovering overhead, and he had run out of patience waiting for it to drop.
'Let's get this over with. What do you really want?'
'I want you to show me where you found my son's body. I need to see it.' There was a barely noticeable shift in the man's posture, a sagging of his shoulders. 'Please.'
Merritt saw just a glimpse of the man's true pain before the stoic, businesslike demeanor returned. His anger softened in the face of such anguish. He knew the soul-deep sorrow of losing friends and family, but he could only imagine the sheer torment of having to bury a child.
'My son was my world, Mr. Merritt. I'll pay you whatever you want. Money is of no consequence right now. I just need to find out what happened to my boy.'
'Of course,' Merritt said. 'I'll help in any way that I can.'
'Name your price, Mr. Merritt.'
Merritt smiled. 'I wouldn't mind another cup of guava juice.'
Gearhardt looked quizzically at him for a moment, and then laughed. He clapped Merritt on the shoulder and gently turned him toward the shore.
'I suppose you should put on your shoes while I track down some
V
Leo's heartbeat accelerated at the sound of the river ahead, an almost mocking chuckle. Until this very moment, he had felt as though he were walking through a dream, his movements sluggish, his mind shrouded in fog, disconnected. There had been no sensation in his legs, and yet they had somehow propelled him down the muddy path through the jungle. Passing from the dirt roads, through the meadows, and into the suffocating prehistoric forest had been like journeying back through time. He felt small and insignificant, while the mounting burden he bore grew larger with each step. Somewhere through the oppressive jungle of broad, vine-draped ceiba and Brazil nut trees with their buttressed roots and impregnable canopies was where his son's remains had been discovered, facedown in the mud, rotting even as the piranhas feasted on his viscera.
He wanted to cry, to release the anguish from inside if only for a time, but the tears refused to flow. Perhaps it was the years of repressing his feelings in order to build his empire, or maybe it was the rage burning in his chest that prevented the display of emotion. Either way, someone had killed his Hunter, and even now the murderer was still out there, possibly in this very forest. And unlike his son, the killer was still alive.
But his days were now numbered. This Leo vowed. Even if it cost him his life, whoever had slain his son would know true suffering.
Poison dart frogs chirruped out of sight and invisible creatures scampered through the branches. Mosquitoes swarmed around him, drawing blood as quickly as he could swat them, their frenetic humming punctuated by the occasional chirp or squawk of a bird and the clap of wings.
Merritt pushed through a screen of branches, and abruptly, stepped out onto the lip of a sloppy trench, at the bottom of which flowed a dirty brown river. Sunlight shined between the interlocking branches in shifting kaleidoscopic patterns that lent the impression of motion to the muddy ground. The pilot slid down the slick slope, using the limp vegetation that clung to it for leverage until he reached the edge of the water. Leo joined him a moment later, hands and boots caked with muck, cheeks smeared brown from smacking the mosquitoes, whose numbers were reinforced at the river's edge.
Merritt looked back at him with an genuine empathy, but said nothing. He merely turned and advanced upstream toward a tangle of branches reminiscent of a beaver dam to the side of a gentle bend.
'He was right here,' Merritt said in little more than a whisper. He gestured to the ground, where Leo could still see a vague human outline filled with standing water. The earth surrounding it was choppy with hundreds of footprints.
Leo crouched beside it and ran a finger along the contours of the impression left by Hunter's head. He raised his stare to the west, where, through the wavering gaps in the branches, he could barely discern the jagged line of the green Andes, their peaks hidden by clouds.
A single tear eroded through the mud on his cheek.
He lowered his gaze and scoured the bank, but found only what he expected. Nothing. Flashes of silver caught his eye from the murky water, and then they were gone.
'Are you okay?' Merritt asked just quietly enough that the others couldn't hear.
Leo nodded and rose again, smearing away the tear. He studied the pilot's face, searching for answers. When he found none, he looked past him to the edge of the forest where Colton and Sam waited. Colton at least had the decency to turn his attention elsewhere, but Sam stared directly at them, tears shimmering on her cheeks. He had to look away before his fading strength abandoned him entirely.
There was a splash on the opposite side of the river as an unnoticed black caiman plunged into the river from the swath of sun where it had been basking. Leo watched for the crown of the skull and the bubble-eyes to break the surface, but they never did. At least not that he could see. He took a few cautious steps away from the water and positioned himself to make eye contact with Merritt.
'I'm willing to offer you fifty thousand dollars to join our expedition.'
'Me?' Merritt's face reflected shock for a beat before he again composed himself. 'Why would you possibly want me?'
'Make it a hundred grand.' Leo scrutinized the man's reaction, watching for an unconscious tell. 'For roughly one month's work.'
Merritt's gaze flicked uphill, then returned.
'I'm a pilot, Mr. Gearhardt. My place is in the sky. What good would I be to you in the jungle?'
'You have certain training that could prove advantageous, Mr. Merritt. I would imagine those particular skills will be even handier in the wilderness than in the air. And for someone looking to stay lost, there's no better place than the jungle.'
'You've been checking up on me?' There was a flash of fury in Merritt's eyes. He quickly regained control and feigned nonchalance. The subtle threat had been received.
'You were the one who discovered my son's body.'
'So you assume that I had something to do with his death?' Again, Merritt's eyes ticked toward the jungle, then back. Leo discreetly glanced in the same direction, but saw only Sam. 'You're out of your mind. It's awful what happened to your son, but the poor guy drowned. Like you said,
'Hunter was a very strong swimmer, Mr. Merritt.'
'Which makes you wonder if it's possible he ran into some other kind of trouble up there.' Merritt furrowed his brow. 'And you suspect I might know something about it.'
'I don't know what I think.' Leo shook his head. 'The bottom line is we still haven't received word from the rest of Hunter's party. For all we know, they could have met the same fate up there in the mountains. Enough time has passed that they should have returned to Pomacochas if they were physically able to.'
'Then why in the world do you want to go up there?' Merritt glanced at Sam again. Not at the forest. Not at Colton. But directly at Samantha. 'If you're thinking of hiring me as some sort of protection, then whoever you had digging into my past didn't do his job. I'm obviously not who you think I am.'
Leo let it drop. His message had been delivered. The silence was pregnant with tension until he broke it with a sigh.
'Mr. Merritt, something happened to my only child and his group somewhere up there.' Leo inclined his head toward the Andes. 'And I was the one who potentially sent them to their deaths. I am ultimately responsible for their lives. I need to learn what happened to them. For all I know, there may still be men alive up there. Communications gear broken. Starving. Lost in the cloud forest. If that's the case, then it's my responsibility to bring
