“Terrance,” Creed raised his voice over the rushing water below. “He’s thirty, athletic and an accomplished hiker. He’s also an emergency room nurse at the hospital. His wife is the one who called the Sheriff. Terrence had left a note saying that he was going on a hike up here and would be back early for an appointment. She’d worked night shift so she laid down and when she woke up a few hours later he still wasn’t back. He’d missed his appointment. She called his cell, but the service out here is shitty, to say the least, so there hasn’t been any contact with him.”
“I hate to ask but we’ve been here before. Is there a chance that he’s up to no good?”
Creed never liked asking that question, but it was important that any time he and his team members were on a mission and putting their lives at risk that it was for a good cause.
“Conley believes the man is out here. His wife believes he’s within two miles of West Peak. That’s the path he usually takes.”
Knowing the mountain range like the back of his hand, Creed visualized the layout and features, focusing on spots where Terrence could be lost, or worse. Hikers were warned to never hike alone and stay within the designated public areas, and very seldom did they listen. That’s why the SAR team was up on the mountain often.
“How often does he come out here?”
Creed shifted in the saddle. “The wife said two or three times a month. I don’t think with all this rain we’ll be able to track his path. Hopefully we’ll find him hunkered down somewhere safe.” They always went into a search and rescue mission looking for a live person. Most of the time people survived and that’s what gave him satisfaction. To help someone. To bring them home.
After his contract in the Navy ended, and a short time on the rodeo circuit, he then came home to Cooper’s Hawk, named after his great, great grandfather, Cooper Hawke. Creed now lived on the land that belonged to that same grandpa, Hawke Farm. His oldest brother, Hank, also a SAR, had moved above his bar, Pelican Hawk, a few years ago and Boone moved into the guest house on the farm’s property for more privacy.
“You think he’s still alive?” Boone asked as they steered toward West Peak.
“I think there’s a good chance he is. He’s young. In good condition. Trained in medical survival.” Creed took the lead again as the trail narrowed and sandwiched between the ravine below and the rock wall.
The rain pummeled his hat, streamed off the rim and soaked his thick jacket and jeans. The temperature dropped as the sun set, which only made the situation more dire. The clock was ticking.
The only light would come from their flashlights soon.
“We’re going to have to walk from here, Boone.” The unstable path would be too dangerous for the horses. Sliding out of the saddle, Creed tied the reins on a tree limb and Boone did the same, and they continued the narrow, muddy path on foot.
“Shit, it’s cold out here.” Boone zipped his jacket.
Creed dragged his survival bag up further on his shoulder. “We’ve been through colder.”
“That’s for damn sure.” He gave a dramatic shiver. “Makes me want to snuggle up with a warm, soft body.”
“When do you need an excuse?”
“Speaking of, guess who I ran into yesterday.”
“No clue.” His words made a puff of fog.
“Penny Castle.” The thirty-something, cute brunette was a teacher over at the middle school.
“Okay.”
“What do you mean “okay’?” Boone groaned. “She’s beautiful, smart, kind—”
“Then why don’t you date her?”
“She doesn’t want to date me, bro. She’s had the hots for you since you divorced.”
Creed didn’t want to talk about his dating life—or the lack of—with anyone. “Who was the blonde I saw leaving the guest house last weekend?”
Boone chuckled proudly. “Vicki Barnes.”
“Never heard of her.” That didn’t surprise Creed. His brother kept a rotating bed.
“Met her while I was out of town. She’d never been to Cooper’s Hawk, so I invited her to come and visit. It turned into an overnight stay.” He wriggled his brows.
“There’s going to be an alignment of the stars when you finally find the one.”
Boone snorted. “A man doesn’t plant a garden to have one flower. He wants a variety.”
Creed shook his head. “Mark my words.”
They’d walked longer as the temperature continued to drop, and the rain still came down. Creed scrubbed the wetness from his face and whiskers, but it didn’t help. As soon as he wiped it off more water gathered.
“Hell, we don’t even know if this is the way he came,” Boone complained.
“Hush!”
“Fine, ass—”
“Shh! Did you hear that?”
They’d stopped walking and listened. “It sounded like someone yelling. Wait. There it is again.”
“It’s that way.” Creed took off on the trail. His boots slipped on the mud but somehow, he managed to stay upright. They reached the ridge that was marked by a safety sign urging hikers to stay off the unstable cliff. Beyond was a one-hundred-foot drop into the gorge. “Hello?”
“Down here! Help me, please!” came a weak voice.
Creed slowly stepped past the safety point which caused more rock to crumble.
“Come back, bro. That ain’t going to work,” Boone warned.
Lowering to his knees, Creed stretched out onto his stomach and pulled his way closer to the edge of the cliff. He pulled his flashlight from his belt and shone the light below. The man had fallen onto a ledge twenty feet down. “He’s here,” he informed Boone. “Terrence?”
“Y-yes. That’s me.”
“I’m Creed Hawke with Landing Search and Rescue. How hurt are you?”
“I broke my leg. A compound
