Page 78 of Love By a Landslide

Their friend stood facing two people who wore green jackets with reflective strips and the words Ground SAR emblazoned on the backs. Miguel fired off a plan to handle communication and wrap up the efforts. “Audrey, notify B and C team that we found our missing hikers. After we tear down here, head over and help them wrap things up if they need a hand. Dante, prep the press release with Margo and be ready to talk with the papers and local channels by morning. I’m going to help Frankie get Jonathanhome. Call if you need me. Good work today.” Orders received, they hurried away.

Frankie caught her friend’s attention with a little wave.

Miguel nodded. “He’s been through a lot. Think he’ll be all right?”

She’d been so pissed at her brother Monday evening, sitting alone at The Rooftop Tavern. They’d made plans for six p.m.—giving him enough time after returning from Mount Stuart to go home and shower—to discuss their mom’s sixty-ninth birthday party. By the time Jon was twenty minutes late, Frankie had tried to call five times, but each time, his stupid phone went straight to voicemail.

Ten minutes later, she’d gotten a call from Janet in a panic, saying Jonathan and his customer hadn’t returned within the expected window. So, Frankie called Miguel, who managed the Chelan County Search and Rescue.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He probably just lost track of time.”

“When have you known my brother to lose track of time?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Something’s wrong, Miguel. I can feel it.”

“Ok, I’ll meet you at Off the Beaten in thirty so we can drive to the trailhead and check things out. Will that help?”

“Yes, thank you.”

It hadn’t helped. Betty was sitting untouched in the parking lot, not another car in sight, and no sign that Jonathan had returned to his beloved Subaru. So, they’d loaded on their packs and hauled ass up the trail. It wasn’t until a few miles later, as they’d rounded the corner and spotted the total decimation of Skydiver’s Bluff, that Frankie’s heart truly plummeted.

The next twenty-four hours had been spent assembling search and rescue, notifying the police and Lucy’s emergency contacts of what they knew. The process was a whirlwind yet alsomanaged to move agonizingly slow. Paralyzing fear traded places with crawling anxiety every few minutes until she demanded to be given something to do. Miguel had claimed her to help with operations at the Group A setup at Eight Mile trailhead, while B set up at Mount Stuart trailhead and C at Colchuck Lake trailhead. Jonathan and Lucy would most likely find a way to connect with one of those trails, and the hope was to intercept.

Tuesday evening, the sun prepared to set, and Frankie had just returned from picking up sandwiches Janet had made for each group. That’s when she’d seen the flash of movement by the river. The box of food slipped from her hands, and she’d shot off toward the bank. She’d finally reached Jon’s side as he performed CPR, bloodied and stammering incoherently.

Frankie shook the memory loose and shrugged. “Hope so, but I think there’s more to the story than just getting lost.”

“I get the same feeling.” Miguel crossed his arms over his broad chest, teeth worried over his bottom lip. One dimple depressed deeply in his left cheek. “All right kiddo, ready to take him home?”

“Yeah. I talked to our mom a minute ago. She’s going to meet us there.”

The relief in her mother’s voice had been visceral. A gasp had exploded from her like she’d been holding her breath since she’d learned her son had gone missing. She’d kept chanting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Frankie bit her tongue to keep from imploding into a puddly mess. She’d felt the same, but carefully locked her distress behind a flat expression and an overcompensation of activity.

Miguel wrapped his arms around Frankie’s shoulders. She gratefully sagged into her friend’s comfort. Then she swiped away the tears and sniffed. “Let’s go.”

They loaded Jonathan into the back seat of her orangeCrosstrek. The car started and a shock of 90s R&B blasted through the speakers. Startled, Frankie quickly turned down the volume. “Sorry. It helps me clear my head,” she mumbled sheepishly.

Miguel wiggled a finger in his ear canal, grumbling, “Jesus, kid. I almost went deaf.”

With the heater cranked on high, they drove from the parking lot and headed to Jonathan’s house in Plain.

“I need to see her,” Jonathan mumbled in the backseat.

“Mom will be there by the time we pull in. We’ve all been worried sick about you, big brother. You have no idea how—”

“No.” He found his voice. “Lucy. Take me to the hospital. I need to see Lucy.”

Frankie and Miguel looked at each other, sharing a similar worried expression.

“I’ll take you after we talk to Sheriff Howards tomorrow afternoon,” she offered. He was in no state to gallivant around. She was sure her brother had things to say to this Lucy chick, but it would have to wait until he had a shower and a proper night’s sleep. Jonathan looked about ready to collapse from exhaustion and . . . was that grief? Anyway, whatever was going on could wait until tomorrow.

“I’m going tonight. I can drive myself.”

“Hey, man.” Concern laced Miguel’s words as he turned in the passenger seat to look at his friend. “You shouldn’t be driving right now. How about I take you first thing in the morning?”

“Ineedto see her,” he groaned desperately. “Please.”

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