Page 29 of High Frequency

“Yep. Let’s get this over with,” is her reply.

I give her a hand mounting Pudding, which can be a bit tricky with all the extra gear, and then I grab my saddle horn and swing up on Will.

“Show-off,” she mutters under her breath before clucking her tongue to prompt Pudding into motion.

I follow closely behind as we make our way past the ranch house. We’ll take the trail to the river, but this time we’ll stay to this side of the water. I looked over some satellite images with Sully last night, and it’s easier to cross a bit farther north, where we’re closer to the mouth of Pointer Creek and the vegetation on that side of the river is a bit less dense.

It’s early and the sun is still coming up. The golden light hits the mist rising off the river and makes the dew covering the grass sparkle. It’s a pretty picture, one I catch Sloane capturing with her phone.

I can tell from the chill in the air, we’re getting closer to fall. The nights are cooler and the days are definitely getting shorter. Some of the trees are even starting to turn and pretty soon the endless green of the mountains will be filling with deep reds and rich golds. Fall is my favorite time of year. Mother Nature’s last colorful abundance before winter turns the mountains dull.

I have a two-way radio—a Motorola Talkabout—with a thirty-five-mile radius, which does double duty as an off-grid locator if something happens. It should also allow for Sully to track us on satellite from the computer at the office, and he’ll be able to alert us to any obstacles ahead and suggest alternate routes.

The plan is for us to call in around noon to check in with the rest of the team and strategize based on our progress. We’re hoping to make it to the location sometime midafternoon, in which case Sloane has several hours of daylight to do what she needs to. We’ll then camp down and the team will set up at the top of the rock face in the morning, so they can bring up the body. Sheriff Ewing will be with them, as will the county coroner to take possession of the remains.

Will is used to riding up front so he passed Pudding and took the lead a while back. I check over my shoulder to make sure Sloane is still behind me. She hasn’t said a word since we left the ranch, and I let her be, giving her a chance to get a bit more caffeine in her system. Pudding is just a few paces behind, and I hold Will back to allow her to pull up beside me.

“We should probably cross here,” I suggest, pointing at a sandbar in the middle of the river. “Pointer Creek is not far up ahead, but the river is deeper there. This is easier.”

“Okay.”

“We can probably stay dry from here to the bank, but if you look on the other side, the water moves faster and is therefore likely deeper, so there’s a small chance we’ll get wet.”

“I’m not scared of a bit of water.”

I’m not sure she realizes how uncomfortable it can be, spending a day in the saddle in damp clothes, but I don’t think it would stop her if she knew.

“I’m sure you’re not. Which reminds me, going back out on that cliff by yourself wasn’t exactly a smart move. You should’ve let me know.”

Her eyes spark fire and two red spots form high on her cheeks.

“This again? I was doing my job and can take care of myself.”

This is Sloane’s stubborn streak coming out, and I can’t let it go. I know she has a chip on her shoulder, and I get where it comes from, but it’s time to let it go.

“Policing and investigating is. Wilderness tracking and search and rescue is mine,” I point out. “I’m happy to let you do yours, if you’ll let me do mine.”

With that, I nudge Will into the river, listening for the splash of Pudding’s hooves following.

Sloane

Dear God, if I get attacked by one more mosquito I’m going to scream.

What’s even worse, they don’t appear to affect Dan. I swear they’re devoting their full and undivided attention on me alone.

“How in tarnation is it they do not bother you?” I question for the umpteenth time.

Dan grins and shakes his head, annoying me even more.

“Where do they all come from anyway? I didn’t notice any up on the trail.”

“We’re next to a creek, in a gorge where the sun only reaches a couple of hours a day. This is mosquito heaven.”

I swat at another persistent swarm clouding around my head, and dig my bottle of Skin So Soft out of the saddlebag.

I notice Dan watching with a smirk on his face.

“What?”

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