Page 70 of High Frequency

I’m concentrating so hard, it takes me a second to register the sound of some kind of radio feedback coming from down below, but somewhere to my right.

Is that Sloane? Or did the shooter somehow make his way into the gorge? I don’t see a safe route down here and there aren’t any ropes.

Wolff points in the direction the noise came from.

“On foot. I’ll take the lead; you bring the horses.”

I shake my head as I walk up to Will to grab my rifle.

“I’ve got this, you take the horses,” I grind out, not giving him a chance to respond as I start walking.

I half-jog, following the ridge into the tree line, as I try to keep an eye on the gulley below, while at the same time staying aware of my surroundings. It’s tempting to just yell her name, but if this shooter is still hunting her, I don’t want to risk her answering me and giving away her position.

A cracking sound in the trees behind me has me whip my head around, but it’s just Wolff following with the horses. He’s about thirty yards away from the edge and maybe the same distance behind me. I notice he still has his gun in his hand.

A good prompt for me to stay alert.

I’m having a hard time not imagining Sloane lying down there somewhere, shot and dead or dying. Then I remind myself she’s not some clueless desk jockey, this woman is a seasoned law enforcement officer and probably better trained than I am to handle getting shot at.

Still, she bleeds red, just like everyone else.

I stop in my tracks when I hear that screeching sound again, the electronic feedback. Funny thing is, my own radio stayed silent both this time and the last. But this time it seems a lot closer. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Wolff’s eye and tap my ear. He nods in response. He heard it too and waves for me to move forward.

From what I can see, the gorge has narrowed quite substantially. I can clearly see the rim on the other side. Ahead, through the trees, I notice a small rock platform that appears to jut out a bit. That may be a good vantage point to look down the length of this narrow section.

Unsure of the stability of the slab of rock, I brace myself with one foot on the edge as I lean forward and look down.

Only to find a pair of terrified, upside-down, blue eyes staring back at me.

“Oh, Christ, Sloane.”

“Dan?”

“Right here, babe. Are you hurt?”

She hesitates a fraction of a second too long and, somehow, I know what comes out of her mouth next is gonna be a lie.

“I’m okay.”

Then I catch her wince when she tries to get to her feet. She’s okay, my ass. She’s clearly in pain.

I scan her for blood, but I can’t see anything.

“Don’t move,” I instruct her. “I’m gonna get you out.”

I wait for her to acknowledge, which she does with a nod after rapidly blinking her eyes a few times.

Wolff is already anchoring a climbing rope to the massive trunk of an old cedar when I turn to him. This is what I love about the team, we’re so well in tune, no words are necessary.

I walk up to Will and grab my harness and traction grips from the saddlebag. I fit the grips on my boots, but I don’t really need the harness, I can lower myself with just the rope. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna risk getting Sloane up the ridge without a harness though.

I manually adjust the straps, guessing at the size she needs, because I want to get her off that rock as quickly as possible.

As I turn back to the ledge, I hear the sound of an ATV engine starting up in the distance, but it seems to come from even farther up the mountain. I meet Wolff’s eyes and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. But when Wolff reaches for Judge’s reins, I shake my head.

“Sloane first.”

I don’t know if she’s injured and we can’t leave her sitting on that rock. I need Wolff to help me pull her up on the ridge.

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