Page 47 of What Doesn't Kill Her

“Look. The Restorer is not exactly a helpful guy. He’s a mystery and a hermit. He doesn’t like people. Maybe he heard me, maybe he’ll care enough about the head to search for Kellen and Rae, but I’m afraid—”

“You go to hell.” Max hung up. What a prick. What an absolute prick. He could only hope Brooks was a limp prick who would leave that woman unsatisfied.

At dawn, he got a message from Brooks.

No word from the Restorer. No word from Kellen.

Max called his mother.

She hadn’t heard from Kellen and Rae, but she sounded strong and once again assured him Kellen would keep Rae safe.

He headed into the Olympic Mountains to find his daughter and his...and the mother of his daughter.

The map Nils Brooks had sent directed him to President Roosevelt Road, a narrow gravel lane that wound up and down and around the mountains.

Kellen and Rae had been gone almost twenty-four hours, out of touch the whole time. Few people could face the challenges up here, making this isolated land one of the last true wildernesses on earth. If Kellen and Rae were on the run, how could he find them? Kellen’s military training would serve to keep them safe, but would also prevent him from locating them. Logically, Kellen would make a run for the ranger station. There she and Rae would be safe. They’d have a way to communicate and a way to get away. So that’s where he would go, too.

A tow truck rounded a corner, coming straight at him on the narrow road. He pulled as far over to the side and waited while the truck squeaked past him. Then he saw it. The burned and blackened van, the one that had picked up Kellen.

In a flash, he was honking the horn, yelling and getting the driver’s attention. He rolled down his window.

The female driver rolled down her window. Dust boiled into both vehicles.

“Yeah?” The female wore a name tag that said,Hi, my name is Dakota.

“My girlfriend and daughter were in that vehicle.” Cold sweat. He’d broken a cold sweat. “What happened?”

“It burned.”

“No bodies inside?’

“No! Not unless you want to count a couple of princess doll casualties.”

Relief and residual fear made him dizzy. “Were they found? My girlfriend and my daughter. My girlfriend—” not his girlfriend, but a lie told in a good cause “—she’s about five foot six, shortish hair, kind of blond with dark ends, blue eyes. My daughter’s seven, blond hair, brown eyes. They look a lot alike. Did you see them?”

“No, sorry.” Dakota looked sorry, too. “One of the park rangers found the van and called me to come up and tow it. He didn’t know what caused the fire or what happened to the driver or any passenger. We were both happy that whoever it was got out safely. We figured they’d been picked up by another hiker. I’m taking the van down to have the cops look it over and see if they can figure out who it belongs to.”

“Can I look?”

He must have looked pretty sick, because she said, “I shouldn’t, but yeah.” She opened her door. “Come on.”

He got out, too, and followed her back to the van.

Most women would have worried about being on a lonely mountain road with a man his size. Not her; she was six feet tall and if the sleeveless shirt was any indication, she lifted weights. Heavy weights. She saw him looking. “You have to stay in shape to do my job.”

“I’ll bet.”

Smoke had given the exterior paint a grayish patina. The fire’s heat had broken the windows and warped the side panel door open. Flames had blackened the interior, melted the upholstery, and yet...under the back seat, he could see a flashing sprinkle of warped sequins.

His daughter had been there.

He must have looked ill, because Dakota asked, “You okay?”

“You’resurethere’s no bodies in there?”

“I swear. The ranger looked it over, and I looked it over, too. You can hop in if you want.”

“I trust you.” Time for the million-dollar question. “What caused the fire?”

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