Page 20 of Canyon of Deceit
I held up the empty leather backpack. “You did a good job. Even packages of GORP.” He’d need granola, oats, raisins, and peanuts for energy. “I prefer scattering my supplies over my body in case I lose something.”
“I’d rather have my supplies in one place. Outside pockets make it easy to access water bottles. I wouldn’t need to remove the backpack to grab a drink.”
I sorted through his survival items. “I have an Iridium solar package kit to charge our satellite phones, and you have extra batteries. First aid kit is good. I have extra mule tape. Rope is a must. Also swap your shoelaces for lightweight rope.”
“All right. You’re the expert. I’ve taken a Wilderness First Aid course, and I’m a certified paramedic.”
I smirked. “I read that from your file, Mr. Ranger.”
He grinned, coaxing a smile from me. “I believe hiking a mile takes about thirty minutes plus another thirty minutes per one thousand feet elevation change. But we’re conducting our own SAR mission. My estimation is four or five days in and out of Dog Canyon. What do you think?”
“Two factors play into the duration of our trip—how quickly we find Alina and how rough the trail.”
“And if the kidnappers chase us out of there with buckshot in our rears.”
“Persuasion isyourexpertise.” I tipped my lips up in a half smile. “Maneuvering a child down off those steep trails will take longer.” I shook my head. “How did the kidnappers manage to transport her to their destination? Rhetorical, I know. There’s a helicopter pad at the Dog Canyon Park Center, but the kidnappers wouldn’t risk detection or security cams. The other issue is the twelve to sixteen miles over some of those areas. Our guys will trek off-trail.”
“Have you ever done a search and rescue for a child?”
“Not in an area like Dog Canyon. I’ve helped bring injured adultsover rough terrain. We can do it. Granted, it’s a challenge but not an impossibility. And although her small size is to our advantage, it may take both of us to manage her around some of the nasty switchbacks,” I said. “Rurik said Alina enjoyed gymnastics and competed in contests. I believe her flexibility works to her favor. I’m a decent shot, and I’d not hesitate to save your life or Alina’s.”
He nodded. “Glad I’m in safe hands.” His light tone shifted to a serious one. “Are you prepared for the worst outcome?”
I understood his repeated warnings, and yet voicing the possibility cut to the core of my soul. His gaze lingered on me, and I imagined his mental gears turning. “I’m not giving up on finding Alina alive. I admit some possibilities have caused a few anxious moments, like if she’s crying and the kidnappers have lost patience. Rurik said she’s independent. But she’s got to be scared, and a panicked little girl might react in ways that might get her hurt.”
Exhaustion pelted me, and we hadn’t even started the hike. “I’m not using my head, Blane. A SAR team on foot often takes hours or longer to locate victims. And a helicopter needs a place to land, which is possible only if the pilot is aware of the coordinates. If not, the pilot would hover and extend a rescue harness.”
“I have experience with SAR teams. Everyone does their best.” Blane bounced a compass in his hand. “Do you speak Russian?” I shook my head and he continued. “Me either.”
I handed him a few items to place back into his bag. “We pray no barriers to stop us.”
“You’ve mentioned prayer twice. So you’re Christian?”
“Yes, I am.”
He snapped his fingers. “Your faith is why you turned down any more dates with me. I told you about my... problem with God.”
“You’re right. Faith is important to me.”
“But whatever it’s worth, you can add me to your prayer list. My friends who are believers will thank you. Especially Major Montoya and his family.”
I had more than one job cut out for me.
His phone sounded, and he read a text. “From Sergio. He’s at theFBI office and confirmed neither Daria, Alina, nor Jurg Falin have left the country from any airport in Texas or the US. Neither have any unidentified bodies been reported. The private plane that landed at the abandoned airstrip in Hobbs is registered in Mexico.” Blane rubbed his chin. “High likelihood of a cartel piloting one of their planes to aid the Russians.”
The image of a man who could be guiding the kidnappers dug its heels into my thoughts. No, couldn’t be him. He played for bigger stakes. “Have Major Montoya and the FBI made this conclusion?”
“Just my perception. The FBI requested the guest list from the Russian dinner party and will investigate every one of them.”
My pursuit of the helpless had always been my choice, and I’d long ago accepted my wilderness-survival ventures could turn on me at any time. Russians working with a Mexican cartel. Blane’s record said he spoke fluent Spanish if we met up with more than Russians. A chill rippled through me, a get-prayed-up foreboding for what lay ahead and a sense that something might go terribly wrong.
TEN
BLANE
Therese excused herself to pack for the trip, and I stared out my office window as though the busy street had the answers about whether to trust God or live life my way. Therese’s faith explained why she’d walked away from a possible relationship between us months ago. My straw-thin hold on God got me into trouble once, and I refused to bridle that horse again. No lies. No phony faith. No manipulation. No good woman losing her life because of my selfishness. Only regret.
God had put two single women in my path who claimed He took top billing in their lives. I wrestled with my feelings for Therese, Wendy’s death, and where I stood with the God-thing. Rather wrestle a bear. Sergio said I had a mule streak when it came to God, and one day I’d see the truth—if it wasn’t too late.
