High Intensity (High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G #2)

Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

Wolff

“You’re up and about early.”

Nella walks in from the kitchen area with a tray of pastries, a welcoming smile on her face.

Fletch’s wife does all the baking for one of our local coffee shops, Bean There, which is why I stopped by extra early this morning.

“I didn’t want to miss the boat like last time.”

If you stop in too late in the morning, chances are all the good pastries are gone, as I discovered at eight thirty in the morning a few months ago when I was looking for some fresh croissants.

“Are you picking up for the ranch?”

I shake my head and clarify, “I’m taking someone breakfast.”

“Ah, the woman who made you whistle.”

Nella smiles, but doesn’t ask any nosy questions. Fletch obviously shared. Bunch of old maids.

I watch her fold together a good-sized box and grab a pair of tongs.

“So what would you like?”

“I was just going to grab some croissants.”

“You should give them a choice. Add something sweet, maybe something savory,” she suggests, pointing at the display case which is overflowing with baked goods.

“Sure. What would you recommend?”

Ten minutes later I walk out with two designer coffees I don’t much care for, and a massive box of croissants and assorted pastries I can’t remember the names of.

When I pull up to Jillian’s house, it’s still pretty much dark outside. It’s only seven; sunrise won’t be for another twenty minutes or so. The house looks dark too. Dammit.

I may be a little early.

In my defense, I come bearing breakfast AND coffee.

A few moments later I see lights go on in the house, including in the front entrance. By the time I walk up the steps, the front door swings open.

Jillian is wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater about ten sizes too big for her. Other than that, she looks like she just rolled out of bed, the creases of her pillow still imprinted on her cheek.

I bend down for a kiss but she has other ideas, snatching the tray of coffees from my hand.

“Bless your soul,” she mumbles, carrying the coffees into the kitchen like precious cargo.

I shut the door behind me and kick off my boots. Then I join her at the kitchen island and set down the box before giving the dogs the attention they’re begging me for.

“Have they been out?”

She shakes her head, her eyes closed and humming with one of the coffee cups at her lips. I wrestle my way through the pack to get to the sliding doors and let them out.

“Good morning.”

Her eyes snap open and zoom in on me. “Morning, Lucas,” she returns, an apologetic smile on her lips as she sets down her cup and approaches me.

“Ohh, suddenly she remembers my first name,” I tease her.

She leans into me, her hands on my chest as she lifts up on her toes, and brushes my lips with a kiss.

“I like saving it for special occasions.”

“And this is a special occasion?”

She opens her eyes wide, pretending to be shocked.

“Why, of course it is; you brought me a caramel macchiato.”

“I see. So…does that mean there is gratitude involved?”

“Depends on what’s in the box,” she goads me.

I band my arms around her waist and lift her off her feet, kissing her deeply. She tastes like sweet cream and coffee, and I can’t get enough of her. I’d like nothing better than to carry her straight back to bed.

The dogs’ barking to be let in puts a halt on those plans, because the moment I set her down on her feet, she rushes to the box I left on the island, and lifts the top.

“Oh my God…”

She grabs an almond croissant dusted with powdered sugar, which promptly sticks to her face when she takes a huge bite.

“Decadent,” she groans with her mouth full.

Decadent? That certainly sounds like it deserves gratitude.

“Have you met Fletch’s wife, Nella?” I ask her, taking the second coffee and giving it a sniff.

“No. I haven’t.”

I’m a little distracted when she pops her thumb in her mouth and licks off the powdered sugar.

“Why?” she has to prompt me.

“She makes all of those.” I point at the box of pastries. “She used to be a librarian at a university in British Columbia, but she started baking for a local coffee shop when she moved here.”

“Is she the sister of Sloane’s aunt, Pippa?”

“That’s her. Anyway, I went to grab a few croissants for us—Nella’s are the best—but she insisted I needed to bring a selection, hence the box.”

“I wish I could eat all of them,” she announces. “But maybe I could take one of these almond croissants for Hayley?”

“Hayley?”

“That’s right too, you don’t know. I went to walk the dogs after you left yesterday morning, and when I got back, Bellinger and another agent were coming up my steps.”

She proceeds to fill me in on her conversation with them, and the only thing holding me back from giving the special agent in charge a piece of my mind is Jillian’s description of Hayley’s condition. Then—while we eat breakfast—she recites the events of the day, after discovering the safe house they were keeping the girl at is only a few minutes up the road.

“Good for you,” I compliment her when she finishes telling me how she not only managed to get her to eat, but finally broke through Hayley’s protective shell. “So you plan to go back today?”

“Yeah, but first I want to hear about your search yesterday, how did it go?”

I know as soon as I get into that, any chance of some morning loving goes out the window, so I give her the basics only.

“Found all three.”

It’s clear from the expression on her face, my answer doesn’t satisfy her.

“What happened?”

I’m not used to sharing experiences with someone. A hangover from my Bureau days, when almost everything was considered confidential, I guess. Or maybe I was never much of a sharer to begin with, aside from the fact I never really had anyone to share things with.

Not someone like Jillian, who is made of sterner stuff than most. The woman has a cadaver dog; she searches for dead people. She’s tough as nails, as she proved last year when she and Emo found a boneyard full of murder victims.

She’s probably the one person I could—and should—share with.

“They got caught on an ice shelf over a cliff. One went down and ended up at the bottom, dead, but his screams got the other two running. Their combined weight broke more of the ice shelf off, but they survived the fall when they landed on a ledge a third of the way down. They were barely hanging on by the time we got to them.”

“Tough rescue?” she asks, her voice warm with understanding.

I’m remembering the recovery of the body from the bottom of the canyon. It hadn’t been pretty.

“The couple came out alive, so I guess that’s a positive, but the dead guy was the wife’s brother, and we had to virtually scrape him off the rocks.”

She winces at my crass description, but rallies with a smile right away.

“Have you had a shower yet?” she wants to know.

“Had one last night before I rolled into bed. Why?”

Her smile goes from sweet to calculating. “Wanna have one with me?”

That would be a hell yes.

My body is already perking up in response before the words make it out of my mouth.

“Fuck yeah.”

Jillian

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I get dressed.

The flush on my cheeks is probably from hanging upside down while I blow-dried my hair, but the stupid smile on my face was definitely put there by Lucas Wolff.

The man has skills he put to good use in my cozy little shower earlier. He’s bossy too, which I find I don’t mind at all. He even offered to take the pack for a walk along the creek while I got myself ready for the day.

I’d intended to get an earlier start—it’s almost nine now—but I don’t regret a single minute of how my day started. I could get used to that. Although, if it includes a box of baked goods every morning, it might start impacting my flexibility, which—as I’ve discovered—is much appreciated by Wolff.

Stopping in the bathroom, I run a quick final brush through my hair before heading to the kitchen to pack up a couple of pastries for Hayley. Wolff should be back with the dogs soon. I glance out the kitchen window to see if there is any sign of them, when I’m surprised by a knock at the front door.

Seriously? Two days in a row?

I walk up to the door and check the peephole. Not Bellinger this time, but two men I don’t know, although I recognize one of them from pictures I found researching the Vallard family online.

Grant Vallard.

Except he doesn’t look anything like the suave, debonair businessman those images depicted. This man looks disheveled and his face is a mask of grief. Not what I expected.

“Please, Ms. Lederman, I need your help. Agent Kramer gave me your address.”

Stephanie? A rush of fear something might have happened to Hayley has me open the door a crack. Whatever reservations I had disappear when the man in front of me bends over, his hands on his knees as he blows out an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh thank God, you’re home. My name is Grant Vallard and I need your help. My niece is missing.”

Alarm has me throw open the door.

“Missing? What do you mean, missing?”

His eyes are red-rimmed like he hasn’t slept in days when he looks at me.

“She wasn’t there. They don’t know where she is.”

I’m about to question him in more detail when the barking of dogs announces Wolff’s return. As soon as he comes in the back door, his attention is aimed this way, his eyes locked on the man in front of me.

“What is going on here?” he inquires sharply as he makes his way through the house.

He crowds in behind me and anchors me to him with a protective arm around my midsection.

“Hayley is missing,” I quickly clarify before Wolff starts growling or something. “This is Grant Vallard, her uncle.”

“I know who he is. What the fuck happened?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. When I left her last night, she was sleeping in her bed.”

“Agent Kramer said she went to check on her but she wasn’t there,” Vallard volunteers.

“What time was that?”

“Four fifteen this morning,” the second man states.

I’ve been so focused on Vallard, I barely paid attention to the other guy, until now. I’m guessing he’s in his forties, maybe former military with short-clipped, dark hair with a little hint of silver, and the physique of a bouncer, from what I can detect under the heavy parka.

“Four fifteen?” I echo, quickly calculating she’s been missing over four hours already.

“And who are you?” Wolff barks from behind me at Vallard’s friend.

I give him a little nudge with my shoulder.

“Jeff is with me. He’s my private security detail,” Vallard answers Wolff before dropping his eyes to me. “They’ve been searching for her, and when I suggested they call you since you found her once before, whoever that special agent in charge is said they didn’t need help. Agent Kramer slipped me your address, so I came here to beg for your help. I’ll pay you. Please…help me find my niece. She’s all I have left.”

“Of course,” I find myself responding, worried sick for Hayley.

The next moment I’m pulled inside by Wolff, who kicks the door shut. I immediately twist out of his hold.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Stopping you from jumping in with both feet.”

Fueled by anger and disbelief, I get up in his face.

“In case you missed it, Hayley is missing.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders and holds on tight when I try to shake him off.

“Stop for a minute. You’re blindly going to believe some guy who walks up to your door; a man you’ve never met before?” he calmly reasons with me.

“I know who he is,” I argue. “I’ve seen his picture.”

Wolff nods, but persists, “I’ve seen his picture too, but I still don’t know him. Let me at least verify his story.”

My adrenaline is pumping and I’m eager to jump into action, but I have to admit he’s right. The personal connection I’ve formed with Hayley is clouding my judgment.

“Fine, but at least explain to Vallard why you slammed the door in his face,” I suggest. “I’ll quickly feed the dogs.”

Especially Hunter and Murphy are going to need their energy. I’m going to need something of Hayley’s for them to track.

Wolff slips back out onto the porch while I start filling the dogs’ bowls, my mind already in preparation mode. I’ll have to change into thermal underwear, fill my pack with water and energy bars, and get my snowshoes from the SUV. I’ll probably take Hunter first this time, since she found Hayley last time and may be more motivated. Dogs have amazing scent memory.

“Here you go, kids,” I mumble at my pack, setting down their bowls in their designated places.

They know not to touch each other’s food, but that doesn’t mean some of them—I’m eyeing Murphy in particular—don’t try to sneak a bite given the opportunity. With each of them having a designated spot to eat, it’s easier for me to catch them before they can offend.

When the front door opens and Wolff steps inside, I happen to glance out the front window and notice Vallard and his bodyguard getting into their vehicle.

“Where are they going?”

“I told them to go back to the safe house and wait for us there,” he clarifies, pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna make a few phone calls.”

“Okay, and I’m going to get ready.”

I rush into the bedroom and dig my thermal undies from the basket of clean laundry I haven’t put away yet. After I put those on, I add two pairs of socks, a pair of lined cargo pants, and a long-sleeved shirt. Then I shove my arms in a zippered fleece sweater, quickly fasten my hair in a single braid, and head back to the kitchen where Wolff is just ending a call.

“And?”

“She’s gone,” he confirms. “Bellinger’s team has been out searching since they discovered her missing. Sounds like he held off on calling in any help, hoping they’d get her back before her disappearance became public knowledge. His job may be on the line.”

“So then, who did you talk to?”

“Bellinger didn’t answer, so I called Stephanie Kramer. She’s an agent I worked with before.”

“I met her yesterday,” I share. “She seems nice.”

“A good agent. She normally doesn’t work with Bellinger but was added to the detail because they wanted a woman close to Hayley. She suggested you come to the house and she’ll walk you through what happened.”

“What about you?” I ask him.

“I’m going to run to the ranch and hustle up the team, can’t have enough people looking for her. But I’ll be right behind you. In the meantime, I have a two-way radio in the truck I’m gonna give you so we can stay in touch.”

A hard kiss on my lips, and he’s back out the door while I shove a few supplies in my pack and put the leash on Hunter.

A few minutes later I’m in my SUV, heading up the road to the safe house. My heart is in my throat and I’m struggling to keep my growing fear for Hayley at bay.

I have to find her.