Page 104 of When the Silence Breaks
He tipped his hat. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
“Oh, don’t leave on my account,” Sarah said, then smiled at Ryder. “Your mom told me where to find you.”
Ryder liked that she’d been tracking him down.
“I’m good.” Holt nudged his horse down the slope until his silhouette was finally swallowed by the thick evergreens.
Sarah guided Glitchy up beside Daisy. Her brown eyes looked tired. Though shadowed with exhaustion and dark memories of recent days, her gaze still had a light to it—one he hadn’t seen when he’d first met her.
“Hey.” Her smile was easy.
“Hey.”Back atcha.Warmth curled around him. This was good. Right.
They sat for a moment in silence, looking out over the valley, the hush between them easy as breathing.
Still, he knew she had questions. After all, he’d ridden out alone with Holt, who’d been deep in cleaning up the mess on the mountain. Ryder wasn’t surprised when she shifted in the saddle.
“So, what’s happened to the plane and the vials? Did he tell you anything?”
Officially, they’d been told nothing except to keep their mouths shut.
Ryder rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “The specialized SAR unit got Dean out of an extremely unstable situation, but their work triggered a landslide. Remember the wreck balanced on a precarious ledge—cemented in with ice and snow, but the avalanche loosened everything just enough. When the SAR team got Dean out, the ledge gave way.”
“So it’s buried again?”
“Yeah. Deep. Maybe for good this time.” The mountain held tightly to its secret.
“And the vials?”
“They’re gone and ... destroyed—on record, at least, for the very few who even know.”
“Officially? What about unofficially?”
“For now, it’s too dangerous to retrieve.”
“And maybe that’s for the best,” she said. “Except, secrets don’t stay buried forever.”
She was thinking what he was thinking.
History repeated itself. If the truth didn’t fully come out, then at some point, this same scenario could happen—someone else would go looking again.
They sat in silence, taking in the views. The sun would be setting, and they’d need to head back soon, but while it lasted, he enjoyed this moment with Sarah Ellison, former CIA officer.
“Why do they call it Mercy Ridge?” she asked.
“You didn’t read that in your research?” He sent her a teasing smile as he stroked Daisy’s mane.
“I might have skimmed over that part, looking for more information about you. If it was in the files, I don’t remember.”
“Long time ago,” he said, “before the town, it was just a camp filled with miners, trappers, tough men facing tougher winters. People died up here. I’m sure you’ve heard stories about that kind of brutal life. Pioneering in the mountains. But there was a woman, nobody remembers her name, who stayed behind when everyone else left. She nursed the sick, buried the dead, comforted the dying. They called her the Angel of Mercy. When she was gone, they named the ridge after her.”
Ryder turned to look at Sarah, and their eyes met. “It’s always been a place of survival ... of second chances.” Survival, true. Second chances, he wasn’t so sure, but he wanted one.
To his surprise, Sarah reached across and brushed her fingers over his, then grabbed his hand. “What about first chances?”
And that was all the invitation he needed.
He dismounted, circled around, and reached up to help Sarah down, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her like she’d kissed him up on the mountain that day. Not soft or tentative, like what they’d shared over the last month, but this kiss wasa stake in the ground. And he deepened his kiss, staking that claim, as the sun slipped behind the peaks, and maybe if he’d been looking, he could have seen the ridge awash in gold and shadows.
