Page 3 of When the Silence Breaks

Ryder grabbed her slick hand and assisted her up.

He looked her over and spotted a few scrapes. Probably bruises too. More importantly... “Anything broken?”

“No obvious injuries.” She glanced in the direction of the river and frowned. “It could have been worse.”

Once the mud was washed away, she could confirm that it wasn’t worse. Until then, adrenaline might hide her pain. She lifted her face to the sky to let rain wash away the mud as she raked her hair out of her face. At the moment he was uncertain of the true color, but he could guess it was dark brown to go with her eyes.

She coughed and spit mud out of her mouth.

His small backpack had survived the battle with nature, so he pulled out a canteen. “Here.”

She grabbed it. Swished water around and spit. Then drank from the canteen. She blinked at him with eyelids caked in mud as if she might be bashful.

“Looks like you kept your backpack,” he said. “Do you need anything? I can help you out of it.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Her voice held a surprisingly commanding tone.

“Let’s go.” Ryder assessed the terrain—he didn’t want to walk them into another threat—then started toward the safest path.

The woman balked instead of falling in behind him. “What just happened here?”

“I’ll explain everything as we hike. Are you good to go?”

She tilted her face, looked at him hard and long. Sizing him up to decide if she could trust the man who’d just saved her life?

“Yes,” she said. “Lead the way. Guide me out of here.”

Guide her? Her use of that word surprised him, as if she knew who he was. But he’d never seen her before. His picture wasn’t on the website, was it? He’d asked that his information be removed.

Trekking between the trees at an angle, he ascended the rise. At least the rain had stopped for the moment, though it left them cold and wet when they needed warmth.

“Shouldn’t we be descending? You know, heading to town?” She brushed a clump of mud from her sleeve.

“We’re taking the safest path.” Ryder scanned the slope ahead. “I’ve been out here for a couple of days, keeping an eye on the terrain, watching for new cracks or places where the ground’s giving way.” Although, he hadn’t seen this mudslide coming.

She stopped. “Wait ... are you a scientist?”

He kept walking, boots stepping firm in the slick loam. “Nope. Just tracking safety conditions. Seasonal runoff shifts, new cracks, you name it.” The kind of stuff hikers didn’t notice until it was too late.

And she followed. “That sounds like you’re a scientist to me.”

“I’m a wilderness guide.” The words slid out as if he was still guiding. He hadn’t taken on clients in two years. “Or ... I was. Now I’m a wilderness safety consultant.” He worked with the county sheriff’s office search and rescue, taking care of route planning and gear assessments. He was just the guy they called when something didn’t add up or when no one else wanted to go that far off-trail.

“Besides the mudslide, what exactly have you seen that you’re going to report?” she asked.

Why so interested? Or was this just conversation to help her forget her near-death experience? “I can’t interpret what any of it means, but I’ve seen a pattern—small shifts, fresh breaks. This ridge is on edge.”

She stopped in her tracks, and he paused, finally turning to her. Took in her athletic build and determined jaw beneath the smattering of mud that remained on her face.

Her eyes scanned the valley below. “Do we need to be worried? Should I bother staying in Mercy Ridge?”

“It’s normal for the region. It’s monitored because, yes, sometimes things go sideways.”

“In case it becomesnotnormal.” She looked at him then. Really looked.

“Exactly.”

“What about the road?”