Page 13 of No Hope of Rescue

Chapter Four

Riley Delgado

“I can’t do that.” I stare at the three other guys. “We can’t do that. We can’t just give up on them.”

We’re standing in the cabin. It started snowing in the late afternoon, and now Kelly Weston’s here too. Everyone is here actually, except Luke, who’s back down the mountain, doing recon at the airport in person, checking on that call about a downed plane.

Carter wipes his eyes. “I’m not saying we give up. That’s my brother and sister out there for chrissakes. I’m saying we get reinforcements. You know we can’t go out like this now. That little storm is about to become a big storm, and it’s been in the forecast for days now.” He pauses and swallows. “Look, Riley, a pair of us gets stuck out there in a major snowstorm, it’s gonna be two more people gone missing. And we can’t take the Whitefox out in a storm.”

Carter has points—all good ones. But I can’t bear that he’s right.

I look at the topological map spread out on the dining room table, the inky swirls of peaks and valleys. “We need a pilot.”

“Luke’s working on that,” Devon says, handing me half a turkey sandwich. “Eat it.”

A pilot. That’s our last hire, the last slot to fill. We have the helicopter lined up.

Kelly, the personification of calm, agrees with Carter. “The last thing Brock or Codie would want is any of you coming out after them in a storm.”

“We have four hours before sundown. They’ve already had one night—” I can’t finish the sentence, so I focus on the map and move on to the next. “We’re entering forty-eight hours now.”

“At least,” Kelly says. She’s the only one who could say this and not be out of line.

Jace, the youngest of the brothers, sighs. “I’ve got a buddy who has a small plane. I’ll call him.”

“You can’t go up in a major storm.” I rub my eyes. “And a plane is no helicopter.”

“We have four hours before it’s supposed to hit,” he says.

Kelly starts zipping up her coat and grabs a helmet. Carter lays a hand on her arm. “You can’t go out alone, Mom.”

“I’m not,” she says. “Ryan’s coming with me.”

We have three snowmobiles. We need a fourth.

“I’ll stay in and act as headquarters,” I say. “All radios charged?”

“You still don’t want to contact the Park Service?”

I glance at Kelly. This is hers to answer this time.

She pauses for a moment, fiddling with the rings on her left hand and then wrapping her hair in a ponytail and tucking it in under her purple helmet. “Brock and Codie are adept at cold weather camping. They know how to take care of themselves. I don’t want to jeopardize his—” She pauses and gestures to all of us. “What you guys have built by telling the Park Service he might need help.” She pauses again. “I don’t think we’re there yet.” Her smile is quick and to the point. “Let’s just say that Brock has put me through worse. So has Codie, actually.”

It’s not until after she and Carter leave in a plume of snow that Ryan says what I’m thinking. “But this time it’s both her kids at once. And . . .”

“And what?” I don’t know what he’s driving at.

“Well, you know. He’s been off. Ever since Crystal.”

“What do you mean?”

Ryan shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Brock may be heartbroken, but he would never put his sister in jeopardy.

΅

While Carter and Kelly head to the eastern ridge and down, Devon and Ryan traverse the western edge, and both parties will zigzag to cover more ground. Jace’s going to head north on his own, a plan I don’t agree with, but I have no choice. I make clear that his job is to get to the outcropping of granite at the very top and radio back to share anything he might see from his 360-degree position. Though clouding up, visibility is still good.