Page 7 of No Hope of Rescue

Carter emerges from the hall. “My mom?”

I nod and he immediately starts waving for me to stop texting, shaking his head from side to side. I plant my thumbs on the screen and tap.

No worries. See ya tomorrow!

I glance to Carter. “What?”

“They must have packed for an overnight and stayed out on the mountain.”

Again, that wave of relief. Of course. And they just forgot to turn the thermostat up.

It’s when Savi licks my hand that I realize that’s not right either. Brock wouldn’t leave his dog alone overnight.

Carter shoots Luke a glance. “I’ll radio Jace and Ryan to get up here.”

“No. They need to meet us on the other side of the mountain.”

“They didn’t pack for an overnighter. Only their climbing gear is gone,” says Luke. “I checked the back room. Sleeping bags, cookware, and all the overnight stuff is still here. And the thermals. They were only going out for a day trip.”

I swallow. Hard. “Okay. I’ll start tracking now—”

Carter holds up a hand. “There are just six of us, Riley. Shouldn’t we call the Park Service?”

“No. No. How would that look for Weston Search and Rescue? Brock would blow a gasket. He’s trying to win bids, not be the reason some other team gets hired.”

Carter shakes his head.

“You’re the boss,” he says. “But the moment you change your mind, you tell me.”

΅

I am the boss—at least for now. I met Brock three years ago at Garden of the Gods outside Denver. I had been bouldering inside the park for an hour. Either the July heat or the wild success led me to start bouldering rocks I should have been climbing with gear. It was well past raptor nesting season, and any rock was fair game.

Climbing conditions were perfect and simple: a dry morning, no hornets, the sun two hours from noon and out of my eyes. One rockface was on the back side of the park. Halfway up, my hands stained red with Eco chalk, I looked down.

I realized in a flash I’d inadvertently introduced myself to free climbing.

My reaction was to freeze.

I was a good twenty-five feet up, not unheard of, but no belt, no ropes, and with the route up that I took, no pins or anchors to even slide a rope through.

Falling within the shadows of the rocks, but within earshot of families, couples, hikers, and other climbers, I clung to the wall for a good five minutes until my forearms started to burn. I was completely frozen. Going up is always easy. Coming back down requires eyeballs on the bottom of your feet.

At least that’s how it felt.

A deep “You got it?” came from below.

Just turning my neck hurt. The fingers on my left hand started to slip, and I stopped trying to find the source of the voice.

“Yeah,” I said, and then I caved “No. No. I’m stuck.”

“Okay,” he said, as if we were talking about the fact that I liked coffee ice cream instead of pistachio. Very calm.

“Any anchors up there you can see?”

“No.”

“Maybe to your lower left?”