Morgan's Hunter (18 page)

Resigned to start the day without his java buzz, he let Morgan be, pulled his laptop from its case and got to work.

Throughout the afternoon, the motorized sounds of a vacuum sealer and occasional clatter of dishes made their way back to the bedroom. Preparations for the backcountry hike were in full swing. Morgan made it clear she didn’t want his help. When he offered to organize supplies, he was met with an icy “I’m all set.”

Hunter was eager to be on the move but knew they had to wait. The torrential downpours of the night before had put a wrench in his plans, but hiking backcountry through thick mud and over slippery rocks was an accident waiting to happen. Minor injuries could turn into major hassles when miles of wilderness separated a hiker from proper medical treatment.

Hunter used the time Mother Nature had given him. He spent much of the day sitting on his bed in front of his laptop, taking advantage of the security clearance he’d earned as a Force Recon. He hacked into government satellite imagery of the Slough River.

He compared the images on the computer to the map he and Morgan would bring when they left early the next morning—trying to pinpoint where Shelly, Ian and Tom had found the mining operation.

The river went on for miles, through Wyoming and Montana. He focused on the northern border of the park, well into the forest where few tourists traveled. Most of the waterway was exposed to open valley, except for small patches of trees scattered along the banks.

He pressed the right button on his mouse, zeroing in on a segment of water that disappeared under a large section of thick vegetation. He was willing to bet they would find what they were looking for there. Tree cover would disguise the operation, keeping it from detection by satellite and flyovers.

He and Morgan were in for quite a hike. A good five to ten miles of their trek appeared treacherous with jagged peaks and steep valleys.

As he searched, he covered his tracks, constantly erasing his computer’s history. Hunter still hadn’t shared the information he had on the journal with anyone. He wanted to brief Ethan, but knew he and Morgan were being watched.

Robert and Miles were suspicious. Hunter didn’t exactly fit the bill of a wildlife biologist or any other type of associate Morgan would have through the Bureau. He couldn’t be certain his calls weren’t being monitored. If Miles and Robert had something to do with all of this, they weren’t working alone.

As dusk fell, Miles walked through the front door of the station, greeting Morgan.

Frowning, Hunter glanced toward the hallway, jaw clenching, fighting the urge to wander out to the kitchen. Instead he focused on the map at his side and continued to prepare.

Moments later, Morgan’s smooth voice told Miles he was about to have his first cooking lesson. Amazing, spicy scents drifted through the air along with Morgan’s laughter as she and Miles discussed the southern route she planned for tomorrow.

Hunter’s fist bunched as he listened to their casual friendliness. If it bothered him that he rarely experienced the warm, sweet side of Morgan—the side she shared so willingly with everyone else—he chose to ignore it. Consciously, he relaxed his hand, stared back down at his computer screen, willing the gnawing frustration away.

Hunter still hadn’t clued her in to their change of plans. If everyone believed they were heading south, they were less likely to be followed.

In the brisk morning air, the sun rose over the Rockies, casting shadows among the trees. Hunter and Morgan donned heavy packs over light jackets and headed south from the ranger’s station.

Morgan gave Robert and Miles a last wave before they disappeared into the tree line heading down a path toward the southeast trail.

Birdsong and the productive sounds of twigs snapping underfoot accompanied them on their first mile over rocky, uneven terrain. Hunter kept his ears trained and his senses tuned for a tail. When he was sure they weren’t being followed, he stopped.

Morgan slammed into his pack, letting out a whoosh of breath, stumbling back.

Hunter turned, grabbed her hand before she went over.

Their eyes met and she looked away. Tension, thick as fog, still sat heavy between them.

“Geez, tell me when you’re going to stop next time, will you? What’s the matter, did you forget something?”

“I want to turn around. I think we should head northwest.”

“What? No way. We tried that already and it got us nowhere.”

“I want to head northwest,” Hunter repeated.

Eyes frosty, Morgan took a step forward. “Absolutely not. This is
my
call, not yours.”

“Well, I’m making it mine.”

“Why?” Her brow shot up as she crossed her arms.

Had he really thought she would go along with this without an explanation? “Let’s just call it a hunch.”

“Screw your
hunch
, Hunter. Why can’t you just answer my questions? Why are you always so damn evasive?”

He shrugged. “It’s just another one of my many charming traits.”

Morgan steamed out a breath. “You’re impossible, absolutely impossible.” She kicked a pebble into the trees surrounding them. “You’re on my turf. This is the part where you cooperate with
me
. I’ve kept my word. I’ve done what you asked. Now you do the same. Robert thinks I’ll have the most luck tracking the lynx if we head south.”

“And Robert’s an expert on the lynx?”

“He’s a damn forest ranger. He knows a hell of a lot more about the fauna in this area than you do, that’s for sure.” Morgan yanked off her pack, ripped off her jacket, stuffed it in the top of her bag.

“That may be, but I still think we should head back.”

Morgan went on as if he’d never spoken. “Spotting the lynx in this park is very rare. Although we have recent tracks up north, the last two sightings took place south of here. I agree with Robert’s reasoning. Their main food source is more abundant farther south this time of year.”

As she spoke in her haughty tone, she put her pack back on. “Last time I checked a career in security didn’t require a deep knowledge of wildlife behavior. How about we both play to our strengths; you use your muscles and I’ll use my brain. If I need you to lift something heavy for me, I’ll let you know. I said we’re going southwest, so that’s what we’re going do. Now let’s go. I have a hell of a lot of work to do.” Morgan started walking off.

All but out of patience, Hunter seethed, clenched his jaw. He grabbed her arm, turned her so fast she almost lost her balance again.

“Let go of me. Why do you always think you can put your hands on me?”

“You didn’t seem to mind the other night.”

Morgan’s eyes widened before they narrowed to slits. She yanked her arm free. “You’re the most despicable human being I’ve ever met. Just two more weeks and I can be rid of you.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Morgan took a deep breath, closed her eyes. “Look, the sooner I get this job finished, the sooner we can go our separate ways.” She gave a decisive nod, turned to walk again.

“I think I have a lead on your friends.”

She took three steps before she paused and whipped around. With eyes wide, she reached forward, clutched at Hunter’s jacket. “Oh my God, what is it?”

“I’m not going to say at this point.”

She released her grip on his clothing, dropped her hands to her side. “That’s not a good enough answer.”

“It’s the only one I’m giving you. You’ll have to trust me.” He grabbed the map he’d studied from his pack. “We need to head northwest and follow the Slough River.”

She pulled her pack off again, took the map from Hunter’s hand, traced the route he had planned with her finger before she looked at him. “This is a good day’s hike from here and that’s being optimistic. What’s so important about the river?”

He only flicked her a glance. He’d given her enough information for now.

“Give me something here, Hunter. I have a right to know about this lead.”

“It’s a strong lead. That’s all you’re going to get.”

He held her gaze, smoldering, clashing for several seconds.

“Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice here if I want to find out about my friends.”

That was exactly what he’d hoped for. “Guess not.”

Morgan stared at him long and hard before she checked her compass and led them off the trail in a northwest direction.

After hours of walking over steep, brutal terrain, they found a clearing next to a fast flowing stream ten miles from the Slough. The flat patch of dirt fifteen yards from the water was the perfect spot for camp.

The skyline was a picture of shocking oranges and pinks, fading into purple as the sun made its descent for the night.

Morgan and Hunter sat in silence while the stove heated the evening meal.

Hunter set up the tent and appeared completely relaxed resting against a rock with another true-crime novel in-hand, while Morgan sat close by—exhausted and achy. As the adrenaline of the hike wore off, she was tempted to crawl into her sleeping bag.

Her stomach growled low and long as the enticing gravy scent of beef stew grew stronger. If she wanted to regain her strength, she knew she had to eat.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so drained. Her legs trembled with unaccustomed fatigue. She was used to this type of work, the tax and challenge it placed on the body. She thrived on it, had always loved it, but not today.

Crickets began their nightly chorus—such a lonely sound—and the heavy weight of grief suddenly swamped her. In that moment, she noticed the lack of laughter, the absence of five voices as familiar to her as her own. It hit her then she would never have that back. Nothing would ever be the same. There would never again be card games by firelight or late night chats under the stars with Shelly, Ian and Tom. They were truly gone.

Tears threatened to spill. She ruthlessly blinked them back. Tears wouldn’t help her friends now, but answers would help their families. Sitting up straighter, she fought to shake off the looming depression. Hunter had a lead and she was going to follow it.

She’d been quiet for some time. Hunter snuck a peek as Morgan stared off, looking exhausted, sad, lost. The final two miles of the hike had been agony for her. He’d watched her energy all but vanish, but she hadn’t complained or asked to stop; she’d pushed herself until he knew she didn’t have much left. He admired her for that.

Morgan tore her gaze from the trees, pulled off her boots. She winced and lunged forward, pressing her toes back. “Ow, ow, ow, cramp.”

He set his book down. “You should drink more water.”

“I’ll get some in a minute.” She massaged her foot. “After a day like this, you better have good information, Hunter, really good information about my friends, or I just might have to hurt you.”

Hunter said nothing as she stood.

“I’m going to clean up while the stew finishes heating.”

He snickered as he looked her up and down. Pissing her off always seemed to give her a little spark. He was more than willing to do his part. “I think that’s a very good idea.”

“You don’t exactly look fresh yourself, you know.”

“If you fill the shower bag, save some water for me, will you?”

“We’ll see.”

He smiled when she turned away with a flash of temper heating her eyes. That was better. He picked up his book again as she grabbed the portable shower bag, her soap, washcloth, and towel.

His gaze wandered from the words on the page as she pulled her t-shirt off and stood in a gray tank. When she stopped at the water’s edge, she wrapped the towel around her waist, yanked her pants down. The towel stopped at the top of her shapely thighs.

Hunter gave up with the book altogether and watched her wade into a small, knee-deep pool separate from the rest of the stream. Droplets splashed up, leaving glistening trails down Morgan’s legs. She closed her eyes, tilted her head up to the sky.

After several moments, she dipped the shower bag into the water, struggled to hold it and keep her towel in place. She glanced over her shoulder and their eyes met.

Hunter couldn’t hold back a grin. “Got yourself a little problem there. Don’t get that towel wet. You won’t have anything to dry off with.”