Vanishing Hour by Laura Griffin

Author:Laura Griffin [Griffin, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

* * *

The crackle of the radio had Ava halting in her tracks.

“Base to Team Four. Team Four, copy.”

Courtney stopped and pulled the radio from her belt. “Team Four here. We’re just finishing the loop and then we’re headed back.”

“Anything to report?”

Courtney looked at Ava. The park ranger’s cheeks were flushed, and her olive green uniform was soaked with sweat. Dirt and leaves clung to her braids, and tiny cuts covered her arms from ducking through mesquite thickets. Ava’s arms were similarly scratched up.

“Negative,” Courtney replied.

That one word pretty much summed up their afternoon.

“We’re almost to the trailhead,” Courtney continued. “Should be back to base, oh, about twenty minutes.”

“Copy that, Four.”

Courtney reattached the radio to her belt as Huck circled back to Ava, panting and looking thirsty. Ava shrugged out of her pack. She unclipped Huck’s bowl and filled it with water. As he lapped it up, it occurred to her that her dog had probably had much more to drink today than the target they were searching for.

“This sucks,” Courtney declared.

Ava eyed the park ranger as she tipped back her thermos. Courtney was the only other woman on this SAR op, so Mel had paired them up together.

“I wish people would listen to our advice,” Courtney said. “It’s printed on every park map, too: Bring water. Bring a map. Hiking not recommended after ten a.m. during summer months.”

Walter Masterson had headed out at eight o’clock this morning equipped with only a small canteen of water, a pair of binoculars, and a pocket field guide to birds of North America. He also had his cell phone with him, according to his wife, but had been keeping it turned off because cell reception in the park was nonexistent except near the ranger station.

One small canteen.

For a three-hour hike.

Walter’s wife, Helen, had driven him to the trailhead in their Jeep Wrangler with plans to pick him up at eleven. Then she’d gone to Cuervo for groceries and unloaded them into their Winnebago, which was parked at Silver Canyon’s main campground. She’d returned to the trailhead promptly at eleven, but Walter was a no-show.

By 11:15, Helen was getting worried. By 11:40, she was on the phone with the rangers, and by noon she was hysterical.

Walter was never late, Helen had told them, and she felt sure her seventy-nine-year-old husband must have injured himself on the trail.

Courtney tore open a pouch of orange powder and poured some into her water bottle. Then she offered the pouch to Ava.

“Want some?” Courtney asked.

“What is it?”

“Tangerine-flavored sports powder. It’s got electrolytes in it.”

“I’m good,” Ava said. She kept her water straight so she could share with Huck.

Ava reached down and picked some sticker burrs from his fur as he finished his water.

“He’s got a lot of stamina,” Courtney said. “I’m surprised the heat doesn’t bother him with all that thick fur.”

“He loves it out here.”

Courtney zipped her water into her backpack and heaved it on again. By some unspoken agreement, they’d been keeping their breaks short and pushing it hard.

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