What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(35)

At dawn, he got a message from Brooks.

No word from the Restorer. No word from Kellen.

Max called his mother.

She hadn’t heard from Kellen and Rae, but she sounded strong and once again assured him Kellen would keep Rae safe.

He headed into the Olympic Mountains to find his daughter and his...and the mother of his daughter.

The map Nils Brooks had sent directed him to President Roosevelt Road, a narrow gravel lane that wound up and down and around the mountains.

Kellen and Rae had been gone almost twenty-four hours, out of touch the whole time. Few people could face the challenges up here, making this isolated land one of the last true wildernesses on earth. If Kellen and Rae were on the run, how could he find them? Kellen’s military training would serve to keep them safe, but would also prevent him from locating them. Logically, Kellen would make a run for the ranger station. There she and Rae would be safe. They’d have a way to communicate and a way to get away. So that’s where he would go, too.

A tow truck rounded a corner, coming straight at him on the narrow road. He pulled as far over to the side and waited while the truck squeaked past him. Then he saw it. The burned and blackened van, the one that had picked up Kellen.

In a flash, he was honking the horn, yelling and getting the driver’s attention. He rolled down his window.

The female driver rolled down her window. Dust boiled into both vehicles.

“Yeah?” The female wore a name tag that said, Hi, my name is Dakota.

“My girlfriend and daughter were in that vehicle.” Cold sweat. He’d broken a cold sweat. “What happened?”

“It burned.”

“No bodies inside?’

“No! Not unless you want to count a couple of princess doll casualties.”

Relief and residual fear made him dizzy. “Were they found? My girlfriend and my daughter. My girlfriend—” not his girlfriend, but a lie told in a good cause “—she’s about five foot six, shortish hair, kind of blond with dark ends, blue eyes. My daughter’s seven, blond hair, brown eyes. They look a lot alike. Did you see them?”

“No, sorry.” Dakota looked sorry, too. “One of the park rangers found the van and called me to come up and tow it. He didn’t know what caused the fire or what happened to the driver or any passenger. We were both happy that whoever it was got out safely. We figured they’d been picked up by another hiker. I’m taking the van down to have the cops look it over and see if they can figure out who it belongs to.”

“Can I look?”

He must have looked pretty sick, because she said, “I shouldn’t, but yeah.” She opened her door. “Come on.”

He got out, too, and followed her back to the van.

Most women would have worried about being on a lonely mountain road with a man his size. Not her; she was six feet tall and if the sleeveless shirt was any indication, she lifted weights. Heavy weights. She saw him looking. “You have to stay in shape to do my job.”

“I’ll bet.”

Smoke had given the exterior paint a grayish patina. The fire’s heat had broken the windows and warped the side panel door open. Flames had blackened the interior, melted the upholstery, and yet...under the back seat, he could see a flashing sprinkle of warped sequins.

His daughter had been there.

He must have looked ill, because Dakota asked, “You okay?”

“You’re sure there’s no bodies in there?”

“I swear. The ranger looked it over, and I looked it over, too. You can hop in if you want.”

“I trust you.” Time for the million-dollar question. “What caused the fire?”

“Something went wrong under the hood. You suspect bad doin’s?”

“Yes.”

“What were they doing up here?”

“My girlfriend had a job. My daughter tagged along. Not that she was supposed to.”

“Sounds like a handful.”

“She is so much trouble.”

“And you love her to death.”

“Yes.” He turned away. “I’d better go find them.” He stopped. “Where did this fire happen?”

“About three miles up the road. You can’t miss it. The flames scorched the shit out of a couple of Douglas firs, could have started a forest fire, but a rainstorm in the afternoon put them out.” She saluted him. “Good luck.”

Something about the way she saluted made him ask, “You former military?”

“Army.”

“So was my girlfriend. Captain Kellen Adams.”

“I don’t know her, but when I talk to the park rangers, I’ll let them know your story, tell them about your family.”

“Thank you.” He handed her his business card. “Not that cell phones work up here, but leave a message and maybe I’ll go high enough to catch a signal.”

They headed to their vehicles and took off in opposite directions.

Max drove, not paying a bit of attention to the gravel washboards or watching the sides of the road, because he knew what he was looking for. Wherever that van had burned, that was the place to start looking for his little girl and his big girl.

He needed to remember—Kellen wasn’t his yet.

But right now, when he was terrified, it was hard.