What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(43)

If Kellen and Rae survived the trek...

He blocked the thought of death and fear. Whoever had slit that man’s throat would not find them.

“Sir!” Two park rangers stepped from behind a massive red cedar onto the uphill side of his path. “May we see your ID?”

Max skidded to a stop.

According to their badges, the female was Ranger Holt and the male, Ranger Nicolson. Both looked grim. Both carried sidearms.

Ranger Holt repeated, “Excuse me, sir. May we see your identification?”

Max took a step back. “Sure.” Slinging his backpack off his shoulder, he went for the side zipper pocket.

The sound of a safety being released made him freeze. He looked up to see Ranger Holt in a firing stance, her unwavering pistol pointed at him.

The rangers were jumpy, and that made him jumpy, too. Jumpy and suspicious.

“My wallet’s in here.” Max touched the zipper. “I’ll let you get it out.” He passed his backpack to Ranger Nicolson. “With all due respect, the outfits look authentic, but may I see your IDs?”

Ranger Nicolson pulled his badge from his pocket and passed it over. “Will one do? Ranger Holt seems unready to abandon her stance.”

“I see that.” Max examined the badge. It not only looked authentic, it looked worn, like a badge that had been carried in a pocket for many years. That, more than anything, convinced him he had the real thing. Well, that, and the fact that if they were killers rather than park rangers, they could have already shot him. “May I ask what’s up?”

“There’s been foul play.” Ranger Holt still stood braced to fire.

“Must be bad.” Max kept an eye on Ranger Nicolson as the ranger bought out his wallet, flipped through driver’s license and credit cards, then rummaged a little deeper. “You can search the whole backpack,” Max said. “I’ve got rope, food for a couple of days, a change of clothes, bladder of water, sleeping bag, one-man tent and a knife. Knife’s in the left zipper pocket in a sheath.”

Ranger Nicolson pulled it out and examined it.

“What’s the knife for?” Ranger Holt asked.

“Sometimes I need to cut rope. Or salami, which I’m carrying. It’s a camping knife. Doesn’t every camper carry a knife?”

“Have you used it lately?” Ranger Holt asked.

“Not on this trip.” Max planted his feet. It was time to act like an innocent hiker unfairly detained. “What’s happened?”

Ranger Nicolson replaced the knife. “Two men were attacked and bound.”

“Two men? My God.” Max only knew about the one. “Badly hurt?”

“One was shot, not fatally. One was hit and knocked unconscious.”

They weren’t talking about the guy Max had found. This was two different men entirely. Had Kellen been involved?

“And there was a murder.”

“A murder? What kind of murder?” Max hoped he didn’t look guilty.

“Throat slashed.” Ranger Holt adjusted her stance and somehow looked even more forceful. “Someone saw a man fitting your description fleeing the scene.”

Max broke a sweat. Someone saw him. He was in trouble—and that meant Kellen and Rae were in trouble. “Look. You checked out the knife. It’s clean. I’m Max Di Luca. I’m related to the Di Lucas at Yearning Sands Resort. I manage the Di Luca Winery in Oregon. I left Oregon yesterday. I got here this morning.” Max couldn’t be detained here.

“I know your name,” Ranger Holt acknowledged. “That doesn’t absolve you of possible murder.”

Max had to be very careful now. “I’m on a mission. My daughter and my...my girlfriend are up here somewhere.”

“Okay.” Ranger Nicolson drew out the word. “What made you decide they are in danger?”

Be wary, Max. “I didn’t think they were in danger. Not before I met you.”

“Then why are you tracking them?” Ranger Holt asked.

“I’m not tracking them. I know where they’re going—to Horizon Ridge.”

“Why would they do that?” Ranger Nicolson asked.

They were hammering him with questions, trying to catch him in a lie. But playing football had taught him how to remain calm under pressure, and that inner peace thing he’d learned at the monastery helped now, too. His voice remained steady, warm, trustworthy. He hoped to hell. “My girlfriend is in security. She got a job transporting an antique to that guy that lives up there for verification.”

“What guy?” Ranger Nicolson asked.

“The Restorer, they call him? Apparently he’s...odd.”

“He is.” As Max revealed what he knew, and Ranger Holt realized he had his reasons to be here, she seemed to relax. “Why is your daughter with your girlfriend?”

“It was kind of a...not-planned outing.”

Ranger Holt came to attention again. “Your girlfriend kidnapped your daughter?”

“No! The opposite. My—our daughter decided go along for an ad vencher.” He tried to say it the way Rae had written it. “Her note is in my backpack. Left pocket.”

Ranger Nicolson pulled out the paper scrawled in crayon and showed Ranger Holt. They exchanged glances.

Ranger Holt lowered her pistol and click-released the safety. “Your daughter is your girlfriend’s daughter, too?”