Page 122 of Crucible
“Oh, hell,” the sheriff says grimly. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d normally turn you around to go look after him, but we’ve already lost too many vital days, so we need all hands on deck. What do you say I send my wife to check on him? Her homemade soup could heal anything. One sip will have him right as rain in no time.”
“We appreciate that, Sheriff, but it’s looking up. His fever is down, so he should be back on his feet in a couple of days.”
“Good, good. That’s great to hear.” Despite his words, his expression becomes pinched. “Although, it makes what I’m about to ask difficult.”
Khalil keeps a straight face. “Yeah? And what’s that?”
“We need you two to stay at the camp for the next couple of days.”
“Why?”
“Because this is it, boys.” The sheriff removes his hat with a grave look on his weathered face. “We’re searching every square inch of these mountains round-the-clock, and if we don’t find Aurelia George in the next forty-eight hours, we’re calling off the search. Permanently.”
I nod my agreement. “You did everything you could, sir. This isn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, you might be right about that, son, but it won’t keep me out of the bottle tonight.” He starts to trudge off when he pauses and peers at us. The scrutiny would make lesser men squirm. “You know…she’s the only one we haven’t found. All the others, every single soul who was on that plane—dead or alive—has been found except her. We even gave what pieces were left of that poor girl we found near a wolf den back to her family. But Aurelia George? Nothing. Gone. Vanished into thin air. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
Khalil and I make eye contact, though we’re careful to keep it brief. “About what?”
Sheriff Kelly’s expression is stricken as he glances past us toward the imposing snow-capped peak that rises above the one we’re standing on. “If the stories we’ve all heard about these wilds are true.” When his kind but somber gaze returns to us, he says, “By the way, I know you said it’s unlikely Aurelia made it that far, but the Westbrook kid finally woke up two days ago, and he’s claiming she was with him when the avalanche hit.”Fuck, fuck, fuck.“I wanted to give you a heads up. We’ll be focusing our search primarily on your mountain. Because it’s a high-profile case, and we don’t need those overbearing Americans pointing the finger at us—no offense—the CAF can’t risk leaving any stone unturned.” When Khalil frowns and parts his lips toargue, Kelly holds up a hand. “It’s over my head, Poverly. I’m sorry. This isn’t my call.”
Khalil and I hold our breath as the sheriff walks away, and the moment he’s out of earshot, we exhale harshly.
“So that’s bad,” I deadpan.
Swearing viciously, Khalil snatches our personal two-way from its clip and starts trying like hell to reach Thorin.
THORIN
“Good luck,” Khalil says from the other end of the channel.
The irony isn’t lost on me that my brothers will be roughing it and spinning lies for the next couple of days, but I’m the one in need of prayer.
“Yeah, you too.”
Tossing aside the two-way radio, I pick up the axe and resume chopping wood outside the shed. It’s unnecessary since we’ve got plenty, but I needed out of that cabin.
So much for fresh air.
Seth and Khalil had just given me the heads up to stay inside and out of sight while the search team combed our mountain. We should have seen it coming, but we get tunnel vision when it comes to Aurelia.
It might even be a necessary thwart to our plans.
Aurelia is the only one still missing, and Big Bear is the only place the team hasn’t searched because of us. The military can’t stare down the eyes of the world empty-handed and claim they gave it all they got, knowing more than a third of the Cold Peaks hadn’t been combed. It would leave too much room for speculation and questions of competency. It could even bring the entire search team itself into focus.
Making it all the easier for Isaac to find us.
Swearing, I leave the axe buried in the tree stump and rip off my gloves before grabbing the radio and heading inside.
I see Aurelia the moment I step through the front door.
She’s standing in front of the panoramic window below the loft, staring out at the two smaller peaks and the valley between, but her eyes aren’t on the miles and miles of brutal wilderness below our cliff.
They’re cast to the sky like she’s waiting on something.
Letting the front door slam behind me, I wait for her to act caught, but true to form, she doesn’t give a damn that I know what she’s up to. Her head just keeps swiveling back and forth. “Get away from the window.”
“Why?”
