Page 97 of Reckoning

* * *

By the time Briar got to her dorm, her heart was pounding and she was out of breath. Her side hurt, and she couldn’t stop shaking. She let herself into her room, locked the door, then collapsed on her bed and reached for her phone.

That’s when she realized it was on mute. When she saw how many calls she missed from Tate, then read his text that came last, she realized he’d been trying to warn her.

He will never bother you again. I told him I’d beat him within an inch of his life, and feed what was left to the gators. He’ll never show his face in NOLA again. Love you more. T.

“Oh my God,” Briar mumbled. “I didn’t know his plane had even landed.”

She sent him a brief text that said it all.

You’re home! I’m still shaking. My phone was still on mute from the class. Thank you, my love. You saved me. Again.

Tate read her reply and replied one last time.

Mine to love. Mine to keep. Mine to protect even when she sleeps.

She rolled over on the bed, tucked Star Wish Bear under her chin, and listened to his voice over and over until she cried herself to sleep.

When she woke again, it was morning, and she had to hurry not to be late for class. A couple more weeks of classes, a round of testing, and college life would be over.

* * *

Knowing that Briar got back to the dorm okay was a relief, but before Tate had a chance to see her in person again, he got a call from a woman named Patti Wilson. Her husband, a wealthy industrialist named Cornelius Wilson, had gone hiking a week ago and never came home. His family had a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to his return or recovery, but no ransom demands were made. The police didn’t have any new leads, the park rangers had hiked every offshoot of the trail he’d taken without finding a single clue as to what happened, and the ranger service spent three days searching by air, but to no avail.

Patti was distraught. She kept picturing him injured and unable to call for help. She hadn’t slept in days and was at the point of needing it to be over, regardless of the outcome. In a last-ditch effort, and despite family arguing against it, Patti contacted Tate Bandy.

After a brief discussion over the phone and a face-to-face call, the images Tate kept getting were inconclusive. Finally, he dumped it all out in her lap and let her decide what came next.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but I know for certain your husband is deceased. When I try to picture the exact location, all I see are trees and mountains. If I was on-site, I could find him, but it would take me a while to drive there if you’re willing to wait and pay mileage.”

The moment Patti heard the word deceased, she was crying. “I knew in my heart he was gone. I’m relieved to know he’s not lying somewhere in need and in pain, but I want him back. I need to lay him to rest to be able to move past this. If I send a helicopter to New Orleans to pick you up, would you come? And this is a round-trip promise. If you find him, the reward is yours.”

“Yes, I will come,” he said.

“Can you leave today?” she asked.

Tate glanced at the time. It was just past eight a.m., which meant it was an hour earlier there. “Tell me what time my ride will arrive, and I’ll be at the airport, waiting.”

“Thank you,” Patti said. “I’ll call our pilot, then let you know when to expect his arrival.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be waiting.”

Tate packed a change of clothes in his backpack, although he didn’t think it would take even one whole day, and was at the airport when the chopper came in. He loaded up, and they were off.

A little over three hours later, the chopper set down in the parking lot of the trailhead where Cornelius Wilson’s hike began a week ago. There was a small contingent of searchers on-site, waiting. A few park rangers. A couple of deputies from the county sheriff’s department, Patti Wilson, and her two sons, Phillip and Jake, ages eighteen and twenty. They were eyeing Tate with a mixture of disapproval and disdain when their mother went running under the rotor wash to meet him, then took him by the arm and led him out.

The chopper flew off.

After brief greetings all around, Tate paid no more attention to the crowd. He was focused on the narrow hiking trail before him. He stood there for over a minute in total silence and then started talking.

“We go up to where two trails converge…just beyond a sign that says Beaver Bend Trail, and go right.”

The sons pushed past their mother and immediately challenged him to his face. “How would you know that? What did you do…look at a map and make up a story to fit?”

Tate sighed. He hated having to prove a point. “I know what I know, the same way I know Phillip is failing chemistry and Jake is dating a married woman.”

The looks on their faces were somewhere between shock and horror, but he was already done with them.