Page 39 of Torch Songs

“April?” he said, drawing near, and she gave a hunted glance around the unusually crowded foyer. “Sweetheart, are you Tad’s sister?”

She swallowed hard and nodded, rabbit-like, and he extended his hand, but not to shake.

“Darlin’, come with me. There’s a quiet spot around back—let’s go there to talk.”

Her eyes watered over, and he thought about that blank screen, about Tad. Oh God. OhGod. Tad!

He pulled her into the coffee nook, which was a sort of recessed hole in the break room that more people had bitched about than God could count.

“Here, darlin’,” he said, putting his back to the wall so she wouldn’t feel trapped. “We gotta listen for my boss, though, ’cause if he sees you here, he’ll have kittens. He’s a shitty human being, and I’d like to spare you that.”

“Tad,” she rasped without preamble and then pulled out her phone, her fingers shaking as she spoke. “He was gonna come pick me up. We were gonna watch you play.” She gave a half smile. “I was looking forward to it. We both love music.”

He gave an encouraging smile. “I was disappointed not to meet you,” he told her truthfully. “He called me on the way out of town—”

She nodded hard enough for it to be an actual sentence. “Me too. He had to bail on me so he could get you before service quit.”

Guthrie grunted. “And it did,” he told her, hoping for a smile, but she only turned paler. Finally she had her cell phone out, and she was busy punching buttons.

“Did he tell you where he was going?” she rasped.

“Just somewhere in the Sierras,” he said. “Tahoe National Forest?”

“Colton,” she said, fingers busy. She was jumpy—twitchy—and he had a thought.

“Darlin’, how did you get here?”

She gave him a gaze of stark fear. “The bus. He… he didn’t get in touch with me this morning, and then… then I looked up his name, and Colton, in case…. God, in case something… and I’m his contact person, but….” She shoved the phone at him. “But he’s not dead. He’s alive. But he’s in trouble. And God, I need to be there. Ineedto be there. And… and he talks so much about you. I thought you could help me. Can you help me? Mister—Guthrie—I know you don’t know me, but will you help me get to my brother?”

“Shh…,” he soothed, and he took the phone in one hand but kept a gentle hold of her fingers in the other. She twined their hands together almost violently, and he started a soft massage over her knuckles with his thumb. “Here, darlin’,” he murmured, opening his arm. “You tuck into there, and I won’t take no liberties, I swear. But give me a minute to read this so I know what we’re getting ourselves into, okay?”

It shouldn’t have worked. She was rabbity as hell. But apparently the fact that Tad trusted him made her desperate enough to send her into the shelter of his arm. She huddled there, barely letting him touch her but in the center of his body heat, while he read the police blotter section of the Sacramento paper.

He tried to keep his breathing steady so he didn’t freak her out.

SAC PD Detective one of four people stranded in an old strip-mining canyon in Colton, California. Search and rescueofficials are looking for solutions to get to the four men who fell into the canyon during an investigation into the shooting of Sheriff Eamon Mills of Colton County. In addition to Detective Tad Hawkins, Undersheriff Aaron George, High School Principal L. Larkin, and missing local man Curtis MacDonald are all stuck in what was once a strip mine but is now a geographical hazard.

Guthrie’s breath caught as he continued to read the story, which gave precious few details about how the men had gotten stranded and was pretty vague on why it was so hard to get them out. His mind did manage to focus on the part about the gravel and loose shale being so prevalent in the small canyon that a helicopter rescue was absolutely not an option, because the small rocks would turn deadly in the copter’s rotor wash, and then… oh God. They had a picture. It was an aerial shot, taken at distance, of two men climbing up an impossibly steep incline using a thin rope and a pulley system utilizing the wheels of an upside-down vehicle in the bottom of the canyon. The men didn’t appear familiar, but… but this was pure MacGyver shit here, and Tad was part of it.

And Guthrie and April were five hours, at the very least, away.

His arm tightened around April’s shoulders, and he heard himself say, “You got clothes in that bag, darlin’?”

“And my yarn,” she practically whispered. He remembered that, remembered Tad’s complete indulgence in her and her hobby, which was keeping her sane during a really shitty time.

“Well, you let me know if you need more of either,” he warned. “Let me tell my coworker I’ve got to jet the hell out of here, and then we’ll stop by my apartment so I can pack my own bag and my own woobie. You good with that?”

“Then we go find Tad?”

He nodded, his hands sweating with the need to move. “Stop for gas, get some food, and get the hell out of Dodge, angel—it’s a plan.”

“Thank you,” she wept and practically melted into his shoulder. “Thank you. He’s… you know… he’sTad—”

“Oh, honey, we’re not leaving your brother in a pickle like that without letting him know we’ve got his back, right?”

“Right,” she said. Then, “Uhm… I ran away from my halfway house. Is there any way you could call them? Let them know I’m not on a bender? I…. They yell.”

“Sure,” he said. “I can definitely do that. But we gotta get a move on, yeah? It’ll take us six hours plus in Friday traffic, I don’t care what Google tells us.”

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