Page 71 of Fool Me

My promise doesn’t ease the wrinkle on his forehead. Knowing Atlas, it won’t disappear until he hears from me himself that the mission is cleared. It’s the first time anyone but Vivi or my parents have cared so deeply about my wellbeing. I consider what a future would look like where he’s part of the text thread I have with the three of them to check in.

Unlike Brady’s insinuation that having a partner outside of the field, and a full life beyond the job would steal the joy of the work, I don’t see it that way. What’s more motivating than wanting to get home safe to someone you care deeply about? It gives me a new perspective to bring to the role.

“I’ve got to go,” I explain, but Atlas just nods his understanding.

“Come back to me so we can finish what we started.”

Forty minutes later, I’m at the state park with the team, getting briefed. A distraught mom relayed everything the best she could, and the camp host helped fill in some blanks based ontheir familiarity with the area. Our hike into the ravine confirms the situation is dire.

The girl, Morgan, has been unresponsive for almost an hour after getting disoriented and falling while trying to get to the bathroom in the dark. There’s a glacial creek running through the bottom of the ravine. It’s dark and slippery from recent rain. The team picks our way down because one of us getting hurt only slows our progress. When we reach the dad, he’s rightfully distraught and uncooperative, refusing care and sending us after his daughter.

It’s not an unusual request, but he’s combative and nothing Travis does to de-escalate the situation works, and instead, only makes him more agitated.

Light from my headlamp catches a streak of red trickling down the dad’s neck. “Hey, Trav,” I say softly, touching the same spot on my neck and nodding to the dad.

“Steve, I know you said you’re feeling okay, just a little banged up. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you went down?” I ask carefully.

“What do you mean? Why are you asking me all these questions when my daughter is down there alone and scared?” He looks from me to Travis in his agitation.

I let Travis respond, knowing he’ll send me with Echo.

“Sir, we are going to get Morgan in a second. I’m going to send Harlowe and Cory down there to help her.”

“Morgan?” His unfocused eyes dart around in the dark. “Where’d she go? She was just here. I was taking her to the bathroom, but she snuck out while I was washing up.” He tries to push himself upright, grunting in pain as his footing slips on the steep embankment.

“Hey—careful—” Travis lunges, catching him just in time, their combined weight shifting dangerously before he haulsSteve back uphill. Travis groans from the impact, landing on his ribs. “Shit,” he hisses.

“Morgan!” Steve bellows, the name echoing into the quiet night.

Our leader doesn’t hesitate. “Harlowe, Cory, go. Eric and I will stay here with Steve.”

“You good, boss?”

He nods once. “Get to her, but be careful.”

As Cory and I make our way further from the campground and deeper into the ravine, I hear Travis on the radio. “Dispatch, we’ve got two patients. One unresponsive minor, one adult male with possible head trauma. Requesting air evac with hoist capability if possible—terrain’s tight.”

For a summer night, it’s cold—unpleasantly so. Echo picks a path down, weaving back and forth as Cory and I follow. The rain-slicked ground doesn’t help, and as we get closer to the creek, the chill cuts to the bone. I’m scanning as we descend, looking for the pink unicorn pajamas the girl’s mom described her as wearing. When Cory’s light catches on a bright spot against the dark forest floor, my stomach drops. Echo is already on his way to her, his alerting bark ringing out. My feet slip against the rocks as I scramble down the last few feet, running toward her.

“No. No. No,” I chant, my knees splashing into the frigid water.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

ATLAS

Atlas

Text me when you’re home safe.

It’s two in the morning and there’s still no response. I’ve drifted off here and there, but I’ve yet to get any real sleep. I pick up my phone and set it down over and over again. It’s been almost six hours since she left. I know these things can take time, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong.

Shifting my attention from my phone to my car keys, the need to do something gets progressively worse as the time stretches. Then, I remember the police scanner that was always playing at Fiona’s house. As teens, we joked it was the world’s worst soundtrack, but right now it feels like a way to connect with Harlowe. Opening the app store, I download an app and find the Timberline Peak Emergency Service channel.

It’s mostly static until a weary voice finally cuts through, rough with exhaustion. “Scene is secured. Coroner has been notified.”

Both my hands go to my hair as I stare at my phone waiting for more, but there’s nothing. It’s late and I’m probably about to cross dozens of boundaries, but I don’t fucking care.

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