Page 10 of Defiant Hearts

It was early for campers. Snow had barely melted from the lower portions of the mountain this time of year, and the caps up top never unfroze. Spring thaw and runoff didn’t make for easy walking, let alone camping. Nobody sane pitched a tent out here on purpose, not this early in the season.

This wasn’t a training tent abandoned by some other Black Heart mountain expedition either. Those were camo green.

It was a civilian tent, the kind purchased at an outdoor store, and it was worn in, not stiff and new, but soft and sagging a little at the edges from use.

And it was zipped shut, which meant someone could be inside right this minute.

In a circle of stones lay the blackened remains of a fire. For a minute, he stood in the shelter of the trees, slowing his breathing and his heart to listen for a person. There wasn’t a sound from his surroundings and no rustling from a person inside the tent.

Scanning the area, he took in the small clearing, the stream a short distance away and the wall of darkness beyond.

He knew enough from his training that he should never approach a camp without calling out to alert the campers of his presence. He also knew that anyone on this mountain would be armed, and he didn’t relish the idea of looking down the barrel of a gun.

A sudden image of the lean-to rose in his mind. It wasn’t built by someone in Black Heart Security. He estimated it couldn’t be more than a mile away from this clearing.

Not long ago, someone had been here. Someone still might be here.

Senses sharp, Wyatt moved into the clearing, placing his feet with care. Memories of a dozen other abandoned camps he’d approached while searching for missing hikers rose in his mind, putting his senses on alert.

He took in the camp without touching a thing.

Keeping the tent in his sight at all times, he crouched near the fire and swept the area with a glance. His gaze caught on a small object near the edge of the stream, tucked near a rock so he hadn’t spotted it before.

Quietly, he moved forward and picked it up. It contained liquid, and when he worked the lid loose, the scent hit him immediately. Sweet and floral, layered with the tang of herbs.

He tilted it toward the moonlight and tiny petals floated inside.

His heart jerked against his ribs. The petals had to come from those flower stems back at the lean-to.

Few men would ever pick flowers let alone place the petals in a jar of liquid. He dipped his fingertip in and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. It was slightly slippery, almost like…soap?

A woman’s soap.

Why would a woman be way out here, off any marked trail?

The question sat heavy in his chest. And it didn’t sit easy either.

That lean-to was only large enough for one person. The tent was also rated for one.

This wasn’t a couple who’d come to the mountain for a retreat. This was a single person—likely a woman—who’d been here long enough to set up one camp and have a small shelter in another location.

His mind ran through possibilities. A lost hiker who’d wandered too far and decided that making camp beat the risk of a trip back.

Or an uglier scenario. He’d busted enough drug operations, especially meth labs, in the remote forest during his ranger years to know how often people hid what they didn’t want found. He was trained to spot such things. A solo woman was often used as a drug mule to pack out the product on foot.

Nothing about this felt right.

A sound broke through his thoughts, and Wyatt jerked his head toward it.

Footsteps, soft and careful, approaching through the wall of brush on the far side of the camp.

Still holding the container of petals, he melted back against the nearest tree, his free hand hovering over his weapon strapped to his side. He let the shadows swallow him as he swept the patches of moonlight for the person coming toward him.

His breath came in shallow pants as the footsteps grew closer.

A shape emerged from the tree line, too small to be a man. She wore a small daypack that wasn’t capable of holding much and swung her head constantly as she scanned the ground.

She glanced at the fire ring and circled the tent as if retracing her steps for a lost object.