Chapters (52)
- Cover
- Book Description
- Books By Rachel Grant
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Epilogue
- Fiona Carver Series
- Flashpoint Series
- About the Author
“We could try to find the signal blockers the mercs set up,” Cohen suggested.
“I’ve considered that,” Flyte said. “But from the coverage, I’m guessing there are several. We could waste days searching. In the meantime, we’ve got a critically injured SEAL and three missing team members.”
All at once, Audrey jolted. He knew her body language. She had an idea.
“What is it, Aud?”
“Remember the night we met?”
He couldn’t help but smile, his gaze landing on her belly. “Uh. Yeah.”
Cohen snickered.
She rolled her eyes. “I mean what I was doing. The project I was working on.”
“You were doing a survey to determine if an archaeological site would be harmed if an emergency shelter was built near a trail.”
She smiled. “You were paying attention.” She crossed the room to a table that was stacked with brochures for tourists, unharmed by the battle that had taken place here. She grabbed a stack from the tabletop and returned to the group, setting the trifold pamphlets on the coffee table in front of the hearth, between the facing couches where everyone had gathered.
“This is a park guide for trails in the vicinity of the lodge.” She opened one and pointed to a dotted line a fair distance from the line drawing of the lodge.
Flyte grabbed a map, as did others. Audrey moved to stand by Xavier so he could look over her shoulder at the page.
“They weren’t just building an emergency shelter for hikers caught in a storm. The plan was to put in cellular antennas, giving my project area a bigger footprint. It’ll be one of the few lower elevations where a cell signal is possible—there isn’t much point in putting up a tower in the middle of the trees where the signal won’t carry far.”
“But the terrain is better there?”
“Yes, there’s a decent rise and clearing.”
“How far is it from here?”
“Roughly seven miles. Four by road—backtracking toward the gate. There’s a wide pull-off for parking where there’s a mile long trail that gets you halfway to the ridge, then it’s nearly two miles of backcountry hiking to reach Lost Goat Trail and the proposed emergency shelter location.”
“But avoiding both road and trail, how far is that?” Xavier asked.
“All backcountry? Five, maybe six miles. You still can’t go as the crow flies because it’s steep and heavily forested. The ground will be really slippery, requiring a lot of switchbacks instead of hiking straight up.”
Cohen frowned at the brochure. “Please tell me there’s an antenna in place there now?”