Sarah turned toward her suddenly. “I’ve forgotten how good you are at reading what people don’t say.”

“Occupational skill,” Lily said softly.

Sarah shook her head. “It might make you better at what you do, but it’s just who you are. But you didn’t read all of that. Not what might be the most important part. Chase told you. She never talks about what happened with anyone. I can’t tell which one of you has gotten hooked.”

Lily groaned. “Please—can we not do the fish thing again? Have you actually looked at those mouths with all those little pointy teeth?”

She shuddered.

Sarah laughed, though her laughter held an undercurrent of sorrow. “Something monumental must have happened for Chase to tell you that story.”

“Maybe it isn’t that at all,” Lily said gently. “Maybe Chase’s healed much more than you think.”

“You mean much more than I’m willing to see?”

“Sometimes, we have to let go of our pain—and our guilt—in order to realize that someone else has too.”

Sarah quirked a brow. “Physician heal thyself?”

Lily chuckled wryly. “Touché.”

Sarah gave Lily a quick hug. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll work on it.”

“Will you let me know when you hear anything more?”

“Of course.” Sarah rose and held out a hand to Lily. “Come on. I’m willing to bet your clinic is empty this morning.”

Lily laughed. “Naturally. No mysterious ailments are in order on the Fourth of July when we have a trip to town and a cruise scheduled.”

Sarah nodded. “If I know my sister, she’ll find a way to make it. Never one to miss a party.”

Lily hoped so. She wanted a few more minutes with Chase when there suddenly seemed to be so little time left.

* * *

Chase rewound the winch attached to the front of her Jeep, backed into a turnaround by the side of the trail, and stepped out, carefully stretching the screaming muscles in her lower back and legs. After three days in the cab in ninety-degree weather, sleeping on an air mattress in a bunk in the equipment trailer, and showering for a minute every twenty-four hours, she was tired, sore, and generally grungy. And couldn’t be happier. The hikers were taking it easy in some hotel somewhere, all medically cleared, the trail was secured and ready to reopen, and she was going to a party.

“I think that’s the last of it,” Tom Perry called to her.

“Yep. Nat wants to wait twenty-four hours until things dry out. Should be good to go by then.”

“Looks that way,” Tom said, pausing beside her as two volunteer assistant rangers, both muddy and bedraggled, trooped past them toward their vehicle. He shook his head. “Gonna be a long summer.”

Chase laughed. “I sure hope so.”