ONE
Not again.Liam Kingsley pressed his chest against the scorching sandstone, peering over the northern rim of the Grand Canyon. June didn’t even start until tomorrow, and here they were—minutes from the first statistic of the season.
Eight feet below, on a ledge barely wider than his Bronco’s bench seat, a girl—maybe ten—sprawled on her back, one leg twisted beneath her. Terror bleached her face, but at least she was still breathing.
Thank heaven for small miracles.
Dark braids spilled across the sandstone, the colorful hair ties—purple and pink—a stark contrast against the ancient rock. Her Disney princess T-shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a nasty scrape that oozed blood. One sparkly tennis shoe still in place while the other lay somewhere in the rocks below.
Her eyes—wide and brown as a doe’s—tracked his movement above. Her bottom lip quivered, but she hadn’t cried. Yet.Brave kid.Or maybe too shocked to process what had happened.
“Kristen, my name is Liam.” The two boys had been shouting her name when he’d found them. “I’m a ranger and I’m here to help.” He forced calm into his voice while his gut churned. That ledge was nothing more than fractured sandstone,spiderwebbed with cracks that could give way any second. One wrong shift, one deep breath, and she’d plummet another hundred feet to the jagged rocks below.
She whimpered—a sound that gutted him—and nodded faintly.
Up until now, he’d been enjoying the view as he patrolled the Rim Trail. The canyon stretched endlessly before him, layer upon layer of red sandstone and purple shadow carved deep into the earth. Pine-scented air filled his lungs—crisp, thin, carrying the faint mineral taste of ancient rock. Beyond where he lay, the world simply…dropped away. Two thousand feet of nothing but sky and stone.
A raven’s call echoed off the canyon walls, the sound bouncing between the cliffs until it faded into silence so complete it pressed against his eardrums. The sun warmed his shoulders through his ranger shirt while a cool breeze whispered up from the depths.
Gorgeous but lethal. Especially to untended children hiking away from a nearby campsite.
Liam twisted toward the two boys hovering behind him—twelve and fourteen, maybe.
The younger one clutched a half-empty water bottle, his knuckles white against the plastic. Sweat darkened his Batman T-shirt despite the cool morning air, and his sneakers—definitely not hiking boots—were already caked with red canyon dust.
The older boy stood a head taller, all knobby elbows and gangly limbs he hadn’t grown into yet. His sandy hair stuck up in every direction and dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his mouth pressed into a thin line that screamed guilt louder than any confession.
Brothers. Had to be. Same stubborn chin, same way of shifting their weight from foot to foot when cornered.
“Is she your sister?” Liam kept his voice steady, though his chest tightened at the fear radiating off them in waves.
The older boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gave a slight nod. “W-we didn’t know she was following us.”
Of course they didn’t.
Reckless people got other people killed.Only this time, he wasn’t to blame.
He turned back to the girl on the ledge below. He forced his voice to stay calm, easy. “We’re going to get you home, but I need you to stay real still. Can you do that?”
She whimpered. Nodded.
The boys crept forward. One loose rock could trigger an avalanche. Liam shrugged off his pack, creating a barrier behind him. The younger one’s chin trembled, and he swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. Fresh scratches marked his forearms—tough kid, clearly.
“What are your names?”
“I’m Michael,” said the older one. “That’s my brother, Eric.”
“All right, Michael, Eric, you’re doing great. Just stay back and let me work. She’s going to be okay.”
Please, let that be true.
Liam yanked the radio from his belt and turned his back to the boys. “Base, this is Ranger Liam Kingsley, North Rim, sector Delta-7. I’ve got a juvenile female, approximately ten years old, stranded on unstable ledge eight feet below the rim. Possible leg fracture, hundred-foot drop below. Need helicopter and backup immediately.”
Eden’s voice crackled back instantly. “Copy, Liam. Chopper’s committed elsewhere—thirty-minute ETA minimum. Noah’s en route, twenty minutes out. Can you secure?”
Twenty minutes. The ledge might not survive twentyseconds. “I’ll secure. Out.”
Liam unhooked his sixty-meter climbing rope from his pack, uncoiled it, and carried it to a sturdy juniper a few yards from the edge.