A Matter of Trust(45)

No one had been able to rouse them on the radio, and apparently that had chopper pilot Kacey Fairing and her boss, Chet King, worried.

The two stood in front of a computer, watching the weather map refresh every few seconds as the low pressure front from the west closed in on the mountains. Kacey, tall, lean, and pretty with her long auburn hair, looked every inch the former military pilot Ty had described on their drive over.

Chet, maybe in his early sixties, leaned on a cane, his body still strong despite what Ty said were two new hips after a chopper accident. She made a mental note to add Chet to her list of heroes. The boss greeted her with a firm handshake and a crooked smile. Reminded her a little of Harrison Ford.

Kacey and the chopper hadn’t returned by the time Ty pulled up to the PEAK ranch, an actual former ranch with the old house reconstructed for their headquarters, including bunk rooms, a kitchen, an office, and a main meeting area. It didn’t take long, however, for Kacey to arrive and land the blue and white rescue chopper on the pad outside, in front of a two-story white barn that had the words PEAK Rescue written in red on the front.

Ty had given Brette a quick tour of that too, in his explanation of the PEAK resources and activities. “We do everything from search and rescue in the park, including climbing rescues and swift water rescues, to emergency medical evacuations, and we even help with avalanche control for the nearby ski areas, as well as the backcountry.”

He’d pointed out their wilderness ambulance, a Land Rover converted into a medivac unit. “We have a 4Runner and a couple Polaris snowmobiles for off-road needs. And of course, the dual-engine Bell 429 chopper.” He’d said it with such warmth in his voice she couldn’t help but remember his words.

“I’m the backup chopper pilot. I was the main pilot before Kacey got here.”

Interesting.

Ty had brought her in the house then, and introduced her to the team, at least the ones at the base. Chet, of course, then Sierra Rose, the team administrator. Petite, with short dark hair and hazel-green eyes, she greeted Brette by inviting her to grab a piece of leftover pizza, some soup, or one of the cookies in the jar in the kitchen. What had Ty said—the big sister of the team?

Sierra had assembled an hour-by-hour weather forecast for Heaven’s Peak, as well as satellite images of the area, and spread them out on a massive table in front of a map of the park affixed to the wall. A flat-screen against the back wall played the local weather and news.

Brette nearly fell over when country singer Ben King appeared from some back office and greeted Kacey Fairing with a quick kiss. She must have been staring because Ben turned to her, held out his hand. “Ben King.”

His album covers and posters didn’t do him justice. With blue eyes that she could lose herself in, just like his songs, he wore a baseball cap backward, faded jeans, and cowboy boots.

And, here he was, a bona fide hero, working on a rescue team. Blow her socks off.

“Brette Arnold. I’m a friend of Senator Ella Blair. She’s out with Gage on Heaven’s Peak, trying to track down her brother and his friend.”

“Right,” Ben said and glanced at Kacey.

And now she felt a little silly, because he probably knew all that.

“It’s an honor to meet you. I have all your albums . . .” Please, now she must sound like a rabid fan.

Which she was—at least a mildly rabid fan. Not the kind to stalk him to Montana.

“Thanks,” he said, a warmth in his smile that made her disbelieve everything his former bandmate Holly Montgomery had said about him in her interview about their breakup. Cold and difficult to work with.

That’s what bad journalism did—showed only the one-sided perspective. She liked to dig inside a person’s life, find the truth, show the world the full person, good and bad.

Let the public decide.

“I’m sure Gage will find them,” Ben said. “If anyone knows how to handle a mountain, it’s Gage. He’ll get them all down safely.”

Brette nodded, believing every word that came from his golden, mountain-twangy voice.

“The weather is closing in fast,” Kacey had said, giving her a smile, then headed over to Chet, where she huddled up, strategizing.

Meanwhile, Brette helped herself to a cookie. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Now, her stomach was starting to curl into a fist over the emptiness. She actually felt a little nauseated.

Ty must have noticed, because he pulled out a container of vegetable soup, ladled some into a bowl, and heated it in the microwave.

“Sit,” he said, putting the bowl on the counter and setting a spoon next to it.

She slid onto a high-top stool. “Thanks.”