checked the time on her phone. Five minutes until her appointment with a member of the special task force assigned to deal with crimes in the area. This time, she’d be more assertive. She would make the officer understand that Lauren wouldn’t have run away. And she wouldn’t have taken her own life. She was in trouble and they had to help.
Lauren had no one else to speak for her; it was up to Sophie to look after her little sister, just as she’d always done.
She turned the car into the gravel lot in front of the portable building that served as headquarters for The Ranger Brigade—the interagency task force focused on fighting crime on public lands in western Colorado. A hot wind blasted her as she exited the car, whipping her shoulder-length brown hair into her eyes and sending a tumbleweed bobbing across her path. She stared at the beach-ball-sized sphere of dried weeds as it bounced across the pavement and into the brush across the road. The whole scene was like something out of a Wild West movie, as foreign from her life back in Madison, Wisconsin, as she could imagine.
As she made her way up a gravel walkway toward the building, a large dog—blond with a black muzzle and tail, like a German shepherd, but smaller—loped from around the side of the building. Sophie froze, heart pounding, struggling to breathe. The dog kept running toward her, tongue lolling, teeth glinting in the bright sun. She closed her eyes, fighting wave after wave of paralyzing fear.
“Lotte! Down!”
Sophie opened her eyes to see the dog immediately stop and lie down. A young man trotted around the side of the building. Tall and muscular, with closely cropped brown hair, he wore tan trousers and a tan long-sleeved shirt. “Don’t worry, she’s harmless,” he called.
Sophie shifted her attention back to the dog, reminding herself to breathe. The dog grinned up at her, tongue hanging out. To most people she probably did look harmless. But Sophie wasn’t most people.
“Can I help you?” the man asked as he drew closer. Green eyes studied her, fine lines fanning from the corners, though she had a sense that he wasn’t much older than her own thirty. The buffeting wind and too-bright sun didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he looked right at home against the backdrop of cactus and stunted pinion. He could have been an old-west lawman, with a silver star pinned to his chest, or a cowboy, ready to ride the range—any of those strong, romantic archetypes with the power to make a woman swoon.
Except she hadn’t come here to ogle the local stud lawman, she reminded herself. Even if guys like him paid any attention to quiet bookworms like her. “I’m Sophie Montgomery. I have an appointment with the Rangers,” she said.
“Right. Officer Rand Knightbridge.” He offered his hand. “Come on in and we’ll get started.”
She took his hand, but released it quickly, focused on the dog who sat quietly at his side. It was a powerful animal, its eyes alert, as if at any moment it might lunge. “I’m afraid of dogs,” she said, and took a step back.
He stopped and looked from her to the dog. “Lotte is very well trained,” he said. “She won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“I didn’t say it was a rational fear, I said I was afraid.” Why did people always want to argue with her about this? No one ever tried to understand.
“Sure. I’ll put her inside, in another room.”
“All right. I’ll wait out here.”
He glanced at her again, then turned and snapped his fingers. “Lotte! Come!”
The dog fell into step beside him, gazing up at him adoringly.
She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to feel self-conscious. The windows on the Rangers’ headquarters were covered by blinds, but she had a feeling she was being watched. She fought the urge to stick her tongue out at whoever was looking, but that compulsion died when she reminded herself why she was here. She needed for these people to take her concerns seriously.
After a moment, during which she gave up trying to keep the wind from whipping her hair into her eyes, the front door to the trailer opened and Officer Knightbridge waved to her. “The coast is clear,” he said. “It’s safe to come in.”
She made her way up the walkway and through the door he held open for her. The office itself was Spartan and utilitarian, with industrial carpet and simple furnishings. “Let’s use the conference room, back here,” Knightbridge said, leading her to another open doorway.
A woman at a computer looked up and smiled at her as they passed and two other uniformed officers glanced her way but didn’t acknowledge her. In the conference room, Officer Knightbridge pulled out a folding chair at the scarred table, then took a similar chair across from her. “How can I help you, Ms. Montgomery?” he asked.
“My sister, Lauren Starling, has been missing since May twenty-eighth. That’s when she left for a week’s vacation, but no one’s seen or heard from her since. The Denver Police Department suggested I contact you to see how the investigation into her disappearance is progressing.”
There was a flicker of confusion in his green eyes. He shifted in his seat. “The Denver Police Department told you we were investigating your sister’s disappearance.”
“I understand her car was found abandoned very near here.”
“Yes, I believe it was.”
“And your organization deals with crime in the park?”
“The park and surrounding public lands.”
“So, naturally, I assumed you’re investigating my sister’s disappearance.”
As she’d talked, the lines on his forehead had deepened. The metal folding chair squeaked as he shifted position again. “Ms. Montgomery...”
“Please, call me Sophie.” She wanted him to trust her, to confide in her, even.
“Ms. Montgomery, a car registered to your sister was found at the Dragon Point overlook in the park. There were no signs of violence, no notes and nothing else that pointed to violence. Park rangers conducted a search for your sister and found nothing. They had the car towed to an impound lot and contacted Denver police, and they also notified us to be on the lookout for her.”
“I know all that,” she said, trying to quell her impatience. “That’s why I’m here. I want to know what you’ve discovered since then.”
His expression grew even more pained. “After you called, I reviewed what little information we have. No one has seen or heard from your sister. The Denver police led us to believe your sister had come here of her own free will.”
“She may have come here voluntarily, but she didn’t just walk away from her car, her home, her job, her friends and her family.” Sophie fought to keep the agitation from her voice. “Something has happened to her.”
“The report I read said that your sister has a history of depression.”
Here it was, the excuse they all gave for not taking Lauren’s disappearance more seriously. “She’s recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder—what people used to call manic depression. She was in treatment, on medication and doing well.”
“The report we received said she was recently divorced.”
“Yes.” Lauren had adored Phil; she’d been crushed when he announced he’d fallen in love with a woman he worked with. She’d had to cope not only with the end of her marriage, but also with the humiliation of his very public infidelity. But she was rallying. “My sister is much stronger than people give her credit for,” Sophie said. “I talked to her only two days before she disappeared and she was very upbeat, excited about a new project at work.”
“The police report also said she’d been put on probation at the TV station—that she was in danger of losing her job.”
“She told me she wasn’t worried about that—that this new project would prove