Jill Elizabeth - Lone Survivor

“Real rangers? You’ve said those words twice. What do you mean?”

The man frowned. “I’m going to jump to a bit of a conclusion, but the guy we talked to on the radio was no one I knew, and I thought I’d met all the personnel at the park over the past thirteen months that I’ve been living here. A bomb scare—and hopefully that’s all it is—would be just the sort of thing to empty out the main ranger station so that an impostor could sit in and wait for a woman running for her life to show up or reach out for help. I can’t think of another way to explain how a truckload of gunmen knew where to come for you less than twenty minutes after our radio call.”

The strength suddenly left Karissa’s knees, and she plopped onto a wooden chair. “I can’t explain it another way, either.” Her voice came out as breathless as if she’d just finished her morning jog.

She swallowed against a dry throat as the implications of the attack on them sank in. She’d assumed she was fleeing from a single, desperate murderer who was trying to shut her up about his crime, but a plot that involved a bomb scare, a fake ranger and a posse of killers was a much larger conspiracy run by someone with far-reaching resources and considerable ruthlessness and determination. Clearly, he didn’t even draw the line at killing an infant. Suddenly, it seemed that her cousin’s murder might be the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

An opened bottle of water appeared under her nose. She blinked, coming out of her daze, and took the bottle from Hunter’s hand.

“Thank you.” She gulped greedily then inhaled a long breath and let it out in short, quivering puffs. “All right then.” She gazed up at her protector’s sober face. “I can’t thank you enough for being here and knowing what to do. I’m so, so sorry for getting you involved in this.”

“What exactly is this ?” His tone was sharp, and his eyes narrowed on her.

“I wish I knew.” Tears stung the backs of Karissa’s eyes. “Everything happened just as I told you. I went to visit a cousin I hadn’t seen in—well, forever, found her dead, grabbed the baby, ran away from the killer and here I am. I’m asking the same question you are. What in the world is going on?”

His gaze seemed to sift through her, but at last his facial expression relaxed, and he nodded. “No need to apologize or to thank me . Thank God. This has to be more than coincidence that you showed up on my doorstep.”

An indefinable something in his expression seemed to be trying to communicate a message beyond his words, but Karissa had no idea what that message might be.

“You’re a Christian?” she asked.

“Yes.” The word was terse in a way that almost negated the answer.

Her rescuer looked away and set about lighting a nearby kerosene lamp, considerably brightening the room. Then he pulled a large rucksack off one of the shelves and plopped it onto a chair by the table. Karissa checked the baby in her arms and found him fast asleep. She gently laid him down on one of the cots.

“I’m a Christian, too,” she said. “Fresh off the mission field in Belize, actually.”

“Belize?” The man stopped transferring various supplies from the shelving to the rucksack and stared at her. “You’ve been out of the country? For how long? I mean, what caused you to go there?” The normal deep tone of his voice had morphed upward a few notes, as if the questions pushed through tightened vocal cords.

Karissa’s skin prickled as she studied his tense posture. What had suddenly raised this cool-under-pressure Galahad’s anxiety level? Shouldn’t she try to find out more about this man she was trusting with her and Kyle’s lives?

She forced a smile. “A bit late in our strange acquaintance, but may I get your name?”

The man’s body went from tense to rigid, and his facial expression became one of someone bracing for a blow. “I’m Hunter Raines.” The pronouncement came in a fatalistic tone.

Karissa furrowed her brow. What was the guy trying to tell her without actually telling her? Was the name supposed to mean something to her? Maybe this Hunter Raines had some sort of history that she’d know about if she’d been in the US in the past two years. Maybe she ought to be afraid of him. More afraid than of the killers who had tried to shoot and then incinerate them? Unlikely. Besides, he’d shown every sign of genuine caring and no sign of aggression. She’d lived her life thus far giving people the benefit of the doubt. Why stop now?

She stuck out her hand toward her benefactor. “Hi, I’m Karissa Landon.”

Hunter accepted her handshake, his palm rough, his grip strong without being overpowering. “Yes, you said so when we were talking with Remy on the radio, but I appreciate the formal introduction.”

His expression had gone from defensive to bewildered. Amazing how little that beard hid his reactions when his eyes were so expressive. An intriguingly rich shade of gray, too. Not that she needed to be noticing something like that in this situation.

“To answer your questions,” she said, “I was on the mission field for twenty-four months, living a dream of serving the poor in practical and spiritual ways. I came back three weeks ago on furlough, but, God willing, I plan to return to Belize in a year or so. While I’m Stateside, I wanted to connect with what family I have left...”

The last sentence trailed off as the enormity of her cousin’s murder flooded over Karissa once again. Her head drooped as a soft sob choked her.

“We’ll get through this.” Hunter’s voice was gruff. “And we’ll find out who did that to your cousin.”

Karissa lifted her gaze. “Nobody is promised tomorrow or answers to their questions or even justice. Not in this life. I keep my sanity by clinging to faith that God sees and knows and understands and will bring everything right in the end. If I didn’t believe that, my heart would be withered to dust by now.”

“You’ve been through some tough things, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Hunter winced and looked away.

“I sense you’ve been through a few things yourself,” she said.

Karissa barely restrained herself from asking point-blank how he got his scars. But if he answered her question, fair play might make her feel obligated to tell him about her parents’ fatal car wreck and her sister’s tragic death in a fire, and how going on the mission field had been a sanity saver at a horrible time in her life. These were not things she wanted to discuss with an almost stranger.

However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about her had this guy spooked, and that sense of something being off spooked her . Until she figured out what it was, she was going to have a hard time taking Hunter Raines—extraordinarily competent and courageous as he obviously was—at face value.

Hunter busied himself with packing the rucksack. The mundane chore gave him a little space to get his head together. He put in everything they might need for a few days of roughing it if they were for some reason unable to reach the destination he had in mind for them tonight. However, diapers were not something he’d thought to stock down here, and the closest he could get to formula was powdered milk. Who knew how the baby would ingest any milk since his bottle had been left lying on the side table near the couch and was now as incinerated as the rest of the furnishings. Hopefully, they’d find help sooner rather than later and wouldn’t actually be forced to camp out, but he intended to be as prepared as possible for whatever eventuality.