Threatened List

THREATENED LIST

Copyright Sarah Schartz 2014

Published by Sarah Schartz at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For

Mom who nurtured my love of words

Dad who taught me to ride

Who together gave me roots to keep me grounded

And wings to let me fly.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Author's Note

About the Author

Chapter 1

Dakota Cooley touched her throbbing cheek with the tips of her fingers. He hit me. The door slammed. She heard Michael’s Subaru start up and pull out of the driveway. Stunned, she stumbled to the mirror to look at the damage.

The moment played and replayed—the back of his fist connecting with her cheek bone—the blur of the room as her head whipped with the impact. A reddish lump was forming. The rest of her face was unnaturally pale, accentuating the mottled splotch.

Moments passed. I have to get out of here. Dakota spun around. She ran down the hall to the bedroom. On her knees, she pulled a duffle out from under the bed. She yanked open drawers, scooped out clothes and dumped them in. I’ve got to hurry. Then she flung open the closet and dug her gear bag out of the back corner.

A car drove by outside and she paused, tense. Is that him? When it passed she continued, flinging clothes and cramming them on top of her boots and helmet. She grabbed full hangers in her fist and flung them over her shoulder. Dragging her gear bag behind her, she headed out the door. The bulky bag barely fit on the floor in front of the passenger seat of her Toyota pickup. She used all of her hundred and twenty pounds to shove it in place. She tossed the hanging clothes in a heap on top and she returned for her smaller duffle which went on the passenger seat.

Don’t let him come yet. Just a couple more things. Inside the garage, she opened the overhead door and wheeled out her Honda 250x. She lined it up with the center of the pickup bed, then retrieved the bike stand and loading ramp.

The dirt bike was cold blooded and didn’t want to start after not being ridden for so long. Come on. Come on. I promise I won’t let you sit so long next time. Just start! Finally, the engine fired. She let it warm up and turned off the choke. Walking beside it, Dakota eased out the clutch and let the bike propel itself up the ramp. She stepped on the bike stand, then the tailgate in a practiced rhythm. When the front tire came to rest against the front of the bed she pushed the kill button with her thumb.

In the garage, she scanned the clutter for her tie-downs. Where are they? Not hanging on the hook by the door. Another car. Dakota sucked in a breath and turned, preparing herself. It slowed and came into view and then turned in across the street. The neighbor. Just the neighbor. When did I last use the tie-downs? Where are they? There was one, in plain sight wrapped around a plastic tote. She shook it loose and the tub dumped on its side. The top fell off, scattering camping gear. The pot and lid clanged on the concrete floor and Dakota cringed. The disposable salt and pepper shakers spilled their contents. A blue tarp unfurled part way.

Dakota!

She spun around. One of the hooks on the tie-down hit Michael’s skis and poles leaned in the corner and knocked them on the floor with a clatter. The neighbor. She couldn’t come up with his name. Billy? Bobby? Butch? No. Barrett.

Hi, Barrett. She tried to act calm and normal. You startled me. She tried to laugh it off. But her throat was so constricted it sounded like she was choking.

You okay? He was looking at the mess in front of her.

Just a klutz is all. Trying to find the other one of these. She held up the strap.

He looked puzzled. It’s right there. He pointed to a pile on the floor just to the left of her foot.

Oh. She let the word out with a whoosh and scooped up the red nylon strap with thanksgiving. If it was a snake it’d bit me.

Barrett gave her another look. You want some help?

Dakota couldn’t answer, just nodded. The tightness in her throat threatened to cut off all oxygen. She couldn’t swallow. She couldn’t breathe. Head down, she walked to the pickup.

Once the bike was secure, she loaded the ramp and stand, closed the tailgate, climbed in the cab and started the pickup. As an afterthought she fumbled with the key ring in the ignition and finally unhooked the house key. She rolled down the window and winged it toward the house. She saw it glance off the siding and land in the flowerbed as she drove away. He can have anything that’s left.

Instead of turning on Deschutes Market Road to go to the office, she headed straight out Highway 20. She’d ride her own bike today rather than the one at work. That way she could go screw around when she was done.

Dakota let her body relax into the rhythm beneath her as she inhaled the sticky fragrance of pines mingled with the pungent sage that surrounded her. I wish this morning would just disappear. Her goggles pressed on her swollen cheek bone. Knees and hips controlling the movements of the dirt bike beneath her, she focused on the horizon. Everything else blurred and she let her body respond without conscious thought.

Wish I’d known Michael was in such a foul mood. She replayed the morning’s incident in her mind, searching for the trigger. Why’d he hit me? Half a day. I’d have been done with my work and been home before he got off work. He wouldn’t have even known if I had kept my mouth shut.

Things haven’t been great. Their clashing work schedules were havoc on their new relationship. She’d planned a special evening for the two of them: a nice meal and a drive up Pilot Butte to watch the sunset. So much for my surprise.

Why doesn’t he understand that I need to get this done today? The club submitted their proposed route weeks ago. He knows I have to approve it so they can prepare for their event. I’m on a deadline.

Where will I live? It was hard finding affordable housing in Bend; that’s what had clinched the decision to move in with Michael.

Reeling in her thoughts, she tried to clear her brain. Riding takes all your mind. Pay attention. She soared across the High Desert. Catching the glint of something ahead, she dipped her head slightly, trying to get the visor on her helmet to cut the glare on her goggles.

She spotted the cattle guard in the trail ahead. Easing up on the throttle, Dakota shifted her weight back slightly un-weighting the front tire, so she could ride over the lip of the metal grate. In the instant her front tire rolled over the edge she realized, too late, what had caught the sunlight.

* * * * *

Jake Dexter flipped the switch on the sander and pulled out his ear plugs as it quieted. He surveyed the large living and dining room combination with satisfaction. Not a bad morning’s work. Latching the handle upright, he tipped the machine back on the wheels and pulled it across the oak floor. He rolled it out the front door of the house, carefully down the steps and loaded it into the back of his company pickup. He shut the tailgate and was dusting his pants off when a pickup pulled up beside him. He turned and recognized his father at the wheel of the Forest Service vehicle.

What’s up, Dad?

Stopped by to see if you know a good supplier for juniper plywood. The spec sheet for our new kiosk specifically calls for juniper and I’m having a hard time finding any.

Jake leaned his elbows on the frame of the window. Have you tried the little discount lumber place on Third? They carry some specialty stuff.

Hadn’t thought about them—that’s a good idea. He waved in the direction of the house behind his son. How’s this one coming?

Shrugging, Jake answered, Okay. I’m happy the wood’s finally laid. The homeowner has changed her mind a hundred times. First she wanted red oak, then cherry, then laminate. Now we’re back to red oak. I told her once it was down I wasn’t taking it up again.

Sounds like a nightmare.

She is—more money than brains.

Randy put the transmission in drive. I better . . . He paused as a call came over the Forest radio.

Dispatch . . . Cooley . . . wrecked . . . motorcycle . . . help. The voice sounded strained; as if she were forcing herself to be calm.

Jake was puzzled. I thought Dakota had Mondays off. What’s she doing today?

I never saw her come in this morning.

A sick feeling crept into Jake’s stomach. She never asks for help.

Dale turned the volume up on the radio. I know. He picked up the mike but paused as dispatch returned the call.

Cooley, this is dispatch, what is your location and what type of help do you need?

A pause.

Not sure … location. I’m … East Fort Rock… north … deep cuts … wind knocked … lost...

You’re extremely broken up, can you repeat?

There was a brief scratch of static and the radio went quiet.

Cooley, this is dispatch, can you repeat?

Jake rubbed the two days’ worth of shadow on his chin. She knows those trails better than anyone. You think she hit her head?

Randy keyed the mike, Cooley this is Dexter. He repeated his call and when there was no answer signed off with no contact.

Jake could hear the worry in his father’s tone.

Before he sat down the microphone, Randy was dialing dispatch on his cell phone. Cutting off the woman that answered, he askedfor the lead dispatcher. Do you have Search and Rescue on the way?

Jake listened to his dad’s half of the conversation.

I’ll make a few phone calls of my own. In the meantime have SAR set up at Camp Two. Tell them to work north. I’ll get a few people together and we’ll work back towards them.

Randy ended the call and turned to his son. She must be on the race route. That’s all she talked about last week. He scooped a pile of papers off the passenger seat for Jake. Far as I know, she never got to the field.

Let me lock my rig. Opening the door to his own pickup, Jake flipped open his phone and dialed his best friend Scotty. As it rang, he grabbed his wallet out of the center console, locked and shut the door.

Scotty picked up on the third ring.

Jake climbed in his dad’s pickup while he talked. Get home and load up your bike. Then meet us at the north entrance to East Fort Rock. Dakota’s in trouble. . . Stop by my house and get my gear, would you? They said their goodbyes and Jake turned to his father. You gonna get the rest of your crew looking too?

Not if I can help it. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.

Jake grinned despite the circumstances. Don’t want to be searching for them too?

Those two couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag with a tour guide and a case of pink-glo flagging marking the way.

Baiting his father he said, Tell me again why you hired them?

I didn’t.

Randy pulled into the compound and backed up to the loading dock. They hopped out, leaving the doors open and the engine running. Inside the shop they found Dakota’s and Randy’s matching Yamahas parked side by side.

She must be on her own bike then? Jake mused.

Must be.

They loaded both bikes, Randy’s gear bag and a full gas can.

In the shop bay-turned-office, Randy scattered papers looking for a map with the event route marked on it. Jake pawed through the box of radio accessories trying to find ear buds. Where are they? He found them at the bottom of the parts box. He snagged two radios, extra clamshells, batteries and two radio bras. His father was headed out the door, so Jake kicked the cabinet door closed and followed.

Randy drove China Hat Road at record speeds. Jake was grateful they didn’t meet anyone coming the opposite direction on the lane and a half gravel road. At the appointed meeting place, Randy and Jake unloaded. Scotty pulled up as they finished.

Jake dressed in his riding pants and boots while Randy retrieved a blank trail map and one marked for the race off the seat of his pickup and grabbed a highlighter out of the jockey box. Pulling a jersey on over his t-shirt, Jake listened as his dad laid out a plan.

Dakota usually parks at the Cave Camp. But if she’s working, she might park at the event staging area. He fumed. Why didn’t she call me? She needs to tell someone where she’s at! Studying the outlined route, he started marking the blank map.

Handing one to his son he said, You guys check the east side of China Hat. I’ve marked the race route. That’s our first priority. Sometimes Dakota parks at this dispersed site. He marked the Big Buck Camp with an X. If her rig is there, try to follow her tracks. I’ll start working these trails and check out Cave Camp. He tossed Jake a first aid kit. Take this. Call dispatch if you find her. I’ll be listening. Check in with me and dispatch every half hour.

Got it.

Ride safe.

* * * * *

He listened to the scanner intently. Police, fire, wildlife, back to police. Bend’s boys in blue stopped a possible drunk driver with license plate Mike, Charlie, Mike, seven, zero, two. The license came back suspended and the driver had a warrant out for his arrest. The twelve-code sheet he’d stolen out of the cadet’s back pack at the county fair had come in handy. Should have given it back. Don’t need it anymore. Poor kid still probably doesn’t have them memorized.

The scanner broke mid-transmission and skipped to the Forest Service channel he had programmed as the priority. He listened to the nuances of Dakota’s voice. She’s trying to stay calm—but she isn’t.

Panic flooded him. She isn’t supposed to be riding today. Immediately his thoughts went to his latest project site. She was supposed to be done working there. Had he misunderstood? Was she at one of his other project sites? Today is her day off. Is she riding for pleasure? No. Oh, no. No. She was supposed to stop riding for fun. He thought she’d finally given that up. She was too busy with other things and riding was slipping away as most hobbies do. He chastised himself. I let down my guard, took things for granted. Struggling to regain his composure, he turned up the volume.

Already, his mind was churning—adapting to this unexpected change. This could be beneficial. He mused. Perhaps now she won’t be so bold. So confident. The men ogle her. She’ll have scars. Maybe they won’t now. She acts oblivious. But she likes it. I know she does. No one will want her, now. She will come groveling to me. Beg me to love her and take her home. That dirty old man that she works with won’t want her anymore.

The search and rescue training will be handy. I’ll be the one to find her. I’ll be her hero.

Dexter came on the radio. What’s that old man up to now? He tried to reason. He’s too old for her, old enough to be her father. I can give her so much more than him! Still, it disturbed him that Dexter had shown an interest in Dakota’s disappearance.

When he got to Camp Two, no one else was there. Where are they? Maybe I should start without them. Retrieving a king size package of peanut M&M’s from his stash in his backback, he got out of the vehicle and stretched his legs. Opening a map, he laid it across the hood and dumped the candies on one corner. He didn’t have to actually look at the map. The entire system was burned into his eidetic memory. Grouping the candy coated chocolates by color, he counted each pile—three brown, ten orange, five red, four yellow, eight green and eleven blue. Too big a discrepancy between blue and brown. Quality control should be better. He tossed the imperfect ones over his shoulder.

The scanner inside chattered away. Sergeant Malloy said he would set up a command post at 11 a.m. The remaining M&M’s were lined up in three sets of one color each in the row. He looked at his watch. That’s an hour away! He carefully bit the chocolate off of the ones that weren’t lined up and spit it out. Then he ate the peanuts inside. Why’s he taking so long? Finally, he ate the rest of the M&M’s by group, in order. Always in order. Brown, orange, red, yellow, green, blue. Blue was always last.

His eyes flitted across the trail map of their own volition. In the background, his mind ran the litany of trail names, in order from north to south. Skeleton, Paulina,