Solid as Steele by Susan Sleeman

4

The shrill alarm clock reverberated through Owen’s bedroom, and he could barely roll over to turn it off. His arm and leg muscles, everywhere actually, screamed at him to remain still. The bruises felt like fire and laying on a bed of nails at the same time.

He dug deep for strength and rolled the final distance. A sharp bruising pain made him gasp as he slapped the alarm button. He’d set his alarm for two hours before their scheduled departure time, allowing him to take a hot shower and additional acetaminophen. He tossed back a few Ibuprofen tablets too and eased his feet to the floor. Each step toward the bathroom was like climbing a mountain of pain.

But he made it to the large shower and let nearly scalding water sluice over his battered body. He stayed in the stream of water until it turned cold.

Better. He felt a bit better. Good enough to be able to dress and gather his belongings for the trip.

Then he poured a cup of strong black coffee from the pot he’d set the timer on to brew at the same time as his alarm and sat before the television to catch the local morning news. He sipped and waited for a story showing his face connected to some crime. Thirty minutes later, the broadcast ended, and his face hadn’t been splashed across the screen. Nor his name even mentioned.

Did no one notice he was missing? Care? Or was there no one in his life? Was he truly the loner he seemed to think he was?

At least he didn’t learn anything bad about himself. “Now you better hope we don’t find anything bad on the other end of today’s journey.”

Hope and pray. Which he did. With uncertainty as he didn’t remember what being a believer entailed. It just felt natural. The doctor said Owen could remember things like making coffee or how to set an alarm, but not remember other things. Muscle memory, he’d called it.

“Speaking of muscles.” He stretched his arms overhead to test the level of pain. “Good. Drugs are working.”

He got up and went through a stretching routine. Seemed like he knew what to do to ease the pain and had done it before. Maybe every day. Who knows. Not him. And he wanted to—desperately. For himself sure, but also so he could interact with Mackenzie on a legitimate level. Would he be romantically interested in her if he had his memory? Did he have a wife? Girlfriend?

He held out his left hand. As Mackenzie had said, no indication of wearing a ring for any length of time, but not all people wore wedding rings. And guys didn’t wear engagement rings.

A knock sounded on his door, and he whirled to face it.

“Jumpy much?” He shook his head and went to open it.

Hoping for Mackenzie, he stifled a frown when he found Ryan standing there. He carried a handgun and a box of ammo. “Mac’s making breakfast, and we have enough time and light to do a little shooting. You ready.”

“Let me grab my bag.” Owen turned off the coffee pot and picked up the store bag sitting on the counter. “Lead the way.”

“I’ve set up an improvised firing range at the base of a butte. Hopefully, you at least won’t miss the butte.” Ryan chuckled.

Owen didn’t laugh. Nothing funny here for him. He felt totally incompetent around this man. Owen had no idea what he was capable of or what he did for a living and couldn’t counteract the power that Ryan exuded. They, whoever they are, often said that a guy gained his worth and identity from his occupation. Owen could surely believe that now.

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, the sky filled with soft layers of reds and oranges, and a burning ball of fire sat in the middle. The colorful hills he’d seen yesterday, a black silhouette in the foreground.

Ryan glanced over his shoulder. “Nice view, huh?”

“Fantastic.”

“I never get tired of it. Especially when the Painted Hills come to life under the sun. They change colors as the sun moves through the day.”

“How long have you been a professional guide?” Owen asked.

“Been doing it unofficially since high school when my dad would take me along on his tours.”

“Your dad got you involved in it, then?”

“My whole family really. We own a resort on Shadow Lake. Not a fancy billionaire’s place. We’ve kept it rustic and primitive to give our guests a more natural experience. For as far back as I can remember, my dad taught my brothers and me how to track, hunt, fish, and camp. That sort of thing. Then, like I said, in high school I started taking out overnight camping groups under his supervision.”

“That when you met Mackenzie?”

“Her family started coming to the resort every summer when we were in grade school. Dad had me and my brothers doing chores on the resort that early in life. Meant I interacted with the guests on a regular basis. Mac was a real tomboy back then, and her sisters more girly girls. She preferred to hang out with me.”

“You ever fall for her?”

Ryan’s shoulders tensed. “I did actually. But then I met my high school girlfriend and knew it was only a stupid crush with Mac. Glad we never ruined our friendship over it.”

“And now? You’re not attached?”

“Nope.” Ryan passed the handgun to Owen.

The weight felt familiar in his hand, and he automatically checked the safety then released the ammo magazine. “Glock 17. 9mm. Full mag.”

“Nice,” Ryan said. “Looks like you know your guns.”

Owen pushed the magazine back into place and turned to face a large piece of paper with big red circles. Owen lifted the gun and fired twice, hitting dead center.

“A double tap,” Ryan said.

Owen glanced at the guy. “What?”

“Double-tap. A tactical shooting techniqueto fire not one shot but two. Used to be a technique taught to law enforcement officers. Nowadays, they more commonly teach shoot to stop the threat. Still, a lot of officers do the double-tap first.”

“Sounds like you think I might be or have been a cop.”

Ryan shrugged and took the gun back. “Could be. Or could be coincidence. Either way, you can handle a gun, and it’ll be good for all three of us to be armed out there if needed. I’ll keep this weapon in my backpack and give it to you if we encounter danger.”

Translated—I don’t trust you enough to carry all the time.“Are you expecting trouble?”

“I don’t usually expect it, but I’m always prepared for it.” Ryan engaged the gun’s safety and placed it in his backpack. “That’s what wilderness survival training is all about. Expect the best, but plan for the worst.”

Owen was starting to let his need to compare himself to Ryan go and was becoming impressed with this guy. “I might need to take a class from you.”

“You’d be welcome.” Ryan locked gazes. “That is, if you don’t hurt Mac in any way. She’s one special woman, and she deserves only the best in life. You hurt her, and you deal with me. Got it?”

“Got it.” Owen knew the man would follow through on his warning.

“Breakfast is ready,” Mackenzie shouted from the cabin’s open doorway. “Come get it before the food gets cold.”

“And she makes a mean cake too, which can always be added to the breakfast menu.” Ryan laughed and jogged toward the cabin, leaving Owen behind.

Owen started off behind Ryan. Owen wanted to take confidence in what the double-tap shooting might say about him. He could be a cop. Didn’t mean he was a good one. Or he could’ve left the force and joined the criminal element. It happened.

Mackenzie left the door open, and the savory aroma of frying bacon drifted into the dry desert air. His mouth watered, and he would run to the cabin if he could.

He found her and Ryan sitting at the island. Their plates held fluffy scrambled eggs dotted with green peppers and shredded cheddar cheese. They’d also added thick slices of bacon and the same wheat bread from the night before, toasted golden brown with butter melted in pools on the top.

She looked at him. “Morning. Help yourself.”

“Say what?” Ryan blinked at her.

“Yeah. I’m letting a guest fend for himself. Shocking.” She laughed.

Her early morning humor brightened Owen’s mood. Today was starting off to be a pretty good day.

He didn’t have to be told twice to grab some food. He loaded his plate, the gooey cheese in the eggs fighting against the spoon. He poured a steaming black cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice and turned. “Thanks for cooking. Can I get you anything while I’m over here?”

“We’re good.” She stabbed her mound of eggs. “Ryan says you’re a natural with the gun, and you did a double-tap. Hope that means you’re one of the white knights of law enforcement and will get back up on your trusty steed soon.”

“White knights?” He sat on the far side of her. “That’s a lot to live up to.”

“Not for me. Just being a law enforcement officer, especially these days, qualifies a person for that honor.”

Ryan held his slice of bacon midair and eyed her. “Hey, what about a former one?”

“Yeah, you count.”

Owen swallowed a crispy bite of bacon and swung on the stool to face Ryan. “You were an officer once?”

“Right after I got my master’s in public administration and found out I don’t like being inside all day. I did a four-year stint as a deputy, but I was still craving the outdoors. Then the executive director for Wilderness Ways resigned, and I stepped in.”

“Wilderness Ways?” Owen sipped his coffee, made as strong as the day before.

“A wilderness counseling program for troubled teens. We lease the resort next to my family’s place.”

“You do both? Work as the director and at the family business?”

“Yep.” He poked his fork into a clump of eggs. “Now that my parents retired and moved to town, my oldest brother Reid runs the survival business. My brother Russ and I help out when we can, but business is booming so Russ and I will have to step up more.”

“You’re a busy guy.”

“A guy who works extremely hard so he doesn’t have to think about Mia.” Mackenzie arched a brow at Ryan.

“About today,” Ryan said.

“Ah yes.” Mackenzie kept her attention pinned to Ryan. “Avoid the topic as usual.”

Ryan cast her a sharp look. “That’s water under the bridge and not worth talking about.”

She sighed. “Not sure you’re right, but I give up.”

“So, today.” Owen brought them back as he wanted to get going as soon as they finished their meal.

“Right.” Ryan grabbed his orange juice. “I’ll do the tracking for the most part, but we all need situational awareness. Which basically means observing and correctly interpreting your observations.”

“I can do that,” Mackenzie said.

Ryan looked at Owen. “Might be harder for you since your memory’s impaired. In tracking, we rely on mental models. Basically, it’s the way we look at and understand the world. These models create expectations of how the world works for us. We grasp what occurred before, what’s happening at the moment, and that gives a sense of what will likely happen next.”

“And I don’t have the past.”

“Exactly,” Ryan said. “Today we’ll be concentrating on the environment and don’t need to deal with the human behavior and psychology. We know where you’ve been and that you were fleeing. Gives us some of your mental mindset. Unless I’m wrong.”

“You got it right.”

“I won’t discount the psychology totally, but it’ll take a back seat.” Ryan took a long drink of the juice, draining the last half of the glass. “We’ll use two procedures. Scan and search. Scanning the area to get a big-picture overview while keeping an open focus. Then I’ll do an in-depth analysis of an area or of an object.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re doing,” Owen said, once again impressed.

“I’ll explain more as we move, but time’s wasting.” Ryan pushed to his feet. “Let’s take a bathroom break and get on the trail.”

“You guys go first while I load the dishwasher.”

Ryan took off for the bathroom.

Owen helped carry dishes to the sink. “I wasn’t trying to butter the guy up. He really does seem to know what he’s doing.”

“Has for years.” She settled a plate in the dishwasher. “One time when I was in junior high and we were staying at his family resort, I got into a fight with my cousin Londyn and stormed off. Of course, I got lost in the woods. Panicked. Scared my parents to death, but Ryan found me within an hour.”

She looked at Owen, a sheepish expression on her face. “If we hadn’t been friends I would’ve been mortified. But he was cool about things, and it was much better that he found me before they had to call in the official search and rescue team.”

Owen put the orange juice in the refrigerator. “Well, I’m thankful for his help for sure.”

She locked gazes. “Are you sure you’re ready for what we might find?”

“Ready?” He closed the refrigerator door. “Probably not, but I want to know who I am, and I’ll risk learning anything to figure that out. Even what we might uncover today.”

As they started their trek over the dusty soil in the warmth of the morning sun, Mackenzie didn’t like the grimace on Owen’s face. He’d insisted on carrying the backpack and was holding his hands under it to keep the pack suspended above his back. He had to be in a lot of pain. Senseless pain, if anyone asked her. He didn’t have to suffer when she could be doing her part. But he’d insisted, and she didn’t want to further tax what she suspected was an assault on his perceived male worthiness.

Guys associated way too much with their occupations. Women too, but usually not to the same extent. Still, she knew if she suddenly had no idea of who she was, she would be stressed to the max. Imagine not knowing if you were a good person or a criminal? If you were compassionate or a sociopath? If you were Christian or someone who lived without a guiding faith?

She’d probably lose it, but he continued to hold things together. Stoic most of the time, but he did occasionally crack a smile and even laugh. Then she saw a man who would be fun to get to know.

Ryan squatted next to a large footprint and looked at Owen. “Are the shoes you’re wearing now the ones you were wearing when you arrived?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see the bottom.”

Owen lifted his foot.

“See the waffle print and rounded toe and the way the heel is worn down on the outside? Matches your shoe and the size is right. These are your footprints for sure, and this shoe print is the same as all of the ones I’ve seen.”

Mackenzie eyed the footprints. “Owen was alone as he said.”

“At least at this point.” Ryan stood. “Let’s follow the trail.”

She and Owen traipsed after Ryan and walked all morning over dry dirt, scrub, and tufts of brown grass. Huge boulders were scattered around and a few buttes rose up from the gritty soil like desert skyscrapers. Otherwise, the only interesting sight for her besides the Painted Hills was Owen. He had determination, she’d give him that. At their water breaks, she’d tried to grab the pack but he’d been adamant about carrying it and gingerly lifted it onto his battered body.

She’d made sure to compliment him on his resolve. She should’ve mentioned the stubbornness instead, but Ryan interrupted as he scanned the surroundings.

“Hang on.” He charged across the area running parallel to their trail. “Yeah, tire tracks.” Bending down, he got out his camera and snapped pictures. He took out a small red flag on a metal stake and pushed it into the ground then returned. “Heavy vehicle. Large tires. Good tread. I’d say a full-sized pickup carrying a heavy payload of some sort.”

“A person can tell all that from the tracks?” Owen asked.

“Not all guides, but I’ve been a tracker long enough that I’ve seen all kinds of tire tracks and am sure of my assessment.” He looked at Mackenzie. “Can we split up and you follow the tire tracks while I keep on Owen’s shoe prints? You’ll be in eyesight the whole time. If either path veers off we’ll get back together and follow one trail at a time.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Just let me know if anything seems to change.”

“Like what?”

“Like if the tracks deepen or lighten. That would tell us if they offloaded or added to the truck cargo. And if you see footprints. That kind of thing.”

“Roger that.” She gave him a quick salute and headed for the red flag.

They moved on. Stopping. Scanning. Searching. Walking some more. And more.

“Hold up.” Ryan squatted.

Mackenzie crossed the area to join them.

“Footprints are changing,” Ryan said.

Owen crouched next to Ryan. “How so?”

“So far the footprint impressions have been shallow and close together. That indicates you were walking. These are starting to appear farther apart from each other and deeper in the toe. Indicates you were running.”

Owen’s forehead knotted. “Something or someone could’ve been chasing me.”

“Sure. Or until this point, you had some strength and wanted to move fast, but your strength started to wane, and you had to resort to walking.”

“Or decided to conserve energy, right?” Mackenzie asked.

“Right.” Ryan stood. “This might be a good time to stop for lunch.”

“That’s my cue then.” She’d insisted on them having real food for their first meal, and they could eat the ready meals Ryan brought along for dinner that night if it was needed. “We’re only having PB&J, but at least it’s on my gran’s homemade bread.”

“Which might I say is some fine bread.” Ryan off-loaded his pack and sat on a boulder. “You’ll have to thank her for us.”

“She’s very adventurous and will be happy to hear she had a part in the search.” Mackenzie handed a thick sandwich to Ryan and one to Owen.

“I remember that night at the campfire when she told the story about her riding on the wing of your grandfather’s crop dusting plane.” Ryan took his sandwich from the bag and chomped a huge bite.

Owen shot Mackenzie a questioning look. “She really did that?”

“All the time.” Mackenzie got out her own sandwich. “My cousin Peyton looks like her, but I have her adventurous spirit.”

Ryan swallowed. “I can see that. How many times have I had to rescue you from doing something, um…well…ill-advised?”

“Thanks for not saying stupid.” She opened her zipper bag. “You rescued me way too many times, but I’d like to think I’m a little more responsible now.”

“No offense, but you took me in,” Owen said, his tone very serious. “Probably not the wisest decision.”

She didn’t take offense at his statement. He was right, but… “Sometimes you have to trust your gut. I didn’t let you stay in the cabin with me, and I called Ryan.”

“Yeah. You took precautions.” Owen polished off a quarter of his sandwich in one bite.

“Have you remembered anything as we’ve walked today?” she asked him, wanting to change the topic.

He shrugged and swallowed. “I have a vague memory of this area, but then I might’ve expected to see this after seeing the landscape around your cabin.”

“He has a point.” Ryan stuffed his plastic bag into a trash container he’d brought along. “The terrain has all been very similar.”

She nodded. “Another sandwich?”

“Do you even need to ask?” He grinned.

She handed him a second one and handed one to Owen too, who gave her a thankful smile and resumed chewing.

Ryan looked at his watch. “Sunset is at a little after five today. Means we have a few more hours of solid daylight left. At four, I’ll call the search for the day to give us time to make camp for the night.”

“We’ll be out overnight no matter what, then?” she asked.

He nodded. “Even if we reach our destination, we’ll want to have time in the light of day to carefully evaluate the area. I want to follow those tire tracks too.”

Owen looked at her. “Is it okay if we’re stuck out here overnight or do you want to head back?”

“We’ve come this far,” she said. “And I won’t quit due to a night in the cold.”

She made sure to sound unstoppable, but before she’d agreed, she probably should have asked about the sleeping arrangements.