Freefall. Jill Sorenson

      Faith flipped up the visor and stashed her sunglasses in the glove compartment. “Remind me why I agreed to this.”

      “Because you planned our vacation last year.”

      “And it was fabulous. There’s nothing wrong with relaxing on the beach.”

      Hope drove down the bumpy dirt road toward the Kaweah River, humming along with the song on the radio. She spent a week with her sister every summer, and she always looked forward to it. Whether they were lounging in the sun or hiking through the Sierras, Hope enjoyed Faith’s company.

      “This weather is perfect for rafting,” Hope said. The heat wave that had struck several days ago showed no signs of letting up.

      “If there aren’t any cute guys in our group, I’m jumping overboard.”

      Hope smirked at the threat. Faith had broken up with her boyfriend several months ago, and she’d seemed melancholy ever since. Her sister tended to treat men like passing fashions, easily discarded. But she’d been different with Tom, more committed. More upset when things didn’t work out.

      “I’ve met our guide, and he’s gorgeous,” she said. He was also gay, but that didn’t matter. Faith would flirt with him anyway. “Three of the rafters are college guys, probably jocks. You have to be strong to handle a Class Five run.”

      Faith’s eyes narrowed. “Class Five?”

      “Don’t worry. The rest of us are experienced paddlers.”

      “Hope! You know I hate exercise.”

      “You hate sweat.”

      “Exactly.”

      “Not much chance of that, with water splashing you all day.”

      Faith made a noise of protest. “This reminds me of the time you made me hike up that huge mountain. I almost died.”

      “You did not,” Hope said. “Physical activity is better for you than dieting. You’ll get a tan and look great in your bikini.”

      “I don’t like jocks.”

      “You liked Tom.”

      “College guys are immature.”

      “Not always. They could be...grad students.”

      Faith wrinkled her nose.

      “You’re not usually this choosy.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Are you calling me a slut?”

      “No! You’re just...free-spirited.” If anything, Hope was jealous of Faith’s casual attitude about sex. Her flashy self-confidence attracted men in droves. “I admire that.”

      “You should go out more.”

      “I know,” she said, sighing. Hope was only eighteen months older than Faith, and they’d always been close, but their personalities were nothing alike. Faith didn’t have a shy bone in her body. Hope was quiet and reserved. Although she wanted to meet someone special, she worked around the clock and rarely socialized.

      This winter, Faith had begged her to join an online dating service. Instead, she’d gone to the local watering hole and bolstered her courage with white wine. She’d engaged in her first one-night stand—what a disaster.

      “I’m still recovering from my last attempt.”

      “That guy was a jerk,” Faith said.

      “Yes.”

      “Where does he live?”

      “In Long Pine,” Hope said, naming the closest town. “Why?”

      “Let’s toilet-paper his house.”

      With a low laugh, Hope pulled into the Kaweah Campsite on the east side of the park. “That wouldn’t be environmentally responsible.”

      “You’re such a buzz kill.”

      “We could use biodegradable toilet paper,” she said.

      “How about flowers?”

      Hope laughed again, turning off the engine. Their parents owned an organic plant nursery, and one of their mother’s favorite sayings was “give your enemy a flower.” The sisters had rebelled against her peacenik philosophies in different ways. Faith, by valuing material things. Hope, by becoming a gun-toting park ranger. She wished she could carry a bouquet of daisies to fight crime, but some situations required brute force.

      Hope couldn’t wait for the three-day rafting trip to start. She hadn’t enjoyed a full weekend off in months. Even as they waited in the shade for the whitewater guide, her work radio trilled with an emergency message.

      “All rangers please respond for SAR.”

      Hope had been a ranger at Sierra National Park for five years. Her job was part law enforcement, part nature guide, and she loved it. Although she was supposed to be on vacation for the next week, she couldn’t ignore a call for a search-and-rescue operation. In an area with huge cliffs, swift-moving rivers and sprawling forests, accidents happened. Rock climbers fell. Hikers got lost in the woods. Children became drowning victims.

      “Don’t you dare answer that,” Faith warned.

      “I have to,” she said. As a district ranger, she was required to stay in radio contact and respond to emergencies. She picked up the receiver to speak with the dispatch office. “This is Ranger Banning.”

      “Hope, we have word of a single-engine plane down at Angel Wings.”

      Her stomach clenched with unease. “Any survivors?”

      “There’s been no radio communication from the craft. A climber saw the crash a few hours ago and came into the station to report it.”

      “Which station?”

      “Mineral King.”

      Hope swore under her breath. Mineral King was her station, and she was more familiar with Angel Wings than the other rangers. She also had experience with high-angle rescue, which this operation might require. “I’ll be right there.”

      “You can’t be serious,” Faith said.

      She wavered, torn between loyalties. Both her sister and her job were extremely important to her.

      “Why can’t someone else go?”

      “I don’t know if anyone else is available. The guy covering my station isn’t qualified to organize a search-and-rescue.”

      The busy season didn’t officially start until July, and it was the first week of June. They only had twelve year-round staff members with law enforcement badges. During an emergency situation, all rangers in the area were ordered to check in. Hope had to step up to this responsibility or take the heat for it.

      “I’m sorry,” she said.

      “I told you not to answer the call,” Faith wailed. “Five minutes later and we’d have been on the water.”

      Hope hurried out of the Jeep Liberty and grabbed Faith’s backpack before approaching the passenger side. “Best-case scenario, another ranger will handle it and I’ll be back by launch time. I can also rent a kayak to catch up with the group.”

      “Are you high? I’m not going without you.”

      “Come on, Faith. They might have to cancel the whole trip if we both don’t show. They need a certain number of people in the raft.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest. “So?”

      “It’s bad for park business.”

      “Park business,” Faith muttered, climbing out of the vehicle. “That’s all you care about.”