Chapter 2: Blood and Gold

“Derek, hurry back to the team and bring Scout to Pine Ridge Mountain.”

The radio crackled through the sleepy haze of my apartment, slicing the morning in half. I jolted off my battered couch, heart thrumming, instincts on autopilot—when search and rescue calls, nothing else matters.

“A kid fell into a mountain cave. The entrance is too narrow to pinpoint. Only you and Scout can fit.”

The urgency hit me like a gut punch. I yanked on my uniform, tugged boots over bare feet, and flew down the stairs, leash in one hand, keys in the other. Scout was already at the truck, tail wagging, nose pressed to the glass. The drive was a blur of wet pavement and caffeine breath, the only constants the wail of the siren and the warmth of my dog in the cab beside me.

Every minute counts. The longer a kid’s trapped, the slimmer the odds. As I fought through traffic—construction, brake lights, puddles—the captain’s voice cut in again, tense: “Take the shortcut. The kid’s fading fast.”

My phone’s blue GPS dot pulsed like a heartbeat. The ferry was my only hope—if I made it, I’d cut the climb in half. I had no backup plan. Scout gave a low whine, sensing my nerves.

When I reached the ferry, I lunged for the dock. “Ma’am, please take us across!”

The dock groaned under my boots, river frothing below. The ferry woman, short and tough with a battered Eagles cap, barely looked up from her crossword. I flashed my badge, hoping for mercy. “Please, we don’t have time!”

She didn’t budge. “I can start the boat—twenty bucks per person.”

I pointed at the faded sign. “It says eight a head! Why twenty?”

She shrugged, “My boat, my price. Take it or leave it.”

No time for arguments—I reached for my phone and realized, damn! I’d rushed out so quickly, I’d left my phone in the car. My stomach dropped. No GPS, no backup, no easy way out—just the raw, old-school panic of being stranded.

Scout pressed close, shivering. I dug through my pockets—twenty in my jeans, a crumpled ten in my jacket. Not enough. The road was gridlocked behind me; going back would take forever. I pleaded, “Ma’am, I’ll give you thirty now. Please, I promise to pay the rest after.”

She eyed Scout. “You and the mutt—forty bucks. Cash only.”

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. I wanted to scream, to break something, but all I could do was shove my shaking hands deeper into my pockets.

The satellite phone rang, Captain Jensen’s voice taut: “Derek, where are you? That kid’s running out of time.”

“Ma’am, please, just take us across! There are people waiting on that mountain!”

She sneered, “What, your girlfriend stuck up there?”

“No, ma’am, it’s a child—please—”

She rolled her eyes. “So desperate—must be your secret kid, huh?”

I stomped, frustration boiling over. “Ma’am, I’m with search and rescue!”

She finally glanced up, but not with sympathy. “You talk a big game about saving people, but you can’t even cough up a necklace.”

No matter how I begged, she wouldn’t budge. I sprinted back to the car, losing twenty minutes. When I returned, soaked and panting, she’d upped her price: “Seventy a head. Dog’s double. Cash only.”

I was stunned. “What? Wasn’t it forty?”

She shrugged, “That was then. Prices change.”

I threatened her with the Better Business Bureau. She snorted, “You think the BBB scares me? Out here, the only bureau that matters is the weather.”

I was shaking with rage. She sneered, “Well? You going or not?”

I tried one more time, “Ma’am, I’ll give you all I have—seventy. Please, I’m begging.”

She eyed the gold locket around my neck, her voice sly. “Dead or alive, gold’s still gold. I don’t care where it came from. Leave that locket and I’ll call it even.”

My hand flew to my chest. Memories of my father flooded back—the scratchy wool blanket Dad tucked around me those nights, the locket glinting as he bent to kiss my forehead. I couldn’t part with it.

I shook my head. “It’s my father’s. I can’t.”

She jeered, “Some hero you are—can’t even give up a trinket for a kid’s life.”

Fury burned in my chest. I almost snapped, but the weight of my uniform and my father’s memory kept me in check. The sat phone buzzed again. “Derek, where are you? The kid’s barely hanging on.”

“Give me ten—I’m coming, no matter what.”

Desperate, I tried to hand her the locket for a receipt. She scribbled a note, jacking up the price to seven hundred. “You said it’s your dad’s. Wouldn’t you pay anything to get it back?”

It was a cruel game. I yanked the locket back, refusing her terms, and stormed off. There had to be another way. The rain hammered harder, drowning out my last plea. Somewhere, a kid was running out of time—and so was I.