Chapter 3

The hot, moist air pressed in on Ana as she followed Charlie along a path through the jungle. Bird cries rose above the murmuring harmony of insects, accompanied by the soft rhythm of Charlie's and Ana's footsteps in the mud and leaves. But after twenty minutes the jungle symphony started to grow monotonous and Ana got impatient.

"How far is this place?" she said.

"Not much farther," said Charlie, "but a little hard to get to."

"What do you mean?"

Before Charlie could answer they stepped out from beneath the canopy into glaring sunlight. Ana shaded her face as her eyes traveled up the mountainside before her. Some long ago earthquake or storm had caused it to collapse, leaving a great gash of red earth and exposed rock. A few hardy shrubs grew sideways out of crevices, straining upward to catch the sun. At the base of the cliff was a debris field of dirt and boulders; the slope there was gentle, but as they got closer to the top it would become steeper until it was almost sheer. Ana felt sick.

"Up there? Tell me you're joking," she said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"Nah, it's not that bad," said Charlie. "There's a path. I'll show you, I go up there all the time."

Ana didn't move. She stared up at the cliffside and tried to shove down the panic that threatened to well up and spill out of her. It was high. Too high.

Damn phobia. She didn't know where it had come from, but it had snapped at Ana's heels her whole life. Sometimes it had even gotten in her way in her job as a cop. After one particularly unpleasant experience with a suspect on a rooftop, her captain – her mother – had sent her to a psychologist, the same one she went to later after she got shot. Man, she'd gotten sick of that guy. He had told her she could get over her fear of heights with exposure.

Like she hadn't tried that. Like she hadn't long since decided that she would not let her life be controlled by fear. Of anything. So she had decided to learn how to skydive, and she did it – she jumped. Thirteen thousand feet. Couldn't get much more exposure than that. But she was so fricking terrified that she disconnected from it somehow, and afterward found she had blocked it out of her mind. She couldn't remember a damn thing. So she went up and jumped again, and this time she memorized every sensation, savoring every soul-tearing moment in the hope that when she hit the ground she'd be purged.

And yet here she was, all the same old feelings rising up as she looked at the mountainside. It might as well be thirteen thousand feet. Shit.

"Something wrong?" Charlie was giving her a curious look. The beginnings of a malicious grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That mountain a little too much for you?"

Screw that. There was no way in hell she'd let the little punk see her scared. "Lead the way," said Ana.

She followed Charlie as they clambered over and around the rocks until they reached the bottom of the cliff. Ana thought she could see the path he was talking about, zig-zagging up the mountainside along ledges and up ravines. She took a deep breath and started to climb. A branch hung over the trail and Ana put up a hand to push it out of the way.

"Watch the shrubbery," Charlie called down from ahead. "Thorns."

Ana took a closer look at the branch and saw thin, needle-sharp thorns hiding under the leaves. Beautiful. She sidestepped the bush, then headed up, trying to keep close enough to Charlie to see where he put his hands and feet. It was no good. Her mind was determined, but her body was flooded with adrenaline and she couldn't will herself out of her hands trembling or the tightness in her chest. She frequently had to stop and tell herself to breathe, stay calm. She even tried breathing exercises she learned from that psychologist. Goddamn quack.

Charlie was quick and agile, and he knew the route well; the distance between them grew steadily. Don't look down, Ana told herself over and over. She looked up and saw Charlie more than halfway to the top, the rock face still towering above him. It seemed to be angling outward, Charlie crawling along its underside like a spider. It's your imagination, Ana thought as rested her cheek against the warm rock. Her head swam. Don't look up. She willed her hands and feet to move, and started to climb again.