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nothing but empty air. His arms flailed, and he tried to wrench his body toward the rock face and away from the cliff’s edge, but he was too off balance.
    He pinwheeled at the top of the cliff then pitched over the edge.
    Feetfirst, he hurtled down the slope. He tried desperately to grasp tree roots as he shot past them, but his reaching fingers slid off. He tore a fingernail loose before slamming into a pine tree about halfway down. Spread-eagled along the steep cliff, he grabbed hold of the rock and tossed one leg over an outcropping. His slide down the mountain’s face stopped, and he lay among the rocky rubble trying to catch his breath.
    The sheer rock face rose above him. The steepness of it looked impossible to climb. How was he going to get up there? He peered around the tree that had stopped his plummet to destruction. The way was even steeper and more impossible down. His arms ached from hanging on to the rock.
    The family wouldn’t come looking for him for hours. They’d think he just got caught up in his work and was spending the night as usual. He was going to have to figure this one out on his own.
    Tightening his grip, he worked his legs around so his feet were braced against the tree. The trunk seemed fragile and too weak to hold him for long, and he feared his weight would tear the roots from the shallow soil.
    His body hurt from a dozen shallow cuts and bruises. Dust coated his tongue and lodged in his eyes. He was in a world of hurt, and his prospects weren’t looking good.
    Gritting his teeth against the pain, he glanced around for a finger-or toehold. There, just above his head, he spied a cupped rock he might be able to get his fingers around. He reached out and grasped it with throbbing fingers, then shoved himself up using his feet to push against the tree trunk.
    The trunk tore lose just as his knee found a small indentation to fit into. Jake had never felt so vulnerable as he lay in the hot afternoon sun with nothing substantial to hang on to. Panting, he threw out his left hand and found a small root poking through the soil. Slowly and laboriously, he inched his way up the slope. Severaltimes, his fingers missed their hold and he slid back down a few inches.
    Finally, he reached the path at the top. With a final, monumental effort, he reached out and found a finger-hold then pulled himself onto the level path. His face pressed into the shallow dust-covered path, and he lay almost too exhausted to move.
    He’d thought he was a dead man. Rolling to his back, he pulled in a few deep breaths. He licked dry lips and reached for his canteen, now that he had a free hand. The metallic taste washed the dust from his tongue, and he swished the refreshing water around in his mouth before spitting it out. Another deep swallow brought relief to his tight throat.
    He got to his hands and knees and shook his head to clear it. His attention was caught by something along the path. He peered closer. Was that a wire? Touching it, he ran his fingers along it until he saw where it had been attached on each end to sticks pounded into the ground.
    The wire stretched across the path in front of him, put there deliberately to make him trip. At first he couldn’t believe it. Someone had tried to kill him. It made no sense.
    Then it made perfect sense. Cameron Reynolds. If Jake were dead, Cameron could easily move in and take credit for the find, since it hadn’t been announced yet. Cameron must not have realized Wynne had been working closely with him.
    He was going to have to break his promise to Skyeand put out a press release. It was the only way to stop Cameron.
    His racing thoughts stopped. Skye. Could she have done this to try get rid of him? He didn’t want to believe that, but he couldn’t dismiss the notion.
    Once on his feet, his vision swam and he shook his head to clear it. He needed help. His hand went to his pocket, but his cell phone was gone, lost in his slide down the