Chapter 10

“What just happened?”

Flynn stood behind a man named Barry Kingston, Dodge’s father, who manned the radio in the office at the ranch. Not a big office, but the window overlooked the runway as well as the cloud-shrouded Denali range.

Now, Flynn stared out of it as if she might see the red chopper caught somewhere on the mountain.

“Did they go down?”

Barry wore glasses, but she sensed that his eyesight might not be clear, given the way he ran his fingers along the walls when he walked and feathered a touch over the dials and radio equipment on the desk. An icon spun on the computer, and a map of the area, including the individual peaks of the Alaska Range, hung on one wall, a collage of pictures on the other, most of them of his three sons in various outdoor settings, one of his daughter standing in front of a small airplane.

He reminded her of the older version of Indiana Jones, worn wisdom in his leathery face, salt-and-pepper hair, heavier on the salt. He wore a denim shirt and a pair of jeans, leather loafers, and he sat in an office chair listening to the chatter, a microphone in his hand.

Barry held up a hand to her question.

She said nothing, just listened to the static. Finally, he lifted the mic. “Air One, this is Sky King Base, come in.”

Nothing.

He repeated the call.

She stalked away, her hands on her stomach.

Moose had radioed in trouble with the chopper, something about air gusts, and then one Mayday had issued through the line.

Then it had gone dead.

Barry put the mic down. Folded his hands, leaned his forehead down to them.

“What are you doing?’

“The only thing I can.” He’d closed his eyes.

“Wait, are you praying?”

Now she might really be ill. She held on to the door frame. “Is it that bad?

“It doesn’t need to be bad to pray, but it might be, so . . . yeah.” He had lifted his head, and he now resumed the position as she stepped back into the hallway, bent and grabbed her knees.

Okay, so praying might help, but really, someone needed to do something.

“Flynn, are you okay?”

Echo stood in the hallway, her hands on the small of her back. She had abdicated the radio control for a recliner in the great room of this beautiful home about an hour ago, after Moose reached the base camp.

“They went down.” Oh, she probably shouldn’t have said it like that, but why mince words?

“What?” Echo braced her hand on the wall.

“The chopper. We lost contact. I think—” S—” he glanced back into the office. Barry sat, still praying. “They went down.”

Echo stood there, swallowed, nodded. “Okay, then.” She turned and headed back to the great room.

What was with this family?

Flynn followed her out to where Echo sat in the recliner, her head down, her hands on her lap, breathing. “Are you praying too?”

Echo looked up. Blew out a breath. “Not really. But sort of.”

“Then . . . wait. Are you in labor?”

Echo leaned back, her eyes closing. “I think so. I don’t know. Could be Braxton-Hicks.”

“How close are the contractions?” Not that the answer would mean anything to Flynn—she knew nothing about labor and delivery. Still, maybe some knowledge of the situation would help her should she need to call 911.

“I don’t . . . Oh…” Echo pressed her hands to her belly, then looked up, her eyes wide. “Can you get a towel?”

“What?”

Liquid saturated the chair as Echo leaned forward, pushed herself up. Her leggings dripped. “My water broke.”

“I see that—” Flynn fled to the main-floor guest bathroom. Grabbed the towels on the rack. But then stopped and looked in the mirror. “Everything’s fine. You can figure this out. Just breathe.”

Her reflection nodded, as if in agreement, and then she headed back out and handed Echo a towel, put the other on a chair. “I’ll get Barry.”

“No.” Echo reached out. “I’ll call my mother. She’s an ob-gyn.”

Right.

“Check on Barry.” Echo waddled to the island and slid onto a stool, picking up her phone from a bowl in the middle of the island.

Flynn hustled back down the hallway and found him standing at the window, staring out as if he could see through the veil of clouds, talking to someone. “They had already picked up the climbers, according to Moose. I think they must have gone down just above Motorcycle Hill, but who knows?”

“I’ll alert the rangers at Camp Three,” said the voice. “See if they can get down to them.”

“Keep me posted. Thanks, Hank.”

He clicked off.

She walked into the office. “I know Hank. Over at the ranger station in Copper Mountain.”

Barry looked at her, seemed to focus on her. “He got the call from one of the guides going up Squirrel Hill. Said the chopper was intact, just sitting in deep snow.”

“And . . . Axel?”

“They didn’t say.”

She nodded. “Okay, well, we have other problems—Echo is in labor.”

“Oh no. Did she call her mom?”

“She’s doing that now.”

“Okay. You help Echo; I’ll stay here,” Barry said.

“And do what? We need to send help or . . . maybe send up another chopper or?—”

He held up a hand. “There’s nothing we can do. There are planes on the ground at base camp. They can fly over if they need to, and the rangers at Base Camp Three can climb down to them. We haven’t even heard from Moose yet—it could be that the chopper just needs to be dug out.”

“Or it could have dragged Axel off the mountain—he wasn’t even in the bird yet!”

Barry had taken a step toward her and now put his hands on her shoulders. She was shaking her head. “What am I even doing here. This is . . . I should be . . . doing . . . finding . . .” She looked at Barry, found his blue-eyed gaze on her. “I’m a detective from Minnesota. I came here to find my sister—or at least what happened to her. And maybe hunt down a serial killer. I . . .” She put her hands to her face. Shook her head. Lowered them. “What am I doing here? I . . .” She sighed. “I don’t do helpless. This . . . this waiting thing . . . This is not me.”

“Have a little faith, Flynn. I know we can’t see what’s going on, but it wouldn’t matter—we have no control over what’s happening on that mountain right now. None. We just have to trust that God is with them.”

“And that he’ll rescue them?”

“Yes. If that’s his plan.”

She stared at him. “Okay, see that’s why I don’t . . . I’m not . . . Faith is not something I’m signing up for. I need?—”

“Assurances?”

“Maybe, yeah. I need to know that who I’m putting my faith in is going to?—”

“Do what you want?”

“Yes!” She shook out of his grip, not trying to be a jerk, but—“Why should I have faith in God if he’s not going to help me out?”

Barry just nodded.

“Listen. I know that God exists, okay? There’s no dispute there. But . . . the world is a dark place, and I’ve seen too much to put my life into the hands of a God who seems largely absent.”

“Really.” Barry folded his arms. “Seems to me that according to Dodge, you’ve been intricately involved with a God who hasn’t been absent.”

And suddenly, Axel’s words filled her head. Fine. “Axel said that God has a reason for why it was me on the other end of the radio. But I’ve never . . . I mean, after my sister went missing, I prayed a lot, you know? And nothing.” She swallowed. “I’m not sure God cares.”

Barry nodded. “Faith is believing even when you don’t feel like it. You really think that God doesn’t care even after he sent Axel to save you? Or sent you to save Axel?”

“If we’re really honest, God saved me.”

“I guess I don’t know what I think.”

“God still holds us accountable for what we refuse to see.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. “Okay, sure. He shows up when he wants . . . how he wants. But that’s certainly not someone you can trust.”

“So you only want to trust someone who does what you want.”

She sighed. “Listen. It’s not that I need God to do what I want?—”

“Because you’re in charge.”

Her mouth tightened. “I don’t need to be in charge, but . . . I just want to know that . . . everything is going to . . . Fine, yes, I’d like to be in charge, thank you. If I was, people wouldn’t go missing or get shot at or crash on a mountain?—”

“And they’d never see the salvation of the Lord.”

“They wouldn’t need it.”

“I don’t think a world where we don’t need God is possible.” He had taken a step back and leaned against the table. “Because if you’re in charge, then what if . . . I want to be in charge, or Dodge, or Moose—who wins?’

“It was metaphorical.”

“No, it’s not. That war is going on all the time. In politics, in governments, in the lives of communities and families, and even in your own heart. Who is worthy to be in charge of our lives—your life? That’s a lot of responsibility.”

She looked past him, out to the storm moving over the mountains, the jagged peaks splicing through the clouds. “At least I know what’s best for myself.”

“Do you?” He reached over and picked up his glasses. Put them on. “I was a bush pilot for the better part of forty years. And then my eyesight went south and I crashed my plane.” His eyes focused on her. “And because of it, my sons had to come home, one by one, reckon with this place and, as a result, their past. See, a terrible fight in our family ripped it apart, and I’d prayed for years for God to put us back together. If I was in charge, I would never have crashed my plane. But God, in his wisdom, used the crash to heal our family.”

“Are you saying he caused the crash?”

“As much as you can blame the maker of the wind. But I also live in a body that is decaying—it’s destined to decay. We’re not meant to live forever. So, could God have healed my eyesight? Absolutely. Did he use the natural order to breathe new life into our family? Yes. When God is in control, even death and decay can turn into good.”

His voice softened. “You said you came here to find your sister. Why?”

“Because I . . . I . . . Fine, I feel like she’s alive.”

“So, you have faith?”

“I have hope.”

“The devil wants to keep our eyes on the finite, the problems, the pain, the feeling that if we let go of control, everything will spiral out and become chaos. But God says, ‘Trust me.’ He is not a God of chaos but peace. And when we trust him, we can know he will be with us, here in the valley or up on the mountain or even in the depths of the sea. And it will be good, even if it doesn’t feel that way.”

The radio behind him crackled.

He picked up the mic but glanced at her. “Faith isn’t weakness. Faith is aligning yourself with true power. True control.”

“Sky King Base, this is Air One Rescue chopper, come in.”

Moose. Her eyes burned.

“Go ahead, Air One Rescue, this is Sky King Base.”

“We made an emergency landing on the mountain. All souls accounted for. No casualties. We’re sitting in a drift, however, so it might be a bit before we can get out.”

“Confirmed. Hank wants to know if he should send rangers to your position.”

“Negative. It’s an eight-hour climb from here. We’ll assess and call for help if we need it.”

“Roger. Standing by.”

She’d stepped up to Barry. “Tell him about Echo.”

Barry shook his head. “No need for them to take undue risks. This is her first baby—she has time?—”

“No . . . no, I don’t.” Echo appeared at the door, her breaths hard, her face white. “I think the baby is coming. Now.”

Flynn turned back to Barry. “Tell Dodge to get down that mountain as soon as possible. We’ll meet him at the Copper Mountain hospital.”

* * *

Axel could admit that being dragged through the snow like a buoy felt a little like drowning in the Cook Inlet.

He might be just as cold. The snow and ice had burrowed into his thermal suit and down his neck and into his bones, and Axel shoved his hands between his knees to stop shivering.

He ground his jaw shut as London closed the door. She turned and wrapped him in a space blanket, having already secured and wrapped the climbers, who were dazed, terrified, and probably traumatized into deep shock.

Outside, Moose and Dodge had assessed the structure of the chopper, tromping around the bird in their snowshoes.

The fact that his brother had brought the aircraft down to the pillow landing despite the wind sheer and the pull of the human anchors was a testament to his Navy piloting skills.

Still, Axel probably had snow burn on his face, the way it felt on fire.

He closed his eyes, trying to shake away the churning inside him, the sense of terror that sat in his bones.

Always sat in his bones, if he was honest. He just never let it out to fill his lungs, his throat.

“You all right?” London said, sitting beside him. “You sound funny.”

“I’m fine. I just . . . I, uh . . . um.”

“I’m taking your blood pressure.” She reached for her medical bag under the seat, but he grabbed her arm.

“I’m too cold for that. I’ll be fine. I just need to get off this mountain.”

“Roger that.” She looked at the climbers, also shivering. “Probably a sentiment shared by everyone.”

Moose climbed into the cockpit. “I think we have the skids cleared. We need to get out of the snow before they ice over.”

Dodge came in the other side. “Let’s get going.”

They ran a systems check, then Moose fired up the bird. It shook to life, having been manually shut down right before they’d put down onto the shelf of snow. The loosened snow kicked up and stirred into the blades.

“Hang on.” Moose’s voice came through the headphones. Axel had taken off his helmet, now wet with ice and snow, but put his headset back on.

The chopper eased forward, broke free, shuddered, then lifted into the air.

Axel’s hand tightened around a bar on the edge of his bench seat. Breathe.Sheesh, maybe he did need his blood pressure checked, because he might be in a full-out panic attack.

Shoot—this was supposed to be in his past . . .

He focused on his breathing.

“You good back there, Axel?” Moose, in his headphones.

“Mm-Mmmhmm.” Sounded more like a grunt.

“You sound like you’re hyperventilating.”

Uh, thank you, big brother, for alerting the entire chopper.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t open his eyes in case anyone might be looking at him. He just needed a full minute. Or two.

The chopper beat the air down the mountain, the wind less turbulent as they fell in elevation. He opened his eyes and spotted the Kahiltna base coming into view as Moose angled the chopper down and landed sweetly on the snow.

Like they hadn’t nearly careened down a mountain, dragging Axel and two others like a tail off the mountain and into . . .

He couldn’t bear the rest.

Moose powered off the rotors, and Dodge got out, opened the door. “We have a plane waiting to bring you guys into Copper Mountain hospital.” He helped the two climbers out, still unsteady on their feet.

He got that. So Axel stayed put in the chopper, even after London exited. Moose had taken off his headphones, and now Axel watched him greet someone—looked familiar. Oh, wait—Orion Starr, Shasta’s cousin. He’d heard he’d returned to Copper Mountain with his wife, Jenny. Must be working as a guide, maybe.

Axel shivered, the wind tugging at him. Maybe someone should have shut the door.

Moose came over. “You good?”

Axel looked away, nodded.

“I don’t think so, bro.” Moose got in and shut the door. “Maybe you should take a ride down to the clinic with the climbers.”

Axel looked at him. “Don’t.”

Moose held up his hands. “I’m just saying that . . . you know. It’s a thing—panic attacks—and?—”

“Listen. I’m fine. Just . . . trying to get out of my head the feeling of being a drogue anchor.”

“Sorry.”

Axel closed his eyes. “I knew it would happen. I don’t know why I’m so . . . whatever.”

“Freaked out? And what did you mean by you knew it would happen?”

He opened his eyes. Took a breath. “I was happy for a full moment and then . . . you know . . . just a good reminder that I need to dial it down.”

“Dial it down?”

“Expectations. I try, you know, to keep it light and happy and not let it in, but . . .”

“Wait, are you talking about the past and—oh, right. You think God is out to get you.”

“No, I just think . . . Listen. We both know I’ve made some pretty big mistakes, and, well—karma.”

“That’s a bunch of crazy talk. First, there’s no such thing, and second, God doesn’t get even by messing up your life, Axel. He very much wants you to be whole and free?—”

“And happy?”

Moose shook his head. “He’s not interested in your happiness.”

Axel frowned.

“He’s interested in your joy. Happiness is circumstantial. It’s fleeting and momentary. Joy is . . . it’s a state of being. It’s living in the place where you know that you’re loved by God, that he is at work in you, and that you can trust his control. And that beats any kind of happiness, all day long.”

Moose scrubbed his hands down his face. Leaned back. Fatigue lined his face.

Reminded Axel of how Moose had looked when he’d plucked him off the shore. “Sorry I keep nearly dying.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop that.” Moose opened his eyes. Smiled. “I know you were built to be a hero. But one of these days . . .” He sighed. “Ever since you grabbed that kid out of the river, you wanted to be the guy who saves the day. First in the water, last off the boat. You thought if you were just strong enough, could endure enough, be the best, then you could save anyone.”

“And?”

“And then you didn’t.”

Axel stared at him.

“Aven. The guy on the fishing boat . . .”

“What, are you keeping score?”

“Not even a little. But you are.”

Axel swallowed.

“You’ve disappointed yourself, and that infuriates you.”

“Of course it does.”

“Because you can do better.”

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Save everyone.”

Axel opened his mouth. Closed it. “What are you getting at?”

“Just pointing out the arrogance of that statement, Captain America. Without you, the world would . . . we’d all end in disaster.”

“I thought you came in here to make me feel better.”

“What makes you think that? I’m your brother. But listen. If you feel shame that you couldn’t rescue someone who was beyond rescue, then you’re saying that you’re better than God.”

Axel narrowed his eyes at his brother. “I’m not saying that I’m better than God.”

“You are. Deep down inside you’re angry because you thought you were enough. That you should have been able to save them.”

Axel blinked at him. “I guess so. I’d call it regret, not anger.”

“And I’d call it pride. You know what happens with pride . . .”

“Oh, this is fun. Can I call a friend?”

“A fall. A big fall. Because to even the score with the disastrous you, you’ve told yourself that God doesn’t love you. Isn’t for you. And that he’s actually working against you.” Moose leaned forward. “But what if God is right here, saving you, over and over, because he is actually for you? What if he doesn’t think you’re a disappointment? Even if you are a little bit arrogant.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

Moose had pulled out the medical kit and opened it. Now he grabbed a bottle of water. Handed it to Axel. “Drink. It will slow down your heart rate.”

“Maybe you should stop talking—that’ll slow my heart rate.”

“Drink.”

Axel put the bottle to his lips while Moose talked.

“Regret is one part shame and one part lesson. But if the only lesson you’ve learned is that you are on your own, then that is the wrong lesson.”

He wiped his mouth. Okay, the drink helped. “What is the right lesson?”

“Forgiveness. Focus. Faith. Focusing on regret keeps you entangled in sin and darkness and futile thinking. But God says, ‘Let me forgive you of your pride. Put your eyes on me and my love, and trust that I have good waiting for you.’ That’s joy. And that’s how your regrets lose their grip.”

Axel finished off the water. Looked at Moose. “Is that how you live with Aven’s death?”

Moose drew in a breath. Smiled. “Trying.”

“Mm-Mmmhmm.”

“Listen. I like Flynn, and I’m happy to see you happy. But don’t for a second think that your happiness is going to last without getting free.”

“Wow, thanks. I’ll be sure to send you a wedding invite.”

Moose smiled. “What are you talking about? I’ll be your best man.” He got up and opened the door.

Dodge had come over. Stood on the tarmac. “I’m heading back to Sky King Ranch. My dad called, said there’s another storm coming. I didn’t see it on the radar, but he’s watching the weather so . . .”

“I’m right behind you,” Moose said and climbed out to get into the front.

London joined him, pulling on her earphones. She handed back a chocolate bar. “Get your sugar up.”

Axel took it and let the chocolate dissolve as they took off. Moments later, Dodge’s plane passed them.

Axel closed his eyes, Moose’s words rattling around inside.

Maybe, if he was honest, he’d been angry for a long time. At himself, at God. And yeah, maybe it was arrogant to think God should have done something different. Or that Axel could have stopped Aven’s murder. Or, well, saved any of the other rescues that had gone south.

Which did sound a lot like pride, too.

Out the window, the sky had turned a deep blue, the clouds fewer here, the sun shining into the valley, turning it a deep, rich green.

“Joy is . . . it’s a state of being. It’s living in the place where you know that you’re loved by God, that he is at work in you, and that you can trust his control.”

Sheesh,he’d said almost the same thing to Flynn.

“If we’re really honest, God saved me.”

He drew the blanket around himself. That wasn’t the only confession . . .

Because at the end of the day, his greatest fear was anyone finding out that he wasn’t enough . . . and he was going to let them all down.

They landed, the plane already parked on the tarmac. Moose shut down the rotors, and Axel opened the door.

He caught Moose. “Maybe let’s not tell Flynn . . . just . . . let’s . . .”

“I got it.” Moose held up a fist. “What happens on Denali stays on Denali.”

Axel bumped it and dropped the blanket into the chopper. He’d give his life savings for a hot shower.

But as he came to the house, Flynn appeared at the back door, her face so stricken he slowed.

Moose, behind him, did the same.

Flynn launched herself at Axel, her arms around his neck, holding on so tight they cut off his breath.

“What—what is it?”

She leaned back even as Moose walked past them, shot him a grin.

“Don’t do that again,” she said to Axel.

“What?”

“Crash.”

“Oh, I didn’t crash. That was Moose. I was . . . not in the chopper.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s at least two lives you’ve used up there, Phoenix. You’re down to three.”

Wow, she had a way of bringing him back from the edge. He might indeed be a phoenix with her around.

And then, from the house, a scream lifted, high pitched and agonized. He froze. “What?—”

“That’s Echo. She’s in labor.”

“Here? Now?”

“Her mom is in there. We were going to go to the hospital in Copper Mountain, but her mom is an OB-Gyn, so . . . she wanted to wait for Dodge.”

“Oh, right.” Axel slipped his hand into hers. Held it, maybe tighter than he meant to. But he didn’t care what Moose said. Happiness was having someone that cared waiting to throw herself into his arms, and that was enough.

They walked into the house, into the main room, and the sight stopped him cold.

Echo sat on the recliner, her knees up, breathing hard, her body draped in a sheet.

She was having the baby right here, in the living room.

He knew Dr. Effie Yazzie by reputation—she’d been gone most of Echo’s life but had returned a couple years ago. Dark hair pulled back, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Now she pulled off gloves and dropped them into a bag. Looked at Dodge, who knelt beside Echo. “We need to go. Now.”

A moment of silence and then, “Go where?” This from Dodge, but it could have been anyone.

“The baby is breech. And I can’t turn it. And unless we get to a hospital, they’re both going to die.”

What?

Axel glanced at Dodge, who had gotten up.

“Okay, okay—I have fuel in my chopper?—”

“No. We need to take your Otter, Dodge,” Moose said from where he stood at the counter. “It’s faster. And you’re in no condition to fly. London, you come with me.” He turned to Axel. “Help me get the seats out of the plane.”

Right.

He followed Moose out onto the tarmac. Moose grabbed the preflight checklist and started a quick walkabout while Axel and London and Flynn removed the seats.

Dodge appeared with Echo in his arms, wrapped in a blanket, her mother behind him, carrying a medical kit. They got in.

London grabbed the med kit from the chopper and shoved that in also, then climbed into the copilot’s seat, starting the interior preflight routine.

Huh.He didn’t know she could fly a plane too.

“You need me, Moose?” he asked as Moose came around and closed the door.

“No. But you could pray.”

He could pray.

He looked at Flynn and she nodded. Right. Okay.

“I’ll call you from Anchorage,” Moose said, then went around and got in.

Axel stepped back, holding Flynn’s hand as Moose turned the plane for takeoff. In moments, it arched around the lake and headed south.

And suddenly, he prayed with everything inside him that Moose was right . . . and that God was on their side.

* * *

And this was why he should never get married. Never have kids.

Moose stood in the parking lot outside the Tooth, watching as the rescue truck pulled away, Boo and Dr. Effie in the back with Echo and Dodge, Shep at the helm.

He wrapped his hand behind his neck, blew out a breath.

“You good, boss?” London glanced at him, her medical bag over her shoulder. She so often stayed in the shadows that sometimes he forgot she was around. She preferred it that way, and he knew why, but sometimes he looked up to see her standing there, watching, thinking, listening, and she seemed more like a covert agent than a woman trying to shake off her broken past.

But she’d come highly recommended last year—pilot, rescue tech, with medical skills, and Shep had vouched for her too—so he’d taken her on.

Hadn’t regretted it. And she’d joined the team without hesitation, even if she kept pretty close-lipped about her past.

Maybe they all did. He didn’t exactly open up about?—

“Is that how you live with Aven’s death?”

Axel’s words in his mind added to the silence between himself and London, and he finally just nodded.

“I’m exhausted,” London said. She keyed in the code to the door of the Tooth and headed inside, down to the supply room. “I’m headed home, unless you want to grab a pizza or something.”

He followed her in, turned on the light “No. Not hungry.”

Actually, starved, but maybe not the kind of hungry that meant sharing a pizza with London. Maybe he could wait for Shep and Boo to return, but . . .

Nope, only one place he wanted to be.

Should be, really.

He pulled out his phone and called Axel.

His brother picked up on the first ring. “How’s Echo?”

“Not sure. She’s headed to the hospital. Her pressure dropped in the air, but the baby’s heartbeat is still beating strong. Where are you guys?”

“Back at the house. Mom’s making dinner. Flynn got a couple of reports from Hank and Deke and is doing some internet sleuthing. Dad is catching up on The Sizeup. Did you know that Oaken used that song he was working on at your house in the show?”

“No.” He paused. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re not . . . everything’s?—”

“I’m fine, Moose. If you hear anything about Echo, call.”

“Axel—”

“We all made it off the mountain. And thanks for the pep talk. You headed back to Copper Mountain?”

“Not tonight.”

Another pause. “I’m not the only one who needs to consider his regrets. G ’night, bro.” Axel hung up. Moose watched London lift her hand in a wave as she headed outside.

So maybe pride sat behind his regrets too. The regrets that kept him from returning to the Skyport.

And he needed a shake in the worst way after today. A shake and some midnight chicken and . . . Tillie. Even if they’d only be just friends.

If he believed God was in control, then clearly she’d turned him down for a reason. And who was he to tell God that reason wasn’t good enough?

Right. He flicked off the lights, then headed outside to his truck, sitting in the parking lot. Climbing in, he glanced in the rearview mirror, then decided he’d have to live with the two days of beard growth.

She’d seen him in worse shape, maybe. Probably. Whatever.

He pulled out and headed over to the diner. The sun glinted off the green roof of the fifties-style diner, the name painted onto the windows, along with pictures of pie.

He parked in his spot in the corner, backing in. Then sat for a moment, replaying the memory of helping Tillie get her decrepit car started one cold night.

And the way she’d sat down with him once, to share onion rings.

She had drawn a heart on the top of the takeout box. Maybe it was a just-friends heart. But it was a heart all the same.

Regret keeps you entangled in sin and darkness and futile thinking.

He’d done quite a bit of futile thinking . . .

Time to trust that God had something good waiting.

He got out, swinging his keys around his finger, and entered the diner.

It smelled of coffee, buttermilk-battered chicken, frying burgers, and fresh milkshakes.

Home.

Not busy—one other man sat at a booth. It was after nine p.m., so he didn’t expect it. But Tillie worked the late shift, and he preferred it quiet.

Maybe she’d have time to sit with him, just for five minutes.

He spotted a waitress in the Skyport’s blue uniform grabbing a couple plates from under the heat lamps behind the counter.

Not Tillie. He didn’t see her around, but she could be in the back.

He walked down the row of red-vinyl booths and slid into his regular spot, three booths down, facing the door.

Folded his hands.

Tried to sort out what to say.

Hey, Tillie, sorry it’s been so long—no, that just made it sound like he’d stayed away on purpose. Except, yeah, but . . .

Okay, maybe, Hey, Tillie, how about the usual?

That felt too . . . well, like he was just a customer and she was just a waitress.

And she had drawn the heart on the container . . .

Tillie, I’m sorry I screwed things up between us.

Maybe closer.

Hi, Tillie, thank you for the chicken. I . . . missed you.

Could work, maybe over the top, but?—

“Can I help you?”

He looked up. Stilled. The other waitress. He put her in her midtwenties, brown hair pulled back, a little hanging down and tucked behind her ears as if she’d had a trying shift. Her name badge read Sami.

“Hey, Sami. Um . . . is Tillie here?” He didn’t want to be obvious, but this was her section . . .

“Oh.” And the way she said it, the tiny sound of surprise, maybe awkwardness, had him sitting up. “Um . . . she’s not here.”

He leaned forward, raised an eyebrow. “Where is she?”

“Actually—” She glanced toward the kitchen, then back. “She . . . hasn’t been in for three days.”

Silence.

“Is she sick?”

“I don’t know. I . . . they called me to work her shifts. I don’t know if she’s fired or what, but nobody knows where she is.”

Moose just sat there. Swallowed. “Is your manager here?”

“No. She works days. But Lyle is here. He’s our night cook.”

Moose slid out of the booth and headed back to the kitchen.

“Sir—”

Moose turned, held up his hand, then pushed through to the kitchen. The place swam with grease, the griddle sizzling with a couple burgers, fries bubbling in the deep fryer. A stainless steel countertop ran the length of the wall opposite the griddle, and farther down, a scrawny teenage boy loaded dishes into the industrial dishwasher. An office with a closed door sat at one end of the kitchen, a deep freezer at the other, a back door led to the parking lot. And Lyle, the king of the kitchen, glared at Moose, his spatula raised, wearing a stained apron, his shirtsleeves rolled up, a hairnet over his prison-short hair. The guy looked fresh out of Spring Creek Correctional Center.

“No customers back here,” said Lyle.

“I’m just looking for Tillie. Do you know where she is?”

He flipped the burgers, pressed the grease out of them. “No. She took off a few days ago, right in the middle of her shift. Told our manager that she needed to take some time off.”

“No idea where she is?”

“You could try her house.”

“Where’s that?”

“Dunno.” He scooped up the hamburgers and stacked them into a bun, open on a plate. Added some lettuce, onions, and tomato, then closed it up and went over to the fries. Dumped them into a bin and salted them. Looked over at Moose. “You still here?”

“Listen . . . we’re . . . friends. And it’s weird, right? She never misses work.”

“She missed it once, last year.”

“Okay, she rarely misses work.”

The cook scooped up fries and dumped them onto the plate. Grabbed a couple pickles from a stainless steel bin and plopped them on the plate too. Set it under the lights. “Order!”

Then he grabbed a towel and wiped his hands. “Listen. I don’t know where she is. Tillie’s a tough broad—she can take care of herself, trust me. But if you’re asking me, I think she’s in some kind of trouble and doesn’t want to be found. You pickin’ up what I’m layin’ down here?”

He took a step toward Moose.

Moose held up a hand and tried very hard to breathe, keep his heart rate down. And nod. “I just want to know she’s okay.”

“Get out of my kitchen.”

Okay, he didn’t need an altercation.

“If she comes back?—”

“She ain’t comin’ back, man. Now, unless you want something to eat, you need to do the same.”

Something . . . it just didn’t . . . “Fine.” He backed out of the kitchen, spotted Sami standing near the cash register, her eyes wide. The burger still sat under the lights.

“Do you want a shake or something?” Sami said as he passed her.

He shook his head as he headed toward the door.

He’d lost his appetite. At least for food. But he’d figured out what he wanted to say. Tillie, where are you?

He took out his wallet and pulled out a business card. Then he grabbed a pen and wrote her a message. Handed it to the waitress. “Give this to her if she ever comes back.”

The woman nodded and tucked it beside the cash register.

Then he headed out into the night, wishing he hadn’t waited so long for pie.