Chapter 2

“Stop circling.”

Axel looked over at Sully, who sat in the front seat of Levi’s truck, his arm hitched over the console, looking back at him.

“You’re caught in a rescue loop.”

Axel nodded, his mouth pinching along the edges. Except, of course, it wasn’t the loop Sully thought—the one with the Roberts family. No, this one went way back, surfaced every time he ran that stupid river.

“Have you heard from Moose?” He leaned up to Levi, in the front seat. It had taken over two hours after he’d dispatched the Roberts family into the Air One chopper for the guys to gather their gear and portage their kayaks up the Bowie Camp road, where they waited for Levi to retrieve his truck with the racks. They strapped on the kayaks, then climbed into the four-door cab and headed toward the town of Copper Mountain.

“He called in just as I was picking up the truck, said they made it back to base. The sheriff met them at the airport. I guess they went to the clinic,” Levi said. He looked at Axel. “Maybe you should, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“You got pretty scraped up in the water.”

Axel gave him a look, and Levi lifted a hand in surrender.

“How far did you have to go to get a signal?” Axel asked. “And maybe I’ll let you turn up the heat.”

Levi grinned and turned it up. “Not even to the highway. I would have gone up to Sully’s place, but he still uses smoke signals.”

“It’s off-grid for a reason, bro,” Sully said. He’d dried off too, now wore a baseball cap over his long hair. Levi wore a bandanna over his brown hair, and beside him, Jude Remington had tied his own bandanna around his short dark hair like a redneck. He looked like one too, in his military pants and black pullover. Like he might be a prepper, maybe. Or an outlaw. Or just . . . a maverick, living on his own terms.

But maybe that was the Alaskan life as a whole. Sully lived in the woods for most of the year, a hunting and fishing guide with Bowie Mountain Gear, while Jude helped run his family’s gold-mining operation west of town.

Even Levi had vanished off grid for a while, although now he ran a pizza joint in Copper Mountain. Which, apparently, Jude remembered. “How about we swing by the Northstar and grab some overorders?”

Levi glanced over his shoulder. “Anything for the television star.”

Axel rolled his eyes.

Sully shook his head.

“I like it. How many episodes are there?” Jude asked. “I’ve only seen two.”

“I think six. Or eight.” Axel looked out the window. He really hadn’t expected the show to air so quickly. Should have given the whole thing a little more thought, perhaps, because . . . well, he braced himself for a phone call any day from a reporter looking to stir up ghosts.

Regrets.

“I can’t believe you spent a whole month with Oaken Fox. Looks like he’s an okay guy,” Levi said.

The sun had just slipped past the mountains. The entire sky turned to fire, the Denali range dark and forbidding, still white-capped, so deadly even in summer. Maybe more in summer, what with the queue of tourist climbers waiting to summit.

Moose had talked about parking the Air One chopper in the Copper Mountain airbase to help Dodge over at Sky King Ranch, ferry all the wannabes who tapped out down the mountain.

Air One Rescue had also assisted in a few callouts on the mountain. So that probably accounted for Moose’s ready appearance in the skies.

“He’s a decent guy,” Axel said now of Oaken. “He lived with us for a couple weeks. I helped him with some songs.”

“Now you’re a songwriter,” Levi said. “Wow—and you still don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Funny. And no. Women are trouble.”

“You need a dog,” Sully said. “Like Hondo.”

Axel grinned. “I do like Hondo. How is he?”

“Scaring the guests, chasing rabbits, and generally ruling over the Bowie Outpost.”

“You leave him alone, out there in the woods at the fishing camp?”

“No. He’s in town with Mal and Hud. Tangled with a badger and needed some stiches. I’ll pick him up in a few days.”

They hit the highway and drove north just a few miles to the town of Copper Mountain. A skeleton in the winter, the town came to life in the summer, the resorts, motels, bed and breakfasts, and hostels packed with tourists, hikers, climbers, fishermen, photographers, and all-around lower-forty-eighters who found themselves in over their heads here in the last frontier.

Levi passed the Welcome to Copper Mountain sign, then turned onto Main Street and drove past the Midnight Sun Saloon, the gravel lot packed with cars, grill smoke piping into the sky, seasoning the air with the smell of barbecue. The windows of the Last Frontier Bakery were dark, as was the Good News office and the timber-framed storefront of Bowie Mountain Gear.

Levi pulled up in front of Northstar Pizza, the twinkle lights bright around the outdoor patio, where a few people sat at yellow painted picnic tables.

“It’s nearly eleven. How late are you guys open?” Axel said, piling out.

“We changed it to midnight on Saturday nights during the summer. And even that feels early.” Levi shut the door. “I’ll see if they have any overorders.” He headed inside.

Axel lifted out his kayak and carried it over to his Yukon, tied his kayak to the roof with bungee straps, then retrieved his pack and threw it in the back.

He joined the guys at a picnic table. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine eating, his gut still roiling. Moose always went out for a shake after a callout. Axel preferred to wait until his gut stopped churning, pacing through all his choices in his mind, trying to throw out the regrets.

Yeah, he should stop circling. Today, no regrets.

A waitress came out, blonde, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black Northstar Pizza T-shirt, and plunked down a pitcher of water and four glasses. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Parker,” said Jude.

“It’s getting around that you guys rescued Cally and Adri on the Copper River tonight. At the falls, no less.”

Axel put her at about seventeen, so yeah, Cally’s age.

“Where’d you hear that?” Jude tore his attention off a table of locals sitting across the patio.

Axel glanced over. Oh. Shasta Starr sat among them, her gaze on them. She was pretty for sure—long dark hair, a smile that belonged in a magazine. But she had penchant for trouble, too, and that had semaphores waving him far, far away.

Thanks, but he wanted safe, quiet, and trouble free. Maybe he would get a dog. He looked back at Parker.

“Dad was here listening on the radio when Moose picked you guys up.”

Right. Her father was the ranger in charge in the area.

“And he was having dinner with the sheriff and Wilson Bowie?—”

“My uncle is in town?” Sully said. “When did he get here?”

She shrugged.

Sully picked up his straw. “Shoot. I wasn’t expecting him for at least a week.”

Jude raised an eyebrow.

“He’s going to want me to take him out fishing. And I’m booked with a group coming in tomorrow for a week.”

“So,”—” Parker said, “—“anything you guys want to drink?”

“I’m good,” Axel said.

The others ordered a couple sodas.

Shasta slid onto the bench beside Jude. “Hey, guys.”

Jude glanced over at her, smiled. “Hey, Trouble.”

“Stop, Jude. I’m here on official business.” She leaned in, her eyes on Axel. “I want an exclusive.”

It took Axel a second, and he blamed it on Jude, and maybe the way Sully smirked, but—“A what? You want . . . a what?”

“An exclusive article on you being a hero and rescuing Calista and Adrienne Roberts, thank you.” She looked at Jude and punched his shoulder.

“What was that for?” Jude said.

“You called me trouble. I’m not trouble.” Her mouth tightened. “I’m just . . . curious.” She turned back to Axel. “Which is why I’m now a reporter with the Copper Mountain Good News.”

Silence.

Then, “Um, why do you want . . . I mean?—”

“Because of the show. Everybody’s watching it. And now you did it again—you rescued somebody. You’re a hero, Axel. And everyone loves a hero.”

Sully smirked.

Jude quirked an eyebrow.

“C’mon, Axel. You’re like . . . I dunno. Jack Powers.”

“He’s a fictional super spy.”

“Yeah, but he always shows up right when you need him.”

Jude rolled his eyes.

Axel grinned and folded his arms. “Okay, hit me.”

“Great.” She pulled out her phone and pressed record. “So, that was pretty brave. I heard the whole thing over the radio, too. That’s pretty dangerous—the Copper River. Glacier Veil Falls. Like . . . people have died there.”

Axel froze, and Sully glanced over at him.

Jude cringed. “Aw, Shasta, maybe not?—”

“Wait.” She sat back. “Wasn’t that where Aven?—”

“And we’re done.” Axel pushed up from the table. “Actually, Shasta, here’s your headline. Nobody died. Not today. That’s all that matters.” He climbed out.

She stood up. “Axel, c’mon. I didn’t mean to?—”

“Nope, we’re good.” He was walking backward and smiled, lifted his hands in surrender, then winked, pointed at her. “Stay out of trouble.”

She scowled at him.

He turned and headed to his car. Got in and pulled out.

Yeah, all this television hype was going to his head.

He pulled away from town and headed for his parents’ home, the family’s hand-built log A-frame overlooking the Copper River just outside town. Passing the airport, he spotted the red Air One chopper tied down, so apparently Moose had stuck around.

North of Copper Mountain, the terrain thickened, the forest closing in. His parents only lived a mile from town, but it might have been in the depths of the bush for all the population this direction. He passed a few timber-framed homes set back from the road, and of course, if he kept driving north another ten miles, he’d end up at the Starr Lodge.

He turned onto a dirt drive and followed it back to the clearing where the A-frame house sat, perched over the river, the apron porch wrapped around the first-story exterior, the lights glowing from the ground-floor media room, the guest room, and his father’s beloved sauna.

Moose and the old man were probably hashing out today’s adventure.

On the first floor, the light-blocking blinds covered the master bedroom, his mom probably asleep with her earplugs and mask. Even in summer, with the sun at its twenty-three-hours-a-day height, his mother kept her sleeping hours. Had to, really, because the Last Frontier needed its five a.m. cinnamon rolls for the early hiking crews.

He pulled in and parked, left his kayak on the rack but retrieved his pack and climbed the stairs to the entrance. The door whined, but the front room and kitchen were empty, and yep, the master-bedroom door was closed.

From the media room rose the sounds of a hockey game—probably the final games of the Stanley Cup tournament, so likely instead of the sauna, his old man, Ace, would be settled into his recliner, occasionally yelling at the screen.

Axel untied his boots and left them by the door, along with his jacket, then brought his gear up to his room on the upper floor.

A short hallway separated the lofted area into two small rooms, a window at the end of the hall overlooking the river. Moose’s door was shut. Coming home always felt like he’d reverted back to his teenage years.

Really, he should get his own place. But he liked staying with Moose down in Anchorage. Had the run of the basement of Moose’s luxury, palatial, inherited home.

He dropped his gear on the bed, pulled off his shirt, and headed to the bathroom for a steaming shower.

Twenty minutes later, fatigue hit his bones, and he emerged shirtless, wearing his pajamas. Past midnight, and still it looked like it might be twilight through the hallway window.

Moose opened the door to his bedroom, just across from Axel’s room, and leaned against the frame as Axel walked down the hall.

“You’re still up?”

“Heard you come in. Waited. You good?” Moose, always the big brother. He wore sweatpants and a cut-off thermal shirt, folded his arms over his chest.

“Yep.”

“Guy told me about what you did. Apparently you freaked them all out, going into that cave.”

“I knew what I was doing.” He reached for his door handle.

“I know. But . . . you know.”

Moose’s soft tone stiffened Axel. He took a breath, nodded. “I’m good.”

Moose’s mouth made a tight, grim line. Then he sighed.

Oh.“What’s going on?” Axel asked.

Moose looked out the window, toward the river. Back to Axel. “He’s back.”

It took a second, and then—“What? No.”

“Yeah. That girl we found in the Copper Mountain ski area—she was shot with a?—”

“.270 Winchester.”

“Yeah. And the bullet matches the others.”

Axel looked away, shook his head, his chest tightening. “Does Deke know?”

“Of course. He got the news from the coroner in Anchorage and is the one who told me But more, the news knows, which means . . . Aven’s name is going to come up.”

Axel nodded, swallowed. “Yep.”

Moose paused. “You saved lives today, Axel. Focus on that.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Axel turned and headed into his room.

He lay on the bed, staring out at the bright sky, not bothering to pull his blackout curtain. Circling. Circling. Circling.

Darkness or light, the nightmare simply wouldn’t end.

* * *

Flynn should have stayed the night at the station. Because three hours of sleep did no one any good.

She stood in front of her refrigerator in her tiny two-bedroom loft apartment overlooking the Mississippi River, just three blocks from the downtown precinct, and wondered what the shelf life was on blueberries.

And spinach.

Maybe if she didn’t look closely at them and added enough vanilla almond milk and some peanut butter, she wouldn’t notice the taste. No one died from bad blueberries, right?

She pulled out the plastic containers, opened the spinach, and picked out a few non-slimy leaves. After sorting the berries, she added them to her blender along with the milk and peanut butter. Some ice cubes.

Clearly, she should take her mother up on her invitation to tomorrow’s Sunday brunch. Her mom had left a voicemail last night, and one this morning, of course. But the invitation probably also meant church, so . . .

Maybe not.

She dumped the containers into the trash, then whirred the blender. Poured the mixture into a tall shaker bottle, capped it, and headed over to her bicycle. Picking up the remote from the table, she powered on her flat screen and opened up a YouTube biking video—this one through Rome.

Then she rolled her exercise bike into the open space beside her sectional.

Light shone through the floor-to-ceiling picture windows that overlooked the river, the rays of sunlight gleaming against the wooden floor all the way to her U-shaped kitchen, the stainless-steel appliances shiny against the white quartz surfaces. The loft at least smelled good, her cleaning lady leaving a lilac scent with her products. When Flynn had arrived home in the wee hours this morning, she’d fallen into the cloud of fresh sheets, her eyes closing hard.

She’d forgotten to turn off her alarm, so it buzzed way too early, and she might have slept in, but her head ached after way too much information from the sister of Magnum O’Conner, the man behind the 1039 murders who now lay on a slab at the coroner’s office, along with his victim, Kaitlyn Swenson.

Of course, Flynn had also dreamed, which meant she’d tangled herself in the sheets, a hot, sweaty mess. These cases always dragged up the what-ifs surrounding Kennedy. Longing, maybe, or simply relief that the body found didn’t belong to her twin. Still, the one good thing—besides justice—about ending the crime spree was that Kennedy came back to her in her dreams. Still alive. Still whole. Laughing. And with the dream, a revived hope that maybe, somewhere . . .

Flynn hiked up the volume on her TV, pressed play on the bike tour, and hopped onto her NordicTrack, the skinny seat a reminder to stay on her toes, that she wasn’t out for a joyride, even if they might be exploring the streets of Rome.

She dug down, pedaling up cobblestone streets, then down through the hills of the Forum and over to Trevi Fountain. A line of sweat trailed down her back when the doorbell rang.

She slowed the bike even as the bell rang again. Then whoever stood on the other side of the door sat on the buzzer.

“I’m coming!” For Pete’s sake.

She got off and grabbed a towel from the back of her Ikea rocker, wiped her forehead, and grabbed her protein shake.

Taking a drink, she walked to the door, then peered through the peephole.

Seriously?What was Chief Eve Stone doing in her hallway, especially this early in the morning?

She opened the door. “Eve?”

Her mentor grinned at her, her auburn hair pulled back into a messy bun, still wearing her clothes from last night. “I was on my way home, and then I remembered.” She held up a tiny box. “Happy birthday.”

Oh.But it was a nice gesture, so Flynn found a smile. “Right. Thanks. Come in.”

Eve walked inside. “I can’t stay long. Rem has an afternoon on the lake planned, and I need a few winks before then, but”——” she set the box on the counter—“you did really well last night. I’m proud of you. Oh, and your security system here needs updating. I walked right in after a jogger left the building.”

“I know. I’ve complained a few times. Want some coffee?”

“Sure.” Eve opened the box. “Burke said that you called it—the woman was O’Conner’s sister.”

“I wasn’t sure.” Flynn walked to the kitchen, and her hand went to the two jagged half-heart pendants on a chain around her neck. Habit. “But something about the way she looked at me on the beach, part panic, part anger, part fear—just reminded me . . . you know.” She filled the coffeepot with water.

“Of Kennedy?”

“Yeah. She wore that same look sometimes.” She poured the water into the maker.

Eve had taken out an oversized cupcake and now set it on the counter. “It’s not your fault, Flynn. She left—her choice.”

“I know. But . . .” She had added coffee to the filter and set the pot to perk. Now she turned and looked at the cupcake. “This looks good.”

“Red velvet. Your favorite.”

“Kennedy’s favorite. But I like it too.”

Eve cocked her head. “Okay.” She glanced at the television. “Rome?”

“It’s a biking video.”

“You could go outside, you know. It’s a gorgeous day. Rem says it’s going to be upper seventies. Ride a real bike; take to the trails around Minneapolis.”

“That is a real bike.”

Eve arched an eyebrow.

“Listen”——” Flynn opened her silverware drawer—“if I were outside, I’d have to pay attention. Watch out for other riders.”

“Stay on the trail.”

“There is that.” She handed Eve a fork.

“Such a sacrifice.” Eve took the fork, then slid onto a high-top chair.

Flynn picked up her remote and exited the app. The TV reverted to live, and she turned it to mute. Closed captioning filled the screen.

Eve glanced up at the show. “That’s that new reality show with Oaken Fox—the one where he joins the rescue team.”

She set down the remote, her gaze on the screen. The country-music star stood in a hospital somewhere, covered in snow, saying something heated into the camera. She scanned the words, but only caught a few of them. Something about searching for a lost woman.

Probably staged.

She returned to the counter.

“I saw your mom in church last week,” Eve said as she peeled the paper from the cupcake.

Oy. The perils of having parents that went to the same church as the Stone family, along with Eve’s family, the Mulligans, in Minnetonka.

“She said that she and your dad were going on vacation.”

Really?Okay, so maybe Flynn should catch up.

“What’s that face?” Eve set the cupcake on the paper and pushed it between them.

Flynn took the other stool. “I haven’t talked to them for a couple weeks.”

“Really? Why not?”

“They want to have a memorial service.” She took a bite of the cake. “This is good.”

Eve nodded with her mouth full. She put the fork down. “That’s not a bad idea. Closure.”

“Except that Kennedy isn’t dead.”

Eve drew in a breath.

“Listen—” Flynn said. “I know what you think. But her body has never been found, and?—”

“And you’re wearing her necklace. Taken off a dead woman who was found in the Copper River, just like thirteen other women.”

“A lead that led nowhere. They tested the DNA. It belonged to Kennedy, but they couldn’t identify the dead woman, so the Copper Mountain sheriff gave it back to me.”

Eve sighed. Nodded. “Okay.”

“No, you don’t get it.” Flynn pressed her hand to her chest. “I feel her. In here. She’s my twin. Identical twin. And no, I don’t buy all the crazy things they say about twins feeling each other’s pain, but . . . maybe sometimes I do. Maybe sometimes I wake up suddenly and feel like she’s talking to me. Or calling for me. Or . . .” Her eyes had started to burn. “What if she needs me and . . . I can’t find her? And I don’t show up?” Flynn looked away, closed her eyes. “I’m just tired.”

But Eve had slid off the stool and now put her arms around her, pulled her tight. “Yeah, that’s it.” She held her a long moment, then pushed her away. “But if you believe she’s still alive, then you should keep looking.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Alaska.” Eve slid back onto her stool.

“Yeah, well, I was there three years ago. They had nothing for me. The sheriff in Copper Mountain is this younger guy with zero investigative experience. I tried to interest the Anchorage police in the case—linked it to the Midnight Sun Killer, but they didn’t bite.” She took another forkful of cake. “Said that people disappear into the bush all the time, and that I’d have to get in line. Last I checked, they’d added her to their missing persons list, but it’s listed as a cold case.”

“Things can happen. New clues . . . I don’t remember you taking any PTO for the last three years. Maybe you have some time coming . . .”

“I do. Over a month. But . . .” She sighed and picked up a napkin to wipe her mouth. “Maybe Mom is right. We do need to move on. But I’d like to move on with the happy idea that Kennedy is out there, somewhere, living her best life.”

“Is that why you have a crime-scene board that covers an entire wall of your office?”

A beat.

“So, is this really a birthday call or . . .”

“It’s a birthday call,” Eve said. “But if I could give you one gift . . . There are things you can change and things you can’t, and knowing the difference is the key to a happy life.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stone.”

Eve winked and slid off the stool. “Happy birthday, Flynn.”

Flynn walked her to the door. “Thanks for the cake. Tell Rem I loved his new book.”

“Stop by. He’d love to bore you with some of his old cold-case files. He keeps copies of them in a box in his office—untouched. Maybe someday you can help him solve them.”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

Eve didn’t. She stopped at the door, turned. “Flynn, you’re one of the best detectives I’ve ever met. Even better than Rem. But you spend an awful lot of time in your head, and . . . I just don’t want the what-ifs to consume you. Get out of the house. Go live your life. Take a risk.”

“Let’s not get crazy here. How about if I just finish the cupcake on my own?”

“Start with that.” Eve pulled her in close. “You’re my favorite student.”

Flynn laughed and let her out. She walked back to the counter and folded the cupcake back into the paper, put it in the box, and added it to the refrigerator.

Yeah, Kennedy should be here to celebrate.

She turned back to the television, picking up the remote to continue her workout. But the show’s ending caught her eye. A picture of a woman—probably the one they’d been searching for. And a shot of a reporter giving an update. Flynn flicked on the volume.

“According to local police and the sheriff’s office in Copper Mountain, this murder might be linked to the notorious Midnight Sun Killer, although officials are quick to point out that the killer might be a copycat of the serial murders over a decade ago. Still, women out hiking or driving along the Copper Highway are urged to take extra care—don’t stop for stalled vehicles, and always hike with a PLB and a friend.”

The show then switched to a voiceover of where the body was found and then shots of Oaken at a restaurant, eating with a group of men.

Yeah, see—a woman was dead, and the world carried on.

Or most of it did.

The rest stayed stuck, circling, wondering.

Hoping.

She turned off the TV and walked into her office, the report sparking inside her. Standing in the middle of the room, she stared at her wall, the one with the blown-up Alaska map, the timeline of the deaths, the reports from the Copper Mountain sheriff’s office, pictures of the area, and finally, the news clippings about other women who’d vanished over the years in the same area.

She sipped her protein shake, not sure if she tasted something rotten or not.

“There are things you can change and things you can’t, and knowing the difference is the key to a happy life.”

There would be no happy life until she found the truth.

She brought the shake into the kitchen, poured the rest out, rinsed out her cup, and left it on the counter to dry as she headed upstairs.

To pack for Alaska.