Chapter 5

“Flynn, wake up. Wake up.”

A nudge to her shoulder and Flynn jerked, the words piercing the dark veil of her dreams—the ones where she and Kennedy stood together on a mountaintop, surveying the world. Funny, a flying dream too, because she’d definitely wanted to lift off, to soar into the clouds.

She hadn’t had a flying dream in years.

Now she blinked it away and tried to orient herself as she lifted her head from the cradle of her arms.

Light streamed into the cabin through the windows onto the rough-hewn table, and her body ached, the few hours of sleep still sitting in her bones. Peyton Samson stood over her, her dark hair back in a yellow bandanna, wearing her light brown ranger shirt and pants, concern in her eyes. “Wow, you were sleeping hard.”

“Yeah. When I sleep, I drop like a rock.” She ran her hand behind her neck, then, “Wait?—”

“They found him.” Peyton moved over to the counter where a small camp stove heated a kettle. “I got the call early this morning, but you were dead to the world, so . . . But I need to get going, so I thought I’d wake you.”

Flynn stared at her. “Please tell me he’s alive.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. They found him alive.” She turned off the burner and lifted the kettle. “Eggs? They’re dehydrated but are pretty good heated and scrambled. And I made some hot cocoa too.” She pointed to a thermos.

“Thanks.” Flynn got up, blew out a breath, and went to the door.

Opened it and stepped outside, her hand grabbing the post on the porch. Her legs trembled, and she simply covered her face, holding on to the words, letting them crest over her.

Found alive.

She didn’t know why the urge to weep overtook her.

The door opened behind her. Peyton handed her a metal Sierra cup with eggs rehydrating and a metal spoon. “You’ll want to stir that.”

She took the cup and sat on the porch, her feet on the steps, and began to stir, the focus helping to tuck everything back in. Maybe she was just tired.

“Do you know any details?”

Peyton sat beside her. “Only that they found his life raft half-deflated on a volcanic island in the southwest of Cook Inlet. He’s in the hospital—hypothermia and dehydration.”

She nodded.

“If you hadn’t been here to get the call—” Peyton looked at her. “You saved his life.”

Flynn drew in a breath. “Fate.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Peyton blew on her eggs. Took a bite. “Listen, I need to head back up to my research marker and finish my observations. Do you want to come with me?”

Flynn shook her head. “I think I want to nose around, see what Kennedy saw. Maybe try to figure out where she might have gone.”

Peyton nodded. “I should have kept better track of her. She seemed so eager to stay out here alone, and she checked in every day on the ham. I never thought—” She looked at Flynn. “I’m so sorry.”

“That was Kennedy. A free spirit ever since we were kids. We may be identical twins, but we’re very different on the inside.”

Peyton cocked her head at her.

“What?”

“You seem every bit as free-spirited and curious as she was—just focused on a different subject.”

“I don’t know that I’d call myself free-spirited. Driven, maybe. And . . . until I figure out what happened to Kennedy, maybe trapped.”

“You’re out here in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, tracking down someone who went missing three years ago. That feels big and bold and very much like your sister.” Peyton touched her hand, squeezed. “I do hope you find her.” She released her hand. “I’ll never forget coming back to the cabin and finding it empty, all her stuff cleared out.”

Flynn looked at her. “Wait—her sleeping bag, her pack, everything? But—we got that back.”

“Yeah. We found the pack, or at least a lot of it, in the area of a research marker. Animals had gotten into the contents, we think, although nothing was torn or eaten, so we weren’t sure what happened. And we didn’t find any blood . . . or a body.”

And then there was the case of the traveling necklace. Flynn’s hand went to the jagged hearts. “How do you think her necklace ended up on a victim of the Midnight Sun Killer?”

“Yeah, that. I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Peyton got up and headed to the river. It sparkled, rushing, alive, foamy and bright, the waters inviting despite their lethal secrets. Peyton crouched and rinsed off her Sierra cup in the water.

Flynn finished off her eggs, her stomach suddenly awake and ravenous, then got up and followed Peyton. She too rinsed her cup in the water.

Peyton stayed crouched, shaking off the water but also picking through the rocks on the shore. She emerged with a shiny green rock, about the size of her palm. Handed it to Flynn.

“What’s this?”

“Nephrite, otherwise known as jade. Alaska has a number of deposits—most of them in the Seward Peninsula, but one of them is connected to this river. Sometimes we get lucky.”

Flynn held the rock in her palm. Black with greenish veins, it almost seemed polished, the surface smooth. “I thought jade was green.”

“It comes in all colors, but this black is really green.” She took the stone out of Flynn’s hand and dipped it in the river, then held it up to the light. “See how the light turns it dark green?”

“And it’s spotted green.”

“That’s the jade inside the rock—it’s translucent. This could be worth cash.” She handed the rock back to Flynn. “You never know its value until you hold it to the light.”

“Kennedy would have loved this. She was into rocks—had a collection back in Minnesota when we were young. Used to love to go to the north shore of Lake Superior and go agate hunting.”

Peyton stood up. “She did that here too. Had a collection of rocks along the windowsill.” She drew in a breath. “I’ll never tire of the fragrance of the woods.”

Flynn gave a smile. “You remind me of Kennedy. She was always the stop-and-smell-the-pine type.”

Peyton laughed. “Yeah. She struck me as a live-off-the-land girl—subsistence gardening, fishing, maybe even jewelry-making.” She reached into the neck of her shirt and pulled out a necklace on a lanyard, a shiny green pendant on the end.

Flynn took the pendant in her hand. “An infinity symbol. Is this jade?” She let it go.

“Yeah. They’re made by a local community. Jade is supposed to mean the protector of generations. My father gave this to me a few years ago, and I showed it to Kennedy. I think it sparked an idea.” She tucked it back into her shirt. “The jade stones were still on the windowsill after she left, so I think she meant to return.”

They walked back to the cabin. “So you think she went on a day trip to observe the wolves, and never came back.”

“Or an overnight trip. She took her pack and her sleeping bag. And food, but—oh wait, I found something in the debris of her pack. Maybe—” Peyton hustled up the stairs, inside the cabin.

Flynn followed her in.

Peyton had opened a cupboard—the same one where she’d tucked away the ham radio. Flynn’s gaze went to the lifeline.

Home safe. She didn’t know why, but the sense of it had stirred more hope inside her.

Or maybe it was Peyton’s memories. In her mind’s eye, she easily saw Kennedy hunting for jade by the river . . .

“Was the river near where the wolves were?”

Peyton emerged with a weathered journal that had a folded map tucked inside. “Yes.” She set the book on the table. “Are you thinking she went to find more jade?”

“I don’t know. But you said her belongings were scattered but not torn or eaten, right? Maybe she took them out to make room for the rocks.”

Peyton considered her a moment. Then she set the journal on the table and opened it to the map. “This journal belongs to the cache. We use it to record wildlife sightings, anything unusual that might happen, or just our general thoughts. Think of it as a traveler’s journal. Sometimes campers stay here and they add their thoughts. Kennedy added a number of entries.”

Flynn sat on the chair and pulled the journal over, recognizing Kennedy’s handwriting. Her throat thickened, seeing her sister sitting on the bunk, maybe writing in the journal by fading sunlight.

Spent most of the day watching Koda and Luna and their pups, along with the few beta males and females adopted into the pack—Storm, Aurora, and Fang. Koda and his betas took down a moose a few days ago, and they’re still feasting on the kill—the adults going out to gather food and bring it back to the pups as a regurgitated meal.

One of Luna’s pups is wounded—I don’t know how. It won’t eat and I fear it won’t survive.”

She turned the page and found another entry, a few days later.

Returned from watching Koda and Luna. They lost their pup and have moved dens, this one closer to the river. Storm seems to be missing also. Not sure if Koda put him out or if he’s hunting.

I found a piece of jade in the river, downstream from the wolves.”

“You might be right about the jade theory,” Peyton said, obviously reading over Flynn’s shoulder. She stepped away from the table. “I’m going to pack up. Last chance?—”

“I’ll stay. Read the journal.” Flynn opened the map. “Maybe do some hiking. Where are we?”

Peyton came over as Flynn unfolded the entire map. It covered the table.

Flynn stood up as Peyton pointed to their location. “We’re here, on one of the Copper River tributaries. The CR, as you can see, runs all the way from the Denali basin, down to the Cook Inlet. This tributary—Jubilee Creek—leads to a number of falls and runs into the Jubilee Lake south of here before emptying out into the lower Copper River.”

She pointed to a road southwest of the cabin. “This is Bowie Road. It leads to the Bowie Outpost, for fly fishermen and hunters. If you get into trouble, you head to that road and follow it out to the highway. There’s the Copper Mountain Ski Resort.” She pointed to the lodge, maybe twenty miles overland. “And between Bowie land and the resort is Remington land.” She put her hand on the map, spread out her fingers. “It’s huge and wraps around the resort area and bumps up to Bowie land. Nash’s family never uses it, but since it’s between two key resources, they sometimes rent it out to hunters, and of course, the Copper River runs through both Bowie land and Remington land, so it’s popular with kayakers.”

She then pointed to one of a number of circles on the map, located inland, about a mile or less from the cabin. “This was Luna and Koda’s main den, where the pups were born, usually every year. Except this year—they’re over here.” She pointed to a place downriver on the creek. “This isn’t normal, so I’m trying to figure out why they moved.”

“Maybe something happened to their den.”

“I don’t know. But the den by the river, where they moved the pups, is here.” Another circle closer to the river marked the spot. “They usually move them here when they’re about two months old. I think the place inland is more secure—it’s near a small lake and located in the cliffs. I think Kennedy used to watch them from this point here.” She indicated a nearby mountain. “This was where we found her pack, by the way. I’m not sure why she was there.”

“Have you checked the den?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You know how to read a map and compass?”

“I went to the same wilderness camp that Kennedy did.”

“Okay. Follow the river until you come to this ravine.” She used her thumbnail to trace the route. “Then cut north and you’ll find the overlook. And remember, channel sixteen. Sixteen.”

Flynn smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow night. Don’t be missing.” Peyton lifted her pack, slung it over her shoulder. Paused by the door. “And if you can’t get ahold of me, I wrote down the channel for Echo’s ham receiver in the back of the journal.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t ask about Axel’s channel. Probably she should put him out of her head, keep her focus on Kennedy.

She stood on the porch, watching as Peyton motored off, drinking her cup of hot cocoa. The air did smell amazing, and an eagle lifted from a nearby tree, soaring into the blue.

Maybe this was her day to fly too.

Packing up a day bag, she filled her bottle in the river, added some iodine tablets, took a couple power bars, the notebook, flashlight, binoculars, a compass, and the bear gun—freshly loaded—and headed out along the river.

The air gathered the sun’s heat, and a bell on her pack jingled as she picked her way along the rocky shoreline, away from the river.

She expected Kennedy to slide into her brain, but Axel sat down instead, his tenor warm and sweet.

“What is river-monster hunting?”

“You know, that show where some guy shoves his arm in an underwater cave or log and pulls out a catfish with teeth the size of my hand clamped on to his bloody arm.”

“And now that’s an image I’ll have to sleep with.”

She laughed at the memory.

Okay, she clearly liked his voice too much for a guy she’d never met.

The ravine cut north a half mile up the shoreline, and she took it, climbing away from the river, up a rocky mountainside. It rose maybe two thousand feet, and her breaths came out hard when she finally reached the peak.

But the view. Oh, the view.

The mountainscape fell to the east and north into a valley of lush greenery, dissected by blue rivers and a handful of lakes, puddling like the footsteps of giants. To the northwest, the Alaska Range rose jagged and white against a pale blue sky, scattered cirrus casting blue-gray shadows into the wells and granite runs that creased the peaks.

The air here smelled of wildflowers, a little brisk, but for a moment, she spread her arms and wondered what might happen if she simply ran off the edge.

Instead, she walked to the summit, stood looking down into the ravine. And spotted the trouble, maybe the answer to why the pack had moved wintering locations.

A rockslide on the other side had dammed up the better part of the river, scree and boulders probably blocking the entrance to the wolves’ den. She’d have to make a note of it in the journal.

But why would Kennedy come here if the pack had moved closer to the river?

She stood, hands on her hips, staring into the horizon. North, then west, then south, toward the cache cabin, then?—

Oh no.Smoke lifted from somewhere between the lower foothills to the east. Except it didn’t seem the deep black of a forest fire but gray, as if coming from a factory.

So, that was weird.

A shot cracked deep in the valley, echoing. She jerked.

And then another shot split the air.

This time, rock chipped off below her.

What—

She stepped back as another shot blew up rock behind her.

Was someone—shooting—at her?

The next shot was so close it nicked her pack. She spun, fell.

Another shot hit the rocks behind her.

She scrambled down the side of the mountain, jumping from rock to rock, her heart slamming into her throat.

Then a shot pinged off a rock right where she put her hand, and she screamed.

Tripped.

Just like that, she was falling, slamming against rocks, launching into the air, and careening for the valley, some two thousand feet below.

* * *

“For the record, this is a bad idea.”

Yeah, whatever, whatever. Axel ignored his brother, who stood like a sentry at the end of the bed, arms folded, legs apart, as Axel pulled out his IV. Gently, but enough that some blood formed on his forearm. He grabbed a nearby cloth and held it as he swung his bare legs out of the hospital bed.

“Six hours ago, you were dangerously close to dying.”

“And now I’m not. I’m fine and I want to go home.” He stood up on the linoleum. Okay, yes, a chill still ran through his body, but other than hunger—he still wanted that sandwich—and some dehydration, maybe some fatigue, he felt fine.

Aces, actually. Because who lived through both a sinking boat and a deflated life raft to land on the only island in the Cook Inlet?

He didn’t want to suggest some sort of divine favor—didn’t want to get used to the idea, really—but this time, he’d let God have the credit, no argument.

“No, you don’t,” Moose said. “You want to go find that woman on the other end of the ham radio.”

Axel didn’t look at him as he waited for Boo to return from her mission to score him some clothes. “Listen. I need her to know I’m safe.”

“I’m sure Echo radioed her.”

“I want to tell her personally.”

Moose gave him a look, rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you weren’t there. She . . . Not to be too dramatic, but she kept me alive. It was her idea to find the life-raft suitcase—if not for that, I would be swimming with the fishes.”

“Agreed. Great idea. But it doesn’t mean you should get out of bed while you teeter on the edge of death and trek into the bush to find her.”

Boo came into the room smiling like a thief, holding clothing wrapped in plastic under her jacket. She tossed it to him. “Hope you’re a large, because that’s all I could find.”

“It’ll work,” Axel said as he caught the open back of his breezy hospital jammies and headed to the bathroom. His red jumpsuit, thermal shirt, long johns, and underclothes lay soggy and wadded into a plastic bag hanging in a closet, his boots, now mostly dried, on a shelf at the bottom. He untied the gown and climbed into the surgical pants, pulled on the shirt, and even found socks at the bottom of the package. Sweet.

He emerged, the bag of soggy clothing over his shoulder, his boots untied, the laces trailing. “Let’s blow.”

They were down the hall before he heard a nurse calling his name, but he ignored her and hit the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time, Boo keeping up.

Moose hit the door as it was closing, taking his time. “Sheesh, you’re not escaping prison. Simply ask to be discharged?—”

His voice cut out on the ground-level door closing behind Axel.

And then he was free. The sky had cleared, the debris from the storm littering the parking lot, turning the air soggy, but overhead, simply bright blue, the scent of pine and ocean in the air.

“Still hungry?” Boo said. “I saw Jell-O on your tray.”

“Find me a burger, and fast.”

Moose came out, holding the keys to the truck he’d borrowed from someone over at the airport. “I’ll call the others, get Shep to fuel up the chopper.”

Axel slowed, fell into step with Moose and Boo. “So, do we get food here, or wait until we get to Anchorage—maybe stop by the Skyport Diner?”

Moose glanced at him. “There’s a burger place on the way to the airport.”

Oh. Huh. Interesting.

“Besides, my guess is that you’ll want me to fly you up to Copper Mountain.”

Axel grinned at him. “I like how you think.”

“What I think is that you’ve created the woman of your dreams in your head. You do know that whoever was on the other end of the radio was probably a fifty-year-old woman with bad teeth who has lived in the bush for thirty years, bathes once a year whether she needs it or not, and spends more time talking to her sled dogs than humans, right?”

“She sounded younger.” Axel grinned at him. “Calm down, bro. I just want to thank her, not ask her out on a date.”

“Sure you do.” Moose unlocked the doors to the truck with a beep. “Boo, you sit in the middle so I don’t have to smell him.”

“What?”

“You do smell like the ocean,” Boo said.

Axel gave himself a sniff before he got in. Okay, so maybe he’d stop for a shower at the Air One base first.

Moose was grinning, however, as they drove through a fast-food joint and grabbed a stack of burgers, enough for the entire crew.

Okay, so maybe Axel did harbor a smidgen of wishful thinking. Because she didn’t sound like a fifty-year-old toothless woman with a shotgun, dressed in pelts. She’d mentioned being a wolf researcher, yes, but so was Peyton Samson, and every guy in town had mourned the loss of her on the list of single women when Nash proposed.

Sparrow could be just as hot as Peyton. And better—her laughter sat inside him, even after the wave had filled the life raft and shorted out his radio.

He’d survived the next three hours shivering and replaying their conversation about river monsters and bungee jumping and the stories about her life as a serial-killer hunter . . . He’d even told her about the Coast Guard.

Really, she’d kept him alive.

“I like you too. So I’m going to be really peeved with you if you die.”

Yes, he was most definitely tracking her down.

Three hours later, showered, full, and awake, he disembarked from Air One’s Cessna 206 onto the tarmac in Copper Mountain. His father waited beyond the gate, his hands shoved into his jacket, the wind blowing his thin brown hair as Moose tied down the plane.

Axel secured the tail and waved to Ace. Moose joined him. “Any idea where this woman is?”

“Not a clue. In the bush somewhere. I thought I’d start with Peyton. Hey, Dad.”

Ace glanced at Moose, then put his hand around the back of Axel’s neck, squeezed. Gave him a nod. Then he let go and headed for the truck.

Axel glanced at Moose. “You told him.”

“All of Copper Mountain knows, bro. Peyton called in the rescue to Echo who called it in to Air One, but we couldn’t get ahold of Echo when we brought you in, so we called Hank, and I’m sure word got around.” He reached the front passenger door, his father climbing in on the other side. “You scared a lot of people.”

He didn’t know what to do with that and simply climbed into the back seat.

Despite his bracing shower, fatigue had caught up with him on the flight north and now sat in his bones as they drove into town. “Can we stop by the ranger office?”

“After you see your mother. She’s minding the store.”

Right.

They pulled up to the family store, Ace’s Hardware, and he got out. His mother wore the last twenty-four hours in her expression as she came out from behind the counter and simply pulled him into a hug.

He put his arms around her. She was a sturdy woman, physically and emotionally, she wasn’t usually given to holding on quite so long.

Then again, he’d seen what losing a child had done to her sister, so?—

“I’m okay, Ma.”

“Yep.” She patted his back, his shoulders, and leaned away. “Yep. Yep.” Her eyes glistened, however, and she ran a quick hand across her cheeks. “I’ll make you some pasties for dinner.”

“I’ll never leave.”

“I won’t argue.”

He kissed her cheek. “I gotta find someone. I’ll be back to pick you up.”

Moose stood at the door and lifted his hand to their mom, followed Axel out to the ranger’s office.

For a moment, Axel thought the offices might be closed and checked his watch. Only four in the afternoon, but the place seemed quiet.

He went inside and spotted Parker reading a magazine behind the reception desk. She dropped it and stood up, smiling at Axel. “Hey. You okay?” Her eyes glowed and she seemed just a little too smiley. Weird.

“Yeah. Hey. So, is Peyton around?”

Parker wore a black T-shirt with the words Be a Wolf in a World Full of Sheep. Another wolf fanatic. Peyton had her own little club.

“She’s out in the bush checking on a pack.”

“Do you know where?”

She made a face. “Not exactly.”

“Is your dad here?”

“No. He’s dealing with a hiker gone missing up in the park.”

“Shoot. I was really hoping to track down Peyton.”

“I do know that he called in an update on a cache cabin on the river this morning. I heard him in his home office . . .” She came around the desk, through the swinging gate, and out to the massive topographical and elevation map tacked to the wall. Along with all the hiking trails in the area, the service had designated all the fire towers and cache cabins in their district. Most of the cache cabins were marked by a number.

Parker ran her finger down the highway, then over, along the river, up a tributary, and then stopped at a cabin located on the Jubilee Creek. “Number forty-seven. I think that’s right.” She looked at Axel. “But I’m not sure.”

“Axel, you can’t go all the way—” Moose started.

Axel shot him a look, then pulled out his phone and took a shot. But really, he knew the area.

Probably too well.

“Thanks, Parker.”

She grinned at him. “I loved the last episode of your show.”

“Oh?”

“The one with you rescuing Oaken Fox out of the river?”

“It’s not my show.”

She shrugged.

Oh brother.

“Tell your dad thanks for his help today,” Moose said, and held the door open for Axel.

He stepped outside.

“She has a crush on you,” Moose said.

“She’s seventeen.”

Moose grinned. “If this bird lady doesn’t work out, you wait a few years and?—”

“Get away from me, you creep.” Axel walked down to the truck.

Moose caught up. “Now what?”

“Now I go home and get my bike.”

“Here we go?—”

Axel rounded on him. Held up his hand. “Moose. You did enough. I’ve got this.”

His brother had been joking—Axel knew that—but as he took a breath, his expression grew solemn. A moment passed between them.

“Sorry,” Axel said quietly.

“For what?”

“For . . . nearly dying.”

Moose’s shoulders rose and fell, and he nodded, looked away.

Another beat. Then, “If you do that ever again, I’m going to have to kill you.” He smiled, mouth closed, a little danger in his eyes, and headed toward the truck, parked in front of the store.

Well, that was settled, then.

But wow, Axel hadn’t realized his brother cared so much. Huh.

He got into the back, and Moose got into the driver’s side. His mother slid into the front passenger seat, glanced back at Axel. “I’ll bet you’re tired.”

“I have a little errand to run. I’ll be home by dinner.”

She eyed him but nodded.

His dual sport dirt bike sat under a tarp in the big garage his dad had built for their motor home and other northern equipment, including the plow, a tractor, four-wheelers, and snowmobiles. He pulled off the tarp and ran a hand over the bike, made for both off-road and highway.

He’d given it a bath after taking it out a month ago, but it still bore scrapes and a couple dents from the off-roading.

So many memories.

So many near tragedies.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Moose stood at the door of the garage. “We can take dad’s truck, put the four-wheeler in the back.”

“I feel the need for speed.”

“Oh brother.”

He grinned. “Listen. I’m just going to take a run out there. Four hours, tops.”

Moose made a noise deep inside his chest but nodded and headed to the house.

Axel grabbed his helmet, strapped it on, then eased the bike off its kickstand.

The machine roared to life as if angry, and he sat back on it, feeling it rumble under him.

Yeah, this was right.

He pulled out of the garage, got out and shut the door, then tucked his earbuds in under his helmet, turned his phone to a local channel, and motored out of the dirt driveway and down the highway.

The local radio station, WBEX, played country, and wouldn’t you know it, Oaken Fox crooned out one of his recent hits. Of course.

Axel thought he might have written it for Boo.

“Out on the open road, I’ve been searching high and low,

For a love that’s true, a heart that knows,

Through dusty towns and city lights, I roamed,

Seeking a love that felt like coming home.”

Yeah, that sounded like Oaken. Axel liked the guy, and the country singer had done a great job of putting Air One Rescue on the map, but frankly, some people were cut out for the limelight. Like Oaken.

And some people weren’t.

Like him.

Axel hunkered down, leaning into the song as he motored past the turnoff to Copper Mountain and headed south, ten miles until he turned off onto Bowie Road.

“But then you walked into my life, like a sunrise over fields,

I saw forever in your eyes, and all the past wounds healed,

Now I know, deep in my soul, I’m the luckiest guy alive,

For in your love, darlin’, I’ve found my guiding light.”

Oh brother, he’d started to hum. Whatever.

Really, he just wanted to thank her. Even if she was a fifty-year-old woman dressed in furs and wielding a shotgun. He owed her that much.

He shut off the music when he turned off onto the Bowie camp road. He followed the dirt along the river until it veered south, then turned off-road, north toward Jubilee Creek. The terrain was built for four-wheelers, the path narrow as he drove across meadow and tundra, and he slowed, bumping along, easing the bike over boulders and gravel along the shoreline. But it was faster than walking. Even when he slowed to cross the creek at the shallows, the water washing up to his feet. But he gunned the bike through the river, spitting up mud and gravel as he hit the other side.

The terrain fought him as he traveled along the gravelly, rocky shoreline. Around him, the mountains rose, and as he gained elevation, the terrain turned bumpier.

But he knew he’d made the right choice when a path cut through the forest.

He slowed, coming out the other side, and spotted the cabin seated on a rise above the river. Small but cozy, with a front porch and a scenic view.

He understood the allure.

Parking away from the cabin, he took off his helmet and looked around. “Hello?”

Peyton’s four-wheeler didn’t appear to be parked anywhere, but maybe she was out stalking some wolves or something.

He went up to the cabin, knocked on the door, and when no one answered, pushed it open.

A sleeping bag lay on the wooden bunk, rolled out. Camp gear—a stove, dehydrated food, a watertight bag for clothes—so Peyton was around.

He’d just have to wait for her to return, see if she knew where to find Sparrow.

He stepped outside, stood on the porch, his hands to his back, stretching, watching the river?—

“Good try, but I’m not in there.”

He paused at the voice. “What?—”

“Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Gravel crunched to his left, and he looked over to see a woman—a hurt and bleeding woman—with a bear gun trained on him. Blood ran from a wound on her head, or at least had run—now it stuck her hair to her face, the blood dried and dark on her cheek and neck. And she limped, dragging her foot. And a sling around her neck with a binoculars cord held her arm close to her body, her left hand gripping her pistol. She wore canvas hiking pants, boots, a blue thermal shirt, and he put her in her late twenties, maybe early thirties.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You do know that you probably can’t kill me with that.”

“I can hurt you. And then I can take your bike and leave you here.”

Oh. “Okay. Listen, I don’t know who you are, but you’re clearly hurt. Let me help you.”

Her eyes narrowed. She blinked at him.

He started to turn, to lower his hands?—

She shot at him. Maybe missed purposely, but the bullet chipped off wood from the pillar beside him.

“Sheesh! Are you crazy?”

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I’m . . . Listen, I’m nobody. I came out here to find Peyton Samson.” He took a breath. “Do you . . . um . . .” He took his eyes off her to scan the area. “Peyton! It’s Axel! Shout if you’re here!”

“Axel?”

He looked back at the woman. She’d swallowed, her gun hand shaking.

And then, right then, he got it.

Or at least, he thought so . . . because she wasn’t a fifty-year-old woman dressed in a bear skin.

In fact, she looked more like she’d been mauled by said bear.

“Sparrow?”

And right then, even as she nodded, her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the dirt.