Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

M oose was tired of breaking promises.

But yes, this might be a bad idea of epic proportions.

As Moose stood beside his Cessna, under the dome of the Quonset hut near the Tooth, fueling up before doing his walkaround check, he just couldn’t erase Tillie’s expression from his brain.

Hazel going back with Rigger just might be her worst nightmare unfolding in front of her eyes.

So yeah, he was going to do something crazy. And it started with getting Tillie someplace safe.

Otherwise called running .

Then he’d round up a friend—a.k.a., a former Ranger—who might know exactly how to grab Hazel from the hands of a man who was clearly dangerous.

Which meant—perfect—he’d be breaking the law too.

Already was, really.

Moose wanted to bang his head on the fuselage because, really, this was not how a man lived by faith. This was not how he exhibited a peaceful and calm life.

This . . . this was panic.

He gritted his jaw, hating Tillie’s words churning inside him. “You’re always so unflappable.”

Right.

Outside, under the blue sky, the wind stirred the familiar redolence of the airport grounds—the odor of gasoline, the asphalt tarmac, even the scent of the ocean nearby. Tillie had gone into the Tooth to go to the restroom and make a couple sandwiches for their trip.

She’d gone silent when he’d told her his plan. So maybe he should keep an eye on her. . . .

Because certainly, she knew that trying to steal Hazel out of foster care could land her in jail for a decade, or more.

Even now, she was looking at possibly years behind bars.

“So, making a run for it, huh?”

He winced when Axel came walking up. He hadn’t even heard his brother’s Yukon drive up, so swallowed by his thoughts. Axel wore a jacket, a pair of jeans, and a rare baseball cap. As if he, too, might be on the lam.

“Naw.” And right then, Moose made his decision. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t fly away, stash Tillie, then return and . . . what? Kidnap Hazel and become a fugitive?

The jig was up.

But he still had promises to keep.

The gas gurgled, and he pulled out the fuel rod and stowed it on the fueling truck.

Axel fitted in the gas cap and closed the door. Turned. “This is a bad idea, and you know it.”

“Mm-hmm.” Moose pushed the cart away. “It’s complicated.”

“I know. But if you want to follow God’s plan—and I can guarantee you that he has a plan here—you can’t panic. And you can’t fight without the armor of God. And that starts with the shield of faith guarding your heart.”

Moose glanced at Axel as he walked back to the plane. “Since when did you turn all spiritual?”

“Since I had you for a big brother.” Axel gave him a grim smile. “You can’t know what to do without praying first.”

Moose ran a hand across his mouth. “Yeah. You’re right. I just . . . I can’t seem to hear God with all the clutter in my head.”

“The what-ifs.”

How— Moose stared at him.

“I’ve been there.” Axel shrugged. “If you want to do the right thing here, you need to stop listening to all the lies and start listening to the truth.”

“Trying.”

“Right. Okay, I’ll help. The truth is that God has a plan. And he loves Tillie more than you do. And if you can show her what faith looks like, then maybe she’ll have it too.”

Right then, Flynn walked up behind Axel, out of uniform, dressed in a pair of jeans and a jacket, and smiled. “Hey.”

Moose’s entire body turned stiff. “What?—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Moose looked past Axel, and his heart nearly stopped.

Tillie stood at the edge of the Quonset hut, holding a cooler and a duffel bag. But she wasn’t staring at Moose or Axel?—

“Tillie, just calm down,” Flynn said.

Tillie put down the cooler.

“Hear me out.” Flynn held up her hands in surrender.

Tillie looked past her to Moose, so much betrayal in her eyes.

No, Till ? —

“I believe you.” The words from Flynn sucked the air out of the hut, and even Moose stood breathless. “I did some digging, and Julian Richer is . . . he’s got at least two assault charges in his past, both dismissed. He’s also been connected with organized crime and some drug smuggling. Apparently the voters don’t seem to care. How he got custody of Hazel, I don’t know, but . . . after seeing his record, I believe you.”

Tillie’s hands fisted at her side. “There’s more to the story.”

“Shep filled us in.”

Moose glanced at Axel.

“He found us this morning, right before the press conference. Flynn had no choice but to go through with the press conference.”

“Pearl wanted me to raise Hazel,” Tillie said softly.

“I am sure she did,” Flynn said. “But Hazel’s custody papers list Julian Richer as the father. And he used that to get custody and got the judge to issue a warrant for your arrest in Florida.” Her voice lowered. “But Florida did not send your warrant to Alaska. And if you had let me finish in the hospital, you would have known I wasn’t arresting you. I was going to help you get a lawyer and sort it out. You weren’t under arrest. Then.”

“And now?”

Flynn looked at Axel, back to Tillie. “I didn’t file a report on the assault.”

Tillie’s fists unclenched. “So . . . I’m not under arrest?”

“Not here, not now. But if the police department in Miami-Dade County sends the warrant here, then . . .”

“And what about Hazel?”

“The court still needs to award her back to her father. I got a call from our CPS worker—apparently a local law firm just filed a motion for temporary child custody on your behalf.”

“Where is she?” Tillie took a step into the garage.

“I can’t tell you that.”

Tillie took a breath, and Flynn held up her hand. “Because I don’t know. I do know that she’s safe. Richer isn’t going to get her.”

“That’s because he doesn’t want her. Not really. He wants me .”

“And he’s not going to get you,” Moose said. “But I need to get you somewhere safe while we figure out how to prove everything you said.”

“Moose—” Flynn turned to him. “What are you doing?”

He’d taken the wooden chocks from the front of his tires. “Leaving. C’mon, Tillie. Get in.”

“Bro,” Axel said and put a hand on Moose’s arm. “You can’t?—”

“I can.” He shook off Axel’s hand, lowered his voice. “This is one thing I can do.”

Then Axel drew in a breath and turned. “Get in, Flynn. If she’s with you, then she’s not running.”

Flynn’s eyes widened. “Okay.”

Moose stood a little nonplussed for a moment as Axel helped Flynn up onto the wing and then into the plane. Axel then held a hand out for Tillie, who settled in beside Flynn in the back seat.

“I’m going to grab my go bag,” Axel said and took off for the Tooth.

Okay then. Moose did his preflight external check, then climbed into the cockpit in time to hear Flynn say to Tillie, “Yeah, I’m fine. You need to teach me that move.”

He fitted on his headset and did the rest of his preflight check as Axel stowed a duffel in the back, then climbed into the copilot seat.

Moose opened his window. “Prop clear!”

He started up the plane, and it shook to life, the prop whirring. Then he called to the tower and taxied out of the shed, onto the runway.

Axel had put on his own headset. “You sure about this?”

Moose nodded, surer every moment. He needed to think clearly, and there was only one place to do that.

They took off, the lift sweeping through him, scattering his thoughts, his focus on the instruments, the heading, the feel of the air under the wings.

Flying always set him a little free.

He turned northwest, the ridgeback mountains of the Alaska Range to the north, and took them over the shiny blue water of the Knik Arm, then north up the silvery trail of Alexander Creek, Denali at his nose, rising tall and white. Here, the rivers turned serpentine below him, and he passed Susitna, then took the eastern branch, following the tributaries northwest.

“You sure you’re ready to head back here?”

He glanced at Axel, nodded.

If there was one place where Rigger couldn’t find them, it would be Pike’s cabin.

The forest closed in around roads and trails, the lakes puddling below, deep blue, the terrain a lethal beauty. He finally descended toward a gravel riverbed, packed down, some fifty feet wide, with plenty of runway.

He touched down, the tundra tires finding purchase, and swung the plane around, ready for takeoff.

Axel took off his headset. “I’ve never been here.”

Moose nodded. “The fishing cabin is up the hill.” He turned and pointed to a not-so-little log cabin with a shiny red roof overlooking the river. “It’s a little hike from here, but not far.”

“What’s a little hike from here?” Tillie asked.

Moose smiled. “A place that Pike Maguire once called paradise.”

Axel had gotten out, now opened the door. Moose shut down the plane, then got out and secured the wheels. He tied the plane down and grabbed his bag—food, his computer, extra clothing. A nearby lodge had absorbed the cabin rental into their fly-in vacation package, but he’d checked his portal on his phone—no vacationers this weekend. And according to the weather forecast, a bit of a cold snap was headed their way.

Tillie wrapped her arms around herself as she turned to stand on the shore. She looked at the water, the blue sky. “I should have gotten Hazel.”

He put his arm around her. “You will.”

She drew in a breath then and leaned in. “She’s a smart girl. Knows how to adapt.”

“Yes, she is. I saw that.”

“And we talked about this . . . the fact that someday she might have to stay with strangers. That’s why she took her stuffed dog everywhere. Pearl gave it to her. It’s sort of a security blanket.”

“We’ll get this sorted,” Moose said and glanced at Flynn and Axel, walking up to the cabin.

He wanted to trust Flynn. Especially after she’d found the Midnight Sun Killer this summer. She was a good detective.

Please.

As Moose walked up the grassy bank to the log cabin, he could almost hear Pike’s voice in the wind. “I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.”

He took Tillie’s hand, and she didn’t pull away.

Adirondack chairs set around a charred fire pit, along with a seasoned grill sitting on a side patio, suggested the rental had been well used this summer. He stepped up to the deck and turned, and of course, mountains enclosed him on all sides, this place nestled in a valley, like a secret.

Solar panels on the southern side of the house generated enough energy to fill the generators—Pike had made sure of that. And he’d installed indoor plumbing and a satellite for internet. Moose had never tried it. But Pike had watched a couple football games back in the year Moose had flown him out here, the place snug after an early snowfall.

Most importantly, Pike had added a cell repeater. In the end, it had saved their lives.

Moose pushed the door open and found Axel and Flynn inside, admiring the vaulted ceiling, the shiny logs, a few hunting trophies on the wall. The place replicated a Montana hunting lodge, complete with leather furniture that Pike had flown in before Moose’s time, a long table, and a chandelier made of antlers that hung from the ceiling.

Off the main room was a kitchen, with a handful of bedrooms on the other side. Stairs led to a lofted bedroom, the master that overlooked the great room, situated over the kitchen.

“This is nice,” Flynn said. “It belongs to a friend?”

“Not anymore,” Moose said. “Technically, it’s mine.”

Axel glanced at him, but he raised a shoulder. Truth. Even if he didn’t want to face it.

The stone fireplace in the great room lay cold, with logs piled on the raised hearth.

“What are we doing here, Moose?” This from Flynn, who seemed clearly done with playing along.

“Here we’re going to go over every detail of Tillie’s story about Matthew Lopez. Then we’re going to figure out how to prove it.”

“Moose—” Flynn started.

“Nope. Flynn, you’re smart. I know you can figure this out.”

He walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. Frozen coho salmon dated just a few weeks ago. And trout. And in the cupboard, rice and canned vegetables. “Meanwhile, I will feed you.”

He walked back out into the room, looked at his team. “And then we’re all going to get a decent night’s sleep, for the love of Pete.”

Tillie smiled.

And it was as if he heard God speaking very, very clearly.

“Let not your heart be troubled.”

Yes . He’d just needed to get away for a moment, clear his head.

He smiled back. “I hope you guys like fish.”

It couldn’t be right to feel this . . . safe. This protected.

Even this happy.

Tillie sat on an Adirondack chair, drinking a cup of after-dinner hot cocoa, wrapped in a blanket she’d stolen from a basket in the great room, staring at the streak of remaining sunset that simmered over the mountains, jagged and whitened with the first whisper of snow.

So much beauty in a land filled with peril. And here she sat, tucked away from danger, warm and fed while Hazel . . .

Oh, Hazelnut. I’m sorry . Her eyes burned, and she blinked hard. She shouldn’t have gotten on the plane. But Moose . . .

But Moose . He’d become a force in her life that she simply couldn’t escape.

Even now, as the door to the cabin—ha, that was an understatement—opened and Moose came out onto the deck. He carried a cup and a blanket.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as he sat on the other Adirondack chair, setting his cup on the wide arm.

He wore the blanket like a cape, very Superman, like Hazel said. The man had the devastatingly handsome looks of the man of steel, with his dark hair and gray-green eyes. And under that flannel shirt, probably a frame to match.

He wore jeans and boots and a wry smile as he settled into the chair. “My pleasure. I love a good grilled salmon.”

He’d done some magic with the frozen salmon, grilling it on a plank of wetted cedar. She’d half expected a grizzly to show up wondering why he hadn’t been invited.

“You’re quiet,” Moose said softly.

She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Where should you be? Jail? In your car, running and hiding?”

She looked at him. Right . “I feel guilty for being . . .”

“For being.” He met her gaze. “Yes, I think you do.”

She frowned, looked away. Huh .

“I think deep down you’re trying to figure out why Pearl died when she had a daughter to take care of, and you stayed.”

“It feels cosmically unfair.”

“Death always feels unfair, especially when it happens to someone young, like Pearl. Thankfully, God saves us from that unfairness by giving us hope.”

“I don’t feel saved.”

He took a breath. “That’s because right now, you’re not.”

A beat. “What?”

“It doesn’t help you for me to lie to you, Tillie. Jesus came to save us from true death—eternal death. It’s the greatest rescue mission of all time. But you have to be willing to be rescued. You can’t rescue yourself. And that starts with acknowledging that you need rescue.”

He met her eyes, said nothing.

“Like me showing up on your doorstep.”

“Finally,” he said. “The question is, If you know that God wants to rescue you, what is holding you back from reaching out?”

She looked away. “I guess I’ve never been good at asking for help. I saw it as weakness.”

She took a sip of cocoa, ran her thumb down the mug. “Pearl was a princess. She dreamed of happy endings and a prince to save her.” She stared at the sky, the streaks of rose gold. “I used to dream that too.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I used to dream of my dad coming home, taking us out of foster care, rebuilding our family. He used to take us camping near Bear Island, a little campground with a pool and a slide, and sometimes we’d go out to the beach and bury him in the sand. He’d carry me into the waves, and we’d jump them together.”

She leaned her head back. “Sometimes a huge wave would come in, and he’d tell me to duck, and we’d have to go under it. And the wave would crash over us, but as long as I held on to my dad, I was safe, you know?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Wow, her chest had tightened, the back of her throat aching with the story. “Pearl sometimes told Hazel about the ocean. Tried to jog her memory. Told her that someday we’ d bring her back. I haven’t thought about that for a long time. Feels like we’re a long, long way from that. A long, long way from giving Hazel the life we dreamed for her.”

“What life is that?”

She couldn’t look at him then. “A mom, and a dad. A home.”

“The life you wanted.”

Aw, shoot, now her eyes burned. “The life I had.”

She felt his gaze on her.

“God is not a joker. He doesn’t give us a dream only to yank it away. He loves you, Tillie, and he’s going to help us figure this out. This isn’t over.”

She didn’t want to argue with him. “I don’t know how you do it.”

He took a sip of cocoa. “Do what?”

“You’re always so calm. All the time. I mean . . . you’d come into the Skyport, and I’d know—I’d just know —by the look on your face that you’d had a rough rescue. But you didn’t ever snap at me or . . . I don’t know. Like I said . . . unflappable.”

He shook his head. “I’m not calm. But the times I am—it’s when I remember that I’m not in charge.”

“What do you mean, not in charge? You’re the head of the Air One team.”

“I guess I mean just . . . not in my hands. Although I forget that, probably too often.” He looked at her. “I learned a long time ago that I was in over my head. Still am, I guess.” He smiled. “But there’s a verse I keep going back to—God keeps in perfect peace the man—or woman—whose mind is fixed on him, because we trust him. I keep trying to remember that.”

“And we’re back to faith.”

“And we’re back to faith.” He winked.

“It’s just . . . it seems so easy for you.”

He gave a harsh, almost brutal, laugh.

“What?”

“If—” He shook his head, then looked at her. “The other side of faith is panic. And panic always leads to bad decisions, so . . .”

“I have a hard time believing you’ve ever made a bad decision.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but the look he gave her sent a shard of ice through her.

“Believe me. I’ve made plenty of bad decisions.”

She nearly teased him then, but when he drew in a breath and looked away, lost in thought, his expression dark, she closed her mouth.

“My worst decision is the reason why I have this cabin.”

“How can a bad decision?—”

“Pike Maguire would have never given me this cabin, my house, or even funded Air One if I hadn’t been drinking the night before I had to ground our plane in the bush.”

She just blinked at him.

His jaw tightened. “Yep.” He sighed, then set down his mug and turned to her. “We nearly crashed because I was under-slept and wasn’t fit to fly.”

Oh.

“I told you about the crash in Afghanistan, right?”

“You carried a soldier to safety. He reminded you of Axel.”

He just blinked at her. “You remember?”

“Moose. I remember everything you tell me.”

A warmth shifted through his eyes, and she felt it then, that connection they’d always had at the diner.

And for some reason, that kiss she’d given him raked to the surface too. He hadn’t done more than hold her hand, mostly for support, since then.

Suddenly, she very much wanted to kiss him again, feel those arms around her.

“I came home and started charter flying.”

“Yeah. Was Pike the hunter who you got stranded with after an ice storm?”

He drew in a breath. “Yes. It was him, and my cousin Dawson and his girlfriend. We put down, and the plane refused to start again, so we had to hike out. Pike fell along the way—broke his ankle—and I had to carry him out.”

“You told me.”

He looked away. “Thing is, the circulation to Pike’s foot was cut off, and he ended up losing it. And then he got a blood infection and never really beat it and . . . he died about a year later from that infection.”

Oh, Moose . “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve gone over and over that flight in my mind. Never mind that I shouldn’t have been flying that day—the weather forecast had predicted ice, of course. But I could have flown lower, or adjusted to de-ice the wings. . . .”

“Moose—”

“No, Tillie. Really. I’m not being overly hard on myself. I was to blame. And the worst part is that Pike gave me his entire inheritance. Even after I told him my part. He still did it, and . . . I know I don’t deserve any of it.”

“Because you got him into that mess?”

“Yes, and because his son is the rightful heir, not me. I promised Pike I’d find him, and I tried, but the lawyers hadn’t a clue where he was. The truth is, I am ashamed that I haven’t found him. It’s a promise that burns inside me. And if I’m honest, there’s a part of me that fears that if I do find him . . . ”

“You’ll lose what Pike gave you.”

He nodded. “O ye of little faith.” He gave a wry shake of his head. “I should start listening to my own preaching.”

“God is not a joker?”

“Yes. Although, there’s a part of me knows I don’t deserve any of this.”

She touched his hand. “Moose. From where I sit, I see a man who God can count on.”

“Working on that. But sometimes I do feel over my head. Wondering why I’m in charge.”

“I don’t know. I like it when you’re in charge.”

He smiled then, something languid and even a little dangerous. And then, as if he could read her mind, he reached for her mug, set it on the deck, and tugged her over to him.

She got up and settled into his lap in the Adirondack chair. “What are you doing?”

“Being in charge.” Then he lifted his face to hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning down and kissing him.

He tasted of chocolate and smelled of flannel, and with the twilight dropping softly around them, she was there, in the happy place she didn’t deserve.

But so craved.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt one of his around her waist, the other hand around the back of her neck, holding her there, as if he feared she might pull away. But he kept his kiss gentle, even while nudging her mouth for more.

And sure, she’d kissed him in the cave, but that was different. This was Moose holding her, giving over a piece of himself, but also the sense of being swept up, carried.

Moose’s thumb ran down her cheek, striking a flame deep inside her, and even as he kept his kiss light, he made a soft sound in the depths of his chest and deepened his kiss.

And right then she knew.

She loved this man. Had for months, or longer, but here, right here, the truth of it found her soul and settled in.

She loved his patience, his smile, the way he reached out to rescue, and even, yes, his faith. Loved the fierceness in his eyes when she needed him, and the strength of his hands in hers. She loved that he didn’t push but always stayed, and never let her forget she wasn’t alone.

This man. He was her happy place.

She lifted her head, met his eyes. His gaze roamed her face, then fixed on hers. And then he smiled.

Such a beautiful, explosive smile, it landed in her heart, practically blew it up as it swept through her.

Then, “I—” he started, but Axel opened the door.

“Guys, you need to—oops, sorry.”

Moose looked over at him. “Better be good, Lugnut.”

Axel gave a wry grin. “I think we found something. But by all means, carry on.”

Tillie was already untangling herself from Moose, however, getting up.

Moose followed, but when she rose from picking up her mug, he caught her arm, then turned her to him. Met her eyes, an earnestness in his. “Tillie, I?—”

“Don’t, Moose.”

And she didn’t know why she couldn’t hear it, whatever declaration might issue from him. Just, “Save it for when this is all over.”

He closed his mouth. Nodded.

She turned and walked into the cabin.