Adult male reported missing. Last seen 3pm near ridgeline. Possible direction: south toward Mosby Ridge. Storm advancing. Low visibility.
Mosby Ridge. Their location.
“I need to go,” he said, grabbing his coat.
“I’m coming with you.” She pulled on her jacket and tossed him his scarf and gloves.
“No.” He shook his head. “If something’s out there?—”
“Ifsomeone’sout there,” she corrected, “they’re alone. Freezing. Scared. I can help. Besides,” she said as she zipped her parka and nodded toward the scrap fabric on the counter, “That has blood on it.”
He hesitated. Then nodded.
They secured gloves and hats. Behind them, the Christmas tree glowed, its star askew. He picked up the shotgun again.
As they stepped onto the porch, the SAT phone buzzed with another message:
Update: ID confirmed – Damian Fawkes. Male, 34. Hazel eyes. Last known location: Ravine Trail.
Abe stared at the name.
“What is it?” she asked, close now.
“It’s Damian.”
“Your half-brother?” She read over his wrist. “I thought he was in rehab after his motorcycle accident. What’s he doing out here?”
“No idea.” Abe slipped the phone into his coat pocket. “I haven’t seen him since he left the hospital two months ago. But Ravine Trail is half a mile away.”
He looked out at the dark snow-covered woods. “We’re not close. I mean not like family. None of us are, except for maybe Trent. He might know what’s going on.”
Because Trent, the quiet middle child, always tried.
“We don’t have cell service,” she reminded him.
“Right.” He grabbed his emergency backpack that he carried everywhere out of habit and slipped it over his shoulders. But before stepping into the storm, he tapped out a quick reply on the SAT phone:
Copy. On alert. Will advise if contact made.
The SAT phone screen blinked:
Message sent – no confirmation received.
CHAPTER 4
The wind howledthrough the trees, threading its icy fingers down the back of Daphne’s coat and scraping her skin. Every crunch of her boots in the snow sounded too loud in the hush of the forest.
The snowstorm was in its early stages and the cold had deepened. Shadows gathered under the heavy pine branches, and the world was shades of white and gray, with Abe moving steadily ahead like a silhouette pulled from a dream. They wore small flashlights attached to paracords around their necks, courtesy of Abe’s emergency kit.
Even with the lights, she didn’t know how he saw anything in this weather. The trail Damian had left was faint, a few drag marks and a scuff on a low branch that Abe had spotted like it was lit up with neon.
She’d walked right past it.
He crouched to study a disturbance in the snow. He was silent, utterly focused. Controlled. She could see the Army Ranger in him now, the way he moved with purpose, scanning, tracking, reading the land like it was a map only he could decipher.
She was just trying not to fall over.
“I don’t see anything.” She kept her voice low even though it seemed silly. “Are you sure we’re not going in circles?”
