She lay still a moment longer. “It’s okay,” she said finally, and sat up. She didn’t look at him, but didn’t seem angry, either. “Where are the dogs?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Hunter!”
“Shelby!” she called.
Both dogs came squeezing in, all wagging tails and wiggling bodies. He hugged Hunter to him and buried his face in the dog’s thick fur, while Lily did the same to Shelby. “What time is it?” she asked after a bit.
He checked his watch. “Five thirty-two.”
She untangled herself from the Mylar blanket and began folding it up. He did the same with his. She left the shelter, Shelby bounding after her. He folded the tarp they had been lying on and by the time he emerged from the snow cave, she was squatting beside the fire, blowing on the tiny flame that licked at a pile of pine needles.
He collected water in the cup he had washed out last night and boiled water for instant coffee. They shared the cup and ate protein bars for breakfast. The dogs ate the last of the jerky.
Afterward, they took down the shelter, scattered the fire and reloaded their packs. At 7:00 a.m. they emerged into open space once more, and he radioed to headquarters. Doug Elam answered. “Scott? You and Lily okay?”
“We’re fine,” Scott said. “What’s the plan for today?”
“I was just talking to the helicopter pilot,” Doug said. “They’re going to pick you up in…in twenty minutes. Where are you?”
Scott read off the GPS coordinates he had marked. “There’s a big clearing here. We shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”
“Have they heard anything about Jackson?” Lily asked.
“Any sign of Jackson?” Scott asked.
Another long pause. “We haven’t found him,” Doug said. “But there’s been a development.”
Doug’s voice wasn’t reassuring. Scott’s gaze met Lily’s. She looked as ill as he felt. “What kind of development?” he asked.
“That boy didn’t wander out there and get lost,” Doug said. “He was taken.”
Chapter Seven
The sheriff and Doug were waiting when Lily and Scott and the dogs arrived back at the SkyCrest heliport Monday morning. “What have you heard about Jackson?” Lily demanded as soon as she stepped off the helicopter. “Do you know where he is? Is he safe?”
“Mr. Endicott is meeting us at my office,” Doug said, one hand at her back, urging her forward. “We’ll know more then.”
They piled into a resort SUV, Scott and Lily together in the back seat, the dogs sprawled across their laps. Doug drove, but no one spoke on the short drive to the resort offices. The SUV’s heater was pumping out warmth, and Lily found herself drifting off, the exertions of the previous day and her uneasy sleep the night before catching up with her.
She woke abruptly when the SUV parked in the underground garage, and followed the sheriff and the others into the elevator to Doug’s office. Denny Endicott met them at the door. His lip had healed and the bruising around his eye had faded to a sickly yellow and brown, but it was the look of hope on his face that was so painful Lily had to look away. “We don’t have anything new,” the sheriff said.
Denny turned away, but his hunched shoulders and clenched fists were the image of a man fighting to hold himself together. “Mr. Endicott, do you have the note you received?” Sheriff Howard asked.
“Yes. It’s right here.” Denny reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt and took out a plastic bag and passed it over to the sheriff.
“Did it come to you in this bag?” the sheriff asked.
“No,” Denny said. “The envelope was delivered with the day’s mail. I put everything in the bag after I read it. Maybe I didn’t mess up any other prints too much.”
Sheriff Howard lay the bag on Doug’s desk, then pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and eased an envelope from the bag. “No return address,” he said. “Local postmark. We’ll check with the post office, see if anyone remembers when this came through, but it could have been dropped in a postal box anywhere in the area.” He opened the envelope and removed a single sheet of paper. “Looks like a page torn from a spiral notebook. Lined paper, three-hole punched, no perforations. The message is hand-printed in block letters. ‘We have Jackson safe. Cooperate and he won’t be hurt.’” He looked up at Endicott. “What do they mean— cooperate? What do they want you to do?”
“I don’t know,” Endicott said. “I haven’t heard anything before or since.”
“You never had any previous threats to you or your family, or attempts to extort you in any way?” the sheriff asked.
“None.”
“What about that black eye?” the sheriff asked. “Who gave you that?”
