While she ate, he gave the dogs treats and consulted his phone. “Looks like we’re headed toward Pandora,” he said.
“The tracks seemed to be leading that way.”
He looked around them, at the impenetrable darkness. “Jackson has a forty-eight-hour head start on us. He could be at Pandora by now.”
She finished the last of the candy bar, crumpled the wrapper and tucked it into the pocket of her parka. “If he thought of heading to Pandora, don’t you think whoever is after him thought of that, too?”
“Maybe. But we can’t do anything about that tonight. Right now, we need to find a place to spend the night.”
“What about right here?” She looked at the flattened space where they had been lying. “I don’t want to lose Jackson’s trail.”
He looked around. “I’d feel better if we moved into denser brush,” he said. “We need a fire to try to warm up, but we need to keep it hidden.”
“Fine. Just remember where the trail is so we can pick it up in the morning.”
She followed him into a section of woods choked with scrub oak and service berry, the dense network of twigs and branches grabbing at her clothing like bony fingers. They came to a bowl-shaped depression maybe six feet in diameter. “This should do,” he said. He dropped his pack, pulled out a knife, and began hacking at the scrub around them. “I’ll build a shelter. See if you can gather some wood for a fire.”
She was so exhausted all she wanted to do was drop where she stood, but she made herself turn away in search of wood. Everything she found was wet with snow, but by digging into the undergrowth she was able to snag a few drier pieces. By the time she returned, Scott had constructed a lean-to and spread a tarp on the ground in its shelter. He was arranging rocks in a circle for a fire ring. She dropped the wood she had collected beside him, removed her pack, and took out her sleeping bag and a pair of dry socks.
With dry feet, and seated on the insulating sleeping bag, she began to feel better. Scott got a fire going, using a lighter and fire starters from his pack, then he set snow to melt in a small coffeepot. She dug into her pack and pulled out the food she had brought with her and contributed to the pile of provisions he had unearthed from his own supplies. The dogs moved in close, sniffing at everything with interest.
“You were prepared to spend the night out,” he said.
“I didn’t want to, but I knew I would if I thought I was close to finding Jackson.”
He nodded and fed each dog a piece of jerky. Shelby brought hers over to the sleeping bag and lay beside Lily. “I take it Mr. Endicott thinks more than one person is involved in the kidnapping—not just the man who was killed?” Scott asked.
“It looks that way.” She took off one glove and buried her hand in the dog’s thick ruff of fur. “Especially if whoever was shooting at us was after Jackson.”
“We don’t know that.”
“No, but how many other criminals are out here in the wilderness?”
He fed larger branches into the fire. “What could be so important a whole group of people would take such a big risk? They’re bound to know everyone will be searching for a missing kid.”
“You and I are the only ones searching for Jackson right now.”
“I thought Endicott was a software developer. What could kidnappers want from that?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I’m just trying to make sense of things.”
“Endicott Industries has a lot of government contracts,” she said.
He looked at her. The light from the fire lit one side of his face with an orange glow, highlighting the hard line of his jaw and the strong jut of his nose. The other half of his face was all darkness, his expression unreadable. “Are they military contracts?” he asked.
“I can’t say.”
He nodded. “I get the picture. What else did Endicott tell you?”
“He said Jackson had gone fishing and hiking and stuff like that, but nothing more.” She stared out into the darkness. There were so many ways to get hurt out here—the cold, a fall, attacks by animals—both four- and two-legged.
“He’s a nine-year-old kid,” Scott said.
“A really smart kid.”
“But a kid.”
