“Like Gabe?”
“Yeah.” Harley swallowed hard. “He was clean for almost two years. Then Mars showed up with that laced heroin and...” She closed her eyes. “One mistake. That’s all it took.”
Kennedy’s hand covered hers. “That’s why you became a cop?”
“No. That’s when Iquitbeing a cop. But yeah, I’ve always needed to fight for something. To make things right.” She met Kennedy’s gaze. “Your story, with Sully? That kind of hope ... I used to believe in it. My parents did. They never missed a Sunday at Copper Mountain Community Church. They believed in God, even when he wasn’t answering their prayers.”
“But you stopped believing?”
“I realized I had to take care of myself.” The words felt hollow. “No. That’s not true. I realized thatwaybefore they died.”
Kennedy leaned against the counter, waiting.
“I was ten.” The memory rose, sharp as broken glass. “Gabe and I were building a tree fort in the woods. He was supposed to meet me after school, but he never showed. Later I found out he’d gotten in a fight with some kids.”
She set down her fork. Sighed. “I got trapped up there after dark. Too scared to climb down, too proud to call for help. When I finally made it home, my parents were just getting back from the police station. They hadn’t even noticed I was gone.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
She lifted a shoulder. “The worst part? I didn’t tell them. Just went to my room and pretended everything was fine.” She laughed, but it caught in her throat. “I got pretty good at that. At being fine.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
Before Harley could answer, a whine interrupted them. Orlandopadded into the kitchen, his nails clicking on the hardwood. He walked over to her, set his muzzle on her knee.
“He’s so sweet.” Harley scratched behind his ears.
“You talking about me?”
She looked up and, of course, Jericho filled the doorway, barefoot in jeans and a flannel shirt, his hair still mussed from sleep. Those hazel-blue eyes caught hers, held.
For a moment, she wanted to say yes. Wanted to reach across the years between them, tell him how she’d carried the memory of his laugh, his touch, parked it inside.
But his words echoed in her head.“Today was a good warning of what I don’twant.”
“I should head back to the dome.” She stood, ignoring the protest in her ribs. “Get out of your hair.”
He blocked the doorway. “In this weather? Not happening.”
“I’m fine—”
“And you have pancakes,” Kennedy said.
She turned. “Right.”
The satellite phone’s harsh ring cut through the tension. Jericho grabbed it from the counter. “Bowie residence.”
His face hardened. “What? When?” He looked at Harley, and his expression had her stilling. “Where?”
He walked to the fridge, opened the door and pulled out a bag. Closed it. “Yeah, I can be ready in twenty.”
He hung up, then set the phone back on its stand. Opened up the bag and filled Orlando’s bowl. Stood, a pained expression on his face.
Harley lowered herself back onto the stool. “What?”
“That was Deke. They’ve got a plane down near Ghost Glacier.”
Her breath caught. “Whose plane?”
