The Bowman place was exactly what she’d expect from a family who’d homesteaded here forty years ago—a two-story log home with worn pine floors and handmade quilts draped over vintage eighties plaid furniture. Daniel’s kindergarten artworkcovered the fridge, bright crayon drawings held up by moose-shaped magnets. A half-finished puzzle sprawled across the coffee table in the living room, visible through the open archway. The walls held decades of family photos—Gregg and Winnie’s wedding, a senior picture of Sunni, little Daniel as a toddler—oh he was adorable with that curly brown hair and rich brown eyes. She’d had to sort of walk away before something inside her gave way.
Harley would find them, no matter what it took.
Outside, past the frost-etched windows, the barn and greenhouse hunched against the cold, and beyond them, the fields stretched white.
“Talk me through it again,” Deke said to Winnie. He was still wearing his wool cap, his cheeks flushed after a more than cursory search of the area where they’d found the truck. “Every detail.”
“Gregg took Daniel to town yesterday for groceries.” Winnie set another mug down, the coffee sloshing over the rim. “He usually goes alone on Saturdays, but with Sunni gone, he took Daniel with him.” Her voice cracked. “They should have been back by three. I’ve been staying over at my sister’s house for the last couple weeks, helping her after she had her hip replaced. I didn’t even know they didn’t come home until you tracked me down this morning.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. Her blond hair was pulled back, a little weight on her body. She wore an oversize homemade wool sweater.
Harley liked her. Sort of reminded her of what her mother might have been like today.
The kitchen door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Harley looked up to see Orion Starr and his wife Jenni come in. Snow dusted their parkas, caught in Jenni’s blond hair. Having them here made sense—their cabin was only about five miles to thenorth, tucked into the woods. He and Jenni were the local climbing experts, guided on Denali in the summertime, traveled to Peru in the winter. And they volunteered for SAR when needed.
“Dodge’s Air One chopper is ten minutes out,” Orion said, stamping snow from his boots. “He says visibility’s good.”
“Good,” Deke said. “Crew’s getting walkies for everyone, and Sully and Malachi are headed over.”
Harley glanced up as a truck pulled into the snowy driveway, Bowie Resorts written on the side. Made her think of Winter’s words—“All you Bowies arethe same.”
They weren’t, actually. Jericho had always been the calm, steady rescuer. Sully, the adventurer. Hudson, Mr. Responsible. And, of course, Malachi, the entrepreneur.
Now Jericho stared at the map, quiet.
Maybe too quiet. She refused to read into his stance, the grim look on his face.
Focus.
The afternoon sunlight glinted off the truck as the boys got out, and she looked beyond it to the barn.
Her mind caught on an imagined picture of Daniel making snow angels while his grandpa worked in his workshop. The man built custom cabinetry for half the houses in town.
The guys came through the door, Malachi carrying a duffel bag. He handed it to Jericho. “I brought hand warmers and extra radios.”
“Thanks,” Jericho said.
By the door, Orlando whined, as if itching to get moving. Yeah, buddy, her too.
If anyone could track Daniel and Gregg through the snow it would be a former avalanche dog, right?
Sunni had disappeared and now returned to the kitchen. “Here.” She laid blue mittens with rockets embroidered on them on the table. “They’re Daniel’s. For the scent.”
Harley didn’t want to tell her that they weren’t needed—at least, not after what she’d learned about Orlando’s abilities.
Funny. Neither Malachi nor Sully commented on Gabe’s sudden resurrection. So either Jericho had told them or ... well, hedidlook different. Grown and bearded, healthy instead of looking like some drug addict ...
Maybe hewasa new man, just like he’d mentioned that morning over breakfast.
“Okay.” Harley tapped the map. “The truck was found here, in Miller’s ditch. Three miles from the house, on their way home.”
“No signs of impact or mechanical failure,” Crew said. He’d walked in behind Sully and Malachi. His face was wind-chapped, serious. “But the doors were open. Keys still inside. Groceries still in the back, frozen solid now. The blizzard wiped out any sign of being forced off the road.”
“Why would they abandon the truck, especially so close to home? And isn’t there cell service in the area?” This all came from Jenni. Winnie had given her a mug of coffee too. “Certainly they would have called someone—or the police station?”
“Cell reception is spotty around here,” Sunni said, her arms around herself.
Frankly, Harley had to give her props for holding up, staying calm.
