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CHAPTER

1

THE ROOT GLACIER, WRANGELL-ST. ELIAS NATIONAL PARK, ALASKA

TUESDAY, JUNE 22

MATTHEW SWUNG THE ICE AXE with his right hand until it found solid purchase in the face of the glacier. He repeated the process with the axe in his left hand, then carefully stepped up one leg at a time and pushed his feet against the ice. The crampons on his boots bit into the glacier and gave him solid footing—or the best footing one could hope for out here.

But the uncertainty, the danger, was all part of the fun, part of the rush, and it’s what kept him coming back for more. Even today, the first day of summer, when his friends would be back home in Toronto seeking out a patio, he’d opted for glacier climbing in Alaska. There was just something invigorating about being bundled up with the cold air nipping at his nose.

But it wasn’t just this particular extreme sport that lured him in. His friends had called him an adrenaline junkie on more than one occasion, and he definitely deserved the label. Whether it was skydiving, bungee jumping, white-water kayaking, or snowboarding, he was in. He’d even jumped off a cliff in a wingsuit like Lara Croft in The Cradle of Life. These activities were a great way to fill the time between expeditions, and they kept him physically fit and on his game. And while he welcomed the rush, adventure had to be tempered with caution so that he could live to do it again another day. He really didn’t have a death wish.

He looked up and figured he’d be cresting the moulin within minutes. But instead of urging himself onward, he paused and glanced down—something any experienced guide would discourage. Easily forty feet beneath him, water rushed by, sweeping away everything in its path without prejudice. Yet, there was something peaceful about being here, essentially suspended in the air with no one around to request anything of him. He savored the quiet that came with this excursion almost as much as he did the adrenaline rush.

But now wasn’t the time to sink into meditative thought. He had to focus on the task at hand. Sure, he wore a harness that was attached to a line secured at the top of the moulin and monitored by a guide, but screws didn’t always hold, and people sometimes made mistakes. That’s why axe placement and solid footing were crucial. One misstep or error in judgment would leave him dangling. If the screw gave way at the same time, well, then it would be sayonara.

He swung out again and took another step. As he did, the rope went slack and fell behind him.

Was this really happening? Blood rushed into his head, and he smiled.

Bring it on.

He focused on the glacier, on keeping his grip on the axes strong and his balance steady. All he’d have to do was hold his position until another rope was sent down for him.

“Hold on,” his guide shouted.

Matthew rolled his eyes. Really, what else was he supposed to do?

Then he felt his right axe give. He looked up, his heart racing. The axe was, indeed, slipping in the ice. At least the left one was holding strong. The weight of the rope dangling from his harness and gravity were conspiring against him. He had to break free of it as soon as possible.

He let go of the right axe and unclipped the rope from his harness. He watched as it cut through the air, twirling like a ribbon until it met with the water below. Shifting his attention back to the abandoned axe, he slowly reached out for the handle. As he grabbed hold, the axe broke free of the ice.

He pushed his body against the glacier, clinging to it as if it would have mercy on him and save him. But he was down to one handhold and two footholds.

I’ve got this…

He took a few seconds to center himself and dug the freed axe into another section of ice. Thankfully, it bit in. Yet, he was still afraid to breathe in case it upset his precarious balance.

“Another rope’s coming down. Just hook yourself to it,” the guide called to him.

Matthew was starting to regret telling the guide to have a hands-off approach with him.

He looked up for the rope, and his gaze drifted to his left hand. It was cramping up, and his grip on the handle was slipping.

“Just grab the rope,” the guide repeated.

Okay, Captain Obvious.

The promised rope snaked into his peripheral vision on his right. He’d have to shift his weight to his feet and rely on them and the axe in his left hand to keep him from falling to his death.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a dark part of him tempting him to just give up and surrender to the icy water.

Hell no!

He opened his eyes and looked over at the rope without moving his head. It was within a foot of where he was—a rather easy reach. But it would require trusting his holds.

“It’s right beside you. Grab the rope.”

If it’s so easy, you get down here and take my place.

Matthew counted to three in his head and reached out. His gloved fingers touched the rope but failed to hold on to it. The momentum had him going off balance and swinging back to the left, making him feel like a human pendulum and giving him a brief sensation of weightlessness.

Now his right foot was breaking free of the ice. He struggled desperately to shift it but had to do so carefully or risk—

Both his footholds collapsed. Now the only thing anchoring him to the glacier was his left axe, and his grip on it was compromised. Searing pain shot through his shoulder and up his neck.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

He struggled to get some sort of hold reestablished with his feet and found shaky purchase.

“I’m coming down,” his guide said.

I’ll be dead before you get here…

Gravity was working like an anchor and pulling on him. He didn’t have time to wait for the guide if he wanted to survive. But the rope that had been a foot away was now swaying from his earlier attempt to reach it, placing it easily three to three and a half feet away. He’d have to time his move for when the rope came closer.

One, two—

The remaining axe slipped some more.

He pushed on the glacier with his left foot to nudge himself to the right. His fingers played over the rope and—

In an instant, his life flashed before his eyes. Images of past expeditions layered on top of one another—the finds he’d made, the legends he’d proven real—and then his father’s face, as clear as if he were standing in front of him. Matthew imagined the newspapers’ headlines back home reading something like, MAYOR’S SON DEAD AFTER GLACIER CLIMBING ACCIDENT IN ALASKA. Then he saw the faces of his friends Cal, Cal’s fiancée Sophie, and Robyn. Ah, beautiful Robyn, the love of Matthew’s life. Only he’d die without her knowing just how much he loved her. He’d die without having left behind a—

He got a firm grasp on the rope just as his left axe dislodged from the ice. He released it and gripped the rope with both hands. His feet fell out of their holds, and he pinched the rope between his boots.

Now, I can breathe…

“You weren’t kidding when you said you had this under control.” The guide lowered down beside him and hooked the clasp at the end of the rope to Matthew’s harness.

Moments later, Matthew was climbing on top of the moulin. His legs were shaky beneath him and threatened to give out. He bent over, set his elbows on his knees, and took a few deep breaths.

The guide slapped him on the back. “Way to go.”

Matthew straightened up, ready to lay into the man about what a useless piece of—

The guide was grinning. “I’m sure that was a rush you’ll never forget.”

Matthew let out a whoop and raised his arms in the air. He’d faced death but had survived. God, that was worth celebrating!

“Uh, hey, man, you’re ringing.” The guide pointed toward Matthew’s chest.

Matthew smiled at the guide. With the man’s laid-back attitude, he would fit in quite well beachside in California, catching waves and chasing bikinis. Matthew took out the satellite phone he had tucked inside his coat. “Hello?”

“Is this Matthew Connor?” a female voice asked.

“It is.”

“Well, you may not remember me, but this is Alexandria Leonard.”

It took him only a few seconds to place her. Hot sun, sand, and mummies. “Alex? It’s been awhile.”

“That it has, and you’re not the easiest person to get ahold of.” She went silent briefly. “But I have an expedition I think you’ll be quite interested in…”