THIS HAD BEEN GOING ON LONG ENOUGH. QUINN DIALED his mark’s number and listened to the ring. When the man answered, he let the silence hold a moment. “Hello?” the man said again. “Is anyone there?”
“I’ve seen no announcement in the news yet,” Quinn said, his voice a growl. “You need more incentive?”
“I-I thought the money was what you wanted,” the guy stammered.
Quinn frowned. “Money?”
A confused silence ensued. “Your partner asked for cash. I delivered it. Aren’t we square now?”
“Money? How much?”
“Half a million dollars. I’ve been waiting on you to call and tell me where the exchange will be.”
That double-crosser. Quinn literally saw red. This was no over-sight. “The money was not what we agreed to,” he said. “When the announcement hits the papers, you’ll get the baby back.”
“Bu-but . . .”
Quinn clicked his phone off. He hadn’t been offered his cut. What was his partner trying to pull? And was this the reason none of his calls had been returned?
The hum of the digital clock mingled with Kade’s snores. Bree lay with her eyes wide and unfocused. Her internal vision replayed the man she’d seen by the truck. The shape of the face, the mouth. The shoulders. Plus his pipe in the backyard.
Her eyes burned. Samson rose from his bed on the floor beside her. His cold nose nudged her hand. She rolled toward him and ran her hand over his silky fur for comfort. He always sensed when she was distressed. He pushed forward and nuzzled her neck. His hot breath gave her goose bumps, but breathing his good doggy scent calmed her.
This situation couldn’t be what it seemed. She wasn’t ready to swallow something so outrageous. She knew Rob. He would never have walked away and left Davy in the woods alone. Never. He’d adored his son.
What if it is Rob?
The question wouldn’t let her alone. The thought of such a terrible possibility made her struggle to pull enough air into her lungs. She rolled away from Samson and faced Kade’s broad back. The warmth of his body encompassed her. The threat of losing each other, or—even worse—of not being really married to each other would traumatize them both.
What would she do if Rob were alive?
She flung her arm over her eyes. Thinking about it was driving her crazy. She sat up and slipped out of bed. The baby still slept in the bassinet, so she padded down the hall to Davy’s room. Samson followed her. Davy had managed to tangle the bedding into a wad at the foot of the bed. The room smelled of oranges, and she stepped on two orange peels by his bed. She straightened out the covers, pulling them up over him. Watching him a moment in the moonlight, she imagined his elation if Rob were to walk in the door.
After touching his warm cheek, she backed out of the room and went downstairs. Maybe a cup of chamomile tea would help. The wood floor was cool against her bare feet. The living room still held the aroma of the apple spice candle she’d burned earlier, and it made the tea sound even better. She went to the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove and turned the flame to high while she got out the tea bag and a cup. Her stomach rumbled, and she decided to have a piece of the chocolate cake she’d baked yesterday.
Samson followed her with his tail wagging. At least someone cared that she was awake. Kade hadn’t budged when she got out of bed. The kettle began to hiss and steam. She removed it before it could start shrieking. As she poured the hot water over the tea bag, she glanced up. A light bobbed in the backyard.
Bree’s pulse galloped, and she quickly flipped off the light. Peering through the window, she saw nothing, but Samson’s ears perked up, and he went to the door. He whined and gazed up at her with expectation in his eyes.
He wasn’t barking. Her alarm ebbed. She glanced at the clock on the stove. Midnight. Who would be out there at that hour?
Rob.
Why the thought rushed to mind she had no idea. What a crazy idea. She stared at the door. Samson whined at her knee, and she put her hand on his head. “It’s okay, boy.” Maybe there was nothing out there at all. Just an animal.
She squared her shoulders. The least she could do was check it out. The doorknob was cold under her fingers. She threw the dead bolt and opened the back door. As she did, she heard a creak from overhead. She quickly shut the door again.
She couldn’t talk to Kade about this yet.
Kade walked to the door of the bedroom in his pajama bottoms and T-shirt. He looked at the clock. Just after midnight. She was probably downstairs. Since her miscarriage, she often couldn’t sleep.
Pausing in the hall, he listened. The house was silent. Both kids still slept. He walked to the top of the stairs and saw Bree coming up. “You okay, babe?”
She lifted a cup of steaming liquid in the air. “I thought chamomile might help me sleep.”
“I heard Olivia grumble a little like she was going to wake up.”
“I’d better check on her.” She came on up the stairs and passed by him to hurry to the bassinet.
Her sweet scent wafted behind her to his nose. Since the baby had come into the house, she didn’t have much attention to spare for him. And maybe it was best that way. He didn’t want her to notice how worried he was about his job. This new revelation that she wanted to keep Olivia depressed him more. He hated to disappoint her in anything, but he didn’t see how they could do this.
He went to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. Heat from the kettle where she’d fixed her tea radiated from the stove. Samson stayed on his heels. “No milk for you, big guy,” Kade said. “How about a treat?” He got out the bag of venison treats. Samson took it with gentle care from Kade’s fingers. “Good boy.”
He rubbed the dog’s head, then took a swallow of cold milk. It had barely hit his stomach when he saw Samson go to the door and whine. “I’m surprised your mom didn’t let you out.” He unlocked the back door, and Samson leaped out.
As the dog dashed past him, Kade saw a flashlight bobbing along the snowy ground in the glow of moonlight. He saw Samson run to a shadowy figure. Surprise held Kade still and mute.
“Hey, Sam,” a muted male voice said. “You remember me, huh?” The dark figure bent over the dog. “You seen my pipe?”
Kade stiffened and stepped out onto the back deck. Who would be in their backyard at midnight? He squinted in the dark. “Who’s there?”
The flashlight jerked, then began to move along the snow faster before winking out. Kade leaped into a snow bank. The frigid snow hit his bare feet, then he plunged thigh high into the icy stuff. He winced at the cold burn.
“Wait!” he called when he heard the sound of thrashing. Tree-filtered moonlight shone down on the outline of the dog. Samson had moved to the edge of the garage and stood staring after something. Probably the man who had just fled.
Kade struggled through the snow back to the deck. “Samson, come!”
He stomped the snow from his feet and pajamas, the wet coldness seeping into his bones. The door to the kitchen still stood open, and he hurried inside to the warmth he could feel pouring out of the house. The click of Samson’s nails came up the steps to the deck. Kade waited to close the door until the dog was inside.
He threw the lock behind them. His feet left wet trails on the wooden floor. Snow clung to Samson’s fur.
He touched the dog’s head. “You didn’t bark, boy. And the guy called you Sam, which I’ve only heard Davy say. Who was that?” Wait, Dave said the man who tried to grab him had called the dog Sam.
Samson gazed up with a steady expression as though he held the secret to everything and wasn’t telling. Samson wasn’t concerned about whomever had been out there, so Kade didn’t think the person was dangerous, but why was he prowling around at this hour? And why hadn’t he identified himself?
“Did you say something?” Bree stood in the doorway. Her gaze went from her snow-covered dog to Kade’s wet pajamas and feet. “What happened to you?”
“There was someone in the backyard.” An expression passed over her face. A little bit fear and a little bit resignation. But no surprise.
Had she met someone out there?
He rejected the stray thought as soon as it came. Bree would never have an affair. This was no illicit tryst. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew that much.
“The guy called Samson Sam, like he knew him.”
Bree paled and wet her lips. “That’s odd.”
“I thought so too.” He studied her downcast eyes and trembling lips. “Do you know who it might have been?”
“Not many people have ever called him Sam. Just Davy. And R-Rob.” She stammered over her dead husband’s name.
“Well it wasn’t Davy, and it sure wasn’t a ghost.” He stopped when she swayed where she stood. “You okay, Bree?”
“Just tired.” She passed a hand over her forehead. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
She was as pale as the snow on his pajamas, and he could have sworn she was shaking. He put his arm around her. She was shaking.
“Are you getting sick? Let’s get you to bed.” He led her toward the steps. “Whoever it was is gone now. Maybe it was someone who heard Davy call the dog Sam. The funny thing is that Samson didn’t bark. He ran right up to the guy like he knew him. Weird.”
“Very,” she said, her lips barely moving. She clung to his hand as they went up the stairs.
When they reached the bedroom, she turned and moved into his arms, laying her head on his chest. “I love you, Kade.” Her words held a trace of desperation.
“I love you too, babe.” He wet his lips. Their argument over Olivia must be bothering her. He needed to explain. “I’m sorry I can’t agree to adopting Olivia, but things at work have been . . . difficult.”
“Layoffs, the usual. Lots of work.” He brushed his lips over her forehead and inhaled the fruity scent of her shampoo. His hand smoothed her curls. They sprang right back with the same courage and spirit Bree possessed. His wife was the most precious person in his life. He’d do anything to protect her and keep her happy.
Bree clung to him with a grip that seemed desperate. He’d never seen her in such a state. She trembled as if she had the flu. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Love me, Kade, just love me,” she said, backing toward the bed.
He glanced at the clock. “It’s late,” he whispered. “You’ll have to care for the baby. Get some rest. Something has upset you.”
But he couldn’t resist the tug of her hands or the invitation in her eyes. They could sleep tomorrow.
Kitchigami Crag beckoned. Though the weather was still frigid, the fierce storm had settled to a mild gale, and the sun bounced off the snow. Kade stood at the bottom of the trail and stared up. The snow on the trail had turned to ice in the last twenty-four hours. The ascent wouldn’t be as easy as last time.
Tribal policeman George DeCota stood nearby. Though in his fifties, he was as trim and fit as a man in his twenties. His dark eyes scanned the imposing rock formation. “Good day for climbing,” he said.
“Thanks for coming with me.” Kade seated his hat more firmly over his ears. “The trail doesn’t look too bad.” He’d been surprised the Ojibwa man had been willing to come out with him, but George suspected some of the screams his people feared might be a big cat. He wanted to set the rumors about the windigo to rest.
“Ready?” Kade asked.
George nodded. “I know this trail. I will go first.”
Both men had put crampons in the soles of their boots. Kade ground his feet into the icy path with each step after George. As the ascent grew steeper, he used his ice pick for leverage and to keep from sliding off the edge. Ice glittered along the narrow path, and as they progressed higher up the crag, the way grew more slippery.
He was panting by the time he reached the summit. George stood watching him heave himself the last two feet. Kade couldn’t see that the other man was even winded. As Kade paused to catch his breath, he watched George kneel and examine where something had churned up the snow and ice.
“Cat,” George said, satisfaction rippling in his voice. “Could be lynx, but could be cougar.” He pointed. “Went that way.” He took off at a brisk pace.
So much for a rest. Kade jogged after him. Here on top of the crag, the wind tore through the material of his pants as if he wore nothing at all. He quickened his pace and soon caught up to George. The Ojibwa led him along a tumbled mass of rock close to the edge of the mountain. The track disappeared over the edge. Peering over, Kade saw more tracks along the rocky face. But it was much too dangerous to try to climb down from here.
While George continued to scan the ground, Kade moved back toward the trees. The men he’d found taking wood said the den was this direction. He studied the landscape for the cave they’d described, but the snow softened the edges of rocks and valleys and made it difficult to determine the terrain.
As he turned to see if George had found anything, he heard a shout. Squinting through the trees that blocked his view, he saw George throw up his arm as a dark shape leaped at him. It happened too fast for Kade to get more than an impression of bulk. George yelled again, then disappeared over the rock face. Kade couldn’t see the animal any longer either.
He broke into a run, then slipped and went down on one knee. Praying for George’s safety the whole time, he staggered to his feet. Pain pierced his knee from the fall, but he pressed on, hobbling as fast as he could to the spot where he’d last seen George. He flung himself onto his stomach and peered over the edge.
George’s upturned face stared back at him. “I have broken my ankle,” he said, his voice calm. “You will need to call the reservation for help. You cannot get me up by yourself.”
Kade surveyed the situation. George lay on an icy ledge eight feet down. The sliver of rock barely gave him enough room to cling to the rock face. Dragging out his cell phone, he called up the number of the tribal police and reported the incident.
He put his phone away, then sat on the edge and dangled his feet over. “They’ll be here as fast as they can. Can I do anything?” He wasn’t sure the ledge would support both of them.
George shook his head and attempted a smile, but his teeth chattered. “Shock,” he informed Kade. “You wouldn’t have any whiskey on you, would you?”
“Sorry. I’ve got coffee.” Kade shrugged out of his backpack and rummaged in it for the thermos. He attached it to a line and lowered it to George, who took it off the rope, opened the lid, and swallowed it straight from the thermos.
George put the lid back on and tucked the container against his chest. “Thanks.”
“What was it that jumped you?”
“You didn’t see? Big cat. Cougar.”
“I caught a glimpse but wasn’t sure.” If he’d only gotten a picture. But even that wouldn’t be enough. There had been cougar sightings over the years, but the official DNR stance was that only a breeding population was real proof of the species’ return.
“You can do nothing while we wait,” George said. “Go. Look around for the den.” His glassy eyes closed.
He didn’t like the way George’s teeth continued to chatter. “I’m not leaving you alone.” The words barely left his lips when he heard a scream behind him. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.
And it had been close. He rose and turned in the direction of the scream.
“Get out your Mace,” George muttered.
“Good idea.” Kade dug it out of his coat pocket and held it ready. He didn’t think the cougar would come back. The trees and rocks might hide what he sought, and he took a step in that direction.
A rumble echoed through the snow-topped trees and grew louder. Snowmobiles. He gazed down the rock face and saw four snowmobiles pull up to the base. The men riding them dismounted. They began climbing the path to the top.
“Help has arrived,” Kade said.
George waved a hand weakly. “Go, go. Check for the kittens. My friends will be here any minute.”
Kade stayed until the men reached him and he could point out George’s location. “What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Just stay out of our way. I’m going to rappel down and attach a harness to him, then lower him to the ground,” the youngest man said.
Kade stood aside and watched. They knew what they were doing. Their movements were practiced and efficient. He glanced back at the trees and the tumbled rocks beyond. “I’ll be over there a few minutes,” he mumbled.
He dug out his camera, then dropped his backpack into the snow. With his load lightened, he jogged to where he’d been when he heard George yell. The snow pack seemed pristine and untouched, but he wandered farther away from the rescuers. There. The remains of an animal. And paw prints.
He snapped some pictures of the prints and followed them. They led to a tree, not a den. He circled back again and studied the rocks for the opening the woodcutters had mentioned. Nothing. Maybe they’d been pulling his leg.
Disappointment left a bitter taste in his mouth when the rescuers called for him. The hunt would have to continue another day.