The guest cabins were arranged in a semi-circle between the mountain and the main building, leaving them in perpetual shadow. Cabin three was just that: a one-room log cabin with a tin roof and tiny porch barely wide enough to fit two rocking chairs. Nick unlocked the door and they went inside, depositing their luggage on one of the two double beds. There was a battered dresser, some photos of wildflowers and whitewater rapids on the walls, no TV, a single lamp on the nightstand between the beds, and a curtained alcove that led to a dressing area and a bathroom.
Mindful of the time, Lucy didn’t bother unpacking except to retrieve her weapons: one Beretta 9mm in a paddle holster concealed at the small of her back and the other strapped to her ankle, a Kershaw Ken Onion knife in her front pocket, and a multi-tool in her backpack. She also took the collapsible walking stick Nick had given her—it reminded her the ASP baton she’d used as an FBI agent, but was thicker and with a push of a button extended from eight inches to forty-two, perfect for hikes in the woods when she needed to protect her ankle from rough terrain.
“Judith, she’s—” Lucy shrugged, not sure of the right adjective, but Nick nodded his understanding as he checked his own pack to make sure he had everything he needed. She stroked the paracord bracelet Megan had given her—her touchstone—and pushed the unspoken issue. “That’s why you should stay with Deena. I’ll join in the search.”
Even though his back was turned, she sensed his smile. He knew exactly what she was really talking about. “I didn’t realize how steep and rocky it was out here.”
“A hill’s a hill; just keep going until you reach the top.” Although they both knew it wasn’t going up that was the dangerous part for Lucy—it was the coming down, especially given the scree fields, remnants of rockslides wide enough that they’d been visible from the air as they flew in. “I’ll be fine.”
He said nothing, simply filled their water bottles and handed Lucy hers. She slid it into its holster on the waistband of her pack and hoisted the pack to her shoulder. She was used to living out of her go-bag, but given the needs of a search and rescue were quite different than law enforcement or an investigation, it actually weighed less now than usual. No Kevlar, no extra ammo—technically she shouldn’t even be carrying into wilderness areas, but she felt naked without her guns—and she’d left space for maps and any rescue gear the search team might need her to carry.
They headed back out the door and down the hill to the main building. Lucy led them around the opposite way than they had come, avoiding the zoo. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the animals. The alternative route gave them a chance to see the hot springs side of the building. Lucy was surprised. Instead of the Old Faithful type of basin she’d imagined, it was a regular concrete pool enclosed by glass walls and a peaked ceiling. The water gave off a sulfur smell and there was a haze of steam above its slightly greenish surface, but other than that she’d never know it was anything but a normal swimming pool.
Judith was right: this place was not the fairytale dream her late husband had envisioned. An eagle’s shadow crossed Lucy’s path, and she glanced up…and up and up, her gaze searching for the top of the mountain peak towering over them. Her vision filled with more shades of green than she could name. The air smelled of pine sap and the subtle honey scent of wildflowers, while the sky stretched out even wider than the mountain crags, promising infinity.
No manmade attraction could ever compete with this beauty. No wonder Bill loved it here.
Nick reached the van before Lucy did. Judith was waiting, watching as Lucy used her walking stick to swing into the van without putting excessive weight on her ankle. She thought she managed it quite gracefully, no stumble or hint of weakness, but Judith still frowned as she slammed the door and made her way to the driver’s seat.
They followed a paved road east. A few miles out of town the pavement abruptly stopped, giving way to a well-packed dirt road with gravel ground into its surface. Another two miles and Lucy spotted a group of vehicles parked, blocking the narrow road. They ranged from pickup trucks to Subarus to large SUVs. People gathered on the far side of them, listening to a man in a dark green Forest Service uniform. He was black, mid-twenties, and exuded a sense of authority.
“That’s Gleason,” Judith told them as she parked behind an ancient Bronco. “Local ranger. Knows these woods better than anyone.”
“He’s in charge of the search?” Lucy asked, knowing she’d have to make her case to him. She extended her walking stick, noting that several of the other volunteers gathered also had sticks of their own, ranging from elaborately carved staffs and ski poles to random branches.
“Yep,” Judith answered, leading the way as they wove past the vehicles to where a gray-haired woman dressed in sheriff’s department khakis sat on a truck bed, a sheaf of papers weighted down by a rock on one side, a topo map spread open on her other, colored with highlighted areas and scribbled notations. Behind her were an open laptop and a walkie-talkie. “But Harriet here is the power behind the throne.” She raised a hand and caught Harriet’s attention. “Harriet, this is Lucy and Nick. They’re here to help—friends of Bill’s from out east.”
The last made Harriet squint in their direction, assessing them. Lucy stood straight, shifting her pack so it rested easily on her shoulders. Harriet nodded to Nick, but her lips thinned as she scrutinized Lucy. “You’re the FBI agent.”
“Yes ma’am,” Lucy answered, not sure of the right tack to take with Harriet.
Harriet made a grunting noise and thrust clipboards at Lucy and Nick. “Fill it out, bring it back, and we’ll see what we can make of you.”