10

BETWEEN TAKOTNA AND OPHIR, ALASKA
MARCH 12, 8:30 A.M.

Kayden flew while Jake scanned the frozen ground several hundred feet below. He tried to ignore the tiny black pouch nestled in his front jean pocket, the outline of the ring pressing against his thigh. He’d been about to propose when the call came in from Reef. Now he’d have to wait for the opportune moment, but keeping silent was burning his lungs.

Kayden dipped the nose of the Cessna, making another sweep of the rugged trail as the sun rose full in the sky—a rare sight, and one they didn’t expect to have for long, since the infernal gray cloud cover was moving in again. They’d flown over a couple of the lead mushers, who were pressing toward Ophir after only taking a few hours to rest in Takotna—unlike the majority of the mushers, who had chosen to take the twenty-four-hour rest required at some point of the race in the well-equipped village.

The twenty-three-mile route between Takotna and Ophir was a series of switchbacks climbing up the ridge, making travel difficult for the mushers and dogs alike. So far there was no sign of Frank, his neon-green coat always an Iditarod standout.

Kayden swung around the last of the switchbacks, and Jake hollered, “There.”

“What?”

“I think we’ve got a musher in trouble.” He peered down at a sled flipped sideways along the northwest side of the ridge.

“I’m going to have to track west past the trail to find a landing spot.”

He peered at the dogs tangled on their line, no sign of the musher. He could be pinned beneath his sled. “Do it.”

Kayden landed the plane—skis attached to the wheels—and they disembarked. They took time to pull on their necessary winter gear. It’d be a couple-mile hike back to where he’d spotted the downed musher, and the temps were still below zero.

The air was frigid, but crisp—just how Jake liked it. He appreciated the sun peeking through the cloud cover, but it wouldn’t last long—another storm was headed their way.

When they reached the overturned sled, the dogs howled at their approach.

“Hello? Who’s there?” a man asked.

“Iditarod SAR,” Jake answered, following the sound of the man’s voice.

“Thank goodness. I’m down here.”

Jake peered over the ridge to find Warren Hunt—two-time Iditarod champ—clinging to a narrow outcrop, his body flush with the ice-covered rock wall. Jake took in the hundred-foot drop below—Warren was one lucky man. “Hang on. We’ll get you up.”

He looked back at Kayden, who was already assessing their options. She scrounged through Warren’s gear bag. It had been tossed twenty feet from the sled but remained intact. She pulled out a rope and held it aloft.

Jake held out his hand. “Toss it here.”

“I can climb down to him.”

Of course she’d want to go the adventurous route. “No need. I’ll anchor the rope and send it down to him. He can climb up.”

She exhaled. “Fine. I’ll right the sled.”

“Wait and we’ll help you.”

“I’m quite capable.”

“I have no doubt where that’s concerned, but the dogs might try and bolt when the sled’s upright. Better him”—Jake gestured with a tilt of his chin to Warren—“handling the dogs while you and I right it.”

Kayden nodded, agreeing but clearly not pleased. Always so strong willed and yearning for adventure—it was a big part of why he loved her. Why he wanted her to be his wife.

Jake secured the rope around his waist and lowered the rest of it down to Warren. Digging his boots into the snow, he braced himself to hold Warren’s weight. Slowly but steadily, Warren climbed up hand over hand, his feet wrapped around the rope. He crested the edge of the ridge, and Kayden, lying flat on her stomach for stability, hefted him up onto solid ground. Warren moved straight for his team and exhaled in relief to find none of them injured.

“What happened?” Jake asked after they’d righted his sled and he’d seen to his dogs. “Get too close to the ridge?” It was easy enough to do, even for an expert musher like Warren Hunt.

“Only because a snowmobile nearly ran us right off the mountain.”

“What?”

“I caught a glimpse of Frank Weber off course, down there . . .” He gestured to the valley beneath the ridge. “I tried to wave him down. See if he needed help. He’s been off grid since Rainy Pass. Before I could flag his attention, this snowmobile came out of nowhere. I had to bank right to avoid being hit head on and ended up where you found me.”

The first visual on Frank in nearly three days. What was he doing? What could the kidnappers possibly want him to do out in this rugged, desolate part of the state they loved? And why try to take out Warren? Just because he’d spotted Frank? Probably because he could report Frank’s location to SAR volunteers, and the men behind the kidnapping wanted to keep Frank isolated and on track.

“Can you describe the snowmobile or its rider?” Kayden asked.

“Obnoxious.” Warren situated himself on the sled. “Probably some bored kid who lives out here and thought it’d be funny to shake things up a bit.” He shook his head with a disgusted sigh and swung an arm toward his team. “His idea of fun could have got us all injured or killed.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Kayden said.

Jake nodded in agreement. He was thankful Warren and his team were safe, but he didn’t share his assessment of a foolish youth looking for a thrill as the cause of his accident. It was the man watching Frank, making sure no one intercepted or interacted with Frank Weber. He felt confident of it. “Is there anything you remember about the man or his ride?” he asked.

“It happened so fast. I think the snowmobile was white, which is why I didn’t see it until it was right upon us. I heard the engine but couldn’t lay eyes on it. Then, all of a sudden, it was whirring across our path.”

“And Frank?”

“No idea. I hope he’s not still off course. Once you stray from the path . . .” Warren gazed at the storm burgeoning along the darkening horizon. “Especially in these conditions. It’s easy to get lost—permanently.” He hunched his shoulders against the wind, tightening his hood around his face. “Speaking of weather—you two had better hurry on to Ophir or back to Takotna, or you’ll be grounded.”

“Thanks. Just one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell me exactly where Frank was? Which way he was headed?”

“He was on the north side of Furrow’s Ridge continuing north.”

Which made no sense, when the race course dropped south. But it gave them a place to start searching, and that was something. “Thanks.” Jake extended his hand.

“Thank you,” Warren said, giving his dogs the order to mush, and moments later he and his team disappeared into the white void.

Jake slid his gloved hands into his coat pockets. “What do you think?” He studied the sky—dark and massing with thick cloud cover. “Do we need to head back in?” They’d finally gotten a bead on Frank. If they missed this opportunity, who knew when, or if, they’d have another.

“Probably.” She leaned against him, warming him instantly. “But . . . this is our best shot at finding Frank. I say we give it a quick sweep before heading back.”

His thoughts exactly.

“You’re going to do what?” Gage said over the radio.

“We’ve got a bead on Frank Weber. We’re going to make a quick sweep over the area,” Jake repeated.

That’s what he thought Jake had said. “You know the weather is worsening. Zero visibility soon.”

“I know. We’re going to give it fifteen. If we don’t see a sign of him by then, we’ll head in.”

“Okay, but you know if you go down with zero visibility no one can come to help until this passes.”

Jake paused, then exhaled. “We’re aware of the risks.”

Gage shook his head, knowing he and Darcy—infuriatingly dogged woman that she was—would do the exact same, but he didn’t have to like their decision. That was his sister out there.

“Those are some dedicated volunteers,” Ethan said as he entered the room and settled back in the open chair beside him.

The two had been volunteering for the Iditarod for years—Ethan on communication and Gage typically on SAR. But this year they were both on communications, along with Xander Cook—another volunteer Gage had seen around the race before.

Gage reclined in his chair, stretching his legs out. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Are they talking about Frank Weber?”

“Yeah. He’s been MIA since Rainy Pass.”

“I heard he pulled out of the race,” Xander said, coming up behind them with three cans of soda. He tossed them each one, then popped his own open.

“Missing checkpoints means he’s out whether he wants to be or not.” Ethan took a swig of root beer.

“So why are they still searching?” Xander propped himself on the corner of the folding table serving as a desk.

Gage set his soda down. “To make sure he’s okay. It’s odd for a competitor to bail on a race but stay out in the field.”

Ethan swiped his mouth. “You think Frank’s lost?”

“Perhaps.” Though his avoidance of the checkpoints certainly seemed intentional.

“Or injured?” Xander offered.

“Another possibility.” But it appeared he was not, from what Jake had said about Warren Hunt’s sighting.

“Well, he’s lucky your sister and her boyfriend are so dedicated.” Ethan glanced at the data streaming in on the laptop screen.

Gage leaned forward. “Anything interesting?”

“Storm’s moving in, but you already know that. No mushers missing, other than Frank Weber.”

“That’s good.” Gage got to his feet. “I think I’ll take my break and grab a bite.”

Ethan glanced back at the kitchen. “Enjoy that gorgeous girlfriend of yours.”

“Always.” Gage smiled. She was the light of his life.

Entering the kitchen, he found Darcy hunched over her laptop at the far table.

“How’s it going?” he asked, swooping in beside her.

“Gage!” She swatted him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Okay, maybe a little. He loved getting the best of her—it happened so rarely.

“Guess I was engrossed.” She smiled, finally looking away from her work for more than a millisecond.

Gage lifted an orange from his sack and started peeling it—citrus infusing the air. “I’m guessing you found something?”

Darcy glanced around the room and slid closer to Gage so her shoulder was flush against his. Now he was engrossed.

She lifted her notes, glancing around again to be sure no one was paying particular attention to them and then whispered, “I’m waiting to hear back on a couple favors I called in, but it looks like Frank Jacobs has a record.”

He tried to ignore the tantalizing feel of her breath along his neck, her vanilla scent mixing with the citrus. “Really?”

“Yep. Frank Weber is clean, but Frank Jacobs was involved in a breaking and entering on Kodiak that appears to have gone very wrong.” She couldn’t hide her smile. Uncovering the truth was what she lived for.

An hour of disturbing images later, the video mercifully ended.

Reef leaned over and whispered, “I see what Ashley means about kindling a fire.”

Kirra nodded.

She’d been doing a lot of that lately. Nodding silently—which was so unlike the Kirra he knew. Normally, he couldn’t shut her up. Here she was different. Sullen. Guarded. She was afraid of something or someone on campus. He’d sensed it the moment she’d reluctantly agreed to visit the university, and her increasing discomfort with each passing minute was palpable. Something was wrong, something that reached far deeper than Meg’s disappearance.

The lights switched on, and the professor answered a few questions before dismissing the class.

Reef and Kirra headed against the flow of traffic, moving down the steps to the front of the auditorium as the rest of the students piled out the exit doors at the rear of the building.

“Professor Baxter,” Reef said.

The man turned from slipping his laptop into his briefcase. “Yes?”

“Can we talk to you for a moment?”

“My office hours are from two to four, Tuesday and Thursday.”

“This will only take a few moments of your time, and it’s vitally important.”

“I appreciate your attempt at brevity, but when it comes to the state of the environment, believe me, there are no quick questions or answers for that matter.”

“This isn’t about the environment.”

“Oh?” He frowned.

“We’d like to ask you about one of your students. Meg Weber.”

He slid his laptop in the case. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss my students.”

“She’s my cousin,” Kirra said, “and she’s missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes.”

“A lot of college students appear to be missing now and again, but they always turn up.”

How could the man be so nonchalant about such a topic?

“It’s their first time away from home, their first taste of real freedom, and when they embrace it, they are often assumed missing by overbearing, frantic parents whose need to control borders on the obsessive.”

Reef was guessing the man didn’t have a college-age daughter or he’d probably view the situation very differently.

“No. She’s definitely missing,” Kirra said, her voice tight.

His brows hiked up. “If that’s the case, why aren’t the police here?”

“It’s a long story,” Reef said.

“I see.” He rocked back on his heels. “Well, I’m sure the police are doing what they can. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped past them, heading for the door.

“Please, wait,” Kirra said. “She is missing and in danger. It’s complicated, but if you could just tell us the last time you saw her, it could be of great help.”

He paused on a long exhale. “Who did you say your cousin is?”

“Meg Weber.”

“Meg Weber . . . Ah, young redhead.”

“Yes.”

“I think she was in my Friday lecture, but I can’t be certain. You’ve seen the size of my classes.”

“She was supposed to leave Friday afternoon for Anchorage to see her father off in the Iditarod, but we believe she went elsewhere.”

“Such as?”

“We don’t know. We spoke with her roommate, and she mentioned that Meg was really getting into fighting for the environment,” Reef said, hoping he worded his sentence in a way that would grab the professor’s attention. As of yet, he seemed disinterested at best.

“And so you assume . . . what?”

“Her roommate didn’t know the names of Meg’s new friends, but she thought you might. She thought maybe they might have seen Meg last or known where she was headed.”

“Seems farfetched.”

“Right now it’s our only lead.”

“Well, that’s pitiful.”

“Can you help us?”

“I’m not going to give out student names, but I will tell you that the ROW group is meeting in the student union right now. The students that are currently on campus, at least.”

“And where would the rest of the group’s members be?”

“At a Save the Whales rally in Seward.”

“Thank you, Professor Baxter. If you think of anything else that might be helpful—anything at all—would you give us a call?”

Kirra fished out a business card for Nanook Haven and scribbled her cell number on the back.

“Kirra Jacobs?” He tapped the card. “That name . . .”

Kirra shrunk back, nearly hiding behind Reef.

“She graduated from here,” Reef said. “Maybe she took one of your classes.” He looked to Kirra.

“No. I didn’t.” She tugged Reef’s arm. “Come on. We’ve taken up enough of Professor Baxter’s time.”

“When did you graduate?”

“She graduated from the vet school two years ago,” Reef said as Kirra practically dragged him toward the door.

“Huh. Well, I’m sure it’ll come to me . . . Kirra Jacobs.” His hand stilled. “Kirra. You’re the one who . . .” Contempt oozed from his voice.

Kirra’s shoulders dropped as her hand wrapped tight on the door handle.

“I suggest you wrap up your business and leave campus immediately.”

Leave? Reef looked to Kirra, who looked mortified.

“If she’s your cousin, I’m sure the circumstances surrounding her supposed disappearance have been greatly exaggerated,” Baxter said.

Reef turned, moving back for Baxter. “Excuse me? How dare you insinuate . . .”

“Come on, Reef.” Kirra tugged him through the door and shut it behind them.

“Be careful with that one,” Baxter hollered after them, his angry voice echoing down the long cinderblock hall. “When it comes to insinuation, she’s a pro.”

Kirra’s heart raced in her chest, her stomach swirling in a rapid pull that threatened to knock her to her knees.

“Why did you yank me out of there?” Reef asked. “He can’t talk to you like that.”

She was shocked that’s all Professor Baxter had said. She’d forgotten how close William and he had been—the mentor and mentee, now apparently colleagues in the same department. William had clearly covered his tracks by staging his version of the events with his mentor. She could just imagine the conversation, the lies William had told Baxter.

An icy chill shot through her and she pitched forward.

“Whoa!” Reef’s strong arm wrapped around her waist. “You okay?”

She grabbed the wall for support, her head spinning. “I’m fine. Just need”—to get away from here—“some fresh air.”

“You’re shivering.” He pulled her into his embrace, and she fought the urge to simply collapse into his hold, but he wasn’t her savior.

This was Reef McKenna, after all.

Despite the changes she’d witnessed in him, and the change in her feelings toward him, she couldn’t throw caution to the wind. Couldn’t trust him to keep her safe or to be the man she’d been praying for. This was Reef—irresponsible, playboy, and risk taker. Far too much like William.

“Hey, relax.” Reef rubbed her arm, trying to warm her. “I’ve got you.”

“Can we go please?”

“To meet with the ROW group?”

Ugh. She couldn’t leave. Not until she’d followed every possible lead. Her cousin’s life hung in the balance.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to compose herself and feeling like an utter fool for letting Reef see her fall apart. Maybe she really was the drama queen William claimed her to be. The thought reduced her to tears, but she quickly covered them with a false sneeze.

Reef appraised her. “Are you . . . ?”

“Sneeze made my eyes water.” She inhaled and swiped at her eyes, shouldering her strength for the next step—visiting the ROW group. “Let’s go. Baxter said they’re meeting now. We don’t want to miss our opportunity.”

Reef followed after her, his worried expression saying he wasn’t buying any of it. Great.

Please, Father, give me the strength for this. I may make a show of being tough, but I feel like a lost little kid. But I’m not alone. Your Word says you’ll never leave me or forsake me. Help me cling to your promises and know you are the one I can always trust. Shelter me under the shadow of your wing until I’m out of this horrid place.

Reef followed closely behind Kirra. She was walking strong and purposefully, but her entire physique was tense. What was going on? What was she battling by returning here, and why wouldn’t she confide in him so he could protect her?

Baxter’s words, along with his arrogance and condescension toward Kirra, had Reef’s ire fully riled—his Irish heritage had spurred him to confront the insult head on. But the utter desperation in Kirra’s eyes and voice when she’d pleaded for them to go had nearly broken his heart. He needed to get her off campus as quickly as possible. But for Meg’s sake that couldn’t be quite yet.

He took a deep breath and slowly released it, preparing for a battle he’d fallen in the middle of. A battle he knew nothing about, other than that it had reduced Kirra Jacobs to tears, and that gnawed at his soul.

Kirra led Reef into the student union, praying with all her might that she wouldn’t run into William. The thought alone strangled her. She’d been able to avoid him thus far, and for that she was immensely grateful.

It took a while to locate the correct meeting room, but they knew they’d found it when they heard the words “annihilating Mother Nature’s glorious work.”

Everyone in the small room—all eight members—turned at their entrance.

“Hi,” Kirra said, scanning the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m looking for friends of Meg Weber’s.”

A lanky young man stood. “And you are?”

“I’m Meg’s cousin, and she’s missing.”

“What do you mean missing?” a second man asked.

Kirra explained what she could to the group. “Can any of you help us? Do any of you remember when you last saw Meg?”

A brunette about Kirra’s size raised her hand. “I saw Meg Friday afternoon—right before she left for Seward.”

“Seward?”

“Yeah, there’s a week-long Save the Whales rally going on up there. A contingent from ROW went, and Meg joined up last minute.”

“Why?”

The lanky man looked at her with disgust. “Because she cares that innocent sea creatures are being slaughtered by commercial fishermen who are heartlessly chasing after their daily quota.”

“I didn’t mean why she wanted to be there. I meant, why did she sign up last minute?”

“Oh.” At least he had the decency to try and look sheepish. “I think she was torn between going to the rally and supporting her dad at the Iditarod.”

“But she decided on the rally?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “She was really pumped about it.”

“Did she travel with anybody or go alone?” Reef asked.

The lanky guy looked at the brunette. “Emma?”

Emma crossed her legs. “I think she hitched a ride with Sam and the guys.”

“Sam?” Kirra asked.

“Sam Matthews. He’s our group leader. I’m pretty sure she decided to ride with him.”

“Could we get Sam’s cell number from you?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t bring his phone.”

Kirra frowned. “Why not?” Who didn’t carry their cell with them?

“Sam didn’t want to be distracted while at a protest or rally. Part of his creed.”

Kirra fought the urge to question said creed, but it was vital they stay on topic.

Emma stood and moved for the snack table. “If you want to talk to Sam, you’ll have to head up there.”

Seward was an eight-hour drive—in good weather. If they were following the wrong trail, it would cost them valuable time, but they had no other leads.