Ellie almost didn’t take the call. If her date hadn’t been so completely, utterly, and excruciatingly boring, she would’ve let it go to voice mail. Thanks to Dylan’s never-ending monologue about his triathlon training, she seized the opportunity to escape when her phone made her tiny purse vibrate under her hand. Ellie didn’t care who it was—a reminder from her dentist would have been better than listening to Dylan talk about how brick workouts affected his lower GI tract.
“Please excuse me,” she interrupted with an apologetic smile as she pulled the phone from her purse. “I have to take this.”
Sliding off her barstool, she booked it as fast as her stilettos would take her toward the ladies’ room. On the way, she tapped the screen to accept the call.
“Hello?” She fully expected it to be a telemarketer, since Ellie didn’t recognize the number. The seven-one-nine area code covered a big chunk of South-Central Colorado.
“Eleanor?” a male voice asked.
“This is she.” Definitely a telemarketer. No one who knew her well called her by her full name. It was worth listening to this guy’s sales pitch, though, just to get away from the brain-sucking boredom that was her date.
“Eleanor.”
The voice sounded familiar. She frowned, trying to place how she knew the caller as she ducked into the bathroom. It was empty and blessedly quiet compared to the loud music and chatter filling the main part of the club. “Yes?”
“Just…just wanted to say sorry to you, baby.”
As recognition hit, Ellie’s fingers went numb, and she almost dropped the phone. When she tried to speak, only a faint wheeze emerged from her throat.
“They’re coming for me,” he continued, his words fast and urgent. “I’ve managed to get away from them so far, but I wanted… I wanted to tell you, just in case. I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“Dad?” she finally managed to squeeze out of lungs compressed with shock.
“Yeah, baby girl. It’s me. I haven’t… I haven’t been a good dad. I know that. I know. But I wanted to say I’m sorry. I love you, baby. I’ve always loved you, but things are just not right…not right in my head. If I could’ve been a better dad, I would have. I would.”
Her knees felt wobbly, and she slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. “I know, Dad.” Her voice shook as badly as her knees. “I know you can’t help how you are. I love you, too.”
“They’re trying to kill me, baby. Trying to keep me quiet. I can’t, I can’t… He’s trying to keep me quiet. I’m going to hide, though. I’ll do my best to stay alive. I want… I want to try again with you, try to be better this time. Will you…would that be okay?”
“Yeah, Dad.” Tipping her head back against the wall, Ellie closed her eyes. “That would be great.”
“Good. Good.” His words slowed for just an instant before the anxious patter started again. “I’m going to Grandpa’s cabin. I took you there that one summer, do you remember? The cabin? We had fun, didn’t we? You had fun?”
“I remember.” Her voice broke on the last word. “We did have fun.” She’d been ten, and they’d had a great time—at least until Baxter had had an episode and barricaded them both inside the cabin. Getting them out had required the efforts of a SWAT team and several law enforcement agencies. That had been Ellie’s last unsupervised visit with her father.
“No one else knows about it. I should be…should stay hidden. They won’t find me there. As soon as it’s safe, I’ll come find you, okay? We’ll try again. I’ll be a better dad this time. I promise. Promise, promise.”
The alarm bells going off in her head finally penetrated her shock and sadness, and she sat up straight. “I believe you, Dad. Why don’t you come to me right away? You don’t need to go to the cabin.” The thought of her mentally ill and obviously unmedicated father wandering alone in the wilderness was terrifying. “I can pick you up. Where are you?”
“At Gray Goose’s house. They killed him, baby girl. Chopped off his head and dumped him in the reservoir. They’ll kill me, too, if I don’t hide. Need to hide. Can’t die, can’t die. If I die, I’ll never get to try again with you, baby, and I know I can do better. I’ll do better.”
“I know you will, Dad, but you don’t have to hide. I’ll come get you. I’ll keep you safe, okay? They won’t be able to get you if you’re with me. What’s the address?”
“No, no, no. Don’t come to Simpson, baby. They can’t get you. Not you, not you. Stay away from them. They’ll kill you, too. Not you, not my baby girl.” He grew more and more agitated with each word.
“Dad, it’s okay. They won’t get me.” The monsters in Baxter’s head only tormented him. “I’m safe. I need to get you safe, too.”
“I’m going to the cabin. I’ll hide there. You stay away. You stay away, baby. You need to stay far away.”
“Dad…” Her phone gave the double beep of a lost signal. “Dad!”
She fumbled to call the number, but it immediately went to an automated message telling her that the voice mail was full. A sob caught her by surprise, and she pressed a hand over her mouth as if to physically hold it back.
The restroom door swung open, and a pair of laughing women walked inside. When they saw her, their smiles immediately died.
“Are you okay?” one of them asked.
Ellie suddenly realized how she must look, makeup smeared, sitting on the bathroom floor in a dress that definitely wasn’t designed for that. Taking a shaky breath, she tried to force a reassuring smile.
“Yes, thank you.” Ellie climbed awkwardly to her feet, flattening her hands against the wall when her legs shook, threatening to send her back to the floor. “I just got some bad news. A family issue.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Both women looked at her sympathetically. Now that she was on her feet, they must’ve decided she wasn’t in need of their assistance, because they headed for the stalls. Ellie took tentative steps to one of the sinks. Her face looked pale, her skin undershot with green, and her hazel eyes were huge. She did a cursory job fixing her makeup, took several deep breaths that weren’t any less shaky than the first one, and left the restroom.
Dylan was waiting where she’d left him. Although it felt like the phone call had taken hours, it had probably only been ten minutes, tops, since her cell had vibrated. She wove her way through the crowd until she was next to him and plucked her sweater off of her stool.
“Dylan,” she said, leaning close to his ear so he could hear. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and she couldn’t stop herself from flinching. Even shielded by the barrier of her dress, her skin felt oversensitive, as if every nerve was exposed. Ellie resisted the urge to shove away his arm, reminding herself that he was her boss’s friend. Later, when her father was safe, she could gently give him the brush-off. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Family emergency.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” He knocked back the rest of his drink and stood. “I’ll drive you home.”
She cringed inwardly. Over the past hour, she’d watched him drink two and a half martinis, and he’d just finished off the third. “Thank you, but I’ll catch the L. There’s a stop right by my apartment building.”
“Sure?” When she nodded, Dylan sat down again. “Okay. It’s been fun. I’ll call you, and we can do this again sometime.” When he leaned in as if to kiss her, Ellie twisted free of his arm. Boss’s friend or no, he wasn’t getting a kiss. Diplomacy had its limits.
“See you.” After giving him a wave and a forced smile a few feet out of groping reach, she hurried toward the exit. Before she’d even left the club, Ellie had forgotten about Dylan. Her mind was filled instead with worry for another man.
The chilly air smacked her in the face as she stepped outside, and she hurried to pull on her long sweater. The fine, soft knit didn’t offer much protection from the cold Lake Michigan wind, but it was slightly better than just the thin material of her dress. Turning right, she skirted the line of people waiting to enter the club. It was still early for a Saturday night, not even eleven, and Chicago’s downtown was thick with both pedestrian and vehicle traffic.
Instead of heading toward the nearest train station, Ellie decided to walk home. It was less than a mile northwest to her condo building, and she needed to move, or her anxiety would boil over. Her shoes weren’t the most uncomfortable ones she owned, although they were close. She’d been walking in heels for a decade, though, so she’d had years of training in ignoring discomfort.
Ellie realized she was picking at her cuticles and quickly yanked her hands apart. She thought she’d rid herself of that nervous habit, but it apparently took only one phone call from her dad to reduce her to the anxious teenager she’d once been.
Walking wasn’t enough. She needed to do something productive, or she was going to run down the street, screaming. Digging her phone out of her purse, she stared at the time on the screen for several seconds before pulling up her contacts and tapping her mom’s number.
As she held the cell phone to her ear, she realized her hand was creeping up toward her mouth. Ellie dropped it to her side and made a disgusted sound. The only thing worse than picking at her cuticles was chewing on her hangnails.
“El?” Her mother’s voice sounded worried. “What’s wrong?”
“Hi, Mom. Sorry I’m calling so late. Did I wake you?”
“It’s not quite nine here.” Her mom had moved to California a few years before. “I’m not that old yet.”
Normally, Ellie would have laughed at that, but the tight ball of nerves in her stomach wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she stayed silent.
“Did the date with Chelsea’s friend not go well?” her mom asked, the sharp edge of worry in her voice fading to general concern.
“No. I mean, it wasn’t great, but that’s not why I called.” Taking a deep breath, she blurted, “Dad’s in trouble.”
Silence greeted her announcement. As she waited for her mom to speak, Ellie counted her footsteps, heels clicking on the pavement. One. Two. Three. Four. Five…
“Honey.” There it was—the tone. Ellie had forgotten about the way her mom’s words came out slow and heavy, thick with a mixture of fatigue and condescension, whenever she talked about her ex-husband. “You can’t let him pull you into his drama.”
“It’s not drama, Mom.” Her hand hovered by her mouth again, and she impatiently yanked it away. “He’s sick, and he’s scared, and I need to go get him.”
“He’ll just drag you down with him.” The tone had sharpened with added irritation. “I know you love him, sweetie, but you can’t fix him. You can’t make him take his meds, and, without them, he’s not safe to be around.”
“He’s never hurt me.” She closed her eyes for a second, ashamed at the sullen cast to her voice. Why did interacting with her parents reduce her to a thirteen-year-old? “I just want to bring him to a safe place. He’s trying to get to Grandpa’s cabin.”
“Scott’s cabin?” Her mom sounded startled. “In Colorado?”
“Yes. The one he took me to when I was ten.” When Ellie heard the inhale on the other end of the call, she grimaced. It had been a mistake to bring that up. After their extraction from the cabin, her mother hadn’t let Ellie out of her sight for days, and any mention of Baxter had turned Ellie’s mom blotchy red with rage.
“What is he doing? That place isn’t even accessible by car until June at the earliest. He’ll have to hike—no—” Her mom interrupted herself. “I can’t do this. You can’t do this. El, you need to separate yourself from him.”
“I can’t just leave him,” Ellie said softly, stopping at the entrance of her building. Tilting back her head, she stared, unseeing, at the layers of metal balconies above her.
“Yes.” Her mother had her stern, you-will-listen-to-me voice going. “You can. You have to. Think of all the times we tried to help him and just got sucked into his mixed-up mess. For your own sanity, you need to stay clear of him.”
The balconies grew blurry, and she scrubbed away tears with the hand not holding the phone. “But I haven’t. I haven’t tried to help him, ever. He’d visit for an hour, looking so lost and desperate, and I’d be polite to him. When he’d leave, I’d feel relieved. If you’d heard him on the phone… Mom, he’s so scared.”
“There’s no real threat, El. It’s in his head.”
“But there is a threat!” She brushed at her cheeks, but her tears flowed faster than she could wipe them away. “You said it yourself. He’ll have to hike to the cabin. There’s no running water, and who knows if Dad will bring food, and he’s going to hide there until he feels safe. The monsters are always with him, though, so he’ll never feel safe.”
Her mom sighed loudly. “You can’t save him, El.”
“Not from his brain.” Her breath left her lungs on a hiccup. “But I’m going to find him, and I’m going to take him somewhere where he won’t freeze to death hiding from the boogeyman.”
“El…”
“I’m sorry, Mom, but I have to do this. If I don’t, and something happens to him, I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“I lived with the man for fifteen years, El. I tried, over and over, to fix him. You’re just inviting heartache.”
“Better heartache than regret.” Ellie took a deep, shuddering breath. “Can you give me directions to Grandpa’s cabin?”
“I’m not helping you chase after him, El.” The tone was back. “I can’t stop you, but I’m not going to encourage this.”
Ellie was silent as she resisted the urge to whine. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll figure it out. Bye, Mom.”
“El…”
Hearing a lecture approaching, Ellie ended the call.
* * *
That night, she lay in bed and ran the conversation with her father through her mind, over and over. When she’d asked him where he was, he’d said “Gray Goose’s house.” What did that mean? Was it just nonsensical rambling, and she was being an idiot for taking it literally?
He’d also mentioned “Simpson,” telling her not to come there. That sounded more logical than Gray Goose. She reached for her phone and pulled up the Web browser. After entering Simpson, she hesitated, then typed in “Colorado.”
When the results appeared, she saw that Simpson, Colorado, was a tiny mountain town in Field County. Her heart jumped in excitement and nervousness as she stared at the small screen. There it was, the starting point for finding her father—the place that would either be the scene of a heartwarming, father-daughter reunion…or a grim tragedy.
* * *
“You’re going to do what?” Chelsea stared at Ellie, her mouth open. Even with her current shocked expression, Ellie’s redheaded boss was beautiful—tall, slender, and perfectly polished.
“I’m going to Colorado to find my dad.” Ellie focused on keeping the box-cutter blade straight, slicing a perfectly even line across the packing tape. “Since I’m off tomorrow and Tuesday, I shouldn’t have to take any vacation time.”
“But…” Chelsea’s mouth closed with a click of teeth. “Isn’t your dad, well, crazy?” She hissed the last word in a loud whisper, even though no one else was in the store with them.
“That’s why I need to get him,” Ellie explained, pushing back the instinctive urge to defend her father. “He’s too…vulnerable to be wandering around in the middle of nowhere. I’m going to bring him back here and hopefully talk him into staying at a mental health facility in Chicago until he’s back on his meds and stabilized.” Saying it out loud made Ellie realize how many “ifs” were in her plan—if she found him, if she could convince him to return with her, if he’d be willing to get treatment… It was a definite long shot, this plan of hers.
“Wow.” Chelsea leaned against the jewelry display case as Ellie pulled out a stack of cashmere scarves. “That’s intense. I call my dad crazy, but that’s just when he wears two different-colored socks, not when he runs around in the mountains, thinking the aliens want to suck out his brain or something.” Reaching over to the stack of scarves, Chelsea stroked the top one. “These are gorge.”
“Yes.” Although her eyes were on the newly arrived merchandise, her thoughts were still on the town of Simpson.
“Hey!” Chelsea’s hand left the scarf to slap Ellie on the shoulder. “You never told me how your date with Dylan went! Spill, chicklet! How was it?”
“Uh…” Horribly boring. “Short. My dad called early into it, so we barely got past introductions.”
“Well, short or not, he liked you.”
Ellie gave Chelsea a confused look. “How do you know?”
“He texted me when you were in the bathroom or something.” Chelsea pulled her cell out of her pocket and tapped at the screen. “Here.” She held up the phone so Ellie could read the text.
UR frnd is HOT. Lks like chick usd 2 B on Vamp Dairies.
Her nose wrinkled involuntarily.
“What?” Chelsea demanded, turning the phone so she could read the text. “It’s sweet. He thinks you look like Nina Dobrev.”
“He used text-speak. And he spelled ‘Diaries’ wrong—unless there’s a new show about bloodsucking cows that I haven’t seen yet. And I look nothing like Nina Dobrev.”
“Don’t be such a snob.” After tucking her phone back in her pocket, Chelsea put her hands on her hips. “Dylan’s awesome, has a good job and a great body. If I hadn’t stuck him in the friend zone, like, a year ago, I’d so be all over that. And you have Nina Dobrev’s hair.”
“It’s just…” Ellie tried to smooth out her scrunched face. “He talks about his triathlon training a lot.”
“So? That’s what he’s interested in.”
Chelsea’s tone had sharpened, and Ellie suppressed a wince. She wasn’t handling the conversation well. “I know.” She tried to make her voice placating. “He seems like a great guy. I was just distracted by that call from my dad.”
After a long look, Chelsea’s glare softened slightly. “That was probably it. Because Dylan’s amazing. If you were focused on him, you’d see that.”
“Sure.” Normally, Chelsea was a fun boss and roommate, but she had definite opinions and got a little contrary if she didn’t get her way. Occasionally, she required careful handling. Today, with the whole Baxter situation hanging over her head, Ellie was fumbling. A subject change was in order. “You’re right about these scarves—they’re beautiful. How much do you want to charge for them?”
Chelsea switched topics willingly enough, but Ellie couldn’t keep her mind from wandering to her upcoming rescue mission. She’d mapped the route from her condo to Simpson, and it was just over a thousand miles. If she drove, it would take sixteen hours—without breaks. She definitely needed breaks. As much as she hated to spend some of her savings on a plane ticket and rental car, driving all that way just seemed crazy. Besides, didn’t everyone in Colorado need to drive Jeeps and Hummers to navigate the mountain roads? Her beloved, middle-aged Prius probably wouldn’t cut it.
“El!” Chelsea’s sharp tone cut through her tumbling thoughts. “Are you listening?”
“Of course I’m listening, and you’re absolutely right, Chels,” Ellie soothed with the ease of long practice, her mind still running over travel plans.
Chelsea’s irritated frown smoothed into a smile. “So you think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s brilliant.” Ellie had no idea what the other woman was proposing, and, honestly, she didn’t really care. Her father was lost, and Ellie was going to find him—no matter what it took.
* * *
Squinting against the glare of the sun reflecting off snow, Ellie fumbled for her sunglasses. In Denver, the tulips and daffodils had poked their heads out of the ground already, and the day’s temperature was supposed to hit seventy degrees. Who knew the mountains still had snow?
Then again, the peaks were white, which could’ve been a clue. She slowed her rental car as she approached a curve at the base of the pass where a flashing sign warned of possible ice on the road. It felt as if she’d reversed time two months during the two-hour drive from Denver. Maybe she should’ve splurged and rented an SUV at the Denver Airport rather than the more economical compact.
She sped up again as the road straightened. Although she’d been tempted to head to Simpson as soon as her shift at the boutique had ended the evening before, Ellie had gritted her teeth and bought a plane ticket—at a price that made her wince—for a flight leaving early the following morning. After being on the road for close to three hours, she was desperate to stop. It was already past noon, though, and she had only another day and a half to find her father and return them both to Chicago. Besides, there wasn’t anywhere to stop. The high plains stretched in waves of white in all directions, the barren landscape unbroken until it bumped up against the surrounding mountains. Ellie carefully kept her gaze on the road so the emptiness, the feeling that she was the only person alive in this achingly lonely place, wouldn’t reduce her to a useless, terrified heap.
Steering around another looping turn, she saw signs of civilization just as her GPS announced that she’d arrived at her destination. She slowed as she started passing structures—a feed store, a gas station, a ratty-looking motel—and then she abruptly turned the rental into the parking lot of a small building. A large sign above it introduced it as The Coffee Spot.
Her body craved a shot of caffeine almost as much as it desired a restroom, and this place would most likely offer both. She parked the car between two pickup trucks. As she got out of her rental, she eyed the vehicles that bracketed her. They loomed over her, making her car look miniature.
The air was thin and cold, despite the sun. Shivering, she wrapped the open sides of her cardigan around her. The single-button style was cute, but she would have appreciated several more buttons at the moment.
She closed and locked her car, then took a step toward the shop. Without warning, her heeled ankle booties slid out from under her, flying up in the air and sending her crashing onto her butt. The blow jarred her tailbone painfully, and she took a moment to shake off the shock of the fall before taking inventory. Except for her throbbing coccyx, all her other body parts seemed to be unharmed. She shifted to her hands and knees on the slick, packed snow.
An enormous hand appeared in front of her face. Startled, she glanced up at the person connected to the offered hand, first taking in his booted feet and working her way up his legs and torso before finally landing on his bearded face. He wasn’t a man; he was a mountain.
The mountain was frowning, and Ellie realized she was rudely staring at her would-be helper. “Thank you,” she rushed out, grabbing his gloved hand. As her fingers curled around his, she took in how small her hand looked in comparison to his oversized mitt. It reminded her of how her car appeared next to the pickups.
He pulled, easily lifting her to a standing position, and she scrambled to get her feet underneath her. The icy footing was unforgiving, and her free arm swung wildly until she latched onto the stranger’s other hand. When she finally got her balance, she still clung to him, not wanting to let go of her anchor and start flailing again.
After several seconds passed, though, it started to feel a little awkward. “Sorry,” she said, reluctantly loosening her grip. “And thank you. I’d be flat on my back again if it weren’t for your help.”
He didn’t release her now-limp hands. Ellie looked from his frowning face to her captured fingers and back again.
“Uh…I think I’m okay now. You can probably let me go.”
Apparently, the mountain didn’t agree. Still gripping her hands, he dropped his frowning gaze to her booties.
“I know.” She grimaced, interpreting his look as silent criticism of her footwear. “These were the closest thing I had to winter boots, though.”
His hands finally dropped hers, and Ellie pasted on a polite smile, ready to give the giant a final thank-you and very slowly shuffle her way to the coffee shop door. Before she could open her mouth, though, his hands latched around her waist, and he lifted her as if she were a doll.
Her thank-you turned into an indrawn shriek. “What are you…? Put me down!”
Ignoring her order, he took several sure-footed strides toward the entrance of the shop and set her on the mat in front of the door. Then, without a word, he turned and walked to one of the trucks.
Openmouthed, Ellie watched as he got into the driver’s seat and drove out of the lot, not even giving her another glance. When the truck disappeared, she blinked and turned toward the door. A small group of people crowded around the glass door and window, staring at her. Startled, Ellie took a step back, and everyone inside hurried to turn away from her.
Ellie waited another few seconds as the people inside the shop pretended like they hadn’t been watching the whole time she’d been carried to the door by a mountain.
“This is a weird town,” she muttered, and pulled open the door.