The next morning brought a diamond-hard frost and a clear sky the infinite turquoise of an Antarctic ice sheet. The needle on the porch barometer had sunk to 5 degrees.
Harper was disconsolate. She kept running to the window to check for the flat, dark nimbostratus clouds that portend snow.
“Where’s a good blizzard when you need one? Why is it sunny today of all days? Where is Storm Mindy? The sooner she dumps snow on the track to our cabin, the better I’ll like it. No chance of the owner dropping in unexpectedly then.”
She took off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. The snow glare hurt. She and Kat had barely slept. Huskies, it turned out, were doggy dynamos. If they weren’t kept entertained 24/7, they invented their own games. Two cushions, a dog-training manual, and one of Harper’s sneakers had already fallen victim to their eager jaws.
All night long, the huskies had taken it in turns to howl, whine, and scratch at the door for bathroom breaks or to chase one another over the furniture.
“Isn’t there a dog-whispering technique you can use to control them?” pleaded Harper, leaping to save a lamp knocked over by boisterous Matty.
“Of course, but it won’t solve the problem.” Kat lay on the fireside rug between Nomad and Fleet. “Huskies hate being cooped up, especially if they’re used to tons of exercise. See how lean and muscly these two are? Whoever owns them is either a fitness fanatic who takes them on marathon bike rides or runs, or a musher who—”
“What’s a musher?”
“Someone who drives a dogsled. These huskies are so strong that it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re used to taking tourists on sled rides when the lake’s frozen over.”
Harper perked up. “If they belong to a musher, that person might be so appreciative that we’ve kept their dogs fed and alive, they won’t mind a bit about the chewed cushions or book; or the broken mugs, plate, and glasses; or that we’ve been living in their home and eating their food.”
“Possibly,” said Kat without conviction. She kept thinking about the Airstream trailer they’d passed on Otter Creek Road. The one with the sign framed by two painted guns: IF YOU’RE FOUND HERE TONIGHT, YOU’LL BE FOUND HERE IN THE MORNING.
What if their cabin was owned by someone who shot trespassers first and asked questions later?
Somehow, Kat doubted it. In a bid to find answers about who owned the cabin, she and Harper had searched every cupboard and drawer. There was nothing personal in the cabin. No family photos. No electricity bills or bits of string or dried-up pens. No kitschy knickknacks brought home from exotic travels. It looked and felt like a rental.
But who owned the dogs? Was it a seasonal worker such as a ski guide? There’d been fresh food in the fridge, so they’d obviously been expected. Had that person fallen ill or had car trouble too?
“I can’t bear the suspense a second longer,” said Harper, reaching for the remote yet again. “I have to know how Storm Mindy’s progressing.”
The primary colors of the TV popped out at them. The local news was just beginning. A banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Harper read it twice before she could take it in.
BREAKING NEWS: STAR WITNESS MISSING AND BODYGUARDS IN ICU AFTER WRONG TURN IN THE ADIRONDACKS
“Kat, our case! You’ve got to see this.” She stabbed at the volume button.
A ghost of a frown fluttered across the newsreader’s crease-free forehead as the story unfurled on her teleprompter.
“The star witness in the trial of alleged Wish List gang leader Gerry Meeks is missing, feared lost or the victim of foul play. It is believed that protection officers assigned to guard the witness took a wrong turn in the snow-hit Adirondack Park in upper New York State.
“The drama began early this morning when a snowplow driver called nine-one-one to report an abandoned vehicle with the engine running. Paramedics attending the scene found a critically injured man and woman and evidence that a third person had been in the vehicle.
“The identity of the star witness in the high-profile Wish List gang trial has until now been a closely guarded secret. With Storm Mindy set to bring whiteout conditions to the northern Adirondacks later today, New York State detectives from the Bureau of Criminal Investigation have taken the unusual step of naming the witness due to her age and extreme vulnerability.”
“No!” gasped Kat as a photo of a grinning girl in a pink baseball cap popped up. “No, that’s impossible. Harper, that’s Riley, the girl I told you about. The one who could mimic a loon and gave me her blue neckerchief.”
“You’re positive?”
“One hundred and ten percent. Remember me telling you that there was something distant and peculiar about her aunt and uncle? Now I understand why. They were police bodyguards, not relatives. I guess the ‘cousins’ they talked about weren’t real either. Uh, what are you doing?”
Harper was on a chair squinting at the screen at close range. When she climbed down, footage of a black SUV in a forest clearing was being replaced by a picture of a handsome man in an expensive suit. Riley was beside him, scowling in an equally expensive dress.
The newsreader continued, “Riley Gabriella Matthews, twelve-year-old daughter of Daylesford Bank chairman Wainwright Matthews, was the sole witness to the theft of Cynthia Hollinghurst’s fifty-million-dollar diamond necklace at the Royal Manhattan last month.
“Police have launched an appeal for witnesses to this morning’s accident. Local volunteers with knowledge of the northern Adirondacks are urged to call this number if they can assist search-and-rescue teams…”
Harper killed the TV. “Where’s the map?”
Kat was in tears. She couldn’t bear the thought of the warm, funny girl who’d danced with her in the ruby rain being lost in the snowy wilderness.
The report didn’t specify what “foul play” Riley might have fallen victim to, but Kat imagined it had something to do with the Wish List gang. Without a star witness to testify that Gerry Meeks had stolen the diamond necklace, the trial would collapse. Gerry would walk free from the court.
Had his accomplices ambushed the SUV and whisked Riley off to their lair? Or had she escaped into the forest, disoriented or injured?
Tears streamed down Kat’s cheeks at the thought of Riley frozen, afraid, and at the mercy of kidnappers and wild animals. The American girl had talked of the trees and loons as if they were her only real friends. If she was lonely then, how must she feel now?
Kat had offered Riley Tiny’s photo as a talisman of friendship and protection. Would his Savannah energy be enough to keep her safe from polar temperatures, charging bears, or ruthless kidnappers? It was a lot to ask of a cat on the other side of the Atlantic, even one as unique as Tiny.
Harper had nipped upstairs. She returned with a packet of Kleenex for Kat and the giant map. “I’ve seen it; I’ve definitely seen it.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me,” mumbled Kat, blowing her nose.
“Pine Cove Road.” Harper spread the map with shaking fingers. “I spotted the sign in the side-view mirror of the TV van filming the SUV. I’m sure I saw it when we were trying to find Otter Creek Road on Sunday, the day we arrived in the Adirondacks.”
“Is it only Tuesday?” Kat said miserably. “Feels as if we’ve been here forever.”
Harper bent over the map with a pencil. “This is the forest where you met Riley. This is the route we took afterward. I can see where we went wrong. We were driving in circles. Here’s Otter Creek Road and Deadwood Bridge, and here’s where we took the right fork instead of the left.”
Kat sniffed. “That means Nightingale Lodge is on the other side of the lake like you thought. There’s the waterfall your dad told us about. What does this have to do with Riley?”
“Got it!” Harper said in triumph, stabbing an olive-green patch with her pencil. “Pine Cove Road. This is where your friend disappeared. We can help look for her.”
Kat’s heart contracted at the word friend. As strange as it seemed, she did consider Riley a friend. Now her friend had disappeared.
“But we don’t have a car. And Storm Mindy’s on the way.”
Harper was measuring the distance with a pencil. “It’s a little over two miles if we follow this stream. It takes a fit person fifteen minutes to walk a mile. Say a little over thirty to walk two miles in this snow.”
She glanced meaningfully at the huskies. Rebel was munching up his third cushion, Matty and Thunder were playing tag around the dining table, and Fleet was clawing at the door to go out. Only Nomad was behaving. She sat at Kat’s feet, watching her anxiously.
Kat rushed to salvage the remains of the moose cushion from Rebel. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? That we could take the huskies for a long walk so they can let off steam while we help look for Riley?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“What if we get caught in a snowstorm?”
“Mindy’s not due till two P.M.,” Harper said airily, as if she was discussing the visit of a favorite aunt. “If we leave now, we can search for a couple of hours and be back before she arrives. We’ll stoke up the fire, batten down the hatches, and eat waffles till it blows over, or the cops arrive to arrest us for trespassing. Whichever comes first.”
Kat longed to rescue Riley more than anything, but venturing into the wilderness with a snowstorm looming was not a stroll in a London park. She had the huskies to think about too. Until their owner turned up, it was her responsibility to keep them safe.
“What if Pine Cove Road is crawling with volunteers and police with dogs? The huskies might get into a fight and be bitten. And won’t people be suspicious if they see two girls out alone with Storm Mindy coming?”
“No, because first glimpse we catch of anyone—human or animal—we run,” Harper assured her. “The last thing we want is to be ringing your mom or my dad from a police cell or social services. But imagine if we detected some clue the professionals missed that led to Riley being saved? A locket in the snow. A torn button. Something.”
Kat felt a surge of optimism. “Let’s do it. I’ll fetch the huskies’ harnesses and put on my boots. If I was missing in the wilderness, I’d hope my friends would do everything in their power to find me. By the way, Harper, Riley’s your friend too. I sort of volunteered you.”
“That’s sealed it, then. I have to help her.” Harper wriggled into a fleece and tugged her jacket on over it. “If only we had Google Maps. Our biggest challenge is that we’re not locals. We don’t know the Adirondacks and we definitely don’t know the woods.”
“No,” said Kat, “but the huskies do.”