Page 61 of North

She shook her head. “North might have mentioned him once, and I think York’s wife might be related to someone who works with him…I don’t know. Hopefully York can straighten this all out.”

She got out, the rain still falling, a chilly breeze coming off the lake. A glass front door reflected the sticky handprints of a child. Selah took the steps up, then rang the bell.

It dinged in the house, and a dog barked from inside.

“I’ll be right there!” The voice emerged muffled, then footsteps and, “Hana! Please get this dog!”

Selah spotted a woman inside, dark hair, holding back what looked like a golden retriever, then handing her grip over to a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, blonde hair. The girl made the dog sit as the woman came to the door. She picked up a toddler on the way and put him on her hip.

She unlocked and opened the door. “Can I help you? Are you lost?”

“Um. No, I’m…” Selah frowned. “I’m looking for York Newgate?”

The woman’s mouth opened, then closed, and she hesitated. “He’s not here right now. Can I ask who⁠—”

“I’m Selah Silver. Hamilton Jones told me find York. I was in a train wreck a few days ago.”

“Oh. My. That’s you. Yes, of course. Ham called me.”

And then her expression changed. She set down the little boy and opened the door. “Come inside, now.”

Okay. “Um, I have a friend⁠—”

The woman looked past Selah, out into the driveway, and her eyes widened. Then she grabbed Selah’s arm. “Get in here. Now.”

Selah turned, glanced back.

James had gotten out of the RV and was running up to the porch.

“Hana! Get Josh to the safe room!”

What—

But the woman was jerking Selah inside the storm door. Then she slammed a big wooden door. Locked it.

And then she turned, her eyes fierce on Selah, and said darkly, “What have you done?”

* * *

Last night’s conversation played through North’s mind as he guided Frank’s borrowed truck along the winding forest roads. He had to take the back way to Shelly.

In the rain.

Frank called it a shortcut. North called it lethal.

Pine branches scraped the roof, and despite summer, patches of snow remained among the high pines, sending streams of melting water down onto the road.

And of course, as he muscled the old truck around potholes big enough to swallow an elk, he heard the man’s voice in his mind.

The man who’d answered Selah’s phone.

“She’s fine. Taking a bath.”

And he didn’t know why, but he’d sensed a smile on the other end of that line. Like the man might have been playing a game with him.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m her friend James. Who’s this?”