“Nah. It’s been five years. By now, the mob will completely have forgotten that I murdered three of their guys in a shoot-out. However… now that I think of it, the Hell’s Angels were pretty pissed off about the million bucks I stole, so maybe them? Oh, wait. I forgot the cartel.”
“We don’t mean you’re here because you did something,” I say. “While I’m sure there are people up here who fall into that category, at least as many are running from something that was done to them. That could also compel someone to track you down.”
“Anyone I left behind wishes me the best, and we keep in touch.” She sighs and stretches her legs again. “Do you want the story? Why I’m here?”
“We don’t want to pry.”
“Not much prying about it. I don’t want you thinking these hikers might have been here for me. So, who was I before I became Lilith, queen of the wolves? A burned-out financial-district drone, getting ready to quit her job and move to the islands. Instead, I met a photographer who grew up in the Yukonand dreamed of going back. I fell for him and his dream. He built this place. I decorated it. I happily traded my high heels for hiking boots and learned how to live off grid. And then… he was gone.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
She looks at me and then bursts out laughing. “Sorry. I see how that sounded. I follow my guy to the wilderness, where he dies in a horrible tragedy, but I stay, and even take up photography, living his dream. Nah, that’s the Hollywood version. In real life, the city girl starts taking pictures and starts selling pictures, and thenshe’sthe one making money and he decides the Yukon isn’t really his dream after all. Last I heard, he was living in the Outback with some girl he met in the States.” She winks. “As long as she doesn’t take up photography, they’ll be fine.”
“His loss.”
“Eh, it was over before it was over, if you know what I mean. I was just trying to figure out how to build my own place in the wilderness. Then he left, and I didn’t need to. Got to keep the cabin and the wolf pup. Nero and I will move on, and we’ll be fine. I’ll buy an actual cabin this time, probably off grid, but running water would be nice. And a microwave. Yep, I’ll splurge on appliances. God knows, after living like this, I can afford it.”
I smile. “Photography pays the bills very well?”
She laughs again. “Oh, hell, no. Sure, it pays. I’m actually pulling in a very decent wage for a photographer, but that’ll never be a fortune. My money comes from my corporate drone days. I made some sweet investments, and they have worked so I don’t need to.”
“Nice.”
“Very nice. I’ll be fine. I won’t take off just yet, but yeah, I’ll be heading out before we’re snowed in. And in the meantime,Nero and I will hunker down and wait for news that you’ve found this woman.”
After that, we head back to Haven’s Rock. It’s getting dark, and there’s nothing else we can do. I’m trying not to think of a scenario where Gretchen is an innocent hiker who saw her husband murdered and is now hiding in the forest, terrified and alone.
The much more likely scenario is that she killed him. The buried backpack supports that theory. Whoever buried it made sure to keep the food. That suggests Gretchen sorted everything out and kept what she needed to get back home. Hopefully, she’s already heading there. The only question is whether she was a hiker who killed her husband or something more sinister. For our sake, it’d be best if she killed her husband and is already heading home, no threat to us.
But then I flash back to that brand-new wedding band, and my gut says this isn’t over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We’re up the next morning at dawn. We debate taking Rory with us, but decide that would be worse parenting than leaving her in care for another day. Sometimes, it really is a coin toss, and take-our-daughter-to-work day is best done when we aren’t tracking a potential killer.
We don’t get away easily. One day with babysitters was a lovely distraction for a teething infant. Now she wants Mom and Dad, which makes it all the tougher because we already hate to leave. We take a few extra minutes to settle her in and distract her with toys and then it’s kisses on her head and promises to return as soon as we can, which is really more for us than Rory, already happily playing.
When we do finally leave, we have backup. This time, it’s Yolanda and Anders, who’ll form a second search team. We’d debated bringing Kendra instead, but if there’s any chance of that bear finding Haven’s Rock, I want Kendra there.
Anders knows how to search. He’s done it often enough. Yolanda has not, but she’s game and she’s good with a gun, which is really all we need.
Our first group stop is the former campsite. I’m looking for any sign that Gretchen returned. Ditto with the spot where we found the backpack. It’s still there, still buried, no sign that it’s been disturbed.
From there, Yolanda and Anders start a general search of the area. We’ll set Storm on Blake’s trail. That won’t get us to Gretchen, but it might get us to our crime scene, and that’s a start.
I brought Blake’s shirt. I’ve cut off the bloodied bits. Storm’s look says that doesn’t remove the stink of blood and guts and bear. But I’ve tried, and she sniffs it gingerly and then starts nosing around.
She wants to head west, but we already suspect that was their entry trail, so I take her back to the campsite and head east. She finds a trail and follows it… to a fast-running stream, where Blake would have soaked his broken ankle. We even find boot marks there.
Back to the trail. Try again.
She still wants to head toward the water, and no amount of coaxing will get her to do anything else, which suggests there is nothing else to do. There’s one secondary path east of the campsite, and it leads here.
Does the trail go beyond the stream? Maybe they returned here, soaked his foot, and continued east. I try to get Storm to search for that, but she keeps looking at me like I’m daft.
That’s when I see the handprint.
Along the muddy opposite edge of the stream is one perfect splayed handprint, like a child might make… or like someone might make if they fell.
