A woman appeared in the doorway behind the man, her face partially hidden in shadow. She wore a long floral dress, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She whispered something to the man, who nodded once before turning back to Greta.
“Wait here.” He disappeared back into the cabin, leaving the woman standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on Greta with a vague hostility that made her skin crawl.
More people had appeared, emerging from houses and workshops to watch the strangers with undisguised curiosity. Some looked hostile. Others merely curious.
“Jesus,” Bear muttered under his breath. “They’re staring at us like we’re aliens.”
“Can you blame them? Not every day they see a Bigfoot in person.”
“Careful, Tink.”
The man returned, accompanied by another woman with strawberry blond hair.
Greta’s breath caught in her throat. The hair color was right. The height was right. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard she thought it might crack them before the woman reached them.
“Alice?” She whispered and took a step forward. Couldn’t help herself.
The woman looked up.
It… wasn’t Alice.
Yes, the resemblance was strong enough that someone could mistake them for the same person from a distance, but the features were all wrong. The woman’s nose was too wide, eyes too small, mouth too thin, hair too fine.
And all the hope she hadn’t wanted to admit to… the hope that had been expanding in her chest since Dally-Ann’s visit… burst.
“Are you Alyson?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.
The woman’s expression was guarded as she nodded. “Yes. I’m told you’re looking for me?”
Greta couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. The world had narrowed to this moment, to the face that was almost right but also fundamentally wrong.
Bear’s hand found the small of her back. “We’re looking for her sister. Alice Dougherty. We were told she might be here, using the name Alyson.”
Alyson’s guarded expression softened to something like pity. “I’m sorry. I’m not your sister. My name is Alyson Porter. I’ve lived here in Glenhaven all my life.”
Greta nodded, not trusting herself to speak again.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Alyson said gently.
She wanted to scream that Alice wasn’t lost—not in the way that expression implied. Her sister was out there somewhere, waiting to be found. She knew it deep in her soul.
But the words stuck in her throat.
“Thank you for your time,” Bear said in a low rumble beside her. “We’ll be going now.”
The woman nodded and said something more, but Greta didn’t hear it. She turned away without another word, and her legs carried her back down the track to her Jeep on autopilot.The trees blurred around her, the path under her feet feeling unsteady despite being solid ground.
Bear walked beside her, not speaking, not touching her except for that steady hand at her back.
She made it all the way back to the Jeep and almost all the way back to town dry-eyed, jaw set so tight it ached, both hands gripping the steering wheel like she was hanging off a cliff. The mountain fell away on her left, a sheer drop of hundreds of feet that ended in a jumble of pine and granite. She kept her eyes on the road, counting the curves—one, two, three—as the Jeep wound its way down the steep grade.
The second switchback was when it started—no sound, just water she couldn’t stop. It rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Another followed, and another, until the road blurred in front of her.
Her breath hitched in her chest.
“Greta,” Bear said softly. “Pull over.”
She pulled into a gravel turnout screened by a stand of lodgepole pines and killed the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. Atlas whined softly from the back seat. King’s head appeared between the front seats, his amber brown eyes fixed on her face with canine concern.
