“Got something?” Scout asked, crouching beside him.
A corner of clear plastic winked through the drift. Scout brushed snow away until the shape came free—wrapped, doubled, and taped. He lifted it into view, heavy at one edge with damp.
Burke was beside him in seconds.
“Let’s see it.”
Scout handed the bundle over. Burke slit the tape with his pocketknife, peeled back the plastic, and read from the first page—Sara’s handwriting, tight and careful:
Deputy Sara Anne Parker — Day 1 (assumed)
Status: Alive. Drugged, moved, dressed…
He didn’t read the rest aloud. He sealed the notebook in an evidence bag and handed it to Tessa.
“Chain it when we hit the trucks.”
The radio at his shoulder crackled—the dispatcher’s voice clipped.
“Sheriff, NWS just updated. Squall line moving in. Twenty minutes, maybe less. Winds shifting north. Advising off the ridge.”
Burke looked up. The far slope had already gone gray. Snow began to fall.
“Copy. We need to move—now.”
He pointed down the line.
“Tom, go get Marlene and get off this mountain. I’m takingRuger to check the lower pull-offs on the way down. Scout, Tessa—flag and photo what you can, then head out. I’m not having this mountain take you too.”
Scout set flags—three along the ditch, two where Ruger found the journal—and snapped quick photos.
“Got it.”
The Storm Turns
The first gust hit as Burke climbed onto his four-wheeler. Ruger jumped up beside him, the dog’s coat flecked white before they even started moving. Visibility dropped to twenty feet.
Halfway down the ridge, the tires lost grip. The machine slid sideways, throwing a rooster tail of slush before catching again.
“Easy, boy,” Burke muttered.
Another slip. Ruger jumped down, landing clean, trotting beside the wheel as Burke throttled back to a crawl.
Static flared in the radio. He keyed the mic.
“Scout, you copy?”
A breath, then Scout’s voice.
“Copy. We’ve got the photos. Weather’s rolling fast.”
“Too treacherous,” Burke said as the four-wheeler fishtailed again. “Take cover in the cabin and stay there. We’ll try to get snowmobiles up when it breaks.”
“Understood.”
“Scout—don’t try it. I’m fighting to keep rubber on the ground as it is.”
“Copy that, Sheriff.”
