by Dana Mentink
I promised your father, Ava, he told himself, walking over to join her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
He went for calm and confident. “I told you we were setting up headquarters until we find out what treasure Paul was after. Did you think I was making it up?”
“No,” she said.
He shifted. “I’ve got this trailer, and Stephanie and Tate have the next one.” He braced himself for a fight, but she offered only a resigned shake of the head which disturbed his equilibrium. He remembered her as a scrappy teen who didn’t back down from anything, and he liked her that way.
“You’ve got the right to stay anywhere you like. Do what you have to do. Thanks for keeping Mack Dog. I’ll take care of him now.”
She turned away and stomped up the steps, stopping to finger a pair of skis that nestled upright in the corner of the porch. Her fingers traced the edge gently, lovingly almost. He wondered how much skiing she had been able to do since she’d moved away. His brain dredged up indelible images of Ava flying like the swiftest of wild birds, on silver skis across snow so white it dazzled the vision.
“Before you go, something came up that might help.” He watched her turn, the blue of her eyes vibrant in her pale face.
She stood silently, waiting, hands rammed into her pockets.
Luca thought he heard the crunch of footsteps from behind the trailers, or maybe it was the snow falling from the thickly clustered pines that ringed the park. He moved closer, dropping his volume. “Do you know anything about Tasers?”
She shook her head. “Not much other than they fire prongs that send an electric current into the—” she swallowed “—the victim.”
“Yes. When a Taser is fired, it releases a bunch of tiny coded tags, little metal circles like confetti almost. The police can use the serial number on the tags to get a complete trace of the weapon including the person who purchased it.”
Ava’s brows shot up and she closed the gap between them. “Did the police find one of the tags?”
He cleared his throat. “No, the snow covered up the whole scene by the time they got there. But right after Paul was taken, I stuck one in my pocket. Somehow, it was still there even after our little adventure in the lake. I gave it to the cops this morning.”
Her face lit up and she threw her arms around him. “So we’ll know soon. We’ll know who did it and why.”
He held her close, her hair tickling his face. His hands wanted to explore her shoulder blades and skim the smooth skin on the back of her neck. Her small soft frame fit perfectly in his embrace before she pulled away and he returned to his senses.
The hope and longing in her face struck him dumb for a second. She still believed it was going to turn out all right for Paul, but he knew she was wrong. In typical Luca Gage fashion, he’d just made things worse, if that was even possible.
“They’ll contact you when they know.”
They lapsed into an awkward silence until Mack Dog’s barking broke in. Luca and Ava turned toward the snow-covered trees behind the trailers. Luca held up a hand and eased his way through the knee-deep drifts. He found himself in a quiet wood, still, except for the wagging tail of Mack Dog, who thrashed around, throwing up puffs of white. Mack Dog darted away, disappearing for a few moments before he trotted back, presenting himself to Luca, flakes clinging to his whiskers.
“What are you after?” Luca asked.
He was startled by Ava’s voice at his side. “A rabbit or squirrel?”
“Probably.” Luca wondered as he led the way back to the trailer door. “Mind if I take a look inside?”
Ava hesitated only for a moment before she unlocked the door and let them both in, Mack Dog barreling in behind them. He kept a careful distance this time and a firm hold on the reason for his mission.
The interior was old, the wood paneling worn and Formica-topped table dated. There was not much left in the trailer, and Luca knew the police had photographed everything and taken anything relevant to the investigation. All that remained was a sleeping bag rolled up on the bottom bunk, stacks of books cluttering the narrow counter and a well-gummed chew toy on the floor near the bed. A dirtied coffee cup and a half dozen stubby pencils with chewed erasers adorned a dusty shelf. Mack Dog had his own neatly folded blanket on the floor which he promptly flopped down on, curling himself into a semicircle.
Luca picked up a book and read off the title. “Gemology, the Treasures Underneath. Ironic.”
“Why?” Ava said sharply. “Your sister is somewhat of a gemologist, isn’t she? Lots of people have that hobby.”
He tried for a patient tone. “We’ve been doing some research. Your uncle was looking for the Sunset Star. It was owned by John Danson before he died. It’s a pearl, a 130-carat pink pearl to be precise.”
He was astonished when her face crumpled and tears began to make trails down her cheeks. His mind raced. Woman crying. Should he offer a hug? A drink of water? Call someone? Finally, he moved toward her, but she held up a hand.
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “The pearl, that horrible pearl. That’s what he was always searching for.”
Luca shook his head, relieved that she was speaking again. “I don’t follow.”
She took a shaky breath and wiped her face. “It was also his nickname for me. He said I was his ‘pearl of great price.’”
Luca flashed on the parable. “Like the merchant looking for pearls. He finds the most precious one and sells everything he owns to obtain it.”
“He’s been looking for that pearl his whole life. The one big score that will make everything else pale in comparison. It’s almost like a disease that’s followed him for as long as I’ve known him. It would come and go, these quests of his, but after Mom died just before I graduated high school...” She began to pace in small circles on the worn tiled floor. “This time was different.”
“Different, how?”
“He did it for me. Whatever this quest is that got him abducted and maybe...maybe killed. He was going to find that pearl so I wouldn’t have to sell Whisper Mountain.”
“But selling would make financial sense, wouldn’t it?” Luca felt a twinge. “I thought you wanted to sell it.” Should he tell her of his father’s plans?
She shot him a look. “How did you know that? I didn’t tell anyone. You seem to know all about my plans, and so does Bully.”
“The guy who runs this place?”
“Yes.”
Luca frowned. “So how did he find out? Did Paul tell him?”
“He says not.” She fixed him with a hard stare. “How did you know, Luca?”
The old rotary phone shrilled, and Ava jumped, snatching it quickly off the cradle.
Luca was ashamed of his relief in dodging the question.
She pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello, who’s there?” Luca came closer, so close his cheek nearly touched the smooth satin of hers. Feather soft, just like he’d imagined. Knock it off, Luca.
He blinked and listened in.
No one spoke.
Ava felt a chill creep up her spine. “Who is this? Who is calling?”
Luca took the phone from her hand. “Talk or we’re hanging up.”
The phone went dead, the dial tone sounding loud in the dead silence of the trailer.
A wrong number? Luca felt a tickle deep in the pit of his stomach. “Did you hear anything?”
“No. I thought it might be someone breathing at first, then nothing.”
Luca’s mind raced. Someone knew the phone number. There was nothing random about that call.
Stephanie and Tate appeared in the doorway. Luca joined them on the porch. Mack Dog leaped from his cushion and ran to Tate, poking his nose into Tate’s shin.
Tate dropped stiffly to one knee and wrestled
with the eager canine.
“I think he missed you,” Stephanie said with a smile for her new husband.
“I guess I still smell like Milk-Bones.”
Stephanie flashed a more subdued smile at Ava and Luca was struck by how different they looked, Ava, white-blonde with sapphire eyes and Stephanie, dark hair and chocolate eyes. There was something common to both, he thought. Determination shone clearly on each of their faces. Strong women. He wouldn’t want it any other way.
Stephanie clasped Ava’s hand. “Usually our clients seek us out and hire us to find their missing treasure. This is awkward, I know.”
Ava nodded, chin high. “Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it.”
Tate exchanged a look with Luca as if to say, How bad is this going to get?
Luca shrugged. Two determined women. Who could say?
Ava chewed her lip. “What do you want to do?”
Stephanie’s look was all business. “The police are trying to figure out who snatched your uncle. As treasure seekers, we’re focused on the why. We’re starting a search to trace John Danson’s activities. His father owned a huge place up in the mountains until he died about ten years ago. Did your uncle mention anything about him?”
Ava sighed. “No. I hadn’t spoken to Uncle Paul much in the last few months. I moved away, and he stayed on to look after Whisper Mountain, work on some investment opportunities as he called them.”
“He met with a real estate agent six months ago,” Stephanie said. “The same agent my father...”
Luca shot her a warning look, but she ignored him.
Ava quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that, but it makes sense. He finally realized hanging on to Whisper Mountain was a lost cause.”
Stephanie cocked her head. “Could be, but that agent handled the sale of Danson’s estate. I think Paul was tracking the pearl, trying to find out what happened to it.”
Ava crossed her arms. “If you want to go hunt for a treasure, it’s all yours. I don’t really care about this pearl or whatever he was after. I’ve got other priorities.”
Luca tried to rein in his flash of irritation. He was not in this thing for his own personal gain. “You may not care, but someone does. Find the treasure, and the truth comes out.”
Checking her watch, she sighed. “My uncle is missing. I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know if I hear anything that might help you find the pearl.”
“Where are you going?” Luca called as she scooted by him out the door.
“Tate, can you take care of Mack Dog until I get back?” Ava tossed over her shoulder, ignoring Luca’s question.
“Sure.” The dog sat contentedly, tail swishing, at Tate’s feet.
Luca stalked after her outside.
His feeling of unease grew as he saw her grab the skis from the porch as well as an old set of snowshoes and head for her car. She thought she could fix things herself, and she would listen to reason about as well as a bull charging for the red cape.
Let her go.
It’s what she wants.
“Strong women,” he grumped to himself, “can be a real pain.” With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed his own spare skis and snowshoes off his own trailer porch and ran after her.
* * *
Before she got the car reversed down the walkway, Luca appeared behind the bumper making it impossible for her to leave without running him over. When she stopped, he joined his skis and snowshoes to hers in the back before climbing into the passenger seat, his big frame crammed into the small vehicle.
“It’s a bad idea,” he said. “Police are searching. They don’t need civilians getting in the way.”
She didn’t bother to feign innocence. “I don’t need your permission.”
He huffed. “I wasn’t trying to be your boss. I was trying to get you to see reason.”
“Why is it that ‘seeing reason’ means agreeing with your viewpoint?”
“Because my viewpoint is correct.” He clamped his mouth closed with an audible click.
Even though she kept her gaze riveted out the front window, she could feel his eyes on her face, the green of them glittering in her imagination. Those eyes, she’d spent many a teenaged daydream wishing those eyes would turn on her with admiration. “This would be easier if I went alone.”
Luca buckled his seat belt. “I never do things the easy way. Just ask my brother and sister.”
Because she could think of no reply and Luca was not going to budge from the passenger seat, she pulled onto the road heading for the ridge where the police were concentrating their search and rescue efforts.
Luca examined the terrain. “Going to be dark in a couple of hours. They’ll suspend the search until morning.”
Suspend the search. So businesslike. She kept her voice as level as she could manage. “You don’t think he’s alive anyway, do you? You think this is a recovery, not a rescue.” She glanced at him in spite of herself. She wanted to see hope there, some glimmer that would keep her desperate desire alive. Instead, she saw the hard kernel of truth.
“Ava,” he said quietly, “it’s been more than twenty-three hours. There was a storm last night. There’s another rolling in.”
“Uncle Paul’s a survivor,” she snapped. “He’s had wilderness training. He knows how to make a snow cave. He taught me when Dad was away on business.” She was dismayed to hear her voice crack.
Luca put a hand out toward her shoulder, but he did not make contact. It was probably the stiffness in her posture that told him his touch was not welcome. She found she regretted his restraint, wondering what the stroke of his fingers on her skin would feel like. Don’t let him charm you. He’s only here for treasure.
She gritted her teeth and guided the car up the mountain, finally pulling as close as she was able to the barricade the police had erected at the top of the ridge. She hadn’t expected to get any closer. Climbing out she headed toward Sergeant Towers, who stood at the top of the slope, radio in hand, breath puffed white in the cold air.
He did not look surprised to see her. “Good afternoon, Ms. Stanton. Hello, Luca.”
“What have you found?” Ava said, her eyes scanning the whitened ravine below.
“Some scorch marks indicate the snowmobile slid about twenty feet before it impacted a rock shelf and broke apart.”
She swallowed hard, waiting.
“We’ve got people rappelling down to the bottom now, but there’s been about a foot of new snow. The dogs can’t get down there.”
“Have they found my uncle?” she said, forcing the words out.
After what seemed an eternity, he answered, “No.” He eyed the sky. “We’re going to have to call it in about an hour.”
“You can’t,” she said. “He’s alive. I know it.”
Sergeant Towers’s calm demeanor did not change, but there might have been a softening in his dark eyes. “You were ski patrol. You know how it works. We can’t risk the safety of our people. We’ll start again first thing in the morning.”
Ava wanted to scream. Instead, she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
Towers shot a look toward her car, noting the skis. “If you’ve got any ideas about searching on your own, don’t. Unstable snow and darkness are a lethal combination.”
“I know these slopes, and I know the dangers.”
“Then you know I don’t have the resources to conduct two rescues.” Sergeant Towers spoke calmly, but the words had a whisper of steel in them.
“You’re not in rescue mode. You’re looking for bodies.” She wished she hadn’t said it, but the officer did not seem to take offense.
Luca stepped closer. “Did you get anything off the Taser tags?”
“Not yet. We’ve been busy and this is a small department, not like San Francisco.�
�� The sly dig was evident in spite of the pleasant inflection. Towers used binoculars to scan below where a rescuer in a yellow vest made his way down a spine of rocks that projected above the snow. The phone clipped to his belt beeped, and he excused himself to answer it.
Ava did not waste time. She headed back to the car. Luca had to jog to catch up.
She eased the car back down the trail until she came to a spot where she could manage a turn. The tires spurted snow as she guided the vehicle a half mile down the road, ignoring Luca’s barrage of questions.
She drove up toward a rocky promontory, a splayed section of granite cliff, broad and flat like a smooth, outstretched palm. She parked the car on the road and buckled on Uncle Paul’s old snowshoes, her throat thickening unexpectedly as her fingers ran over the graceful ash frames and the rawhide lacing. Uncle Paul made the snowshoes himself as a teen, whiling away hours in the Maine woods.
“I’d give you the shirt off my back, Ava, but not my snowshoes,” he’d say with that infectious grin.
Luca had paused a moment in between snapping on his high-tech aluminum snowshoes.
“I remember hearing about Uncle Paul’s snowshoes from your father,” he said softly. “Those the ones that almost sent Mack Dog to the pound?”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Yes. He chewed the rawhide webbing, and I’ve never seen Uncle Paul as mad as he was then. Mack Dog had to bunk in my room for three days until Uncle Paul forgave him.”
Luca reached out a hand, his fingers grazing her own, momentarily bridging the chasm that separated them and sending a jolt of electricity through her bones. “You didn’t buckle this one right.”
“Thanks.” She pulled her hand away, ignoring the tingling his touch left behind, and fixed the strap. “Let’s go. The view from up there is the best vantage point,” she said more to herself than him.
They waddled their way upslope, crunching over the snow. The air was so cold it made her eyes sting. Pines rustled above them. The sergeant was right. A storm was coming.
She increased her pace until she was breathing hard, ribs complaining and one knee beginning to stiffen. Months of teaching every available ski lesson and taking numerous shifts on ski patrol had gotten her no closer to saving Whisper Mountain, but it had taken a toll on her body. The near drowning had only added more pain to the load. She forced herself to move faster until Luca was panting in his effort to keep up.