by Webb, Peggy
“Good girl!” Joe’s face was filled with pride for their daughter as he strode over and inspected the branch. “The break’s fresh.”
“She’s alive!”
“I think so, Mags.”
She pounded his chest. “You know so, Joe! Jefferson alerted to her scent here. Our daughter’s alive. Say it!”
“She’s alive, and she’s marking her trail.” When her husband wrapped his arms around her, Maggie almost cried. How long had it been since he’d hugged her and meant it?
“Let’s go then!” she said. There was no time to waste. That crazy woman at the house was hiding secrets, a killer either had her daughter or was stalking her, and the storm was closing in. “Jefferson, search.”
The winds whipped up the ground snow, making the trail less visible by the minute. Still, when Jefferson alerted to the second broken branch, Maggie’s heart soared. The mantra, she’s alive, played through her, and she made outrageous promises to herself. When she got home with Kate, she’d do better. She’d talk to Joe about the things that really mattered.
It wasn’t entirely his fault that they’d grown apart, far from it. She’d removed herself emotionally from her husband, kept secrets, hidden her own guilt. It had started when he left SARS and it had grown like cancer since then.
Up ahead Jefferson had stopped again. Maggie raced to catch up and when she saw why he’d alerted, her heart fell. Snowmobile tracks.
Joe caught up with her and stared at the deep groves in the snow.
“Jefferson caught his scent around her car, Joe. The monster’s chasing her.”
He caught her hand and squeezed. “God help him if he catches her.”
“You’re going to kill him?”
“No. Kate will.”
Did her daughter have it in her to take the life of another, even if it meant kill or be killed? Maggie knew Kate was tough. Her athletic training had made her strong. And so had her heritage.
Maggie didn’t hesitate to battle any kind of odds, plunge into any kind of weather, endure any kind of hardship to find the missing.
Once Joe had been like that. Was the man she’d married still in there somewhere? Was he in hiding, waiting for some sign from her to be resurrected?
As much as Maggie wanted to push forward, especially in light of finding the snowmobile tracks, she knew the folly of overheating her dog as well as Joe and herself.
“Stop,” Maggie said. “Down.” Her amazing dog immediately stretched out under the shelter of an overhanging fir tree.
Joe shrugged out of his backpack and poured Jefferson some water then brought the canteen over to share with Maggie.
“We’ll have to make camp soon,” he said.
“I know.” Wind gusts were now so strong they bent the saplings nearly to the ground. She estimated they had barely more than an hour before whiteout conditions would put them all at risk.
“We’ll find her.” Joe caught for her hand and Maggie was surprised that he didn’t let go. She looked at their gloved hands, joined, and wondered again, as she had a thousand times over the years, if their marriage would have stayed strong had Joe not left SAR. And yet, shouldn’t a good marriage be about more than what kind of job you had?
A voice in her head said, you know this is not about SAR, but she quickly shut it down. The memories were too painful. Even after all these years.
The radio crackled and Roger came on.
“You two found anything yet?”
“Not yet,” Maggie said, “but the scent trail is strong. What about you?”
“I got nothing from the woman at the farmhouse, Betty Westberg. But if she’s sick I’m a walrus.”
“That was my impression, too,” Maggie said. “Did you get to talk to her son?”
“No. She told me the same story she told you. He’s too sick to talk.”
“Did you believe her?” Joe asked.
“No. After I left the Glen’s Crossing Truck Stop, the owner called to say one of his waitresses remembered seeing Jonathan Westberg there yesterday morning. He didn’t come inside like he usually does, but she swears she saw him in the parking lot.”
As if Maggie weren’t already cold enough, fear turned her blood to ice. Her daughter was out there in the wilderness and a maniac was hunting her down like an animal.
Joe gave her a concerned look but she just shook her head. She couldn’t bear to think about the horror, let alone speak of it.
“Roger, did you find out what was in that shed?” he asked. “The broken window was fresh. Glass was still all over the ground.”
“No. I didn’t want to arouse the Westberg woman’s suspicions. I’ll have to go back out there with a search warrant.”
“Jefferson was on full alert by the shed,” Joe said. “I know they’re hiding something.”
“It’ll have to wait. The latest reports say the storm will hit Grand Marsais around 1:30. It’ll hit here earlier. You two should be setting up camp.”
“We will.”
Roger wished them good luck then signed off.
“Maggie. You okay?”
“I can’t afford not to be, Joe.” She stood up and dusted snow off her pants. “Let’s get going.”
They came upon the fork in the trail abruptly. Jefferson immediately alerted to the cairn. Her daughter had not only made it this far, but she’d still been tough-minded enough to mark her trail.
That’s my good girl. Way to go, Katie!
“She went in that direction, Maggie.”
She didn’t say, “I know.” Her husband’s face was filled with the kind of private hope she felt in her heart, and she gave him that moment.
As they followed her daughter’s marker and her scent, she didn’t have the heart to point out that so had the snowmobile. Joe had seen the tracks, of course. He was too smart not to.
He was walking beside her now, his arm linked through hers. Snow fell in increasing volume, wind howled around them and trees began to bend and crack. If they didn’t make shelter soon, they’d get hit by a falling tree or be caught in the storm.
“Whiteout’s coming, Mags. Call him in.”
She could feel the tension in Joe. He’d been devastated when he lost Clint. Losing Jefferson might destroy him.
“Jefferson!” She couldn’t even see her dog. Maggie called again, more urgent this time. She waited for a response, her heart pounding, while Joe squeezed her arm.
Suddenly he was streaking to them through clouds of snow that whirled like dervishes.
“Thank God,” Joe muttered.
As she hooked up Jefferson’s lead, praising him extravagantly, she thought about the deep pain Joe had kept inside all these years, and how it must have festered and grown until it left very little room for anything else. Especially a wife who still went blithely forth, taking her SAR dog into all sorts of dangers.
They moved forward and suddenly Joe shouted, “There!”
The building presented itself as no more than a shadow until they got close enough to see the defunct gas tanks. Jefferson led them straight through the door.
Snow had already piled up inside and the dusty floor beyond was littered with tracks. Maggie took Jefferson off lead and he immediately began to scout.
“Joe? You see those tracks?” He was already taking off his backpack, and Maggie shed hers in the middle of the room.
“Yes.” His face was tight with worry, and she couldn’t bear to think what those large, man-sized footprints in the dust meant for her daughter.
Had blind luck led them there or divine intervention?
“We’ll set up camp here,” he added.
With a blizzard almost on them, there was nothing they could do about the tracks now.
The abandoned building was almost the perfect spot to shelter. The walls would block the storm and the floor would provide added insulation against the bottom of their popup winter tent. Camping here would save them at least an hour cutting branches and fashioning a lean-to against the natural
wall of one of the many boulders in the wilderness. And it would provide far more protection.
Joe began to make camp while Maggie watered her dog again and filled his dog food bowl. Working under these conditions, Jefferson expended a tremendous amount of energy and dehydration was a real threat. Joe had packed enough water so that would not be a problem for a while, hopefully for the duration of the search. But if they ran out, he could always heat the snow to make it potable, though gathering enough would be a laborious process.
Maggie glanced out the window at the worsening conditions. Wind howled around the building and visibility was almost zero.
“Where are you, Kate?” she whispered. How could her daughter possibly survive this storm? Another thought pushed through, the one she’d locked deep inside. Was her daughter even still alive?
She was certain Kate had broken the branches and built the cairn. Since Jefferson’s search was scent specific, so were his alerts. Still, anything could have happened between the time Kate marked her trail and Maggie found it. That maniac could have overtaken her on his snowmobile and killed her.
Or worse. Decided to torture her first, the way he had those other girls.
She felt helpless. How long would the blizzard keep them trapped here? Hours? Days?
“Maggie!” Joe’s call brought her out of her dark and brooding mood. “Jefferson’s got something.”
Her dog was in the corner of the room circling with excitement. Maggie raced over to look. At first she saw nothing but a dirty, dark wooden floor. Then she spotted it. The dust on the floor had been disturbed and a tiny brown nut lay in the corner.
Kate’s lucky buckeye. Maggie picked it up and clutched it to her breast as if she’d found her daughter.
“Maggie?”
“Look.” She held the nut in her open palm. “She was here, Joe.”
He wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. “Our daughter’s alive, Mags.”
They turned their backs to the storm outside and held onto each other. Simply held on.
Chapter Fifteen
12:05 p.m.
Jonathan had lost her tracks nearly an hour ago and his leg muscles burned like fire. Not to mention he was struggling for breath, his bruised leg was swollen, and he didn’t know if he could take another step. He was furious and he didn’t care who knew or heard.
“KATE! WHERE ARE YOU!”
The wind snatched his scream and tossed it into the mayhem of nature at its most dangerous. Treetops snapped with gun-shot cracks and giant trees groaned as their roots were lifted from the ground. An enormous fir crashed in front of him and he tumbled backward screeching with rage. The tree narrowly missed him.
Kate wouldn’t live through this. She was probably lying in the snow right now, crushed under a tree. He hoped one the branches drove straight through her fickle heart.
He should have gone back home when he had the chance. He could have sneaked through the back way without being spotted by the cops. He could be sitting in the nook by the barred windows now, drinking hot chocolate and wolfing down roast beef sandwiches and thinking about the things he’d meant to do to Kate in that bed. Their bed.
He howled again, shaking his fists at the curtain of white that kept him from finding his prize. He’d already decided what he was going to do with her. He’d kill her, of course, but not before he’d satisfied his lust and his rage and his burning thirst for revenge.
He wanted to find her alive. He salivated at the idea.
Before the weather got so bad, he’d noticed she was heading toward the lakes. He knew the area, knew what was there. Could she have made it?
Another tree slammed to the forest floor, not ten feet away. He catapulted to his feet. He had to get moving. If he didn’t, he was going to be killed by a falling tree or completely lost in a whiteout.
“KATE, I’M COMING! YOU’LL BE SORRY!”
* * *
Kate’s leg muscles burned and she could barely see. The wind battered and screamed at her like something alive, like something that was determined to defeat her. If she didn’t find the cabin soon, she’d never make it.
Keep going. Coach Lucas seemed so real she could almost see him.
She was transported back to a brisk fall day, beautiful weekend, golden leaves, light breeze, legs on fire, right foot bleeding. She was nine miles into her training climb and so ready to stop she could feel the relief of taking off her running shoes. She could taste the water waiting for her, the strawberry-banana sport drink.
“I can’t.”
The sunshine and autumn leaves dissolved and she was surrounded by a frozen world where everything had turned to ice and snow.
You can. Push through the pain.
With memories of her Coach’s voice cheering her on, Kate pushed through, kept going. She was no longer even certain she was going in the right direction. She was getting dehydrated. She could hardly feel her feet and hands. Her water was almost gone. Her mind was getting fuzzy. She’d only glimpsed the cabin from afar when she was on the bluff. She didn’t know whether she’d calculated the correct distance or whether the cabin was even there.
Maybe she was just going around in circles.
Lost people do.
Was that her mother? Was she here?
“Mom!” Kate’s voice was borne off in gusts that blew her body sideways. Nobody answered when she called. Nobody came.
She was so tired. And so cold. What if she could just lie down for a minute to rest?
Don’t give up, Kate! Coach Lucas was so real she could see the veins standing out on his neck. Quitters don’t win! Are you a quitter?
“No.”
Say it, Kate.
“I’m not a quitter.”
But she had options. Keep going? Or try to dig a snow cave, wrap in her space blanket and sleep through it all?
But wait. That didn’t sound right. Kate struggled to remember why and it finally hit her. Blizzards brought drifts as much as thirty feet high. She’d be buried alive.
Hesitation will make you lose.
Kate no longer knew if Coach Keith Lucas was with her in the wilderness or simply in her head.
“Coach? Where are you?”
Her steps slowed and she rubbed her forehead. “Think,” she whispered. Her lips felt frozen, raw. Her voice was a hoarse croak. “Think.”
Everywhere she looked was white, the snow, the forest, the sky, even her own body. Nothing but white. It mesmerized. Paralyzed.
What if she sat down for a while? Just one minute?
She felt her legs giving way, heard Coach scream, Stop!
Kate straightened up, dug deep into herself for the last ounce of courage.
You can do this, Kate. She pictured Coach there on the sidelines, as always, cheering her on.
Her instincts and her training took over and she ran, bleeding and freezing, hoping and praying… and determined.
“Today is not my day to die,” she said.
She summoned up her last reserves of strength, called on that last burst of speed. The cabin materialized so quickly she stumbled and fell onto the porch.
She wanted to sit down right there and cry.
Don’t you dare. Coach such a taskmaster, even in her imagination.
She’d been running and hiding for seven hours in a treacherous winter wilderness. She’d been dodging arrows and trying to outwit a cold-blooded murderer and outrun a storm since before dawn.
“Why?” She tried to scream at Coach, but it came out a squeak. “What else do you want?”
The phantom companion who had been with her throughout her ordeal in the wilderness didn’t answer, and she struggled to gather her thoughts. Food. That’s what she needed. Kate found the granola bar Betty had given her and wolfed it down.
A cracking sound exploded and a fir tree crashed onto the end of the porch. Kate scrambled backward as the roof on the west end of the porch caved in. Falling debris rained around her and a porch beam narrowly missed her
head as it crashed to the floor.
She had to get inside. It came to her with the same clarity she’d always felt during competition when the finish line was in sight and she knew exactly what to do.
No time to hunt for a key hidden outside. No time to see if she could jiggle a window loose from its lock so she could climb inside.
“I didn’t come this far to die.”
Filled with renewed determination, she untied her ice ax and bashed open the nearest window. Another quick swipe around the window frame, and she’d removed the shards and was inside the cabin.
The instant feeling of comfort made her weak-kneed. She dropped her backpack on the floor and sank onto a plaid sofa facing the cold fireplace. It was heaven to be out of the wind, to breathe without feeling as if ice were plunging through her lungs, to rest the muscles that had just passed the biggest endurance test of her life.
The race is not over, Kate.
“I know, Coach.”
A killer was out there. And he was coming.
Her voice was still a hoarse croak. Kate dug into her backpack and pulled out her thermos. No need to parcel out the remains. The bottle was almost empty.
As she drank the last of the water, snow swirled through the broken window. Kate stuffed it with sofa pillows then pulled off her snowshoes, hiking boots, socks and damp snowsuit. There were blisters on her feet, and one of them was bleeding.
It was nothing compared to the cold. She put on two pairs of wool socks she’d nabbed from Betty’s shed and went in search of a blanket. She had to get her core warm.
The cabin was small--a front room with fireplace, sofa and table with chairs for four, a tiny bathroom with the water drained from the toilet and the pipes of a wall-hung sink and a shower, a small hall that led to a bedroom with one double bed piled high with blankets and a closet containing more. Kate wrapped herself in three blankets from the closet then stood there a while shivering.
“Just my body trying to restore itself to normal temperature,” she said. “Now get moving.”