Chapter 11
MARA
Cold sheets wake me. Panic follows until I hear his voice.
"I'm here." Gabe stands at the window in the pre-dawn gray, photograph in hand. "Just couldn't sleep."
My heart rate settles. "How long have you been up?"
"Couple hours." He doesn't turn from the window. "Trying to remember who she is. Trying to make something click."
Yesterday's clothes go back on as I join him at the window. The photograph shows a young woman with dark hair and Gabe's eyes. The family resemblance is obvious now that I'm looking for it. "Sister?"
"Maybe. Probably." He touches the image with careful fingers. "The note says to trust her. That feels like family. But would I put my sister in danger?"
"Then we find her." My phone shows 6:47 AM. "Zeke and Nate will be here at eight. They'll know how to run facial recognition, check military databases."
"If she's military."
"If she's not, we'll figure something else out." The photograph demands my attention. There's something fierce in the woman's expression, determined. "She looks like someone who doesn't give up easily."
"Like you," Gabe says quietly.
"Like us." I hand back the photograph. "Come on. I'll make coffee. Real coffee, not that pod stuff."
The kitchen feels normal in a way that's almost surreal. Measuring grounds, filling the French press, waiting for water to boil. Ordinary tasks while a deadline counts down and somewhere out there, people are watching our every move.
Zara appears as the coffee finishes brewing, looking like she hasn't slept much either. "Anything?"
"Not yet." Three mugs get filled. "Zeke and Nate are coming at eight."
"Good." She takes her coffee black, wrapping both hands around the mug. "Because I've been thinking. If they're watching us with thermal imaging, they know we're awake. They know we're moving around. But they don't know what we're saying or doing specifically."
Gabe looks at her with new interest. "So we use that."
"We use that." Zara sets down her mug. "We act normal. Make it look like we're just trying to survive the seventy-two hours. Let them think you're still struggling to remember."
"I am still struggling to remember."
"But we have a lead now. The photograph. The USB drive." She taps the table for emphasis. "They don't know that. We keep it that way until we have answers."
She's right. The photograph hidden in the backpack gives us an advantage—if Crane's people don't know we found it. "We need to be careful about who we show it to. If word gets out...”
"It won't." Gabe's voice is certain. "Zeke and Nate know how to keep things quiet. And if this woman is who I think she might be, they'll understand why we need to find her fast."
The next hour passes in tense preparation. We eat breakfast. None of us taste it. Review what we know, which isn't much. Plan contingencies for contingencies. By the time headlights sweep across the front windows at exactly 8:00 AM, we're as ready as we're going to be.
Zeke comes in first, Nate right behind him. Both men move carefully. Controlled. They know they're being watched. They don't speak until they're inside with the door closed and secured.
"You look like hell," Zeke tells Gabe.
"Feel like it too." Gabe pulls out the photograph. "But we found something. Hidden in my gear."
Nate takes the photograph, his expression sharpening immediately. "Tell me you have more than this."
"Just a note on the back. Says if I've forgotten, she remembers. That I should trust her."
"Sister?" Zeke asks, echoing my own guess from earlier.
"Don't know. Can't remember." Gabe's hands tighten on the photograph. "But the eyes—they're too similar to be coincidence."
Zeke studies the photograph, then pulls out his phone. "I can run this through some databases. Military personnel, federal databases, social media. If she exists, we'll find her."
"How long?"
"Depends. If she's military or law enforcement, maybe a few hours. If she's civilian with no digital footprint..." He doesn't finish the sentence. We all know what that means. Days we don't have. "I've also got some people off the books I can reach out to. Old contacts who owe me favors."
"There's also this." Gabe produces the USB drive. "Encrypted. Military-grade. I need a password to access it."
Nate takes it, turning it over in his hands. "This could have everything. Mission files, evidence, locations. Or it could be a decoy."
"Only one way to find out."
"We'd need someone who can crack military encryption without tripping any alarms." Nate looks thoughtful. "I might know someone. Tech specialist I worked with on a case last year. Discreet, fast, knows his way around military systems."
"Can you trust him?" Zeke asks.
"With my life." Nate's voice is certain. "Guy named Tommy. He owes me."
Zeke pockets the USB drive. "I'll make some calls. But Gabe, you need to understand—if we start running facial recognition and trying to crack encrypted drives, we're going to draw attention. People who work in those systems, they notice searches like this."
"Crane already knows I'm looking for answers. He's counting on it." Gabe moves to the window, staying back from the glass out of habit now. "The question is whether we can find them before time runs out."
"Sixty-two hours," I say, checking my phone. "Give or take."
Silence.
"There's one more thing." Zara speaks up from where she's been quietly observing. "If Gabe set up a failsafe person—someone who'd know what to do if his memory failed—wouldn't he have also set up a way for that person to find him?"
We all turn to look at her.
"Think about it," she continues. "You're smart enough to build psychological tripwires and hide evidence and create failsafes. You're not going to leave the most important part—actually connecting with your failsafe—to chance."
"You're saying I left breadcrumbs," Gabe says slowly.
"I'm saying you left a way for her to find you if you couldn't find her." Zara's voice is certain. "Something that would make sense to her but not to anyone else. Something personal."
Nate nods slowly. "She's right. That's exactly what I'd do in your position. Leave markers that only the failsafe person would recognize."
"But what?" Gabe's hands clench. "I don't remember setting up anything like that."
"The photograph. The back of the photograph. What exactly did it say?"
Gabe pulls it out again, reads the inscription. If you've forgotten, she remembers. Trust her.
"That's it? Nothing else?"
"Nothing else." He starts to put it back, then pauses. "Wait. There's something else. Not writing, just... a mark. Like a symbol."
He shows us. In the corner of the photograph, barely visible, is a small mark. Not quite a letter, not quite a number. Like someone drew it carefully with a fine-tip pen.
"That's a trail marker," Nate says immediately. "The kind hikers use. Means 'turn right' or 'this way' depending on context."
"So she's following it?" The words come out before I can stop them. "The trail to here?"
"If she found the marker, yeah. Could be leading her to Alaska. To Glacier Hollow specifically." Nate studies the mark. "You left this as a clue to your location. Question is whether she's figured it out yet."
"A clue to what?"
"To where you are. Or where she should look." Zeke takes the photograph back, examining the mark under better light. "This is good. This is something we can work with. Combined with facial recognition, we might be able to narrow down her location."
"Assuming she's looking," Gabe says.
"If you set her up as your failsafe, she's looking." Zeke's voice is certain. "Question is whether she's found the breadcrumbs yet."
My phone buzzes. Unknown number. My hand tightens on it as I answer, putting it on speaker so everyone can hear.
"Good morning, Ms. Bennett." Crane's voice is pleasant, conversational. "I trust you all slept well?"
"What do you want?"
"Just checking in. Seeing how Gabriel's memory recovery is progressing." A pause. "Any breakthroughs yet?"
Gabe takes the phone from me. "I'm working on it."
"Working on it. How industrious." Crane's tone sharpens. "I hope you're working quickly, Gabriel. Because my patience has limits, and you're running out of time."
"You gave me seventy-two hours."
"I gave you a deadline. Whether you use that time wisely or waste it is entirely up to you." Another pause. "And just so we're clear—I'm watching everything. The sheriff's visit. The wildlife officer's presence. Whatever you're planning, I already know about it."
The line goes dead.
"He's bluffing," Zara says finally. "About knowing what we're planning. If he knew about the photograph, he'd have said something."
"Maybe." Zeke doesn't sound convinced. "Or maybe he's letting us dig ourselves deeper. Seeing what we uncover before he makes his move."
"Either way, we don't have a choice." Gabe straightens, decision made. "We keep looking. We find her. We crack that drive."
"And I've got Caleb working on contingencies," Zeke adds. "He and Travis Holt are coordinating defensive positions, evacuation routes if it comes to that. Making sure the town has options beyond hoping Crane keeps his word."
"Good." Gabe's shoulders relax slightly. "Because the alternative is everyone in this town dies, and I'm not letting that happen."
Nate claps him on the shoulder. "Then we'd better get started.
Zeke, you work the facial recognition angle.
I'll reach out to my contact about the encryption.
Gabe, you keep trying to remember. Sometimes the harder you push, the more the memories resist. Try approaching it sideways—what do you remember about the period right before you set this up? "
"Not much. Fragments mostly. Mission debriefs. Realizing Chimera was corrupt. Deciding I had to do something." Gabe closes his eyes, reaching for memories that won't come. "And then... nothing. Just blank space where the critical details should be."
"Keep trying. In the meantime, we work the leads we have." Zeke heads for the door. "I'll call when I have something. Gabe, if she tries to make contact, it'll probably be through channels she thinks you'd recognize. Be alert for anything that seems like a message meant for you."
After they leave, the lodge feels emptier. Colder. More coffee gets made while Gabe paces, photograph in hand, trying to will recognition into existence.
"Tell me about Phoenix," he says suddenly. "Not the escape. Before that. What was your life like?"
The subject change throws me. "Why?"
"Because Crane knows about Derek. About your past. And if he's going to use that against you, I need to understand what we're dealing with."
He's right, even though I don't want to go there. Don't want to drag those memories into the light. But he's trusting me with his safety, with his life. The least I can do is reciprocate.
"I was an accountant. Good at my job, worked long hours, didn't have much of a life outside the office. Derek was a client first. Real estate developer, very successful, very charming. Asked me out for coffee to discuss his accounts and it just... developed from there."
"When did it change?"
"About eight months in. We moved in together, and that's when I started seeing the cracks.
Little things at first—controlling what I wore, who I talked to, when I could see friends.
Then the first time he hit me." The memory sits there.
Heavy. "He apologized. Cried. Bought flowers. Said it would never happen again."
"But it did."
"It did. And each time, the apologies got shorter.
The violence got worse. Until it wasn't about what I did wrong anymore.
It was just about him feeling like it." My hands wrap around my coffee mug, needing the warmth.
"The worst part wasn't the hitting. It was the way he made me believe I couldn't survive without him. "
Gabe is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is gentle. "But you did survive. You got out."
"Because my grandmother gave me an option. Without this place, I don't know if I would have found the courage." I look at him. "That's what Crane's counting on. That knowing about Derek will make me too scared to fight back. That I'll convince you to give him what he wants to protect myself."
"Will you?"
"No." The word comes out fierce. "I didn't survive Derek just to let another man control my life through fear. Crane can threaten all he wants. I'm not backing down."
Gabe's expression shifts, becomes something softer. "You're stronger than you think."
"I'm just stubborn."
"Same thing." He sets down the photograph and pulls me close.
I lean into him for just a moment, drawing strength. Then my phone rings. Zeke.
"We got a hit," he says without preamble. "The woman in the photograph. Her name is Sarah Andrews. Your sister, Gabe."
Gabe goes very still. He takes the phone, voice rough. "Where is she?"
"That's the complicated part. According to military records, she's based out of Sacramento. Works in military intelligence—analyst, high clearance, the works. But here's the interesting thing: three weeks ago, she filed a missing persons report. For you."
"She's been looking for me."
"Looking hard. Filed FOIA requests, hired a PI, contacted your old unit." Zeke's voice carries a mix of respect and concern. "Your sister doesn't give up easily."
"How do we reach her?"
"Working on that. Her official contact is through military channels, which means going through official channels...”
"Which Crane can monitor," Gabe finishes. "We need another way."
"I'm on it. Give me an hour." The line goes dead.
Sarah Andrews. Gabe's sister. The failsafe. She's been looking for him for three weeks, which means she knew something was wrong. Knew he was in danger. Maybe even knew about Chimera.
"You have a sister," I say, watching the realization sink in.
"I have a sister." Gabe stares at the photograph with new eyes. "And she's been looking for me."
"Which means she might already know about Glacier Hollow. About the trail you left."
"Or Crane could have already found her. Could be using her against me." The hope in his voice wars with fear. "If he knows I have a sister, if he knows she's looking for me..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't have to.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number:
I understand the trail marker. Coming to you with help. Don't trust anyone else. -S
I show Gabe. His hand shakes as he reads it.
"She's coming," he whispers. "My sister is coming. And she's not coming alone."
"How long?" Zara asks, appearing in the doorway.
"I don't know. Could be hours. Could be days." The message glows on my phone screen. "But she's on her way. We just have to survive until she gets here."
Sixty-two hours. Sarah's text:
Coming to you.
I look at Gabe holding his sister's photograph. Outside, someone is watching. We just need to hold out until Sarah gets here.