Chapter One
Twenty Years Later
Fairbanks, Alaska
Late September
Abigail Gardner wasn’t crazy about the reflection she saw in the mirror.
So she quickly brushed her thick, red mane back into a loose ponytail and touched up her face with some light blush and lip gloss.
It wasn’t a great job but it would have to do.
She put the makeup away and heaved her backpack up over her shoulder and grabbed her rolling suitcase.
“Time to go,” she said softly as she double-checked her watch and then exited the airport bathroom.
After bypassing more travelers and a couple of bush pilots in a heated discussion, she made her way outside and spotted her plane immediately.
It was a Piper PA-18 Super Cub. She knew because she’d studied the type thoroughly before her trip, knowing she’d have to take this particular plane to reach her last destination.
The other three planes she’d flown on had been bigger.
They were Cessnas. But this one was smaller, a two-seater, and it made her nervous.
Especially with the billowing darkly bruised clouds.
She wheeled her luggage up to the small red-and-white plane and smiled at the older man climbing out.
“You Junior?” she asked.
He gave her a quick once-over and puffed on his pipe. She could already smell the sweet, spicy tobacco.
“Who wants to know?” he asked.
She extended her hand. “Abigail Gardner. I’m your passenger.”
He plucked the pipe from his mouth. “No, you ain’t.”
“Sorry?”
“I ain’t got no passenger.” He looked up at the ominous sky. “Not today. Not in this weather.”
Abby laughed nervously, not liking how this conversation was going. “Weather? It’s just a few thunderheads.”
“It’s more than that, lady. A lot more according to the weather service. No one’s taking off in this.”
She stared at him in disbelief, but then recalled the heated talk the two pilots had been having inside. They’d been arguing over the weather. Shit. This wasn’t good. “But I have to get to Bettles. It’s the only way into Cozy. I’m due there this evening.”
The man closed the door to the plane and then ambled over to tighten the binds holding the plane in place.
“You won’t be getting there this evening.” He straightened and looked again at the sky. “Nah. Not today.”
“But I have to. I must.” Cozy was the last small town on her trip. She had to get there and meet her guide so she could explore its landmarks and nooks and crannies and meet the townsfolk. Those things were a necessity so she could write her article, and she needed all the time she could get.
It seemed that this old man however, this Junior, wasn’t going to budge. She sighed. “I’ll find another pilot then. Surely there must be someone.” She glanced around and saw other tethered planes, but no people nearby.
Junior wiped his hands on his denim coveralls as if they were dirty. “Good luck with that.” He began to walk away.
“Wait. You can’t just leave.” She hurried toward him. “My magazine…they already paid you.”
“No refunds for inclement weather.”
“But—”
“Look, lady, I’ve got to go. I want to get ahead of this storm.”
She cocked her head, confused. “I thought you said you couldn’t fly.”
“I can’t and I won’t.”
“Then—”
He walked away and called back over his shoulder. “I’m driving.”
“To Cozy?” Hope lifted her voice and she followed him once again.
He looked at her like she was dense. “What do you think?”
“Well, can I come with you?”
This time he looked at her like she was out of her mind.
“You? With me, in my Bronco?”
“Yes.” She offered her best smile, but she could feel her nerves permeating through. She just hoped he couldn’t see them.
“I already got a passenger.” He pointed across the tarmac to a chain link fence, where just beyond, a woman with dark hair was loading her gear into an old Ford Bronco.
Abby thought quickly. “I can pay. Handsomely.” She really couldn’t afford to pay him handsomely, but her magazine could, and she knew they’d do anything for this article. It was going to be the feature and they were as excited about it as she was.
Junior stopped in his tracks. He slid the pipe from his wet, liver-colored lips and studied her with tired, watery blue eyes. “Pay, you say?”
“Yes, sir. Handsomely.”
“What’s handsomely?”
“How’s four hundred dollars?” She slung her purse forward and dug for her wallet. She fingered out the cash. It was almost all she had. But she’d worry about that when she got to Cozy. “Cash,” she said, offering it to him.
He seemed to consider it a moment. Then he took the money and counted it as if to make sure she wasn’t lying. “Alright then.” He shoved the money down into the pocket of his coveralls. “Put your gear in the back.”
“Great, thanks.” She grinned so hard her face hurt. She followed him out through the fence and rounded the old SUV. There, the woman with the dark hair did a double take at her but said nothing. Abby, after doing a double take herself at the woman’s natural beauty, tried to be friendly.
“Hi,” Abby said, hoisting her bags into the Bronco. “I’m Abby. I’ll be riding with you.” She smiled again, but it, too, was ignored. The woman simply closed the back hatch and walked to the front passenger side door where she opened it and climbed inside.
Abby stared in confusion but then joined her, sliding into the bench seat behind her.
The truck was cold and smelled of tobacco.
The metal buckle of the seat belt was even colder.
She promptly secured herself with it and waited as Junior crawled inside behind the wheel.
He didn’t bother fastening his seat belt, but rather took the time to stuff his pipe with tobacco and relight it with a match.
Abby watched the blue flame burn down to his thick, rough-looking fingertips where it flickered and lingered.
She winced as she imagined the pain, but Junior didn’t seem to be bothered, waving out the flame as if it were nothing.
After a few hearty puffs that dispersed the spicy smoke throughout the cab, he fished out his keys and started the engine.
“Thanks again, Junior,” Abby said, truly grateful. “I really appreciate the ride.”
“It ain’t no big thing,” he said, reversing and heading away from the airport.
“Oh, but it is. Without this ride, I’d be stuck. And I can’t afford to be stuck. I need to get to Cozy pronto.”
“What’s your business in Cozy?” Junior asked.
Abby was surprised he was curious, but she answered proudly. “I’m writing an article on small, out of the way towns throughout Alaska. Cozy is my last town to visit.”
“Writing an article for what?” the woman asked.
Abby perked up, wondering why she was interested. “I write for a travel magazine. Exploring Horizons. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
No answer.
The truck grew quiet. Abby wondered if she’d said something wrong. She tried explaining. “The magazine is widely read. The article should do wonders for the featured towns. You know, bring in lots of extra tourism.”
More silence.
Junior glanced over at the woman but said nothing.
Abby spoke. “I’m sorry, is something wrong?”
“Whit here doesn’t like lots of tourism in Cozy,” Junior said.
Abby flushed. “Oh. May I ask why?”
“Because tourists ruin everything,” Whit said dryly.
Abby closed her mouth. Then she tried again. “I guess I just don’t understand. Tourists bring in money. Isn’t that helpful?”
“Money is fine,” Whit said, turning her head to look out the window. “It’s everything else they bring that’s the problem.”
“Like what?” Abby asked softly, truly wanting to know.
But again there was silence. Eventually, Junior spoke.
“Like yammering on for one thing.”
Abby took that as her cue to stop asking questions. Instead, she pulled out her phone and updated her editor, Susan, about the travel situation. It was then that she realized she had one more question.
“Uh, excuse me, Junior? About how long is the drive to Cozy?”
“About nine hours. But I know a shortcut. So we’ll be there, weather permitting, in about eight. If this guy behind me will get off my ass.”
Abby texted the info to Susan and then her guide in Cozy.
She informed her, too, of the situation and unfortunately had to cancel their dinner plans that evening.
The woman, whose name was Clair, said it was fine and asked her to check in with her when she arrived.
Abby said okay and eased back into her seat to try to rest.
She’d been flying all morning. First in a Cessna and then in a larger jet to reach Fairbanks. She couldn’t wait to reach her place in Cozy where she could fully relax and hopefully get some sleep. But nine hours was a long trek in the back of an old SUV with two grumpy strangers.
She found her ear buds and tucked them into her ears and put on some soft music.
Then she leaned back and closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was somewhere else with someone else.
Anyone, at the moment, would do. But before she could even conjure up someone in her mind’s eye, she was fast asleep.
* * *
She awoke some time later to heavy jostling, and it took her a moment to remember where she was.
“What’s going on?” Hard rain was pelting the windshield and Junior was crouched forward, attempting to wipe the fog off the glass so he could see.
“We’re in the thick of it,” he said, finally having enough with trying to wipe away the moisture. “It’s coming down like the dickens.”
“Why is the road so rough?” Abby asked as the Bronco shimmied left to right once again.
“It’s the trail,” he said, pipe gripped between his teeth. “Ain’t no one on it a whole lot so it’s grown over.”
Abby felt her stomach flip. “We’re on an overgrown trail? Not a road?”
“It’s a shortcut. Been taking it for years.”
Abby clenched the strap of her seat belt. “Apparently, no one else has,” she said.
“Just you mind your business,” Junior said, removing his pipe. “I know where I’m going and what I’m doing.”
Abby let out a startled noise as the truck banked back and forth, causing her seat restraints to tighten.
Her purse, which she’d kept with her, flew down onto the floor behind Junior’s seat, along with her phone.
Her ear buds, which had stopped playing music, dropped from her ears and she quickly grabbed them and closed them into her fist.
More jostling ensued and she eyed her purse and phone and debated unbuckling her seat belt to reach down and get them.
She decided to try, realizing she might need her phone in case of an emergency.
She was just about to push in on the buckle when Junior started coughing.
Alarmed at the fierceness of it, she glanced up at him and saw his skinny but potbellied body rack with the exertion.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Even Whit, who was so quiet it was like she wasn’t there, placed her hand on his arm in concern. “Junior?” The truck kept swaying, Junior still pressing on the gas.
He kept coughing, eventually whipping the pipe from his mouth in order to breathe better. “I’m—fine. But this asshole is still following us, riding my ass.”
Abby turned to look out the back window and saw a set of headlights in the rain. The other vehicle was newer than the Bronco and it wasn’t riding Junior’s bumper like he claimed, but rather was several car lengths away.
“Maybe he just knows about the shortcut too,” she said, facing front again.
The coughs kept coming to Junior, so he didn’t bother to respond. Abby watched him closely, growing more and more concerned.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
His hand flew up to his left arm and the tendons in his neck went taut.
“I’m—” but he didn’t finish his sentence.
Instead his eyes went wide and he grunted and the Bronco gained speed, plowing off the rugged trail into the brush, bypassing dozens of trees.
Abby screamed and Whit tried for the wheel, yanking it hard to the right.
A loud, wet sound escaped Junior as his hand moved from his arm to his chest, and the truck, banking a hard right, flipped and then slid down over a ledge, coming to a shockingly hard crash upside down, slamming Abby painfully against her seat belt and then back into her seat.
She lay limp, hanging from her belt, her head throbbing. The truck sizzled and popped and then groaned like the hull of a sinking ship. The smell of the burning engine filled her nostrils, as did the smell of spilt gasoline.
“Abby,” came a voice from the front.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Her heart raced, her head spinning from the blood rushing to it.
“We have to get out.” It was Whit and she was moving, already having undone her belt. She crawled to Junior, who, she’d suddenly noticed, stunk like shit. His body was half in half out of the windshield, his right leg twisted at an unnatural angle.
“Junior,” Abby said, though she knew.
“He’s dead,” Whit confirmed after she checked for his pulse. She crawled back to Abby. “Brace yourself.” She undid her seat belt and shoved her toward the broken window of her door once she fell. “Go. Get out, now.”
Abby, dizzy with a head rush, crawled through the smashed window out into the pelting cold rain. She felt Whit follow, still pushing on her backside even when they were a few feet away from the vehicle.
“Go!” Whit said to her, pulling her up into a stand. “Run!”
Abby tripped but Whit yanked on her once again and they ran, taking six to seven good steps before a loud blast came from behind and blew them forward onto the glossy wet rocks of the ravine.
Abby remained still, her body buzzing, her back and legs warm from the ensuing heat behind her. Her ears rang. She tried to push herself up, but her arms wouldn’t cooperate. She tried to call for Whit, but her voice wouldn’t work. So she did the only thing she could do.
She closed her eyes and prepared to die.