Chapter 11
WHAT IF she stayed?
Keely let that thought run through her head too many times in the night, as she listened to the storm die, the memory of the song, the kiss, the what-ifs swirling through her. Woke up to it cemented in her brain.
She lay under the quilts, one thought circling her mind. Please let this not be Chase Sterling all over again. Handsome, charming—a liar, a betrayer.
“It could be real, right?”
Dawson’s voice, soft, haunting, stuck to her heart.
She could say yes to Bryce’s request, bring Zoey here with Dawson, build one of those cute cabins, and restart her life.
People restarted their lives all the time.
Zoey could grow up with Wren and Oliver, with Nance telling her stories, with Dawson as her daddy . . .
The thought filled her chest.
He’d make such an amazing dad.
Wow. She was really getting ahead of herself. For Pete’s sake, she already had them married. But she’d had a front row seat on the disaster of a quick marriage, thank you, Dad.
No, this was . . . yep, Hallmark. Romance in a weekend, something for the movies. Not real life, and probably she needed to stop believing so hard in her songs.
But oh, the man knew how to kiss. And protect. And make her laugh.
She’d never felt so safe in her life. At least not since her mother died.
Outside, the blizzard winds seemed less ferocious, and a glance out the window showed a pale sun breaking through the gray.
She got up and pulled on clothes, hearing voices lift from the main room.
Apparently, she’d slept through breakfast. She walked out and headed down the stairs, and they silenced.
She looked over to see a group of the community men and a few women seated and standing around one of the long tables.
Griffin sat court in the middle, and Dawson stood opposite, his hands on his hips.
Caspian sat beside him, almost on his foot.
Dawson wore a look. Angry, his jaw tight, his eyes sparking. He glanced at her as she came down the stairs, and his mouth pinched.
“What’s going on?” Her voice seemed even stronger today, so maybe yesterday’s impromptu open mic hadn’t stripped it again.
The aroma of coffee seasoned the air and even Nance had joined the group at the table, seated on the bench. She gave Keely a wan smile.
Dawson took a breath. “They want us to leave.”
“Hey. That’s not fair, Daws.” This from Griffin.
Dawson rounded on him. “Yes, it is. And I don’t blame you, Griff.”
His words scraped through Keely, turned her hollow. “What?”
Dawson glanced at her. “We found tracks around the barn this morning. From more than one sled.”
She walked over to the group. “What does that mean?”
“It means whoever attacked Griffin is back,” Donald snapped. “And this time, he attacked me and set our barn on fire.”
“The barn might have been an accident, Don,” Nance said. “One of the propane lights could have ignited it.”
Donald gave her a tight look.
Griffin held up his hand. “Whoever they are, yes, it looks like they came back.”
Keely folded her arms against herself. Met Dawson’s eyes. “Thornwood.”
“Maybe,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure where he would have spent the storm, but I can’t figure out why he’d come back.”
“Me?”
He drew in a breath, his expression grim. “Could be.”
“I don’t understand why he wants me.”
“You saw him take down the plane. You can identify him.”
“So can Wilder! And that’s who he was after.”
“Wilder Frost?” Landon stood with one foot on the bench, one arm perched on his knee. “You were on the plane with Wilder Frost?”
“I don’t know his last name. Brown hair, in his thirties.”
Landon nodded, put his foot down. “Sounds like Frost.” He glanced at Dawson. “I heard the Sorros trial was beginning down in Juneau. I’ll bet he was headed down to testify.”
“What trial?” Griffin asked.
Dawson was nodding, and Keely could almost see the gears working in his detective brain.
“Frost is a local musher.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Three years ago, he was out with his dogs and just happened across a group of . . . well, let’s call them a group operating outside of the law.
Drugs and weapons, and we’re not sure what else, but we do know the Sorros brothers were involved—Mars and Jago and Conan, all led by their father, Brand.
Brand was caught about five years ago and charged with drug dealing.
But the boys were still out, running the operation.
Three years ago, Wilder witnessed them murder a DEA agent.
Unfortunately, they knew this and came after him.
They killed Wilder’s wife, but he managed to escape with his daughter.
He’s been living in Copper Mountain ever since.
The brothers scattered, but Conan and Jago were caught and arrested.
Since Conan pulled the trigger, according to Wilder, they had him on first-degree murder charges.
Then Jago was killed in prison a couple months ago.
He had a plea agreement to testify against Conan, but when he was killed, they turned to Wilder.
They were probably bringing him in to testify . . .”
Dawson glanced at Keely. “Can you describe Thornwood again?”
“Just a lumberjack. Dark beard, kind of scraggly, and he had a scar on his cheek, right here.” She touched a place under her eye. “Big guy.”
“Could be any of the Sorros brothers,” Landon said.
“Conan Sorros escaped from prison during a transfer a month ago,” Dawson said quietly.
A chill spread through Keely. “Are you saying that Thornwood is Conan Sorros and that’s who was on that plane?”
“I don’t know,” Dawson said.
“If Wilder knew him, why didn’t he recognize Sorros?” Landon asked.
“Sounds like he wore a disguise. Or—”
“Thornwood got on the plane last,” Keely said. “He sat in the back seat with me. Maybe Wilder didn’t get a good look at him. They were sort of standing apart from each other.”
“If Thornwood really was Sorros, and he was tasked to take out Wilder, then there’s no way he’d want a witness.” He turned back to Griffin. “And he’s not going to quit.”
Silence, and she clamped her mouth shut. She refused to let tears spill out of her stinging eyes.
“You can wait for the blizzard to end,” Griffin said softly. “We’ll post guards, keep everyone inside—”
“They can’t wait.”
These words came from River, who had joined them, standing at the end of the table. She wore her hair back in a handkerchief, fatigue in her eyes. “Wren isn’t doing well.”
Donald stood up. Groaned and braced himself on the table.
“And Donald has a concussion.”
“I’m fine.”
River held up her hand. “I think Wren has some internal bleeding. Maybe a broken rib nicked something, but she has some abdominal pain and more bruising has appeared. It could be from the fall, but . . . she’s pale and still confused and lethargic.
She needs more medical help than we have here.
” Her gaze settled on Dawson. “We can’t wait for the blizzard to die. ”
“It’s already subsiding,” Landon said. “According to the weather service, this is the tail end. It’s clear skies west of Copper Mountain.”
Griffin turned to Dawson. “Take the snow machine and a sled. With the drops in temperatures, the snow should stay powdery enough for you to get through.”
“I should go,” Donald said, his hands braced on the table.
“Yeah, and you’ll pass out along the way, and then you’ll both die.” This from River, and even Keely turned brittle.
Donald gave her a wretched look, so much pain in it, Keely had to look away.
Despite his rough-edged demeanor, the man did love his daughter.
“I’ll bring her to Sully’s and call Moose,” Dawson said. “He can bring a chopper in, and if not, the outpost should have an all-weather ATV. We’ll get her to safety.”
“No. You don’t understand,” River said. “We can’t move her. The bleeding will only increase. You need to go get help and bring it here.” She looked at Donald. “You stay here with Wren. She needs her dad.”
The man looked away, swallowed, his face twisted. Nodded.
Poor man.
“Maybe I should go,” Griffin said.
“No, you should stay. Do your job, and let me do mine,” Dawson said. “I’ll get to Sully’s.” His gaze went to Keely. “Maybe you should stay.”
“Not a chance.” She raised an eyebrow at his wide-eyed expression. “Thornwood is after me. If I’m not here, then . . .” A shoulder lifted, and she gave Donald a tight smile. “We’ll get help. I promise.”
More silence, during which Dawson gave her a dark, almost fierce look, as if biting back an argument. Then he looked at Donald and nodded.
And just like that, the movie ended.
Time to leave.
“I’ll pack you a survival kit,” Nance said and got up.
“You’re going to need warmer clothes.” River looked at Keely and exited the room.
Caspian whined.
Dawson petted his head. “Not you, buddy. You stay here. We’ll get you when we come back.”
The dog got up, as if in protest, but Dawson turned to Griffin. “Watch my dog?”
“I doubt he’ll stay with me. He’s pretty stuck to you.”
Dawson glanced at the dog. “It’s too dangerous for him.” He headed toward the small room where they kept their outdoor gear.
River returned with a full body snowsuit and a pair of knitted wool socks. “You’ll need this. And the parka. And a scarf and double mittens.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Alaska.” She handed them to Keely, who put on the gear, took off her fuzzy Prada boots, and pulled on the wool socks. “You’ll need the Sorels I loaned you,” River added.
“I guess I’ll trade you.” Keely handed her the boots. River looked them over, raised an eyebrow.
“I thought these were Uggs. Add a couple zeros.”
Keely shrugged. “The zeros don’t matter when it’s below freezing.”
“There’s the Alaska girl in you.”
She laughed, fighting the burr in her throat as she zipped up the snowsuit, then she put on the wool underjacket that River gave her.
“Layers will save your life,” River said.
She had no idea.
Keely zipped up the wool overcoat, then retrieved the boots by the door and laced them up.