2. Chapter 2
Riley
Gunnar raised an eyebrow at me and nodded toward the Park administrator. I looked younger than my age, and most people overlooked and underestimated me. It was safer that way, but sometimes it grated.
I straightened. “Don’t worry about them. What can you tell us about Viggo Johansen’s disappearance?”
Beau glanced at the thick, double-headed wolf necklace at my throat as he lowered his bulk into his oversized office chair. He stared at us until the silence grew uncomfortable. When neither of us rushed to fill it, he leaned back.
“Johansen retired not long ago after thirty years as a ranger. He lives in Alpine, Wyoming, down by the Snake River and still volunteers with searches and rescues.”
“When was the last time anyone saw him?” Gunnar asked.
“Six days ago. His neighbor noticed his mail was piling up, and he hadn’t asked her to keep an eye on his place like he usually did.
It was out of character, so when he didn't come home, she filed a missing-person’s report with the Sheriff.
We found his truck in the Yellowstone Lake parking lot, with blood on the driver-side door. ”
“Has he disappeared in the past?” I asked as I studied Beau’s energy. He didn’t seem too torn up about Viggo’s disappearance.
“He’s a loner, and doesn’t like people that much.
He can be mean as a wounded badger, but Viggo is mostly quiet and introverted.
” He shook his head. “He knows the backcountry and is good at locating missing people. Hikers, lost kids, lost pets. He can usually find them even when no one else can. He swore he wasn’t a Cog, but the man has better skills than most high-level Trackers. ”
I exchanged a glance with Gunnar. “Was he registered?”
“No, and he doesn’t read as a Cog. About fifteen or twenty years ago, he got caught in a forest fire and has burn scars on his hands and arms, but he was able to get out. Those are his only identifying marks that I know of.”
“So he’s not the type to wander off without telling someone. Or get lost,” Gunnar concluded.
“Exactly.” Beau turned to the credenza behind him, picked up a worn map, and laid it across his desk.
“His cabin’s in Alpine, just off the Snake River, about an hour and a half south of here.
” He pointed to the map. “Viggo fishes there most days when the weather’s good.
Zaria, his neighbor, says his gear is still at home and there are no signs of forced entry.
Here’s his address.” He wrote it on a sticky note and handed it to me.
“Any security cameras or phone records?” I asked.
“He barely tolerated electricity, and rarely had his phone on him.”
My finger traced the winding line of the Snake River. “What’s your theory?”
Beau shrugged a massive shoulder. “The blood worries me, which is why I called you. It could’ve been a heart attack, or maybe he fell somewhere.
He might’ve run into trouble, either the two or four-legged kind.
But a week is a long time. We’ve also had increased bear activity this season.
” He paused, his dark eyes meeting mine.
“Or someone took him. Viggo knows this Park better than anyone living. He knows about forgotten places that aren’t on any map. ” Was Beau hinting at something?
“We’ll need to see his cabin,” Gunnar grunted.
“The local sheriff knows you’ll be calling.
Unless you have other lodging, I’ve arranged for you to stay in one of our employee bungalows while you’re here.
” He glanced at the door. “Looks like you’ll need the larger, four-bedroom one with your other guests.
I figure it’s better than a motel in West Yellowstone. ”
“We appreciate it,” I replied.
Beau leaned forward. “I can call Conall Segerson when you walk out, or you can just tell me. Why do you have such heavy protection? Freda Benten is one of Alpha Segerson’s top Betas. And he sent his hellhounds with you.”
A flicker of embarrassment hit me before the chip swallowed it. “It’s standard procedure,” I muttered. Beau tilted his head, and a blush crept up my neck. “I’m Alpha Segerson’s Mate.”
Beau blinked and slowly sat back. “Conall Segerson mated with an ISB agent and a Cog?” He tapped his nose.
“Bison have an advanced sense of smell. I scented your magic before you walked in the building. But I didn’t predict on my Bingo card this morning that the ISB agents would be a Cognizant Alpha Mate and a troll.
No offense, but you don’t seem like the Alpha Mate type. ”
Gunnar smirked. “Take it as a compliment, Blackthorne. Most Alphas are called Alpha-holes for a reason, and their mates are usually snooty, mean bitches. Pun intended.”
I stood, cutting off the conversation. “We’ll search through his cabin first thing tomorrow. We also need his personnel files.”
Beau also stood. “My assistant stocked a few essentials in your kitchen for tonight, and I’ll email Viggo’s file over.
I also have search team reports and topo maps of the areas we’ve covered.
Viggo mentioned your father once or twice, Ms. Blackthorne.
I understand he was a well-respected ranger and administrator. ”
I stilled. “Call me Riley. Viggo Johansen knew my father?”
“They worked together a long time ago. He spoke highly of your dad, and since Johansen has a strong aversion to people, that’s saying something.”
Hope flickered in my chest, even though I knew it was a long shot. Gunnar glanced at me as we left Beau’s office.
“You good with this case?”
I knew what he was asking. Our case involved a missing ranger in a National Park. It was my dad’s situation all over again. But if Viggo knew my father personally, maybe there were clues here.
“I’m good.” Even if I wasn’t, they couldn’t have pried me off this case with a crowbar.
We headed to our vehicle, and I leaned against the SUV's door, watching a group of tourists snap photos of a distant geyser. “I think I remember him.”
Gunnar raised his craggy brow. “The missing ranger?”
I nodded. “When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time during the summer with my dad. There was this ranger who used to come by sometimes. He was a little gruff, didn't talk much, and never smiled. Except one time when he and my dad got drunk and sang Irish beer-drinking songs all evening”
“Sounds like the man Beau described.”
I nodded. “He brought maps a few times, and they’d spread them out on the kitchen table and talk in low voices.” The memories were hazy, like looking through frosted glass. “I’d peek from the hallway. They always stopped talking when they noticed me.”
“What were they discussing?”
I shrugged. “I was only seven or eight at the time.”
“You think Johansen’s disappearance is connected to your father’s?”
“I don’t know, but it feels too coincidental. Except my father was a registered Cog with a high Resonance designation, and the FBCI took over his case almost immediately.”
“Johansen isn’t a registered Cog, so it stays with us for now. You think he’s also a Resonant, or maybe a Tracker?”
“I don’t know, but I always assumed Dad went missing because of his abilities. But what if it was because of something he knew?”
Freda came around the side of the SUV. “Let’s go. You can talk when we get inside.”
The last rays of sunlight painted the sky in bands of orange and purple as we pulled up in front of the bungalow.
As we got situated, my mind kept circling back to Viggo knowing my father.
It was another thread in the tangled web of my past, another possible lead to what happened years ago when Dad walked into the forest and never walked out.
The employee housing area was tucked away from the main tourist zones, a cluster of rustic buildings that blended into the surrounding forest. Our assigned bungalow was built of weathered timber and rough-hewn stone.
A wide porch wrapped around the front, complete with rocking chairs that creaked in the cool breeze.
I braced and walked inside, but only benign vibrations washed over me.
It echoed with decades of rangers and their families, living and working in the wild heart of Yellowstone.
The comforting energy reminded me of the red cliffs above my Airstream trailer near Zion National Park, and my shoulders loosened.
“Not bad,” Gunnar muttered, ducking his head to avoid the low entryway.
There was an old stone fireplace in the main living area, a small kitchen, and what looked like bedrooms branching off a short hallway. The wood furniture and wool rugs were sturdy and built to withstand years of use. The place had a timeless, mellow feel.
Bennion began checking windows and doors as my phone vibrated in my pocket again, but I didn’t pull it out.
“I’m going to clean up, then we can review those files.” Everyone took a bedroom, and Freda took the one right next to mine.
A hot shower helped cut through the persistent chill from the implant, but the device’s icy silence seemed to spread further with each passing day, numbing me from the inside out.
I pressed my hands against the tile and bowed my head.
How much time did I have until it engulfed me completely?
I got out, got dressed, and sat on the side of the bed to check my messages.
Unknown Number: The Alpha is smart to give you extra protection. What are you doing in Yellowstone, sweetheart?
I stared down at the message, then blocked Marlowe’s number. When I walked into the kitchen, Gunnar had commandeered the kitchen table, and a map of Yellowstone and the surrounding area lay spread out on top.
“Beau sent over the files,” he muttered.
“Anything useful?”
His finger tapped a spot on the map. “This is where his truck was found. The blood is his, but there’s not much of it, at least not enough to indicate serious injury.
Could be from a cut or a nosebleed.” His thick finger traced a route on the map.
“Search teams covered a five-mile radius around where his truck was located, but didn’t find anything.
” We talked for a few more minutes until Freda walked over, her face carefully neutral.
“I’ve updated the Alpha. Including the text from Marlowe.”
“What’d he say?” I kept studying the map.
“He wants you to call him, and he wants daily reports. Riley.” She waited until I looked up at her. “He’s also concerned about your mate bond.”
My bond with Conall was the last thing I wanted to discuss in front of Bennion and Gunnar. I straightened. “I’m going to bed. Let’s start early tomorrow.”
Conall had talked to Freda about our bond, but he hadn’t contacted me. Irritation and hurt swam through me before the implant smothered both.
“Night,” Gunnar grunted absently. Freda watched me go, her brow furrowed.
The bedroom was small with simple furniture, but it had an unobstructed view of the geysers and mountains beyond.
I got ready for bed and slid under the covers, my body exhausted but my mind churning.
Outside, a half-moon hung in the sky, surrounded by brilliant stars pulsing against the black night.
Sleep wouldn’t come. I stared at the ceiling, the coldness inside me spreading through my limbs like frost across a windowpane. I reached for the mate bond, that gossamer thread that connected me to Conall. But it felt so thin and fragile, barely stirring when I mentally tugged at it.
Had it been irreparably damaged when they cut me open and attached that device to my cervical spine? Its icy reach seemed to creep through me a little more each day. Was the bond dampened by the distance, or by the implant?
I rolled on my side and stared out at the moonlight glimmering through the pine branches outside. The moon looked like a crescent scar, pale and curved against the darkness.
Pulling my phone off the nightstand, I sent Conall a text.
Riley: The text from Marlowe wasn’t a big deal. Don’t worry about me. Let me know how the Pack Council goes
I watched the text go unread for a while, then laid my phone face down on the nightstand. Questions chased through my mind as the night deepened around me.
Would I ever feel warm again, or would this coldness eventually consume me, turning me into something as remote and untouchable as those distant stars?