One Last Chance

Chapter 16

Maybe she was the phoenix.

Flynn sat on the deck of Moose’s amazing log home overlooking the Knik River, the smell of steaks grilling, some soft guitar strums from Oaken Fox, and the Air One Rescue team razzing Axel about his big appearance on Good Morning, Alaska!

Sure, he had fans, but she was president of the club, with first-in-line rights to his wry smile, those arms around her, the husky timbre of his voice in her ear. To the guy on the other side of the phone late at night or on her doorstep with donuts in the morning, greeting her on her way to her new job in the investigative support unit of the Anchorage Police Department. She didn’t know exactly what strings Moose had pulled to land her a detective position alongside his cousin Dawson. It had included a phone call from Chief Burke, no doubt—but she didn’t hate the changeup.

Mostly, she now parlayed her river-monster skills into hunting down kidnappers, robbery suspects, and vehicle hijackers.

And none of them crept up on her in her sleep.

More, she spent her evenings with Axel or hanging out at the Tenderfoot Bar and Grill.

Watching the sunsets becoming deeper, darker, more beautiful with each twilight.

“Here you go,” Axel said and handed her a pop. He sat next to her on the outdoor sofa, his arm over the back, and held his can up for a toast. “Moose runs a dry house here, so it’s the best we can do.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Those steaks smell amazing.” She glanced over to where Moose stood at the grill, smoke curling out. He wore an apron and held a grilling fork, and the sight reminded her of Danny Mulligan.

“I didn’t realize you guys were related to Danny and Bets.”

She’d only made that connection when her parents came out a week ago to visit Kennedy. They’d met Axel and deduced the connection.

“Distant, but yeah, small world.” He put an arm around her. Below, the river glistened under the rising moon. “Feels a shame that you just arrived and now you’re going to be in darkness for six months.”

“Not quite yet, and really, I’m not afraid of the dark.”

He looked at her.

“Especially now that the real Midnight Sun Killer is in custody. Or rather, both of them.”

Axel nodded, but pain entered his eyes. “Poor Laramie.”

“Who’s he with?” Flynn asked.

“Hudson Bowie for now. His mother hasn’t shown up, so who knows where she is? They’re petitioning the court for temporary custody.”

London dropped into a chair, one leg pulled up. “That was some good sleuthing.” Her comment sounded almost haunted. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Something my mentor said to me—look at the first victim. Jennifer Greene. Age 29, summer worker at the Bowie resort. She disappeared about two weeks after she arrived, about a week before Aven Mulligan went missing. Her car was found by the side of the road, the back bumper damaged, no hint of why she’d abandoned it. Forensics on it suggested paint from a Ford pickup truck, but Alaska, and especially Talkeetna, is lousy with Ford pickups, so that wasn’t a good lead until I remembered Wilson Bowie’s supposedly stolen blue Ford. And then something Shasta said—about Wilson being missing during the hunt for Aven. I started to wonder—so I called around to body shops in Anchorage and found one that had repaired a blue ‘84 Ford 150 pickup during that week. Belonged to the Bowie resort.”

Silence.

“What I can put together is that somehow, Jennifer Greene and Wilson Bowie got into an accident. Maybe it was intentional, maybe not. Maybe she was wounded. There was no sign of a struggle at the scene, so maybe she went with him willingly. She probably knew him because he’d been up at the resort, fishing and helping his nephews, and probably his son, Dillon. I’m not sure if Dillon was with him for the abduction of Jennifer or if Dillon just happened upon his dad while looking for Aven a week later.”

She glanced at Axel, who she’d never really outlined all this for. Took his hand. “Aven survived the river and got out. And I think she must have gone south, looking for help. My guess is that Aven found the cabin and maybe even found Jennifer tied up. I think Wilson caught her, took Aven captive, and that she broke free and Wilson chased her through the woods—hence the gunshot wound. And the MO. Maybe Dillon witnessed it, or maybe just saw it after the fact, but he did not know that she was not sexually assaulted.” She looked back at Axel. “Not.”

He swallowed, nodding.

“Jennifer was killed shortly thereafter, even though she was found first.”

“Both of them in the river,” said Axel.

“Yes. And that event seeded Dillon’s actions, five years later after his wife left him. Making him a copycat MSK killer.”

“How did you know Wilson would go after Axel?” Shep asked.

“Because Axel killed Dillon?—”

“I didn’t kill Dillon. He tried to kill me.”

She turned to him. “I know. But Wilson couldn’t hear that. You saw him at the scene. ‘Not like this,’ he kept saying. Maybe he’d expected Dillon to be found . . . but not killed. I don’t know. I think the first MSK victims were killed out of panic. But the death at the ski resort wasn’t, and that’s what got me nervous.”

“You mean the bride who was shot?” London said. “That was Wilson?”

“Yes.” She let go of Axel’s hand, drew up one knee. “He confessed to the crime during questioning, but I’d already put the scenario together. The HOA keeps a record of everyone in the vacation development, and Dillon checked in that weekend. I think he went up to the resort to visit his dad and Laramie, who were there with the Pathfinders youth group. All the resort doors are accessed by a key card, and a card issued to Dillon was used to exit the building about thirty minutes before the bridesmaids left. It was accessed again three hours later. A key card belonging to the Pathfinders exited the building after Dillon returned. I think Wilson saw Dillon come back, and Dillon confessed to what he’d done. The victim had been strangled, but Wilson feared she wasn’t dead, so he went to find out—and saw her running toward the building. He shot her to protect Dillon.”

“But you didn’t know that before you got on a plane,” said London.

“No. But I knew that when you stir up a river monster, it’ll attack, and my gut said that Wilson wasn’t going to let Axel get away with killing his son.”

“I didn’t?—”

“I know,” she said quietly, looking at him. “You’d never do that. But Wilson didn’t know that. Or didn’t care.”

“But you did.”

“Know, or care?”

“Apparently both.”

She smiled. Nodded.

He leaned over and kissed her, and she held onto his shirt, savoring it.

“But how did Kennedy fit in?” asked London. “And who shot at you?”

“That was Dillon, both times. He hunted with Idaho, and maybe she saw them poaching. I think they both stopped by the cache cabin, and Kennedy saw Idaho’s tattoo—she even sketched it in her notes, suspecting he might be a poacher. I think Dillon caught her watching them and shot at her. She ran to the Outpost, not realizing it belonged to the Bowies . . . at least, not until Sully showed up with the family, including Dillon, a year later.”

“And that’s when she ran to the art colony,” Shep said.

“She gave her necklace to Dori, along with a letter to our family, but it never made it out,” said Flynn.

“This necklace,” Axel said, touching the one at his neck.

“Oh, that’s so romantic,” Boo said as she came over and sat down next to Oaken on the other sofa.

It sort of was, even if Axel thought it was sappy. It probably wouldn’t last for long, but Flynn liked that he wore it. She wove her fingers into his.

Oaken had been lost in a song he’d been humming but had stopped during Flynn’s story. Now he looked up at them. “Axel helped me with this one when I was staying here.”

Then he started singing.

“In a dusty old town, where the sun set low,

Lived a man named Coop with a heart of gold.

He’d ride the plains, a lone cowboy through,

With a past so dark, he couldn’t undo.”

“Wow,” said Axel. “I’d forgotten how sad that was.”

“You have to keep listening. It’s got a happy ending,” Oaken said. He grinned, such a magazine cover. “Besides, you helped me write it.”

“I’m not that sad?—”

“Whatever. You’re the one who bared his soul on national television,” said Shep, coming over, holding a piece of garlic bread. “That story about the Coast Guard rescue?—”

“Failed rescue.”

“You rescued an entire family,” Flynn said.

“Except the dad.”

“Axel—” Moose started, by the grill.

Axel held up a hand. “I know. I know. I’m not invincible. I can’t rescue everyone. And for the record, it doesn’t haunt me.” He looked at Flynn. “Anymore.”

She smiled at him, then looked at Oaken. “How about the rest of that song?”

Such a nice guy—so different from the social media about him. Then again, he’d recently had some positive vibes on the internet, what with his newest single, the show, and an appearance he’d made at some teenage fan’s birthday party a month ago. The video of him dipping his girlfriend, Boo, in a kiss had gone viral. Boo now sat cross-legged on the sofa, grinning at him.

He lit into the chorus.

“But when he laid eyes on sweet Blossom,

A beauty that could save him, he began to understand,

He must rise up, though his soul’s weighed down.

For the woman he loves, he’ll wear the hero’s crown.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Axel said. “I really don’t think you should say I helped you write that song.”

“I don’t know. I like it,” Flynn said.

“He’ll get a big head.” Shep finished off his garlic bread.

“See?” Axel pointed to him. “What he said.”

“Steaks are off the grill and setting up,” Moose said. “Grab plates.”

They got up, Oaken putting his guitar away, and Boo grabbing his hand. Shep stepped up behind London, and she had to be blind not to see the way he looked at her. But London seemed if not oblivious, then at least not biting.

Axel slipped his hand into Flynn’s and pulled her away, around the back of the house, into the shadows and hues of twilight. He backed her up against the house, braced his hands on either side of her shoulders.

She put her hands on his amazing chest, caught in the sweet sizzle of his gaze on hers. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding myself of my happy ending.” Then he leaned in and kissed her. Sweetly, possessively, perfectly.

And she kissed him back, just as perfectly.

“C’mon, you two! Dinner is getting cold!” Moose’s voice, raised around the corner.

She pushed Axel away, and he shook his head, grinning. They sat down at Moose’s long wooden outside table. Boo had lit candles, and the steaks glistened on a plate next to grilled garlic bread, a salad, and some fried potatoes.

Moose prayed. And it wasn’t awkward or even imposing. Something about faith and holding on to hope.

Thank you, God.She tried it out and let the words sink in. Fill her. Thank you for all the ways that light overcomes the darkness.

The team “amened” and passed plates, and they nearly missed the ring of the doorbell. But someone sat on it, so Moose got up.

“Expecting someone?” Axel said.

He wiped his mouth, then dropped his napkin. “Nope.”

Huh.

Then he headed into the house.

“So, Oaken, how’s that movie you’re working on?” Shep asked.

“I’m not in it, but I did a little video promo in a town called Ember a few weeks ago.”

“Ember, Montana?” asked Shep.

“Yeah.”

“I have a cousin who used to work for a smokejumper team out of Ember.” Shep dug into his steak.

“There’s a big forest fire raging right now, so hope he’s not in danger.”

“Naw, he’s married and lives in DC with his wife. Directs a Red Cross SAR Team?—”

“Boo! Flynn!”

She looked up at Moose’s voice. He’d come out of the house, his expression turning them all silent.

“Can you guys . . . come here?”

Apparently it was a siren call for everyone, because the entire team got up and followed her into the house.

A woman sat on a bench in the kitchen. Long, dark hair pulled back, a black jacket, grimy jeans, and tennis shoes, brown eyes that widened when the crew came in. She held an ice pack to her cheek, her lip broken, her eye swollen.

Flynn stilled as Boo walked up to the woman.

“Tillie?” Boo said. “What happened?”

Flynn glanced at Moose. He stood near the end of the counter, holding on like he might need it for support. Or maybe he was about to rip it from its moorings—she couldn’t be sure. He wore such a fierce, dangerous expression that for the first time she wondered exactly who he’d been before turning into a rescuer.

Then again, Axel had worn that exact same expression when he’d stopped her from running after Wilson, so maybe that was the Mulligan default when someone they loved—and she could see that clearly on Moose’s face too—was hurt.

“I’m sorry, but I had no other choice,” Tillie said quietly, looking first at Boo, then at Moose. “My daughter has been kidnapped. And I need your help to get her back.”

* * *

Continue the adventure with the next book in the series, One Last Promise! Moose’s story is not to be missed!

She”s hiding a terrible, wonderful secret…but what will discovering the truth cost him?

Moose (Arlo) Mulligan”s biggest grief propelled him into the world of Search and Rescue.After years as a former Navy Rescue Chopper pilot, he returned home to start Air One Rescue—and made a name for himself. He loves his job, his life, and his routines…which include breakfast at the Skyrise, at the table of Tillie Young. She’s sweet, and pretty, but has no room in his life for anything more.

And then, Tillie shows up, beaten and desperate…and needs his help.

Tillie Young never thought her ex would track her to Alaska—but somehow he’s found her, and when he kidnaps her daughter, she’ll do anything to get her back. Even enlist help from her favorite grumpy rescuer at table three, Moose Mulligan. But Moose is no match for a former MMA boxer, and possible child trafficker, right?

Maybe, maybe not, but he’s not going to let another child go missing on his watch. Worse—when Moose finds himself accused as the kidnapper, there’s no way back. Now, he must find the girl, keep Tillie safe and outwit a man fueled by revenge. It will take all of Moose’s Alaskan savvy to protect them, and keep them alive…but who is going to protect him from the love he never saw coming?

Set in the treacherous Alaskan backwoods, it”s a heart-pounding tale of survival, love, and the family Moose never anticipated.

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As if Moose Mulligan didn’t have enough problems, the mountain tried to bury him.

The cracking sound spiked the clear blue air as the ice cones hanging off the eastern cliffs detached and careened toward the Byron Glacier, a frozen river spilling out through a valley of granite.

Moose looked up from where he was dipping his thermos into the crystalline meltwater stream of the massive blue-veined plane of ice?—

“Run!” This from his copilot, London, who’d been capping her water bottle. She wore a red rescue suit and mirrored aviator sunglasses, her long blonde hair pulled back in a braid, and had already leaped to her feet.

He’d heard the dog barking some fifteen seconds before, so perhaps Moose should have seen it coming. In his defense, he had a lot cluttering up his brain—like the lawsuit that could take down Air One Rescue, and the unrelenting worry about the disappearance of Tillie Young, a woman he really shouldn’t be obsessed about, and the gnawing problem of the inheritance that didn’t really belong to him—the one that funded everything he owned. Just little things that could blow apart the life he’d built.

Whatever.

Still, when they’d first landed on the ice with his chopper, he’d spotted—and hadn’t liked—the way the serac of old snow and blue-gray ice clung to an upper lip of granite.

Now, his body went cold as the entire wall cascaded into the valley, thirty tons of icy boulders and snow and silt thundering toward them.

They were dead where they stood.

“Move!” He hit his feet and tried to locate the three tourists who’d purchased his day charter to the glacier, a clearly not-so-brilliant idea to keep his rescue flight service in the black. Two sisters and their brother wanted a close-up view of the glacier. One of the sisters was a photographer, intent on capturing the sunset just as it winked off the icy plane. Another worked with a dog, a beautiful Malador that looked a little like Balto and possessed the energy of an entire dog-sled team, the way it explored the area.

He spotted his people already sprinting.

“There!” He pointed to a cavern nearby, carved out of the rock, a cleft born from earlier ice flows. The dog bolted for the entrance—the one littered with boulders and silt, like teeth.

Behind them, the ice flow gathered speed, chunks of lethal ice roaring toward them, a cloud of debris like a volcano rising above it.

London hit the cave first and pulled in one of the sisters to crouch with her against the wall.

The brother came in beside her, and next to him, his other sister.

Moose practically dove into the space, some twenty feet deep, grabbed the dog into his arms, and hid behind a Volkswagen-sized barrier. Then he ducked his head and prayed.

Sort of prayed. More like a repeated, help, help, help.

Moose and the Almighty had been in a sort of ongoing conversation for the past month, mostly about Tillie, but also his depleted bank account and the lawsuit, and yes, really about Tillie and?—

And then the avalanche swept across the mouth of the cave like a freight train, loud and consuming. One of the women put her hands over her ears and screamed, and all Moose could think was . . .

This was how it would end.

Him, trapped in an ice cave, freezing to death.

Talk about being buried in his job.

Okay, that wasn’t funny, but Moose had nothing else as the roar subsided and silence filled in between the gasps. He lifted his head and looked around.

“Everybody alive?”

He heard crying, so hopefully. As it was, blue ice chunks and dirty silt and grimy, crusty snow had all tumbled together to form a wall, sealing them in. A hard, musty odor raked up from the debris, a chill shivered through him, and an echoing drumbeat of silence filled his soul as their predicament settled into his bones.

And it occurred to him then, weirdly, that this might have been how Jonah had felt, running from a God he loved, swept into the belly of a whale.

Except Moose wasn’t running. Just . . .

Certainly, there were things he didn’t want to face, but really?

And that’s when he got giddy. Or morose. But either way, he wasn’t quite himself when he turned to the huddled, terrified tourists, along with a wide-eyed London, and said, “Hope nobody is claustrophobic.”

One of the women just looked at him. Midtwenties, brown hair that trailed out under a felt cap, her eyes a hazel blue, and now she blinked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Seriously?”

“He’s just in shock,” said London and got up.

The dog barked as if agreeing with her, and the woman held out her arms. “C’mere, Rome.”

The dog obeyed, crouched, and started whining.

Yep, exactly how Moose felt.

Cool-headed London pulled out her walkie.

The other woman started to cry, and the brother put his arms around her. Moose thought his name might be . . . Ridge? See, this was why he wasn’t good at the tourist game. But desperation had clouded his vision after taking a look at his cash flow.

Or lack thereof.

He stood up to examine the ice wall.

The woman with the dog—Rome—stood up and came over to Moose. “How could you let this happen?”

“Sorry. My epic powers of avalanche control are clearly on the fritz.”

She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Sorry—no, I mean . . . isn’t there a weather forecast or something you should have checked before we flew up here?”

“I did. Clear skies. No sign of lethal glacier avalanches.” Although, if he were honest, he might have paid better attention to the heatwave that had descended upon Alaska this summer, and especially the past few weeks. He’d lived in a small town under the shadow of Denali long enough to know heat caused ice to groan and shift.

Again, too much clutter in his head. Him trying to do it all. But if he didn’t, who would?

He turned to survey the group. “Anyone hurt?”

The man shook his head. “Aspen, you okay?” He addressed his sister, tucked into his embrace, and she lifted her head, nodded.

“How about you, Stormi?”

The woman standing in front of him also nodded, then sighed, her voice softer now as she addressed Moose. “Please tell me that you have a plan.”

He drew in a breath, looked around the cave. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

Sort of what he’d said every morning since Tillie had disappeared from the Skyport Diner. He shouldn’t be so undone by the absence of his favorite waitress, but she was more, oh so much more, than that.

So far, he’d unearthed a big fat nothing about her disappearance. Which only dragged up the earlier conversation with London as they’d been wandering around the glacier. “Have you heard from Tillie?”

Certainly, she hadn’t meant for it to hit him like a blow to his chest, nearly whuffing the breath from him. As if she could read his mind.

“Nope.”

But the question was always there, wasn’t it? A month of searching—he’d even asked his cousin Dawson, a cop, to look into it. Nothing.

“Maybe she wants to stay gone.”He hadn’t meant to let that tidbit out, and clearly his tone had carried an edge to it, because London had raised an eyebrow. “Just saying—I left a note at the diner weeks ago. If she wanted to get in contact with me, she would.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Maybe I’m just poking my head in where it doesn’t belong.”

“It’s the rescuer in you,”she’d said. “You and Axel are cut from the same cloth.”

Hardly. His brother shone in the limelight. But Moose didn’t care for any of it. He wasn’t the guy to live on the edge, make the papers. Just wanted to keep his head above water.

That could mean letting Tillie go. She had walked away, no foul play suspected. He was simply overreacting to being ghosted.

“Everyone just stay calm,” London said now, her voice confirming exactly that. She was a bit of a mystery to him. When Shep had suggested he bring her aboard the private SAR team, he hadn’t quite expounded on her skills. She could fly planes and choppers, was an expert climber and skier, and spoke at least three languages. What she was doing flying for his tiny SAR outfit, he didn’t know. He just knew he didn’t deserve her.

Didn’t deserve a lot, really. Like this entire gig, the Air One team, his house, even his very life.

So he got it, and didn’t ask questions—of London, or even of God, because he didn’t want to question the goodness of the Lord. He just embraced the grace, frankly, and thanked God every day for it.

Which meant even now, in their snow tomb. God, please save us.

“I’ll see if I can raise the team on the radio,” London said and turned away to speak into the walkie. Static filled the airway.

He wanted to tell her that they were out of range anyway, some thirty miles from Air One HQ.

When she turned back and shook her head, all eyes burned into him.

And that’s when he realized . . . light. By rights, they should be in darkness. He looked up, and indeed, light spilled through from the top of the cavern, possibly where the flow had washed by.

This time of year, end of August, twilight started at nine, so he had a good four hours before it turned pitch dark.

Four hours to freedom. Four hours before the sun set and the ice turned them hypothermic.

Four hours before they all died.

But they weren’t dead yet. He turned back to the wall. He couldn’t believe he’d left his gloves in the chopper. One more thing that had simply dropped out of his brain. “Okay, I’m going to try to dig us out. I need your hat, um?—”

“Stormi,” said the woman and pulled it off her head. Aspen also handed him hers.

London walked over. “I’m a better climber.”

He ignored her. Because the last thing he wanted was one of his teammates getting hurt on his watch.

His ride, his responsibility.

He had issued crampons for the glacial trek, and Ridge carried a walking stick, which he handed over. London stood back, her arms crossed over herself. “There are a few handholds at the top, but it’s going to be slick.”

Moose surveyed the wall. It rose some fifteen feet, mostly massive boulders, some smaller jagged pieces of ice. Not a terrible climb, but precarious.

“Ridge, give me a push.” He chipped out footholds, then a handhold, and Ridge got behind Moose and helped balance him as he wedged his foot into a slot between two ice boulders.

“To your right, Moose,” London said, stepping up to catch him.

What was the phrase—pride goeth before the fall?

He found another foothold, but his hands, inside the hats, lacked purchase.

His grip slipped—“Falling!”

Ridge helped break his fall, but Moose landed on his back with a whoof, his breath hitching out. Rome backed away from him, barking.

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

London made a face.

Moose rolled to his feet, glanced at the light. He couldn’t afford to waste any more precious time. “Okay, let’s do this again?—”

“Let me,” said London. “This isn’t my first ice climb. And I’m about half your weight.” More, she wore thin gloves. She stepped up to the wall. “Plus, you’re a foot taller than all of us—you can get me up higher.”

“I don’t like this.”

“What? Don’t be crazy. We’re all having a blast.” She shook her head, but he caught a smile.

Rome backed up, barking as London went to the wall. She dug one foot in, and Moose braced her as she climbed up and put her other foot in the next hold.

“Don’t get handsy,” she said as he moved to push her up.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Moose shook his head but watched his hands anyway and managed to help her to the next foothold.

“I can see the top.” She shoved her hand into the hold—the ice closing around it—and then pushed up. “I’m almost there!”

She lunged for another hold, one he couldn’t see?—

Her shout echoed off the granite as she slipped. He caught her coming down—not pretty, but enough to break her fall. They stumbled back and he thunked against the cavern wall.

Okay, so this wasn’t funny anymore.

And now it really felt like a metaphor, thank you, for the fact that no, he wasn’t getting out of this one this time. Even if they managed to escape, he still had the lawsuit, and the slide had probably damaged his chopper parked on the ice, and sometimes it just felt so . . . well, like his life had avalanched in around him.

Swallowed him whole. Again, sort of like Jonah.

London disentangled herself and stood up. Glanced at him. “Good catch.”

He managed a wry smile.

She walked back to the wall.

Stormi crouched next to her dog, who was barking.

“Did you go through Navy boot camp at Great Lakes?”

London’s question made him glance at her. “Yep.”

“I hear they have an obstacle course, not unlike the one in San Diego.”

“You mean the one for BUD/S? It’s not even a little like that one. But yeah . . .”

“When I was in training, we had a wall. The only way over it was to work together.” She looked at the group. “Make a human ladder.”

He wanted to ask, What training? but with the sun setting . . . “What do you have in mind?”

“Moose, you think you can hold Ridge?”

He glanced at the guy. About five-ten, lean and solid, about one-eighty. “Yep.”

“Okay. With your six-feet huge and his five-something, that’s about eleven feet.”

“The wall is at least fifteen feet, and then you have to climb out. You have nothing to grip onto?—”

“You’ll need another person,” said Stormi. She got up, came over to stand by London. “I’ll go up. I used to water-ski. We did pyramid tricks like this.” She glanced at her brother. “Remember Brainerd?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

Okay, now they were getting somewhere. “So, you climb up on London’s shoulders and get free. Then what?”

“Then I’ll help London up,” Stormi said.

“And I’ll go for help,” London said.

He drew in a breath.

“Stop being so heroic.” London met his eyes, hers sharp. “If we want to get out of here, you need to let some of us do the work.”

Fine. “Everyone take off your crampons.”

Except him. He went over to the snowpack and leaned against the icy wall. Bent his knee. “Let’s do this.”

Ridge braced his foot on Moose’s thigh, then got a knee on Moose’s shoulder. He used the ice pack to brace himself as he put his other foot on Moose’s shoulder and pushed up.

Maybe one-eighty had been a little underestimated. The man’s feet dug into Moose’s shoulders, burning through Moose’s body. Wow, he was out of shape.

Ridge leaned against the ice pack.

London followed, climbing up Moose, then behind Ridge. He bent his knees, and she used his thigh to leverage herself onto his shoulders.

Please, don’t fall.

“I can see the opening.”

“Can you get through?” Moose grunted, his hips and shoulders burning.

“I think so. Or Stormi can, if I push her.”

“Can you hold us, Moose?” Ridge said, looking down.

It might be the only thing he could do. An old Bible verse filtered up to him. “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.”

He blew out a breath. “Do it, Stormi.” He braced himself as she put her foot on his leg, then a knee next to Ridge’s foot, and used Ridge to climb up. Then, by the sounds of the grunting, she climbed Ridge and stood up behind London.

“Stormi, be careful!” Aspen, now holding onto Rome, who was losing his mind.

London had found a handhold on the ice. So much for the cold, too, because sweat pooled and now dripped down Moose’s back. His legs shook as he fought against the weight.

London bent her knees and looked at Stormi. “Don’t pull on me or we’ll both go down.”

He didn’t want to think about that crash. There was grunting from above, and London made a sound but then?—

“I can see daylight,” Stormi said. “Just a sec?—”

And then she pushed off from London. He got a glimpse of it, craning his neck for a second as Stormi’s boot clipped London’s mouth. She jerked, rearing back?—

“Don’t fall!” Aspen shouted.

But London didn’t come crashing down, and a moment later, Moose spotted London leaning into the ice, trying to find footing in a wedge as Stormi pulled her up.

“I’m up!”

Just like that, the weight lifted from his shoulders.

Moose stepped back, and Ridge jumped from his perch. Moose steadied himself on the wall and spotted London, looking down at them. Her lip bled, red dripping down her chin. But she grinned, her teeth reddened, and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Hang tight! We’ll be back.”

He found himself braced against the wall, then sliding down to his knees.

Ridge sat beside him, pulling Rome into his lap. Aspen joined them.

“Think they’ll get here before we all freeze to death?”

Moose looked at him. “Could be worse.”

“You’re right.” Ridge ran his fingers through Rome’s fur. “We could be claustrophobic.” He smiled at Moose.

Moose found a smile. Held up his fist. Ridge bumped it.

“You do this a lot?” Ridge ran his hand down the dog’s back. The animal put his head on Moose’s knee.

Moose rubbed the dog’s ear. “No. I run an SAR outfit. I just needed the extra cash. Probably the last time I do this.”

Ridge looked at him. “So it’s just fate that I happen to be trapped with an SAR professional?”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“Then what is this?”

Moose leaned his head back against the rock. “Ever hear the story of Jonah?”

“From the Bible? The guy in the fish?”

“Mm-hmm.” He closed his eyes. “This, my friend, is a warning. Welcome to the whale.”

Silence, then laughter next to him. “It can’t possibly be that bad.”

Moose looked away. “It’s not. I know God is in control. It just feels?—”

“If I remember my Bible stories right, Jonah was running from God. You running, Moose?”

“No. I learned long ago that running wasn’t the answer.” He looked at Ridge. “I made a promise, a long time ago, to a dying man. And I didn’t keep it.”

“And now you think God is punishing you?”

“No. Not punishing. But maybe reminding.”

“Thanks a lot. Now I feel like one of those poor fishermen on the boat with Jonah.”

He liked this guy. “Sorry.”

The sunlight had started to dim, the cave turning clammy.

“What was the promise?”

Moose closed his eyes. “It’s a long story. Let’s focus on getting out of here.”

“We’re not going anywhere, so—” Ridge glanced at him. “Rome is a good dog to tell your problems to. We won’t listen.”

Moose gave a wry smile. Yeah, no. The last thing he needed was to start unpacking his regrets.

“Why’d you need the extra cash?” Aspen asked. She sat next to Ridge, cross-legged, dressed in a pair of insulated pants, her hair short and tucked into her hat. Her camera had survived the avalanche, and she held it in her lap.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, fisting them against the cold. “This year was a particularly busy year on Denali, and in the area. With the warm weather, we had a lot of tourists—hikers and climbers—who got in over their heads. Which meant we went through our cash reserves. We’re funded by donations, and we were a little short going into this year, so I had this stupid bright idea to let a reality show film us.”

“The Sizeup?” Aspen said. “That was you?”

“Yep. I suppose you saw the episode where the woman died in a blizzard?”

“Yeah. Rough.”

“Not only are we broke, but her family is suing us for not continuing the rescue efforts and discontinuing the search while she was still alive.”

“There was a blizzard!” Aspen said.

“Yes. But we did shut down the search for a while. And it’s possible she could have been rescued if we’d kept looking.” He couldn’t get that nightmare out of his brain, either. The vision of a woman shot and left for dead. So yeah, even he’d find himself guilty.

And in truth, he’d been trying hard to hold on to his faith, because where he sat, Moose didn’t have a clue how the Almighty might get him out of a lawsuit. Legal fees alone would wipe him out.

“What about the Good Samaritan law?” Aspen said.

“It only protects people who accidentally encounter someone in need, not people involved in an official rescue effort. And it doesn’t cover SAR teams.” This from Ridge, and Moose stared at him.

Ridge smiled. “As fate—or providence—would have it, you’re trapped with a civil lawyer.”

What?He shook his head.

“I’m local. My sisters came out to visit, and this day tour was my bright idea,” Ridge said. “You get us out of here, and I’ll give you my card and see what I can do to help.”

Hello, that was fast.

Rome leaped to his feet, barking, and Moose looked up just as a light broke through the shadows. A headlamp, and on the other end?—

“Bro, you down there?” Axel pushed up his light, his smile showing in the dim light. “Guess you never thought you’d be the one getting rescued, huh?”

“Zip it and get me out of here.”

But see, clearly God was about solving all his problems while he was trapped in a cave. O ye of little faith.

And if he was in here, with Moose, solving his crazy problems, rescuing him, Moose should remember that the Almighty was also out there with Tillie.

Even if Moose wasn’t.

Please. Keep her safe. Bring her help if she needs it.