Chapter 2
The sky over Blue Ridge Hollow looked like a bruise hovering in the air.
Kori Hutchins had noticed the clouds from the moment she crossed the mountain pass. That heavy gray-yellow color meant serious weather.
She’d checked the forecast at the last gas station. The snowstorm was approaching faster than predicted. Twelve inches, possibly more, starting tonight.
Conditions were going to get bad. Really bad.
Which only meant she needed to move faster.
She pulled into the gravel lot beside the ranger district office and cut the engine.
The building sat at the edge of town where the main road bent toward the forest—a low, brown-sided structure. A flagpole stood out front, and a bulletin board beside the entrance held notices curling at the corners from the cold. A faded Forest Service sign guarded the parking area.
She grabbed her purse and climbed out of the car.
The cold immediately hit her. She’d left Falls Church this morning in a wool blazer and sensible heels perfect for courthouse floors—but not for gravel parking lots. She hadn’t stopped to change.
She hadn’t really stopped at all.
Mackenzie, where are you? Finding her sister was all she cared about.
Something was wrong. She felt it in her bones.
She pushed inside and saw a ranger at the front desk.
The man, in his late fifties, wore a bored, weary expression as he looked up at her. “Can I help you?”
She crossed the room and stopped in front of him, ready to plead her case.
“My name is Kori Hutchins.” She kept her voice level and professional, the same tone she used in courtrooms. “My sister went hiking alone five days ago and was supposed to be back yesterday. No one has seen her. I tried to call several times on my way here, but I kept getting cut off by the automated system.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Must be a glitch. I’ll have someone look into it.”
“Her name is Mackenzie Hutchins,” Kori continued. “She’s twenty-six years old. And as you probably know, there’s a blizzard moving in tonight.”
“Was she an experienced hiker?”
Was she? Kori asked herself. The truth was, she wasn’t sure. Two years ago, when she’d last spoken to her sister, Mackenzie hadn’t enjoyed hiking. But had things changed since then?
“I . . . I don’t know,” Kori finally answered.
“Any idea if she took the proper safety gear with her? An emergency beacon?”
Kori hesitated before shaking her head. Her anxiety continued to ramp up. “I’m not sure if she would’ve thought of that.”
The ranger’s expression didn’t change. “Ms. Hutchins, hikers tend to go off trail out here more than you’d think. Most folks who run a little long turn up just fine.” He reached for a form. “If she hasn’t turned up in another day or two—”
She placed her hands on his desk and waited until his eyes darted up to meet hers. “She doesn’t have another day or two. She’s been out there five days. What if she got injured or lost on her first day? And twelve inches of snow starts falling tonight.”
The ranger—his nameplate read Durbin—nodded slowly as if still unconvinced. “I understand your concerns.”
“Do you?”
He flinched as if he didn’t appreciate her insinuation.
Kori took in a breath. She hadn’t meant to sound harsh. Being curt with the man wouldn’t help matters.
“Look, I’m not being irrational here,” she said. “A snowstorm is moving in, and my sister is still out there.”
He paused as if chewing on her words. “I’m going to be honest with you. Most of the other rangers are out trying to get ready for the snowstorm. I’m stuck here manning the station and can’t do much.
“But—”
“Realistically, she probably just took a scenic detour—unless you have reason to believe otherwise.”
Kori opened her mouth to argue. Then she realized she had nothing else to give him. No hard evidence of anything except for the bad feeling in her gut.
She was searching for the right combination of words—the ones that would make him understand she was correct, despite her lack of evidence—when the door behind her opened.
Cold air rushed in.
Most likely, it was another ranger coming in, another ranger with another round of platitudes and most folks turn up just fine. She had to figure out how to make this guy take her seriously. Convincing people of things was what she did for a living.
Could she use those skills now when they mattered most?
Drawing in a deep breath, she glanced over her shoulder.
Sure enough, another ranger stood in the doorway, this one tall and younger with a German shepherd at his side. The dog’s ears were forward, and his intelligent, almost probing amber gaze was focused on her.
Her stomach tightened as she stared at the dog’s teeth.
She looked away. She couldn’t let her fear get the best of her.
Keep it together, Kori. You’ve faced down judges, juries, and people determined to intimidate you into silence. Don’t be undone by someone’s dog.
However, ever since one had bitten her when she was eight, she’d feared canines. The scar on her forearm offered a constant reminder.
The younger ranger’s eyes moved to Durbin then to her. Something shifted in his expression—not pity, not the patient skepticism Durbin had offered. Something more like attention.
She didn’t need a mirror to know her own body language spoke of desperation.
Four hours of driving without stopping, still in her courthouse heels, nothing in her hands.
Desperation wasn’t a good look for The Hammer.
She preferred the tight and controlled version of herself.
That was the one she usually presented in public.
She turned back to Durbin anyway.
She wasn’t leaving until she had the verdict she wanted.
Wyatt King studied the woman talking to Durbin.
She was dressed like someone who didn’t belong in the mountains—a blazer, heels that had no business on gravel, and long, dark hair that had probably been neat at some point.
Durbin had his patient face on—which was never a good sign. The man was practically counting down the days until his retirement. That was all he seemed to care about.
That fact drove Wyatt crazy. Durbin still had a job to do, despite his countdown.
But Wyatt was the new guy here. He didn’t carry much weight.
And he knew to stay in his lane.
He’d been out since early morning running a routine trail check on the north side of the forest when he’d found a trail camera mounted on a pine about forty yards off the main path, angled toward the trail.
He hadn’t touched it. The device was potential evidence, even if he couldn’t yet say what crime it might be connected with. Instead, he’d marked the coordinates and kept walking.
But he didn’t like the fact that he’d found the camera—and he didn’t like the possibilities as to why it was there. Nor did he like the fact that whoever had left it had probably seen Wyatt find it.
Wyatt offered a brief nod to Durbin before heading toward the hallway where his office was located.
As he did, he caught snippets of their conversation.
“My sister always tells her neighbor when she’s leaving and when she’ll be back.” The woman’s voice sounded steady and controlled, but every once in a while he could hear the cracks in her words. “Always. She never once failed to check in.”
Durbin said something low that Wyatt didn’t catch.
“Yes, she was alone.”
Durbin said something else.
“I don’t know if she’s ever hiked in winter. We hadn’t—” A brief pause. “We haven’t been in contact in recent months. But I’m still concerned about her. Certainly, you have protocols in place for this.”
Wyatt glanced back and saw Durbin grab a missing person intake form—the pale green one, three pages, carbon copy.
“We have procedures to follow,” Durbin said. “You’ll need to fill this out with whatever information you can provide.”
“Please.” The woman’s voice dropped into something close to desperation. “There’s a blizzard coming tonight. I don’t want to fill out a form. I want you to go out there and look for her.”
Thunder paused in the hallway and shook. His movement must have caught the woman’s attention because her gaze dropped to the dog. Something quick and involuntary moved across her face.
Was that fear? Not just mild fear either—it almost seemed primal.
He sometimes forgot that some people were terrified of dogs. He couldn’t imagine that. Thunder was smart, loyal, and the best listener Wyatt had ever had in his life—other than his mom. His life was better, richer with a dog. He couldn’t imagine anyone feeling differently.
“Do you know what trail she headed out on?” Durbin asked.
The woman pulled her gaze back and quickly composed herself. It happened so fast Wyatt might have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention.
She cleared her throat. “I think it was Lost something. Lost Hill maybe?”
Wyatt went still. Despite his vow to stay in his lane, he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you mean Lost Hollow Trail?”
She glanced at him. “Yes. That sounds right.”
Why did that name keep coming up?
And it was never for any good reason.
“Did she take any gear with her?” Wyatt asked. “More than a day pack?”
She hesitated before shrugging. “My sister’s neighbor said she had a full pack. I mean, I would hope so. She knew she was leaving for four days.”
“So she was backpacking. Camping out there.”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
He turned that information over. A four-day backcountry trip in winter, solo, on a trail with a reputation for being challenging.
He knew people did solo hikes all the time. But that didn’t mean they were a good idea—especially not for a woman. He wasn’t sexist. That was just risk and reality.
The Blue Ridge Mountains looked peaceful, but they were dangerous, even for someone knew what they were doing.
“Lost Hollow is strenuous,” he said. “It’s a four mile out and back trail, with significant elevation gain in the second half. For a four-day trip she’d have gone well beyond the trail end and into unmarked trails in the open forest. People do that, but they usually need a backcountry permit.”
Durbin cleared his throat. “Now, Wyatt, she’s only a day overdue. People push their timelines all the time, especially on longer trips—”
“The terrain can be disorienting.” He glanced at the window and saw that the sky had gone the color of pewter. “And we’ve got a foot of snow coming tonight.”
Worry filled the woman’s gaze. “Exactly. That’s why we need to move. We have to find her!”
“Not tonight.” Wyatt kept his voice even. “The storm hits in a few hours. Going in now means navigating that terrain in a whiteout, in the dark, with no visibility and no margin for error. We’d be adding to the problem.”
She opened her mouth. “But—”
He raised his hand in a motion of peace. “ I know that’s not what you want to hear.”
She frowned like she wanted to argue. Instead, she said, “It’s not.”
“But that’s reality.” He turned to Durbin. “Listen, why don’t you let me take this one? I know I’m still learning the ropes, but search and rescue is what Thunder and I do. I think we can handle it.”
Durbin shrugged, something close to relief flashing through his gaze. “Sure. Go for it.”
Wyatt looked back at the woman. “Let’s sit down and talk.”