Chapter 16
Panic raced through Kori as she registered Wyatt’s words. “But what about my sister?”
Wyatt took her arm and led her away. “Now that we found her pack, we can confirm she’s in a precarious position and she didn’t simply decide to take a longer hike than she planned. We’ll organize a larger scale search for her.”
“But—”
Wyatt paused and their gazes met. “It’s not safe out here. We need to move. You’ve got to trust me.”
Her knees nearly gave way at his words, but she managed to hold herself upright and nod.
He was right. Walking into danger wouldn’t do anyone any good.
But her heart ached at the thought of turning around now. What if Mackenzie was close? What if she was hurt?
Dear Lord . . . please help me! Help Mackenzie!
Wyatt continued to lead her down the trail, away from the place where Mackenzie’s backpack had been found. Fear continued to pulse through her veins.
Someone was out here with them—someone who didn’t want to be seen.
Every motive she could think of for someone wanting that wasn’t good. No, each one was dangerous.
The tracks they’d made on the way in were still visible—two sets of boot prints and Thunder’s paw marks. The imprints cut through the snow ahead of her like a road map back to the world. She focused on them and not on the possible danger around them.
She had to remain calm—despite the fact that her pulse had quickened.
They moved steadily for close to forty-five minutes. Finally, Wyatt must have thought it was safe because he slowed.
He stopped at a slight widening in the path where two large rocks broke the tree line and offered a partial view of the slope below. From here the forest dropped away for several yards before rising again.
Wyatt scanned the woods once more before unslinging his pack and setting it on the closest rock. “If someone’s following us, they’d have to cross open ground to get close. This is about the best place we’re going to find for a quick break.”
“Got it.”
He kept his eyes on their surroundings. “We should be okay here for a few minutes. Drink some water. Here’s another protein bar.”
“Thank you.” Kori nodded. She hadn’t wanted to admit how hungry she was.
She took the protein bar from him and opened it. As she did, she couldn’t ignore how her hands trembled. She turned away, hoping Wyatt hadn’t seen.
“Let’s see what’s inside that backpack,” Wyatt said.
He set Mackenzie’s pack on the log. As he did, Kori stared at it. The yellow sun patch. The cheerful flowers. A state park patch from Shenandoah, another from the Smoky Mountains, and a third from New River Gorge in West Virginia.
Mackenzie had always collected things like that. Experiences. Evidence that she’d been somewhere and done something.
Wyatt unzipped the main compartment and began pulling items out quickly. Medical supplies were on top—gauze, a small suture kit, and two blister packs of antibiotics.
He set them aside.
Next he pulled out a burner phone wrapped in a Ziploc bag. He hit a button.
It was dead.
“Do you think we can get anything off that?” Kori asked.
“Possibly. Micah has someone who can try.”
He reached farther into the backpack. There was food. A water bottle that was now frozen. A Bunsen burner.
Then he pulled out a photograph. Four by six and creased at one corner.
Her breath caught when she recognized the image there.
Her family stared back at her.
The picture had been taken in their parents’ backyard.
Mackenzie was maybe nineteen. She laughed at something off camera, her hair longer than Kori remembered.
Kori herself was twenty-three, and she had an arm around her sister’s shoulders.
Their parents looked at them in the background, grinning with pride at their daughters.
Her mom held a homemade birthday cake—yellow with chocolate icing.
That was right . . . it had been Mackenzie’s birthday party. Family and friends had joined them for a cookout, cake, and a pool party.
The moment had been so happy, so perfect—though she hadn’t realized it at the time.
She sat with the picture, the weight of her loss pressing on her. The loss of her parents. The separation from Mackenzie. The fact her sister was now missing.
Life could change so quickly. Too quickly.
And there were no do-overs. No chances to go back and correct the things that had gone wrong. There was only making peace with decisions that had been made. Accepting them. Learning from them.
Wyatt said nothing. He simply gave her space.
Mackenzie had carried this photo. Through everything—through the choices and the falling out and the years of silence. She’d carried this picture at the bottom of her pack.
Kori pressed her lips together, fighting tears.
Not now. Not here. She had to hold herself together.
There was more at stake here than her grief.
She looked up and saw Wyatt scanning the wilderness around them. Thunder had gone still beside him, but his nose worked the air and his ears rotated slightly as if sensing trouble.
Then Wyatt crouched and studied the snow to their right.
Kori followed his gaze and saw the tracks stretching there.
Boot prints had been left in the snow between the trees, maybe twenty feet off the path. They were fresh, with sharp, clean edges.
Those tracks hadn’t been there on the way in. Wyatt would have seen them.
Had another hiker come this way behind them and then turned back? Or were these tracks from the person who’d been hiding nearby earlier?
Fear rushed through her.
Wyatt kept his voice low as he said, “Someone’s been moving parallel to us.”
Something cold shifted in her chest. Was this person somehow associated with Mackenzie? Had this man—Kori assumed it was a man—stalked Mackenzie while on her hike?
She must have been so scared . . .
A sob caught in her throat.
“We need to keep moving,” Wyatt murmured.
Two things were true at once: Kori wanted to get out of this forest. But she also wanted to stay and find her sister.
Wyatt watched everything around them as they hiked back.
He studied the shadows where the light didn’t reach—anywhere someone could hide and watch without being seen.
The trail back felt longer than the trail in. The snow that had seemed merely difficult on the way in now felt actively hostile. Every step seemed to announce their position, and every drift slowed them when speed felt necessary.
He kept his pace steady anyway.
Kori didn’t ask questions. She moved behind him with a focused quiet.
He appreciated the silence—it helped him listen for any signs of trouble. Thunder also seemed to be on guard, poised to alert him if anyone came close.
Wyatt really hoped that didn’t happen.
Finally, the trees began to thin, and the trail widened.
Through the canopy ahead, Wyatt caught sight of open sky—the flat gray stretch above the parking lot.
He exhaled slowly.
They’d made it back.
Kori was safe.
Nothing had happened to her out in the forest.
Thank You, Jesus.
A few steps later, they broke through the trees and into the open.
The cold felt sharper and less sheltered here. The lot stretched in front of them, empty except for Wyatt’s truck and Mackenzie’s Subaru.
“What now?” Kori asked. “What’s our next plan?”
Wyatt didn’t answer right away.
Something felt . . . off. But what?
He scanned the lot, his gaze moving from one vehicle to the next.
Then it landed on his truck.
He slowed.
Snow had drifted up along the tires—but not evenly or naturally.
He took another step, his focus narrowing.
And then he saw it . . . what was bothering him.
His tires were flat.