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He had to get his mind off what-ifs. It never helped with a case. “Do you have any other family?”

“No. Just my parents in Anchorage. It must be nice having more family.”

“It is. We have lots of family functions and celebrations.” And he hoped this time she could meet them.

“That must be great.”

“So you have handled other kidnapping cases before.”

She didn’t say anything right away. “Yeah.”

“Successfully?” He was afraid when she didn’t respond right away that maybe some were failures.

“Four of the five cases, yes.” Her tone of voice revealed she still felt troubled about it.

He didn’t probe, figuring she’d tell him about the failed case if she wanted to. He’d had his own disastrous failures a few times when trying to rescue stranded motorists. It wasn’t something he liked talking about.

About half a mile out, he smelled smoke. “The cabin.”

The smoke gave him hope that the man and woman were still at the cabin. Though he did have the niggling worry that they might be at the wrong cabin. Then what? He could imagine someone readying a rifle at them, thinking they were going to break in and steal from them.

Monica glanced back at him, and though she didn’t need to whisper, she did. “You sound like you didn’t believe I knew where I was going.”

He smiled. He wouldn’t lie. It seemed to take forever to get that close. However, their injuries, the weather, and the deep snow made the trek extremely difficult. In the end, they had been going really slowly.

Finally, they reached the small cabin nestled in the trees just like Monica had described: a tiny clearing, a one-story log cabin, a woodpile, and a black truck mostly buried in snow in front of it.

She stopped behind a tree, and he caught up with her. Her breathing was as ragged as his, her heart beating just as rapidly.

Both were observing the windows, but then she glanced at the woodpile.

“I’m going to get my gun out of my holster.” He wanted to cover her because of the way she was poised; he knew she meant to dash for the woodpile.

4

Trudging through the heavy snow, Monica was sorely vexed that she and Andy were injured to the extent that it really put them at a disadvantage when they rescued the hostage. Her back was hurting like crazy, and that long walk through the blowing snow, chilling wind, and half-frozen feet and fingers added to her distress.

She pulled her gun out of its holster. “I need you to get closer to the cabin.”

“What if he sees us moving to that location? You can dash over there. I can’t.”

She hesitated, examining the path she would need to take. “Okay. Revised plan. We’re going to trek through the woods in that direction. I don’t want him to see our path in the snow. If we move over there, he won’t be able to see our trail from the house or the woodpile unless he walks around it.”

“I’m with you. Let’s go.” They would have much better odds, and Andy could use the firewood to prop himself up as he provided backup for Monica.

She put her gun back in its holster and secured it, and he did the same with his. She moved first through the fir trees, creatingthe path while he followed. When she reached a point in the woods safe from the view of the cabin, she waited until Andy caught up with her.

Finally, she reached the edge of the woods and pushed the thick branches aside slightly, allowing them to view the steep roof of the cabin and the woodpile.

“All right. I’m going to go. If he pops his head out at all?—”

“I’ll shoot him.”

With her heart racing, she ran toward the woodpile and hid safely behind it, crouching low. She turned to look at Andy to see if he was okay, but he was already halfway to her, crawling to the log pile.

He smiled at her and shrugged. He appeared bound and determined to be there for her no matter what, and plunging through the snow on an injured ankle must have been so painful. She admired his iron will.

When he finally reached the woodpile, he leaned against it and took a deep breath. She sat next to him. “I need to reach the cabin and then learn where they are.”