Kat Wolfe on Thin Ice Page 7

  “Is it only Tuesday?” Kat said miserably. “Feels as if we’ve been here forever.”

  Harper bent over the map with a pencil. “This is the forest where you met Riley. This is the route we took afterward. I can see where we went wrong. We were driving in circles. Here’s Otter Creek Road and Deadwood Bridge, and here’s where we took the right fork instead of the left.”

  Kat sniffed. “That means Nightingale Lodge is on the other side of the lake like you thought. There’s the waterfall your dad told us about. What does this have to do with Riley?”

  “Got it!” Harper said in triumph, stabbing an olive-green patch with her pencil. “Pine Cove Road. This is where your friend disappeared. We can help look for her.”

  Kat’s heart contracted at the word friend. As strange as it seemed, she did consider Riley a friend. Now her friend had disappeared.

  “But we don’t have a car. And Storm Mindy’s on the way.”

  Harper was measuring the distance with a pencil. “It’s a little over two miles if we follow this stream. It takes a fit person fifteen minutes to walk a mile. Say a little over thirty to walk two miles in this snow.”

  She glanced meaningfully at the huskies. Rebel was munching up his third cushion, Matty and Thunder were playing tag around the dining table, and Fleet was clawing at the door to go out. Only Nomad was behaving. She sat at Kat’s feet, watching her anxiously.

  Kat rushed to salvage the remains of the moose cushion from Rebel. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? That we could take the huskies for a long walk so they can let off steam while we help look for Riley?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  * * *

  “What if we get caught in a snowstorm?”

  “Mindy’s not due till two P.M.,” Harper said airily, as if she was discussing the visit of a favorite aunt. “If we leave now, we can search for a couple of hours and be back before she arrives. We’ll stoke up the fire, batten down the hatches, and eat waffles till it blows over, or the cops arrive to arrest us for trespassing. Whichever comes first.”

  Kat longed to rescue Riley more than anything, but venturing into the wilderness with a snowstorm looming was not a stroll in a London park. She had the huskies to think about too. Until their owner turned up, it was her responsibility to keep them safe.

  “What if Pine Cove Road is crawling with volunteers and police with dogs? The huskies might get into a fight and be bitten. And won’t people be suspicious if they see two girls out alone with Storm Mindy coming?”

  “No, because first glimpse we catch of anyone—human or animal—we run,” Harper assured her. “The last thing we want is to be ringing your mom or my dad from a police cell or social services. But imagine if we detected some clue the professionals missed that led to Riley being saved? A locket in the snow. A torn button. Something.”

  Kat felt a surge of optimism. “Let’s do it. I’ll fetch the huskies’ harnesses and put on my boots. If I was missing in the wilderness, I’d hope my friends would do everything in their power to find me. By the way, Harper, Riley’s your friend too. I sort of volunteered you.”

  “That’s sealed it, then. I have to help her.” Harper wriggled into a fleece and tugged her jacket on over it. “If only we had Google Maps. Our biggest challenge is that we’re not locals. We don’t know the Adirondacks and we definitely don’t know the woods.”

  “No,” said Kat, “but the huskies do.”

  DOUBLE JEOPARDY

  “I want it on record that my arms are two inches longer than they were when I left the house,” complained Harper as she was towed along a slushy track by an overexcited Matty and Thunder. “When we’re back in Bluebell Bay, we can visit Monkey World and I’ll be able to make the orangutans jealous.”

  “Huskies are at their happiest when they’re pulling,” explained Kat, whose own biceps were being sorely tested by Rebel and Dancer. “That’s why they love sled racing in Alaska. They’re genetically programmed to run for hundreds of kilometers without tiring. They’re not like some Labrador, content to while away his life gobbling treats and snoozing on a deluxe dog bed. Huskies have more in common with wolves.”

  “I’d never have guessed,” panted Harper, as Matty and Thunder lunged after an unsuspecting squirrel. It skittered away through the crispy white undergrowth.

  Watching Harper struggle to hold the dogs back, Kat was thankful they’d left Nomad and Fleet guarding the cabin. Six huskies would have been two too many. She and Harper would have been hauled halfway to Canada by now.

  On the plus side, the huskies kept them moving at a brisk pace. They’d been speed-walking for twenty-five minutes, following a stream sluggish with gray ice. Husky wrestling aside, it had been disturbingly simple. So far, the weather had been kind. Nothing and no one had impeded their progress.

  It made Kat nervous. “Better keep the bear spray handy, Harper. I doubt we’ll need it, but if we do, you’ll have to be quicker on the draw than a Wild West gunfighter.”

  Harper stopped in her tracks. The huskies kept going and nearly pulled her over. “I thought you were bringing the bear spray.”

  “I thought you were bringing it.”

  Kat hid a twinge of alarm. “Never mind. With Storm Mindy on the way, every sensible bear in the Adirondacks will be scuttling for its hibernation burrow. If it wasn’t for Riley, I’d be hibernating myself.”

  Harper glanced nervously over her shoulder. “No bear would dare bother us with the huskies around, would it, Kat? Will the rattlesnakes be sleeping as well? Or will the snow make them even more lethal because they’ll be sluggish with cold and won’t wake up till we tread on them? Urgh, I hate snakes.”

  Kat, who did like snakes, giggled. “I read a funny story about an eighteenth-century rattlesnake hunter in the Adirondacks: Father Elisha. He captured hundreds of snakes with a forked stick and sold them all over as curiosities. Never got bitten until the day he went hunting in a smart jacket and white stockings.”

  “White stockings?”

  “Uh-huh. He claimed he was only nipped because the ‘varmints’—that’s what he called them—mistook him for a local judge.”

  “How is that funny?” said Harper, annoyed. “Did Father Elisha die?”

  “He did not.”

  “That’s something, I suppose.”

  Kat grinned. “He died the next time he was bitten, despite wearing his usual scruffy clothes. The varmints didn’t recognize him then either.”

  “That is the worst story I’ve ever heard,” declared Harper. “Why would you tell me that when I’m walking through a rattlesnake-infested forest? Kat Wolfe, I’m not speaking to you for the rest of the day.”

  “Of course it’s not funny that he died,” said Kat, laughing more at Harper’s expression than the story. “It’s funny that he thought he was bitten because they didn’t recognize—”

  “Shh!” Harper pressed a finger to her lips. The huskies’ sensitive ears were trained forward, their black noses sniffing the air.

  A distant engine started up. There was a ripple of navy blue between the trees as a truck accelerated. From this distance, it was impossible to tell whether it was driven by an official or a thrill seeker. The local police chief had warned drivers in the path of Storm Mindy not to use the roads unless it was a life-and-death emergency. That being the case, they assumed that the truck belonged to a police officer or member of the search team.

  The dogs began to bark hysterically and leap around. Kat dropped to her knees in the snow. They swarmed around her. She hugged each in turn and whispered in their ears.

  Harper forgot to be angry and watched in amazement. When Kat finally stood up, the huskies were no longer unruly. They were silent and focused: on high alert.

  Girls and dogs proceeded with caution, in a tight group. As they approached Pine Cove Road and the crime scene, Kat and Harper kept a wary watch for guards. The huskies never broke pace. They were sure there were none.

  * * *
<
br />   If the tire tracks, boot prints, and dirty snow were anything to go by, there’d been a great deal of coming and going in the hours since the bodyguards’ SUV was discovered.

  “It could have been pitch-dark when Riley’s protection team made a wrong turn,” said Harper. “Why in the world would they have gotten out of the vehicle here, in a wilderness packed with dangers?”

  “Two theories,” said Kat.

  “Go on.”

  “Their GPS failed, and they were attacked by a random maniac after stopping to ask for directions. There are no houses around, so whoever they encountered was likely on a motorbike or in a vehicle. During the struggle, Riley escaped into the forest. She knew this area so well that she thought of the trees and birds as friends. If she was afraid for her life, she’d have believed that her best chance of survival was in the forest.”

  “Not if she wasn’t wearing thermals,” Harper pointed out. “Maybe the reason the protection officers were on the road so early is because they discovered their safe house wasn’t safe anymore. If they bundled Riley into the vehicle in her pajamas and if she wasn’t able to grab anything warm before running to hide, she’d have been at grave risk of hypothermia. What’s your second theory?”

  “That the bodyguards were flagged down by someone they knew and trusted, or by a person pretending to be in trouble,” said Kat. “A Wish List gang member might have followed them, cut in front of them, and then pretended that his car had broken down. Maybe Riley’s bodyguards got out of their vehicle to try to assist them.”

  “Good Samaritans,” mused Harper. “Interesting. That’s what happened on the night of the diamond robbery too. The Force Ten guards were across the street fighting a fire. They were being Good Samaritans.”

  She checked her watch. “We’d better move if we’re going to find Riley. Storm Mindy will be here in three hours. By then, we need to be in our cabin with the doors bolted and the shutters nailed down.”

  She threw a disgusted glance at the muddy mess of boot treads, skid marks, and a couple of candy wrappers. “Should we give up now? Looks as if every cop and volunteer in the Adirondacks has trampled through these woods. Fat chance of finding any clues. Sherlock Holmes and Philip Marlowe had it so much easier in their day.”

  Kat was tempted. The huskies were bored and bursting with energy. They’d already forgotten their manners. But she knew she’d never forgive herself if she hadn’t done everything possible to rescue her friend. “Hold on. I have an idea.”

  She took off the blue neckerchief. “Let’s see if any of the huskies pick up Riley’s scent. Police sniffer dogs need years of training, so I doubt it’ll work.”

  “Won’t the cops already have tried that?” asked Harper.

  “Probably, but not necessarily. The storm’s messed everything up. The dog unit could be busy hauling people out of the snow in Vermont and the other end of the Adirondacks.”

  Matty was the only husky to show any interest in the neckerchief, but when Kat instructed her to track the missing girl, she rushed straight over to the discarded wrappers. She dragged Kat around and around the clearing.

  Harper, who was standing still, was in danger of frostbite and losing the will to live when Kat showed Matty the neckerchief one last time. At long last, something clicked. Matty turned and loped into the forest, dragging Kat, who was still clinging to Rebel, through a thornbush.

  “How do we know that she’s following Riley’s scent and not just leading us on a wild-husky chase?” demanded Harper.

  “We don’t” was Kat’s honest response. “But if there’s a one-in-a-million chance that she is on Riley’s trail, I’m willing to risk it. Can you manage the other three huskies if we go on ahead?”

  She thrust Rebel’s leash at Harper and was gone without waiting for a reply.

  At first, Harper wasn’t too concerned. Thunder, Dancer, and Rebel trotted faithfully after their friend. They could hear Matty and Kat long after Harper could not.

  But with every step, the forest grew thicker. The weather had changed in the blink of an eye. Dense clouds and the trees’ crowded crowns choked out the light, turning day into night. Branches creaked and strained in the quickening wind.

  Harper’s legs and hands ached. She trusted the huskies to protect her from predators, but their incessant yowling caused her stomach to cramp with nerves.

  “Kat,” she called. “Kat, I think we should turn back.”

  She yelled twice more and louder without any response. She began to feel quite desperate. What if the Wish List gang had snatched Kat and Matty too?

  Then Kat shouted, “Harper! Harper, hurry. We’ve found something.”

  The huskies began to whine and pull again. Harper could no longer contain them. Swept along in their wake, she was like a water-skier being towed by three different boats, all swerving in different directions. In the confusion, Thunder’s leash slipped from her grasp. As Harper bent to try to catch it, Rebel spotted a delicious forest creature.

  With a howl of delight, he and Dancer raced off in pursuit, followed by Rebel. Harper screamed their names, knowing it was hopeless. Camouflaged by their white and gray fur, the three huskies were as invisible as spirits amid the silver trunks of the birch.

  Harper gave up the chase. Finding Riley was the priority. Kat could use her husky-whispering skills to round the escapees up later.

  She ran in the direction she’d last heard Kat’s voice, the snow squeaking beneath her boots. Witches’ hair thornbushes snagged at her jacket. Without the huskies, she felt as exposed as a limping zebra on a plain full of lions.

  A stitch stabbed at her side. She was slipping and sliding and ready to weep with exhaustion when she almost tripped over Matty’s leash. Kat had looped it over a branch.

  “She was here, Harper. Riley was here.”

  Kat brushed a tear from her cheek but didn’t look around. She was crouched at the entrance of a crudely assembled but effective shelter of sticks and packed snow. At least three sets of boot prints—two large and one small—scuffed the surrounding ground.

  Harper swallowed. “Where do you think she is now?”

  Somewhere in the forest, the huskies started howling. Matty yelped, twisted free of the branch, and tore away, leash trailing. Kat barely noticed.

  Wordlessly, she led Harper through the trees, following the indents of footprints visible in the gloom. They ended at a track scarred by recent tire tracks.

  “Maybe the rescue team found her and she’s safe,” Harper said hopefully.

  Kat kicked at a stone. “Maybe the kidnappers found her and she’s not.”

  BEAR SPIRIT

  Harper wrapped her scarf around her face and jogged on the spot in a vain attempt to combat the skin-shredding wind. “Bet you anything that while we’re out here getting pneumonia, those husky menaces are on the steps of our cabin, howling to get in.”

  “You’re p-probably ri-r-right.” Kat’s teeth chattered so hard she could hardly get the words out. “I’m hoarse from calling for them. In any c-case, they have a better chance of surviving Storm Mindy than we do. Let’s turn back.”

  “I think that might be best. I’m starting to hallucinate about saunas. It’s that way, yeah?”

  Kat fought down a wave of panic. She’d been sure it was the opposite direction. The trunks of the white birch offered no clues. The words of the woman in the bookshop kept running through her mind: Three steps off the trail in the wrong direction can turn a stroll in the woods into a major search-and-rescue mission. Blink and a person’s gone.

  Now you see them; now you don’t.

  Kat had resolved never to stray so much as a millimeter off any path in the Adirondacks and yet here she was, blundering blindly through the wilderness with no survival gear or compass, as helpless as any hapless hiker in the park’s history.

  “Harper, w-where’s your phone? If there’s a signal, maybe we should dial nine-one-one. If we can’t find shelter, we … Harper, what’s up? You look ill. Are y
ou feeling faint? Is there any numbness in your fingers and toes? Harper, you’re scaring me.”

  Her best friend was doing an Oscar-worthy impression of a goldfish flung from its bowl. Her unblinking stare shifted to something beyond Kat’s left ear.

  Kat smelled the black bear before she saw it. Its wildness thrilled her; terror paralyzed her. When it reared up and clacked its yellow teeth, her bones seemed to liquefy, and it took a superhuman effort of will not to curl up in a ball of fear in the snow.

  Stand tall, Jet had advised, forgetting he was talking to two children. Clinging to each other was the most they could manage.

  The bear appeared singularly unimpressed by their lack of height or width. It moaned and swayed on immense paws with curling claws. It blew furious breaths.

  “Don’t suppose you have any bear-whispering techniques up your sleeve?” shouted Harper, recalling Jet’s instruction about making lots of noise.

  “Not a single one.” Kat tried bellowing the words, but all that came out was a squeak.

  There was a white patch on the bear’s shoulder, the legacy of a wound so traumatic that the fur had never recovered. Kat wondered if a bullet had caused it and whether the shell was still embedded in its flesh or splintered bone. A lifetime of agony might explain the hatred blazing in its eyes.

  Snow began to fall, lending magic to their lonely drama. Before the girls could get it together to back away very, very slowly, an icy gust of wind pinged them with grit and frosty leaves. A falling pine cone, transformed into a missile, startled the bear with a blow to the snout.

  Without warning, it charged. Kat’s vision filled with fur, fangs, and claws.

  Every instinct will scream at you to sprint for your life, Jet had counseled. Resist it. Your life depends on you doing the opposite.

  Out of the whirling snow came the four huskies. They intercepted the bear as it pounded toward the girls, causing it to skid to a halt and lash out at the dogs. The snow was coming down hard and it looked momentarily undecided about whether to continue the fight.