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  Her daughter had been her greatest joy and her saddest tragedy.

  In the corner of the bay, Richmond spoke with Hope’s coach. While Amelia didn’t possess her daughter’s ability to read lips, she didn’t need it to know Richmond didn’t like Goldman’s answers. His body was more rigid than a new recruit standing at attention. As Amelia approached them, Goldman’s voice rose into the rounded bay.

  “You can’t take my phone. I have everything on it. My schedule, my practices, my—”

  “An underage girl is missing, Coach, and she disappeared under your watch.” Having silenced Goldman’s objections, Richmond pocketed the phone. “I’m only interested in the sender of Hope Craig’s message. I couldn’t care less about the other stuff on your phone. Should my deputies find anything incriminating, I can guarantee you’ll be the first one to know.”

  “I have nothing to hide, Sheriff. Go talk to Chief River. He’s organizing the search.” Goldman pointed toward a large table where some people had gathered. “His son Todd was the last one to see Quest that morning. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have athletes to train.” Without waiting for a dismissal, the coach sneaked out the back door.

  Richmond exchanged a dubious look with her. “I don’t like the guy.”

  “He’s supposed to be a renowned coach. When I talked to him earlier, he didn’t mention River’s son. I’m not sure where the son would have seen Hope last. You don’t think Goldman is involved, do you?” Her opinion of the coach biased by his lax supervision, she welcomed Richmond’s perspective.

  “Goldman seems to think highly of your daughter. According to him, she got along with everyone. He didn’t notice anything amiss prior to her disappearance, though he said he was surprised she’d signed her message Hope instead of Quest.”

  As he spoke her daughter’s moniker, Richmond’s intonation seemed to take a melodious twist. Amelia wondered if it were an acoustic trick or a figment of her imagination. “I wish the signature had surprised him enough to call me—or you—right away.”

  “My point exactly. Come on.” His hand pressed on the small of her back, Richmond nudged her toward a large table where a young man with long, curly blond hair was unfolding close-up maps of different sections of the mountains. “We’re looking for Todd River, son. Is he around?”

  “I’m Todd. What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  At six-foot-two, Richmond wasn’t short. Still, the boy towered over him.

  “Coach Goldman told us you were the last one to see Hope Craig, Colonel Matheson’s daughter. Care to fill in the blanks?”

  “She’s always punctual. Seven-thirty sharp every morning.” A bucket load of admiration spilled over Todd’s sentences. “The sun is barely ascending when she arrives with her rifle and skis. As I get ready to groom the trail, I wave at her to let her know I’ve seen her. I don’t want her to think I’d run her over. I mean...not that I would run her over anyway, but—”

  “Easy, son. I’m not accusing you of anything.” Amelia caught Richmond’s amused expression. “What happens after you wave at the girl?”

  “She waves back to say she’s good to go...at least I think that’s what she means. You don’t think that maybe she could have been trying to...” With those big brown eyes and blond curls, the boy had probably stolen a few hearts. “She’s a real nice girl. Always smiling. Always working hard.”

  Her daughter had an admirer. “How old are you, Todd?”

  “Nineteen, ma’am. Why?”

  There had been a time when Amelia had been young too. She had carried responsibilities extending far beyond a mountain crest. Alone. A wistful sigh died in her chest. “Could you please concentrate on what happened after my daughter waved that morning?”

  “Sorry, ma’am. I...I started my machine and hit the trail. She followed me at a safe distance, but I’m faster. It didn’t take long for me to leave her behind.” Shoulders slouched, Todd bore a saddened baby face. “That was the last time I saw her.”

  “Did you see anyone or anything else on the trail that morning?”

  “Well...” As he paused, frowns appeared on his forehead, raising Amelia’s hopes that he might remember something significant. “She usually ends her practice as I update the trail conditions on the outdoor board. By then, she’s too tired to notice me, but I still wave at her...in case...you know...”

  Not just an admirer. The young man was smitten by her daughter.

  I’m so not ready for this dating drama. “I get the picture, Todd. So what happened yesterday? Did she notice you? Did you ask my daughter for a date?”

  The young man flushed a dark shade of red, the color matching his pullover. “No, Ma’am. She...she never showed up at the end of the trail. I thought that was weird, so I took a snowmobile and went looking for her, but the trail was untouched. No one had ventured at that end since I’d groomed it. I went to tell Coach Goldman because I was worried something might have happened to her. By then, he’d already gotten a phone message saying she was fine. I assumed she’d turned around on the trail instead of continuing. I didn’t learn the message might be bogus until my dad was asked to mount that search. If I’d known, I would have kept looking for her.”

  “Richmond, could I see Goldman’s phone again?” The coach had already shown her the message, but Amelia wanted to double-check the text.

  She looked over Richmond’s arm at the screen. Finished morning practice. Something came up. Need—

  “Finished morning practice,” he read out loud. “Would your daughter have written finished if she hadn’t?”

  “No, not Hope. She’s too much of a straight arrow. Whoever sent that text wanted Goldman to believe she’d made it to the end. Todd, when you went looking for Hope, did you venture as far as where she’d turned around?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Let me show you.” The young man presented them with a large map of the mountain trails. “In yellow is your daughter’s usual itinerary. The x marks the spot where her tracks stopped.”

  Wayne River chose that moment to join then. After a short introduction for Richmond’s benefit, the older River took a pencil and encircled an area encompassing the entrance of the trail, the spot marked with an x, and the purple hiking trails behind the dorms.

  “I divided the area in quadrants.” As Wayne spoke, men and women in winter gear huddled around him. Some sported the Snowy Tip logo on their jackets while others showed no affiliation. “We’re ready to start.”

  As Amelia gauged the dozen or so individuals waiting for their assignment, Richmond’s phone rang. When he walked away from the group to answer, she automatically assumed command.

  “Listen, everyone. You’ll be paired with a partner and assigned a small area to search. Report anything unusual, as insignificant as it may appear. Freshly broken twigs or branches, strange prints, mounds of snow in the middle of a flat terrain...” That her daughter might be buried in the mountains wasn’t something she wanted to contemplate, but it was a scenario Amelia couldn’t ignore. “Pay attention to anything that strikes you as odd or out of place. Any questions?”

  Undoubtedly eager to get going, the crewmembers shook their heads as they zipped their jackets. Amelia delegated the task of distributing the maps to the Rivers before joining Richmond. He juggled with his phone, his lower left eyelid twitching at every toss. Long ago it’d been a sign of annoyance or frustration.

  “Is it about Hope?”

  “No.” A curt grimace allayed some of the worries on his face. “A different case. One involving an unscrupulous senator. He requests my presence. Now.”

  Those were her favorite kinds of request, but only if she were on the requesting side. “You go. I can handle this. I haven’t lost all my objectivity yet.”

  “Against my better judgment, I’m leaving you in charge. Make sure you ask for a list of employees and volunteers. It’s a shot in the dark, but you never know.” To her surprise he gently squeezed her shoulder with his hand. “And please, don’t give the River boy the thi
rd degree, he may become your son-in-law one day.”

  “That’s not funny, Richmond.”

  Though a ride in the trail might be a good way to get acquainted with the River boy—and see firsthand from where Hope had disappeared.

  Chapter Six

  It’d been many years since Amelia had ridden a snowmobile. She’d forgotten how invigorating a winter ride in the wilderness could be.

  No wonder Hope loves to train alone. At this moment, she felt closer to her daughter than she’d been in days. Her heart insisted her only child was alive, and she believed it.

  Ahead of her, the younger River plowed through the trail. A sudden left curb swallowed his snowmobile. Amelia slowed to negotiate the turn. A red flashing light appeared in front of her.

  Todd had stopped in the middle of the winding trail and disembarked.

  That section of the trail was too narrow to allow Amelia to park beside the young man. She pulled behind him. Leaving the engine running, she trekked toward him.

  Amidst the ski marks and pole holes left behind by the other athletes that had ventured on the trail since Hope’s disappearance, Todd traced a line in the snow.

  “This is where her tracks suddenly stopped.” He pointed forward. “The trail ahead was freshly groomed. There was no mark, no print, no nothing on the sides.” The arch he made with his arm embraced the virgin snow between the trail and the trees on each side. “I would have seen it if she’d skied off path.”

  It snowed overnight, and the fresh powder had erased anything he might have missed.

  “Where did you go from here, Todd? Back to the exit or the entrance?”

  “I followed her tracks to—” The young man’s mouth snapped shut as he seemed to recall something. “It can’t be right. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Amelia exhaled a long white mist. This little trip, which she’d forced on River, might after all unveil an important clue. “Think aloud, Todd. It’ll help.” It’ll help both of us. And stop her from going crazy.

  “Her skis. When she skates forward, they make a V shape in the snow. If she’d turned back, she would have covered her own tracks with Vs in the opposite direction. It would have looked like a checker board...but it didn’t.”

  As understanding dawned on her, Amelia stared at the landscape. “Are you telling me the tracks stopped suddenly without backtracking in any other directions?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They stopped right here.”

  Nobody vanished without a trace. That included her daughter.

  “If Hope didn’t ski out of here, someone had to pick her up. I’m guessing someone riding a snowmobile or an ATV.” Any other scenarios were too far-fetched to entertain. “You either missed the tracks or someone erased them.”

  “It’s impossible, ma’am. The rest of the trail was freshly groomed. The only tracks were mine. Someone would have needed to groom over—” His eyes popped out of his skull. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I swear.”

  Arms crossed over her chest, Amelia stared in confusion. “What exactly am I thinking?”

  “You think I ran her over by accident, and that...that I took her and...and groomed that section again so no one would know.”

  That scenario sounded as ludicrous as the one she’d conjured up seconds earlier involving a helicopter. “Is that what happened, Todd? An accident?”

  “No...I don’t know. Maybe it was an accident, but it wasn’t me. I don’t know how come the trail was groomed perfectly when I operate the only grooming machine we have.”

  “Sit down and take a deep breath. You’re not a suspect.”

  In order to stay alive on foreign soils, Amelia had learned to rely on her ability to read friends and enemies alike. Her instincts were telling her that the River boy wasn’t involved in Hope’s disappearance. That was proof enough.

  In this part of the forest, the trail was narrow, too narrow for two snowmobiles to ride side by side. Had her daughter seen anyone coming toward her, she would have stepped off the trail into the snow to let the vehicle pass. The same scenario could be applied in case of an ambush.

  No matter how it happened, Hope’s kidnapping would have spilled off the narrow trail into the fresh snow. Amelia had experienced too many combat situations not to recognize the potential or drawback of a hot spot. This particular section of the trail was not a good place for an ambush.

  “Todd, are you absolutely certain there was no disturbance in the snow along the edges around here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” As despondent as the young man looked, there was a decisive quality to his voice.

  Logic dictated Hope had been abducted somewhere else down the trail, and that the individual or individuals responsible had backtracked to erase her trace so it would be impossible to determine the exact location from which she was taken.

  The apparent methodology chilled Amelia’s blood. She dug her hand into her pocket and wrapped her gloved fingers around Hope’s transmitter and wallet, seeking strength in the personal objects she’d taken from her daughter’s room. “We need to farther extend the search area.”

  ***

  “You’re late, Sheriff.” With her pinched lips, pointed nose, and narrow glasses, Norman’s secretary looked like a buzzard ogling a roadkill. “The senator requested your presence an hour ago. He’s not happy you’re playing havoc with his schedule.”

  Unfortunately for Verna, Rich had no intention of falling dead or alive at the senator’s feet.

  “You may want to remind your boss I’m not his personal assistant. Next time he can stop by my office. Is he in?”

  Before meeting with Norman, Rich had contacted his deputies. The update hadn’t been to his liking. While the second picture had proven to be fake, Rich had no doubt the first one was genuine.

  He should be looking for Hope Craig while his deputies chased after the delinquent that slashed the four tires of their cruiser while they were having lunch. Searching for the blackmailer who exposed Norman’s dirty secrets ranked low on anyone’s list of priority for the day. Who plays with fire deserves to be burned.

  The secretary, whose name was written in gold letters on her desk, picked up the phone. “I will announce you. Please wait.”

  “I don’t think so.” As a former sniper, patience was a virtue Rich had cultivated. As a sheriff whose missing case led nowhere, patience had given way to frustration.

  As she leapt off her chair, Verna dropped the handset. “You can’t—”

  “Try me.” A bouncer armed with a bazooka wouldn’t have deterred Rich from walking into the senator’s office and slamming the door behind him.

  “Ever heard of knocking, Morgan?”

  The senator’s arrogant tone grated on Rich’s nerves. To think he’d once behaved like the despicable man didn’t improve his disposition.

  “Let’s skip the platitudes, Norman. You have bigger problems. A man who calls himself Sly Serpent manufactured the second picture. Does the name ring a bell?”

  “Course it does. He sent me an email this morning.” Norman flung a piece of paper across his desk. “If you weren’t so incompetent, my daughter’s life wouldn’t have been in danger. I’m holding you personally responsible, Morgan.”

  Nothing like wild accusations to brighten Rich’s terrible day. He picked up a copy of the email.

  Forget the remaining $80,000. I decided to email the pictures to your wife and sons, and post them online for free. That’s the least I can do after the Internet made it so easy to find your daughter. I have to give it to you, Norman, she’s one spunky teenager with one mean streak. I’m surprised she’s alive. What happened? Did you forget to get rid of her? Was she too precious? How would your wife like to see your daughter’s pretty face on the front page of every newspaper?

  I will slowly crush you like the vermin you are, Norman. Her blood, like the blood of all the others, will be on your hands.

  Sly Serpent

  The blackmailer had signed his name. He wanted Norman to know who he w
as. This was personal. Vengeance with a capital V.

  “Where’s your daughter, Senator?”

  “Safe. No thanks to you.”

  Insults would get them nowhere. “I can make arrangements for her protection.”

  “She’s nine years old, Morgan.” Sweat pearled on the senator’s forehead. “You’re not going to traumatize her. My wife took her to her parents in Massachu—”

  “Did you say nine-years-old?”

  His face swollen and flushed, Norman abruptly stood up. He braced himself with his fists on his desk. “Are you deaf?”

  Rich’s cool demeanor crumbled. No one insulted deaf people in his presence. He leaned forward over the desk and met the senator nose to nose. “The blackmailer is talking about a spunky teenage girl with a mean streak. Not a little girl. How many daughters do you have?”

  “One...and four sons.” Sharing a physical similarity with a suddenly deflated balloon, the senator sat back down. “My oldest son is in Yale, his brother is in Stanford, and the twins are in boarding schools in California. I talked to all of them after I sent my wife and daughter away. They’re fine.”

  If the five Norman children are accounted for, who did Serpent find on the Internet?

  “Sly Serpent went through lots of trouble to hire a model that looks like you to snap the second picture. He wants to crush you like a vermin. This sounds like revenge.”

  “That Serpent hasn’t tasted my revenge yet.” Fury swirled in the senator’s eyes, instantly wiping out his defeated look. “I need to issue a statement before he publishes the pictures or they’ll damage my reputation and endanger my marriage.”

  Rich resisted the temptation to tell the senator he was solely responsible for the first photo. “I need a list of your enemies.”

  “Grab the phonebook, Morgan. They should all be in there.”

  If not for the innocent teenage girl whose fate might be in Serpent’s hands, Rich would have been tempted to drop the case. “What do you think he meant by the Internet made it so easy to find your daughter?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” Shrugging off the question, the senator gripped a pen and scribbled on a post-it note.