Rat hugged the dog, as though only in Bear would he find the solace he needed. “She’s only fourteen. She needs me to look out for her.”

“Your sister?”

“When they took me away, Carrie tried to stop them. She screamed and screamed, but my mom just kept holding on to her. Telling her I had to leave. I had to be shunned.” His hand tightened to a fist in the dog’s fur. “That’s why I went back. For her. For Carrie.” He looked up. “But she wasn’t there. No one was there.”

“We’ll find her.” Maura reached out and held his arm, the way he was now holding Bear. They were joined, the three of them, woman, boy, and dog. An unlikely union forged by hardship into something close to love. Maybe even stronger than love. I couldn’t help Grace, she thought. But I’ll do whatever it takes to save this boy. “We’ll find her, Rat,” she said. “Somehow this will turn out all right. I swear it will.”

Bear gave a loud whine and closed his eyes.

“He doesn’t believe you, either,” said Rat.

28

JANE WATCHED HER HUSBAND METHODICALLY PACK AN INTERNAL-frame backpack, cramming every nook with necessities. In went the sleeping bag and Therm-a-Rest, the one-man tent, winter camping stove, and freeze-dried meals. In smaller pockets he stuffed a compass and knife and headlamp, parachute cord and first-aid kit. No space was wasted, no ounce of weight unnecessary. He and Sansone had bought the equipment earlier that evening and now Gabriel’s items were organized on the hotel bed, small items clustered into stuff sacks, the water bottles wrapped with ever-useful duct tape. He had done this many times before, as a young back-country hiker, and later as a marine. The weapon now strapped to his hip was an unnerving reminder that this was not merely a winter camping trip.

“I should be going with you two,” said Jane.

“No you shouldn’t. You need to stay behind and monitor phone calls.”

“What if something goes wrong out there?”

“If it does, I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re here and safe.”

“Gabriel, I always thought we were a team.”

He set down the backpack and shot her a wry smile. “And which member of this team is allergic to camping in any way, shape, or form?”

“I’ll do it if I have to.”

“You have no winter camping experience.”

“Sansone doesn’t, either.”

“But he’s fit and strong. I don’t think you can even lift that pack. Go ahead. Try.”

She grabbed the backpack and hefted it off the bed. Through gritted teeth she said, “I can do it.”

“Now imagine that much weight on your back as you climb a mountain. Imagine carrying that pack for hours, for days, and at altitude. Imagine trying to keep up with men who have about fifty pounds more muscle than you have. Jane, we both know that’s not realistic.”

She released the pack and it thudded onto the floor. “You don’t know this terrain.”

“We’ll be traveling with people who do.”

“Can you trust their judgment?”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” He closed the backpack and set it in the corner. “The important thing is that we’re out there with them. They may be too quick to pull the trigger, and Maura’s in the line of fire.”

Jane dropped onto the bed and sighed. “What the hell’s she doing out there, anyway? Her actions don’t make any sense!”

“That’s why you have to stay available on the phone. She called you once. She may try to reach you again.”

“And how will I reach you?”

“Sansone’s bringing a satellite phone. It’s not as if we’re dropping off the face of the earth.”

But it feels that way, she thought as she lay in bed beside him that night. He was about to hike into the wild, yet he slept soundly, untroubled by fears. She was the one who lay awake, fretting that she was neither strong enough nor experienced enough to join him. She thought of herself as any man’s equal, but this time she had to acknowledge the sorry truth. She could not carry that backpack. She could not keep up with Gabriel. After a few miles, she’d probably collapse in the snow, screwing up the expedition and embarrassing herself.

So how will Maura manage to survive?

That question took on more urgency when she woke up before dawn and looked out the window at wind-whipped snow flying across the hotel parking lot. She imagined that wind stinging her eyes, flash-freezing her skin. It was a brutal day to launch a search.

The sun had not yet risen when she, Gabriel, and Sansone drove up to the staging point. A dozen other members of the search team had already arrived, along with the tracking dogs, and the men stood around in the predawn gloom, sipping steaming coffee. Jane could hear the excitement in their voices, could feel the electricity in the air. They were like any cops just before a raid, oozing testosterone and twitching for action.

As Gabriel and Sansone pulled on their backpacks, she heard Sheriff Fahey ask: “Where do you two think you’re going with those packs?”

Gabriel turned to him. “You did ask for search-and-rescue volunteers.”

“We didn’t request a federal agent for the team.”

“I’m a trained hostage negotiator,” said Gabriel. “And I know Maura Isles. She’ll trust me.”

“This is rugged terrain. You have to know what you’re doing.”

“Eight years in the Marine Corps. Winter mountain operations training. Anything else you’d like to know?”

Unable to argue with those qualifications, Fahey turned to Sansone, but the man’s stony expression stopped Fahey cold from even trying to challenge him. With a grunt, Fahey stalked off. “Where’s Monty Loftus?” he yelled. “We can’t wait around for him much longer!”

“Told me he’s not coming,” someone answered.

“After the fuss he threw last night? I thought he’d be here for sure.”

“Maybe he looked in the mirror and remembered he’s seventy-one.”

Amid the laughter that followed, one of the handlers called out: “Dogs have got the scent!”

The search team started into the woods, and Gabriel turned to Jane. They shared a last kiss, an embrace, and then he was on his way. So many times before, she had admired his easy athleticism, the confidence in his gait. Even the heavy backpack did not slow him down. As she stood at the edge of the trees watching him, she could still see the young marine he once was.

“This is not going to come out well,” a voice said.

Jane turned and saw Cathy Weiss shaking her head.

“They’re going to hunt him down like an animal,” said Cathy.

“It’s Maura Isles I’m worried about,” said Jane. “And my husband.”

They stood side by side as the departing search team threaded its way into the woods. Slowly the driveway emptied out as vehicles began to leave, but the two women remained, watching until the men finally vanished among the trees.

“At least he seems like a levelheaded man,” said Cathy.

Jane nodded. “That would describe Gabriel.”

“But the rest of those guys, they’re ready to shoot first and ask questions later. Hell, Bobby could have slipped on the ice and shot himself.” Cathy huffed out a sigh of frustration. “How does anyone know what really happened? No one saw it.”

And there was no video of the shooting, thought Jane. That detail alone deeply bothered her. Martineau’s dash camera had been in perfect working order. It had simply been turned off, in violation of sheriff’s department regulations. The last footage recorded was while Martineau was en route to Doyle Mountain. Moments before he arrived at the house, he had deliberately shut off the camera.

She turned to Cathy. “How well did you know Deputy Martineau?”

“I’ve had dealings with him.” By the tone of her voice, those dealings did not sound cordial.

“Did you ever have any reason not to trust him?”

For a moment Cathy stared at her in the bone-chilling dawn, and the steam from their breaths mingled, coalescing into a vaporous union.