Authors: Kimberly,Kayla Woodhouse
She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. “Sean, you know I can’t do that. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. The waiting would kill me.”
Officer Roberts exited Zoya’s room and gave her a pointed look. “We need you here in case we find her, or in case she heads home on her own.”
“I
need to find my daughter.”
“Ms. Naltsiine, let me be blunt. We could use your cooperation. We still haven’t ruled out foul play. Too much has happened on your property recently.”
Sean held her in a firm grip. As if he knew her mama-bear attitude was about to maul a police officer. “Let’s go back down to the kitchen and wait for Cole.”
Anesia allowed him to lead her down the stairs, but that didn’t mean she had to like her circumstances.
Sean released her and sat on a stool at the bar. “Anesia, Zoya seemed a little out of sorts yesterday. Very skittish. Afraid of every sound. Did you notice anything different?”
She thought back. “No. Not that I can think of. The girls went out to check on the dogs with you. But then you all found the chips and—”
He hopped up. “Wait a minute. Where’s the coat she wears out to work with the dogs? Would she have taken it?”
She headed in the direction of the mudroom before she answered. “Maybe not . . . She probably would’ve worn her heaviest coat for running the dogs, not her work coat . . .”
There it hung. On the hook above her heavy-duty Carhartt overalls. Anesia reached into the pockets of Zoya’s thick work coat. Nothing.
Sean searched the quilted bib overalls. “Anesia, look!” He pulled out another wadded up piece of paper.
Go away. Run. Or you’ll never see your mom again.
Anesia crouched onto the floor of the mudroom, overwhelmed by the struggles her daughter faced. “This had to be from yesterday. We washed all the gear the day before.” She looked up into Sean’s green eyes. The anguish she saw there mirrored her own. “Do you know what this means? She’s not out of danger. Someone is still threatening my child . . . and I have no idea where she is!”
He stood there for several seconds. The expression in his eyes changed from hurt and sorrow to a red-hot anger. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He walked out of the mudroom.
Anesia stood up and followed, frightened at the sudden change in him. And by her own anger. “We’ve got to find her. Before anyone else.”
His face was like flint. Cold. Hard. “I’m going to make a few phone calls. Go show Roberts the note.”
She raced up the stairs. All that mattered right now was getting Zoya back home.
Safe and sound.
The officer met her at the top of the stairs. She handed him the note.
He took a second to read it and then slammed his hand against the railing. He grimaced and gave her a sideways glance. “Sorry about that.” He paced a few steps before he spoke again. “This case is getting weirder by the minute.”
Cole, Jenna, and Andie burst through the front door at that moment.
The sergeant yelled down the stairs. “Major Maddox, you need to get on the horn to the FBI pronto. We’ve got a mess they need to help us sort out.”
Jenna ran to her and hugged her tight. “It’ll be okay. What’ve we got?”
“Zoya ran away, apparently to try to keep me safe. We found some notes threatening her.”
Andie joined them on the steps and grabbed Anesia’s hand. “Auntie, she gave me a weird note too. Made me promise not to tell, but I think I have to break that promise. She told me she had to go on alone. That must be what she was trying to say. That the only way to protect us all was for her to leave!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SEAN
February 3
Naltsiine Kennels
7:02 a.m.
“Does this mean you’re coming home?” His father sounded pleased with himself.
Sean knew that would be the first question out of the man’s mouth. “No. But I need your help. And please don’t tell me you can’t do it. You’re the CEO of CROM. Get Charlie in there and have him get the satellite in place.”
“Why can’t the local authorities and the FBI handle it?” The voice was a bit too sugary-sweet.
“We don’t have time to waste, Father. A little girl’s life is in danger. You and I both know you have the technology to help.”
“It will cost a small fortune to redirect that satellite—”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you have hundreds of small fortunes at your disposal, isn’t it?” His temper had gotten the best of him. He couldn’t remember ever speaking to his father in sarcasm.
A hearty laugh came over the line. “Wow. Seems you’re becoming more like me everyday. Now, I’ll forgive you for your comments since I know you’re stressed over this situation, but remember in the future who you are addressing.”
No time for petty squabbles. Finding Zoya was the only thing that mattered. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. How soon can you have Charlie contact me?”
“I’ll have him down in the sat room in thirty minutes.”
“Give him my cell number. Tell him I’ll give him our GPS coordinates soon. Then he can look at current images of the area around. He should be able to locate her.” He started to hang up.
“Sean!”
“Yes?”
“I hope you find the girl.”
When had his father ever shown compassion for anyone else? Ever? “Thanks.” Sean hung up. He couldn’t believe he’d just asked his father for help when he swore he’d never do that again. But even more surprising was the fact that his father acquiesced without making him promise anything in return.
Could the man have a heart after all?
“Sean?” Anesia stood in the doorway.
“I heard Cole come in.” He reached for her, but she hesitated. She held his gaze for several seconds, then moved into his arms. They both needed the contact. “Are we ready to search?”
“Yes. Jenna and Andie will take her plane up. They brought several handheld GPSs and radios so that you all can stay in communication. She’ll scout from the air while you and Cole take sleds out.”
“And you?” He touched her face.
“I’m supposed to stay here. The FBI will be here soon, and Sergeant Roberts will stay here as well.” Her shoulders slumped as she looked out the window. “Please, Sean . . .” Her gaze came back to his. “Find my daughter.”
ZOYA
Unknown location, Interior Alaska
7:38 a.m.
Very little light shone through the small window in the cabin. I stared up at the log ceiling. Mom would’ve noticed I was gone by now. She’d be worried. Frantic. But Sean was there. He would take care of her.
My eyes closed and I sighed. Would they look for me? And what if they found me, then what would I do? I couldn’t defend myself for leaving.
But what else could I have done?
I sat up. I hadn’t gotten any sleep, not when everything was floating around in my head at once.
Very few furnishings inhabited this place. No couch, only a bed. No kitchen, only a fireplace. No bathroom, or bedrooms. No doors except the one at the front. Although it couldn’t really pass as a door . . . more like a giant square with a thing of wood blocking out the wind and snow.
Everything looked historical. Like it was a building from
Little House on the Prairie
. There were many, many bookshelves, overflowing with books of all sorts. Old books.
I snuck closer to peek, then blew dust off the ancient books. An
Almanac
from 1899.
American Dictionary of the English Language
from 1828. Four books titled:
The Birds of America
by Audubon. Books on flowers, plants, and farming. Most tattered and torn . . .
Not a contemporary book whatsoever. Nothing more recent than 1900. How long had this cabin been here? There were many natives who didn’t agree with the “new” America. The “new” way people lived. So they stuck to the traditional way of things. No electricity, no bathrooms, no stoves or sinks, no plumbing of any kind, except maybe a well outside. But how did they keep it from freezing?
I stood. Time to stoke the fire.
I looked down to my hands. I was glad no one was here. Didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.
A shiver crept up my spine. Why wouldn’t this nightmare end? What was God doing to me? Why wasn’t He helping me?
You have no faith. Not anymore.
Was that true? Really? Or was it more like Sean said? I’d let my anger get between me and God?
“Don’t trust Him . . .”
The tears came.
I didn’t know what to think, to believe. What if the killers followed my trail?
“This is all His fault . . .”
Or was it mine? I was the one who decided to run. I was the one who led the killers to this place.
I was the one who pushed God away.
My breath caught on a sob.
I pulled my legs up close to me. Lowered my head onto my knees and hugged them. I couldn’t cry . . . but I was.
My body shook with each breath. Just let the sobs come. Get it out . . . But the emotions swirling inside of me wouldn’t let go. They had an iron grip.
On me. On my heart.
I fought to feel the pain, the anger, the heat. It was better than not feeling anything. Better than not feeling His presence.
I couldn’t even open my eyes. Darkness surrounded me. Everywhere. On every side. Dark . . . Dark . . . Dark. It was like a haunting chant. It wouldn’t leave.
“Don’t trust Him . . .”
Tears pushed past my eyelids and slid down my cheeks. My heart hammered. Air. I needed air. Spots danced behind my closed eyes.
I couldn’t make a sound. But inside . . . I screamed. Let it out. Everything. Everything in me that said I hated Him. Everything in me that said I never wanted Him in my life.
Everything in me that begged for a Savior. For someone to be there. For someone to care about me. For someone to save me.
Help me!
I gasped for air. Little came.
God! Show me You’re here! Please!
The darkness closed in.
No!
I couldn’t let go . . . I needed to hold on.
To what?
My throat closed. Chest closed. Mind fogged.
Darkness.
ANESIA
Naltsiine Kennels
8:42 a.m.
Anesia sipped her coffee, playing the role of the worried mom for the two police officers staying in her house. The worried mom who could fall apart at any moment. The worried mom who sat by the phone waiting. The worried mom who did what she was told.
But inside, she was planning.
Sean’s presence had comforted her. Her heart soared every time he came near. Hope sprouted once again in her soul—that she could possibly have her own happily-ever-after.
But none of that mattered if she lost Zoya. She’d never forgive herself.
Where is your faith, my child?
Her faith was still there. Just because she needed to
do
something didn’t mean she didn’t have faith.
She paced back and forth to the window. The others shouldn’t have left her here. No Sean to comfort her. No Jenna to kick her in the rear end before she did something foolish. No Zoya.
Zoya . . .
She had to do something. And soon.
She glanced out the window and noticed the clouds packing in. That meant lots more snow. Time to make her move.
Anesia set the coffee cup in the sink. “Sergeant Roberts?”
He appeared in the kitchen. “Yes?”
“Looks like we’ve got more snow coming. I’m going to head out to the kennel for a few minutes and make sure the dogs have everything they need.”
The officer poured himself another cup of coffee. “Do you need some help?”
“No, that’s okay. I know you guys are busy. I should be back in just a few minutes.” Ouch. That lie didn’t taste good on her tongue. But she had to do it. For Zoya.
“All right.” He headed back to their computer set-up in the living room. “Take a radio with you. We’ll let you know if we hear anything.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She was already to the mudroom and slinging on her gear. Adding an extra layer against the cold, she bundled up. Who knew how many hours she’d be out?
Anesia shoved a bottle of water and two protein bars in the pockets of her massive coat. She wiggled her fingers into her gloves and headed out the door.
The dogs saw her coming and yapped expectantly.
With deft movements, she unlocked the shed and pulled out her fastest sled. Her movements were quick and steady. Years of practice and training had her ready with a team of dogs in under ninety seconds.
She released the hooks that anchored her sled and the team took off. As the sled whooshed on the fresh powder, Anesia whispered to the wind.
“Hold on, baby girl. I’m coming.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
SLIM
February 3
Naltsiine Kennels
9:59 a.m.
Great. Two police cruisers sat in front of Anesia’s house. What were they doing there? He needed those chips. Now.
He parked in the long driveway and pulled binoculars out of the glove compartment so he could watch through the windows.
Yep. Two cops. Sitting in the living room with computers set up. One talked on a radio.
Something must’ve gone down.
This would mess up his plan. His buyer already said they couldn’t wait. How was he gonna get those chips?
The cell phone on the console bleeped at him. The familiar number flashing with the incoming call.
“Hello?”
“Well, hello, Slim. How are you doing today?”
Great. The guy wanted to make small talk. “Fine. You?”
The man chuckled. “I’m doing very well. Just wondering about you. One of my few employees that I care about.”
Yeah, right. “As I recall, you weren’t real happy with me last time we talked. Are you willing to up your price?”
“You aren’t in any position to negotiate”—The congenial tone turned hard—“I know they found the chips. But I have a plan that will help us both.”
He sat up straight in his seat. No. It couldn’t be true. The guy was playing him. “What do you mean they found the chips?”
“Exactly what I said. They found them yesterday. Pulled more than fifty chips out of those poor dogs. While you were shopping. The FBI has them.”