Flipping through her friend’s recent photos of winter camping and hiking through the trails, group shots of happy-looking adrenaline junkies on a heli-skiing trip...her already fragile confidence in the idea waned. Did they have anything in common anymore? As teenagers, it had been their differences that had connected them. She was studious and focused—exactly what Cassie had needed to help her survive the course load in high school. Someone to make sure she went to class and did the assigned work. Erika had tutored her friend in math and physics to make sure her grades were high enough to graduate on time. And in return, Erika had learned to relax and have fun once in a while from her high-on-life friend. Cassie forced her to take breaks, even if it meant stealing her textbooks for a few hours, and without her, Erika would have had no social life at all.

Her gaze fell to her exposed wrist at the edge of her white blouse. The faint lines of a tattoo were starting to show through her tattoo concealer. The word Friend only legible because she knew what it said.

The Best and Friend tattoos had been their gift to one another when Erika moved to Anchorage for university. They’d promised not to let life get in the way of their friendship. Erika almost always kept hers covered these days. She really should have it removed—it was hardly professional—but each time she made the appointment, she canceled it.

She opened Messenger and hesitated. Could she really spend two weeks in Wild River? Would her friend be happy to hear from her?

She released a deep breath and started to type. Only one way to find out.

CHAPTER TWO

THIRTY-SEVEN HOURS INTO the search and the twisting in Reed’s gut grew worse by the minute. The call from the state troopers’ office reporting a missing ten-year-old girl on the side of Wild Canyon Peak—where she’d been snowshoeing and camping with her parents—had sent over fifty search and rescue volunteers out on the mission immediately. November in the mountains was cold, unpredictable and they’d already experienced one small avalanche earlier that month.

Reed pulled up his scarf and readjusted his headlamp. At six thirty, it was already pitch-black outside, making the search harder and his confidence fade. The bitter wind that had picked up since nightfall cut through his thermal jacket and the crew members near him—walking the trails where the young girl had last been seen—looked as tired and anxious as he felt. They were reaching a critical point and his only consolation was knowing that the girl had been dressed for the weather. Her parents claimed she was wearing a full snowsuit, gloves, hat and scarf.

Snow crunched beneath his boots as he neared the edge of a cliff, peering over in the hopes of seeing the little girl. Snowdrifts made visibility in this area tough. His mouth felt like sandpaper, but he didn’t stop to take a drink. Not yet. Only on scheduled five-minute rests. He checked his watch. Nine more minutes until they took a mandatory break. He scanned the area as he took slow steps forward...his ten years of experience on the Wild River Search and Rescue making his senses sharp and focused, despite lack of sleep and the intensity of the unpredictable weather in the high altitude.