“Yep,” I replied as we passed the last post-fifties building in Alba. We crossed the bridge that spanned all thirty feet of Rowan Creek, and the snow-packed pavement ended, marking our entrance into the time capsule that kept Alba alive. “Figured it was a good idea to gas up. Someone told me once that it’s easier to run from the cops on a full tank.”

Main Street opened up on my left. Wooden buildings with metal roofs lined both sides of the dirt road that would fill with tourists in the next few months, all looking to experience a real 1890s old west mining town.

“Someone grew up. Also, please don’t make me chase you. This thing is a beast. I might have to tell Julie I’ve found the perfect birthday present.”

“Sure, if you get it with a ladder.” We turned at the Hamilton place, where the grant money for preservation had run dry. Snow sat piled in the shade against structures that had long since lost their roofs, windows, or walls.

“Shut up. Not all of us are six foot four.”

“It’s all in the genetics. At least it should make Dad easier to spot.”

“He’s been easy to find, but Cam… It’s gotten pretty bad,” Gideon told me as we pulled onto Rose Rowan Road and started to climb in elevation. “The last couple times I’ve seen him, he either hasn’t known who I am or he thinks I’m Dad.”

My hands flexed on the wheel. “Xander’s reached his limit. He basically told me to get back here or Dad was getting shipped to a home in Buena Vista, which would screw Dad’s whole ‘your mother died in this house and I will, too’ vow.”

“Hold that thought.” He held the phone to his face. “Hey, Mrs. Powers. Yep, it’s Gideon.” He paused, rubbing the skin just above his nose. “I know you are. I know you do. We’re going to find him, and we’ve got some searchers on their— Oh, she is? Good. That will help. We’re about four minutes out.”

I took the final turn onto Dad’s property and cursed at the conditions. Spring runoff was always hard on the drive, but it looked like it hadn’t been maintained in years. Washboarding, which was no doubt under the packed snow, was easy enough to fix, but the deep, canyon-like trenches carved out by the mini river currently eating away the right side of the drive were going to take some effort to repair.

Not that I hadn’t seen shittier roads in Afghanistan or any of the other places I was never supposed to be, but this was my fucking driveway.

Gideon hung up as I came to a stop and put the Jeep into four-wheel drive.