The door opened. “It’s about time. We could use those parts.” A man stepped out, wearing a flannel shirt, a pair of jeans, and a fur hat. He had long brown hair and a matted beard.

It was the .338 Winchester Magnum that caught Dodge’s attention. He stopped walking.

The man stared at him. Then smiled. “You.”

Dodge held up his hand. “Hey there, Idaho.” The last time they’d chatted flashed through his head, and he mentally measured how far he was from his chopper. “Sorry, wrong pilot,” he said. “I don’t have your parts. My guess is the ATV I saw in the river back there is yours?”

Idaho rested the gun in the crook of his arm. “Blew a tire and the axle got messed up in the river.”

“I was just flying by and saw the smoke.” He was backing up now.

Another man came out on the stoop. He was big, over six feet, short brown hair. He wore jeans, no shirt, and stood in the cold like he might be part polar bear. He held a cigar in his hands and smiled at Dodge. A gold tooth glinted in the sun. “Чего он хочет?”

He didn’t speak Russian, but he didn’t have to. He was clearly trespassing, of a sort.

Still, what was Idaho doing with a Russian man?

Another man stepped out, this one shorter, beefier. He was eating out of a can.

“Sorry I can’t be of help,” Dodge said.

“You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”

He stilled and stared at Idaho. “Her?”

“Your girlfriend. Grizzly Adams’s girl.”

Dodge swallowed. Found a smile. “Have you seen her?”

Idaho looked at his cronies, one, then the other, and they laughed. “Last time we saw her, she was running like the world was on fire with her doggies.”

Dodge couldn’t stop himself. “Why would she be doing that?”

Idaho shrugged. “Dunno. She must scare easily.”

Not hardly.

“Sure.” He glanced at the sky, then back to Idaho, who’d walked out to the edge of the porch. “Be careful out there. The temperature is rising. You know how it gets out here in the spring. The rivers rise fast, the earth turns to mud. And Alaska is dangerous.”

“It is, boy. It is. People get lost here all the time.” Idaho just stood there, watching as Dodge backed up, all the way to his chopper.

He was still standing on the porch, the wind blowing the fur from his face as Dodge lifted off.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Dodge glanced at his fuel tank, at the world below him, lush with pine trees and deep gullies and rivers starting to awaken. Somewhere down there, Echo was lost. Maybe hurt.

And worst of all, alone.

fifteen