Her opinion of the human species typically ranked lower than her estimation of bacteria and viruses. But as long as she had wilderness to explore and wild creatures to study, the world held enough fascination to make it a satisfying place to live. Simon, her cat, had always been a loyal friend, too. Animals were trustworthy.

  The last two years had been a challenge. Friends with partners and families vanished into their own “pods.” Sam was thankful she had Blake as a housemate. He added humor and spice to her home life, as well as great cooking. She would have gone stark raving mad without him. If his newly reactivated affair with Claude became a permanent relationship, she hoped that she and Blake would remain close friends. Maybe the three of them could live together, add a room or two onto her cabin. Would that be weird?

  Blake would remind her right now that she had Chase. Who wouldn’t want a smart, handsome Latino-Lakota-FBI-agent lover living only twenty minutes away? But that was the problem, wasn’t it? When Chase was in town, which was rare, he was still twenty minutes away. And for the last year, he’d had to quarantine every time he came back from one of his work trips, so he’d been off limits most of the time. With so much time spent on American Indian reservations, she fretted that he was growing closer to the tribal members he worked with than to her.

  He’d wanted her to move in with him. But then, when he was working, she’d be alone at his house instead of her own. She failed to see what good that would do. She was hardly a homemaker. She had no idea what the future might hold for their relationship.

  Her thoughts circled back to Maya. Sam was not at all sure that the girl, the product of a drug-addict mother, foster care, and juvie hall, cared enough about anything to plan for the future. She had no idea how to light a fire under the twenty-one-year-old. Sam had never wanted children, and she’d certainly never planned on having a teenager attach to her. Maya was like a mangy stray dog you didn’t want to keep as a pet, but couldn’t bring yourself to abandon.

  Lost in thought, Sam nearly collided with Gina when the other woman abruptly stopped on the ridge overlooking a steep valley.

  They were standing on top of what would be revealed as the Lake Ann trailhead when the snow melted. The path to Lake Ann was one of Sam’s favorite trails. It was a challenging hike because the trail descended steeply, then crossed a valley, and then ascended up a long steep slope on the other side to the mountain lake below the glaciers of Mount Shuksan. Unlike the majority of mountain trails in the Cascades that wound up to a high peak and then were downhill all the way back, on the Lake Ann trail, a hiker had to climb a steep slope both on the way in and out. Sam had never attempted the route in winter, because the steepness of the surrounding slopes threatened the possibility of avalanches. The freeze and thaw cycles of spring made the risk even higher, with the likelihood of slippery ice sandwiched between unstable snow layers.

  Studying the snowy bowl of the valley below them and the rise of the mountains on the other side, Sam groaned. “Tell me you’re kidding, Gina.”

  “Not kidding,” Gina told her. “My camera is in the trees on the ridge to the south of Lake Ann.”

  “Let’s at least stick to the general trail route,” Sam suggested. “Less avalanche danger through the forest.”

  “Agreed,” Gina dug her poles into the snow and set off down the slope. “Watch out for tree wells.”

  Sam stuck out her tongue at the other woman’s back. She’d been avoiding tree wells for more than twenty years now.

  The snow under the thick cover of evergreen trees was icier than on the surrounding slopes, and the litter of fallen limbs and needles and cones made the hike down difficult. Gina stumbled and slid and grabbed onto an overhanging branch to shower both of them with skin-stinging grains of ice from above. Sam struggled with each step to jam the metal claws of her snowshoes into the ground cover, her knees and ankles painfully protesting the angle of descent.

  On reaching the valley floor, they paused briefly to shake the snow out of their hair and parkas. After quick swallows of water, they were off again, crunching their way swiftly across the valley. It was already nearing four o’clock, and more clouds were gathering over the peaks to the southwest. Would she and Gina return to the ski resort before sunset? Sam tried to remember the current phase of the moon, although even a full moon would be useless hidden behind heavy clouds. She could use her headlamp if she needed to, although the beam did not extend far enough in deep darkness to be of much use. Gina would most likely have a headlamp as well.

  Now that she had sufficient breath to talk again, Sam asked Gina, “So you think the trap was built by this Priest guy?”

  “Possibly.” Gina huffed. “Probably. He and his brothers have been caught a few times trapping a variety of animals in national forest areas.”

  “That’s not always illegal, unfortunately.” Sam shook her head at the thought.

  “Depends on the area and how it’s done,” Gina responded, striding faster. “But the rules for most areas say that trappers have to kill the wild animals they catch. And it’s illegal to trap or kill a wolverine in Washington, unless it’s self-defense.”

  Sam snorted. Had there ever been an incident where a wolverine attacked a human out of the blue?

  “But most people don’t know it’s illegal,” Gina continued, “because most people don’t even realize we have wolverines in this state. And although the state uses fancy words to say they’re endangered, they aren’t on the federal list, and I’m not sure that rangers would go after someone who killed only one wolverine.”

  Please, don’t let a trapper kill Feisty. Sam sped up to match Gina’s pace. “Would the Priests have access to your camera photos?”

  “I hope not. Unless one of them found the camera and stole the storage card. But if they placed a trap, they could have some sort of sensor attached that sends out a signal when the trap is triggered.”

  “Then we need to hurry.” Sam’s hands fisted around her pole grips at the thought of a killer on the way to the trapped animal.

  The snow was deeper on the valley floor, softer in the treeless areas exposed to the bright sun. The muffled sound of running water alerted Sam that they were approaching the creek that zigzagged across the area, one of many that flowed into Swift Creek and down the valley toward Baker Lake. The little stream was not visible; the water would be tunneling under the snow here. She recognized its route from the gap in the brush tips emerging from the melting snow.

  “One at a time,” she suggested. “No way to tell how thick the snow is over this bridge.”

  “You go first.” Gina tapped Sam on the arm, most likely because Sam was smaller and lighter. “If you fall through, I’ll find another way around.”

  “Thanks a bunch.” Clenching her jaw, Sam gingerly tromped across the area. She gasped when her left snowshoe suddenly plummeted several inches, but then the snow underneath held.

  Gina crossed behind her, each step of hers sinking a few inches deeper.

  Chapter 3

  “A thousand bucks,” Eaze muttered, stroking his goatee. He sat with his back against one of the trees a few feet away from the opening of Maya’s tent, his skinny legs splayed across the ground. “That’s not really so much.”

  Maya exhaled a puff of disagreement. “Would be to me.” Heck, a hundred would be a fortune right now.

  What would she do with $1,000? Buy a plane ticket to somewhere sunnier, somewhere warmer. Maybe New Mexico, go see Jade’s mother again. If she’d have her. Maya hadn’t heard from Katerina Franco since she’d called her last October. She’d expected an invitation to visit. Katerina had originally been so nice, even after she’d discovered that Maya was her first husband’s “love child,” and half sister to her own daughter, Jade. But during that last conversation, Katerina had been cold. The woman had even hung up after telling Maya never to call when she was in “that condition.”

  Maya rubbed a hand across the frown lines on her brow, remembering. She hadn’t been that drunk; she’d just forgotten that New Mexico clocks would be an hour later. What was wrong with these uptight people? Even Troy Johnson wouldn’t commit to hiring her back again at Wilderness Challenge this summer, when he’d given her nothing but praise two years before.

  That was her life these days. All the good people got killed one way or the other, and others she’d thought were her friends turned out to be scumbags. All her dreams turned to shit. She had been lucky to meet Eaze while smoking a joint in Fairhaven Park a few months ago. He’d been a foster kid, too. His parents were both in prison. He was the only person who understood how you could have the rug pulled out from beneath your feet with no notice whatsoever. Sam and Blake didn’t think of much of Eaze, but they didn’t really know him.

  She’d wondered at first if she should invite him to sleep in her tent, but it had worked out. He wasn’t there every night and he wasn’t perfect. But he could be nice. He often brought food and wine and other gifts. The sex was rockin’. Eaze was the only person who hugged her these days. He understood it all—the job layoffs, the lack of home. The lack of family.

  Eaze crawled into the tent beside her and laid a hand on her thigh. “I know you don’t have the dough.” He jerked his chin in the direction of Sam’s cabin. “But she does, I’ll bet.”

  Maya rolled her eyes. “I bet different. Sam doesn’t even have a regular job. That’s why she’s got a roommate.”

  “Who also has a roommate. Another queer, right?”

  “Hey!” Maya objected. “Blake and Claude are both cool, most of the time. And Claude’s not a roommate. He’s Canadian; he just visits sometimes. Only Sam and Blake live here.” Maybe she should count herself as living here, too. Did it count that she pitched her tent in Sam’s backyard?

  “The Canadian dude is here now, right? Between the three of them, they could come up with a thou.”

  Maya was tired of this conversation. Eaze had been talking about the money ever since they rolled out of their sleeping bags this morning. “How the hell did you end up owing a thousand bucks to somebody, anyway?” she asked. Was he a secret gambler or something? Hanging out in casinos on the nights he wasn’t here? “And who is that somebody?”

  “JW.” Eaze pushed his dark hair back off his shoulders, twisting it into a rope behind his neck. He had beautiful hair, long and silky, at least when it was clean. Today it was greasy.

  Maya waited for more explanation. The only JW she knew stood for Jehovah’s Witnesses, and she was fairly sure that wasn’t who Eaze was talking about.

  “It’s for the H.” Eaze snarled it like a complaint.

  H. Maya had snorted heroin a few times, even a few times recently with Eaze, but she’d never spent more than a few dollars on a tiny nugget or packet of powder. Inhaling H was nice; that was the best word for it. Heroin made her feel chill. And happy, although she hated the way it made her nose ooze. Eaze spent half his life wiping his. She’d never resort to shooting up, though. Sticking a needle in your arm was disgusting, not to mention you could get some horrible disease.

  Eaze swore he’d never do that, either. The bruises on the insides of his elbows were from carrying heavy crates when he volunteered at the food bank.

  “You bought a thousand dollars of H off this JW?” she asked him. She’d heard there were a lot of car prowls going on around town, but she didn’t think Eaze was into that. And who kept hundreds of dollars in their car, anyway? “Where the fuck did you get a thousand bucks?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t.”

  Maya put it together. “OMG, you were supposed to sell it, weren’t you?” She stared at him. She and Eaze might drink a little too much and use once in a while, but that was all just for fun, something to pass the time. Selling drugs was sinking into the abyss. Drugs had killed her mother. “You used it all yourself?”

  His amber gaze blazed into hers. “You helped.”

  “Only twice. You offered!”

  “Like that’s gonna matter to JW,” he explained. “I gotta get the H somehow. We gotta get it.” He pulled her hand out of her lap, intertwined his fingers with hers. “See, he’ll be looking for you, too. He knows who I hang with.”

  “I never heard of anyone named JW,” she protested, jerking her hand away. “How would he know me?”

  “Ah, babe.” Eaze reached for her hand again, but when Maya pulled it back, he settled for slipping a finger through the rip in her jeans to stroke her thigh. “I mighta shown him your picture. You’re so beautiful, I like to show you off. I’m proud of you.”

  Sam and Blake had sometimes said things like that when she studied or worked hard, but nobody had ever really been proud of her. Not her mother. She’d never even met her father. And now, apparently not even her boss at Wilderness Challenge was proud of her accomplishments. Former boss, she bitterly corrected her thoughts.

  “I always said you were smart as well as hot,” Eaze murmured, a smile gliding onto his lips. “You could sweet-talk JW.” Moving his fingers away from the rip, he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh.

  She slapped his fingers away and scooted back farther into the tent. “Not on your life.”

  “Babe.” Eaze sighed heavily. “We gotta get it somehow.” He frowned at a brown smear that extended from his big toe around the edge of his sandal. “Is that dog shit?”

  “Ewww.” Maya jerked her chin toward the hose spigot on the side of Sam’s cabin. “Go outside and clean it off.”

  Leaning back, Eaze snagged a piece of fabric from the pile of clothing at the rear of the tent and began to scrub at the smear.

  Maya screeched and grabbed his arm. “That’s a quilt square! That’s my quilt square!” She pulled the fabric out of his hands. “I embroidered it! Sam taught me how. I told you! It’s me, see?” She stretched it out in front of him, pointing to the figure’s flaming, spiky hair. “I had red hair then.” She’d let it grow out to her original black.

  “You . . . with an axe?” Eaze laughed. “An axe and a pile of shit!”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I told you. That’s me, with a Pulaski. When I worked on the trail crew in Olympic National Park for my community service time. It was hard work, but it was kinda cool, being out in the woods all the time. We saw deer and elk and owls almost every day. I’m gonna do it again.” She would, she promised herself. She could easily get strong again, be the outdoor expert people looked up to again. She just needed someone to give her a chance.

  Eaze was still smirking, still staring at the quilt square. “Bet they made you shit in the woods, too.”

  “So?” Why was he attaching the word “shit” to everything? “That’s when I met Sam. One day she brought a bear to our dorm.”

  Eaze frowned. “Why the fuck would anyone shoot a bear?”

  “He wasn’t dead. She had him in a cage. She was saving that bear, taking him somewhere safe. And then Sam and I got together later, after I was done with trail work, and we were making picture quilts, making different squares about our lives. And now you ruined my first one!”

  He put his hand on her thigh again. “Sorry. At least it’s still good for wiping off shit.”

  “You’re such a bastard.” Maya swiped at the tear that ran down her cheek. That wasn’t just her first quilt square, it was her only quilt square. She had sketched out another that depicted her leading the Wilderness Challenge group last year, and a third that was supposed to be about going to college. But she hadn’t started embroidering either one. She didn’t have a clue where her embroidery stuff was. Did she even have it anymore?

  “Aw, you’re not gonna cry, are you?” Eaze leaned close. “You still love me, don’t you, babe?”

  She twisted away from his hot breath, folding the quilt square and tucking it beside her sleeping bag. She’d wash it; maybe the stain would come out. Sniffling, she wiped her wet eyes with her fingers.

  Sam’s cat, Simon, peered into the tent. Maya stretched out a hand to pet him, but when the cat spied Eaze next to her, he pivoted away toward the trees at the back of Sam’s lot. Spying a robin hopping among the trees, he lowered his belly toward the ground and began to stalk the bird.

  Eaze slid a hand into his jacket pocket. Maya expected him to pull out his usual pack of cigarettes, rubber-banded together with his lighter. Eaze always smoked when he was pissed off or worried. But when his hand emerged, it was clutching a pistol.

  Her heartbeat sped up. “What’s that for?”

  “Dunno yet.” Grinning, he slapped the gun from one hand to the other like a hot potato. Then he pointed the barrel toward the cat. “Leverage, maybe.”

  Chapter 4

  The clouds she’d witnessed earlier in the west were scudding across the sky to pile up over North Cascades National Park just a few miles to the east, slowly blurring the heavens from the startling clear blue to a gray wool coverlet that boded snow in the near future. Sam hoped that she and Gina would not be hiking back to the resort in a whiteout.

  After crossing the valley, Gina led her halfway up the next mountain, rounding the slope into a steep wooded area Sam had never explored before, well away from the Lake Ann trail. “Isn’t this where those two . . .” she wasn’t sure she wanted to finish the sentence.

  “Bodies were found?” Gina guessed, finishing for her. “Yep, the two snowboarders. Somewhere around here.”

  The snow in this steep, rugged terrain was often unstable. They were miles away from the safer, groomed slopes of the ski resort. The two college students had been missing for most of a year before a hiker stumbled onto the grim remains of one of them. Sam struggled to pull her imagination away from what those remains must have looked like after eleven months of snow and thaw. Not to mention hungry animals. Would a wolverine dine on a human corpse?

  The first icy crystals of snow stung her cheeks. “Oh, crap, it’s starting to snow.”

  Gina didn’t bother to turn her head. Her voice was muffled as she responded, “Yep.”