Once she stood in Guy’s small apartment, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t thought about how this might affect him, the kinds of gossip that might make the rounds.

  “You want me to go?” she asked him. “People might talk.”

  “People talk anyway, sometimes about things they know nothing about. I can offer you coffee, instant cocoa, or orange juice.”

  “Cocoa, if you don’t mind. Maybe the milk will help me wind down.”

  “Sure.” He stripped off his gun belt and headed for his bedroom. When he returned he’d shed his uniform for a chambray shirt and jeans. “Take a seat.” He pointed to the recliner.

  “But you...”

  “Trust me, I can sit. So just relax as much as you can while I make cocoa.”

  It was a comfortable recliner, inviting her to put her feet up. She resisted. Leaning back and closing her eyes didn’t strike her as relaxing at all.

  Ten minutes later he returned with a cappuccino cup full of aromatic cocoa. “I added some cream.” He set it on the end table beside her. “And so much for instant. Takes a whole bunch of time to dissolve that powder.”

  He turned and dragged one of his two kitchen chairs over, then got his own cup of chocolate, putting it beside hers on the single end table. He straddled the chair.

  “You’re gonna reach a breaking point, Val. I don’t know how you can handle all this. Your personal concern, your need to be a cop in the midst of it. It’s going to crush you.”

  She sighed and reached for the cocoa, sipping carefully. It was hot. “I’ve gotten near there a couple of times. I don’t like feeling weak.”

  “Weak is the last thing I’d call you. And unfortunately I think you’re right about your sister. At some point the blaming starts.”

  “Yeah. And that can leave permanent scars. I don’t want that between us, although it probably can’t be avoided if we don’t find Lizzie soon.”

  She sipped more cocoa while staring into her personal hell. Lizzie. May. The fruitlessness of their hunt.

  Guy spoke. “Connie said earlier that a few PAs remembered patients getting really angry at Chet. She’s gone back to the hospital to interview people after shift change. Haven’t heard any more yet, but at least we’ve got one good reason to get that warrant.”

  “Thank God. I’d hate to think that a clue could be buried in patient confidentiality.”

  “I think Judge Carter will agree. He’s always struck me as sensible.”

  “I seem to remember he’s a good judge.”

  Clutching at straws, Valerie thought. All they had to cling to right now. Frustrating. Maddening.

  “Gage went over to talk with the old sheriff. You remember Nate Tate?”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “How could I not? The man’s a legend.”

  “Seems like. Anyway, Nate says you have an enviable rate of case resolution.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not counting.”

  “You should. You should trust yourself, hard as it is right now. Your instincts are good. You’re facing things you can barely stand to think about.”

  She shook her head. “The cadaver dogs?”

  “Widening the search area tomorrow, but given what Kell found, those dogs are going to come up empty.”

  “God willing.”

  But another dead end. Someone had apparently taken Lizzie away in a car. She hated to think how many hundreds of miles the kidnapper might have traveled by now. “I’d give just about anything for a ransom note.”

  Guy’s answer came slowly. “I’m not sure I would.”

  “Why?”

  “Because any kind of ransom note implies violence.”

  “Against Lizzie,” Valerie answered reluctantly. “No matter whether they get the ransom or not.”

  * * *

  EVENTUALLY VALERIE DOZED off in the recliner. Guy waited a while, saw that at first she was restless but then calmer, more settled. More deeply asleep.

  He chanced taking a shower, but when he looked in she was still asleep so he went to lie down on his bed. Meditation seemed to be his only possible escape into sleep but it didn’t come easily.

  Morning was creeping closer and he saw no help on the horizon. The sun would rise and nothing would change. Not unless some alert person or cop reported something unusual from somewhere.

  But he couldn’t afford to think that way. While the situation grew worse with every passing hour, he needed the hope that would keep him moving forward.

  Maybe they’d get some useful info out of the hospital. He was counting on it.

  But the first clue came with a knock on his door at nearly 4:00 a.m. Not his radio, but a knock.

  Still half-dressed, he jumped out of bed to answer it. He saw Val starting to sit up, her eyes bleary.

  Then he opened his door and saw the tall older man standing there. “Gray Cloud!”

  The two men hugged with the affection of many years.

  Gray Cloud entered, his presence seeming to dominate the entire room. No silver touched his long black hair, but the lines of wind and weather had marked him with their wisdom. His jeans were worn nearly white in places, his red jacket looking newer.

  Guy made introductions. “Gray Cloud, this is Valerie Brighton.”

  Gray Cloud nodded. “The detective from Colorado. Sister to May Chamberlain, right?”

  “Yes,” she answered, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Sorry if I’m intruding.”

  Gray Cloud shook his head and sat in the chair that Guy had earlier vacated. Guy pulled up his other one.

  Then he explained to Valerie, “Gray Cloud is one of our elders, like a father to me. He’s the guardian of Thunder Mountain.”

  A million questions filled Val’s face but she didn’t ask them. Good, this wasn’t the time. A visit by Gray Cloud to town was rare. He certainly hadn’t made his way here to speak about tribal or religious matters.

  “Coffee?” Guy offered.

  Gray Cloud shook his head. “I came to tell you one thing. A man with a small child was seen by one of our people. Out at the farthest reaches of our reservation. We sent a party to keep an eye on him but he was gone and hasn’t come back.” He looked at Guy. “I can take you there but it’ll be on horseback.”

  “No problem, as you know.”

  Gray Cloud looked at Valerie. “You ride?” It was clearly an invitation.

  “Yes.”

  “Then meet me at the old sawmill at dawn. I’ll have horses and we’ll set out. Maybe you can find a clue out there.”

  Then he rose and left with a farewell.

  Valerie sat there, clearly wide awake now. “A clue? We have a chance at a clue?” She jumped up. “And who was he?”

  “I told you, an elder. A nearly legendary one.” He stood, too. “Let’s get you back to the house. You’ll want to get cleaned up and put on some clothes that will be better for riding, and warm enough in case we have to go up into the mountains.”

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER they were driving away from the early glow of the soon-to-rise sun and getting close to the old sawmill that hadn’t functioned in over seventy years.

  “What did you mean about that guardian thing?” Valerie asked.

  “Guardian of Thunder Mountain,” Guy answered, aware that he might make her see him in a different light than as simply another cop. An Indigenous one maybe, but still a cop. He hoped that didn’t shift.

  “Why does the mountain need a guardian?”

  Well, he wasn’t going to lie. “You must know something about Thunder Mountain.”

  “A little,” she confessed. “There’s an old gold-mining town up there, abandoned long ago.”

  “And the thunder?” he asked.

  She hesitated. “A few times when I was in high school we went up to the mining town, even though we weren’t supposed to. I...heard thunder a couple of times. Really loud thunder.”

  “Exactly.” Guy hoped she’d leave it there. But of course she didn’t. Every little detail mattered to a cop. To a good cop, anyway.

  “What’s this all mean, Guy?”

  Here we go. He wasn’t about to lie. “The mountain speaks to us through that thunder. After the Whites came to mine the gold, our forefathers decided the mountain needed protecting. Gray Cloud is the current guardian. Has been most of his life.”

  “I won’t even ask how he protects it. I’d probably never understand. So it’s holy ground?”

  Guy nearly winced at the familiar White perception. “Everything on this planet is sacred to our way of thinking. Every rock. Every tree. Every animal or plant. It’s all sentient. Thunder Mountain stands out the way some places do, but this mountain speaks. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

  “I’d never understand anyway,” she said quietly. “And I’m not being critical, just curious.”

  He could live with that, he supposed. It wouldn’t surprise him, though, if she dismissed it all as superstition. Just about as superstitious as their churches.

  Hell, it did no good to think this way. So what if this woman was peeling him open like the layers of an onion? Someone would have gotten around to it sooner or later, and he didn’t mind that it was Valerie. Val.

  When the sawmill came into sight, he forgot everything else. Gray Cloud stood there as promised with three pinto horses.

  Gray Cloud spoke as soon as they got out of the Suburban. “We’ll meet up with Jimmy Two Hands along the way. He’s the man who saw the stranger with the small child.”

  They rode away from the sawmill as the sun began to brighten the day, although they still rode through deep shadows beneath trees.

  * * *

  VALERIE ENJOYED THE ride despite everything. The sway of the horse beneath her, the woods so redolent of evergreens with an earthy smell rising from the duff beneath their horses’ hooves. Their saddlebags were full and she wondered what was in them but didn’t ask. Gray Cloud carried a rifle in his saddle scabbard, Guy his pistol on his belt. Protection. Against bears or mountain lions maybe?

  She found a measure of peace in those hours, admiring the beauty of nature, the beauty of the pintos, which were clearly well-kept. A rare space in time when she could draw a deep breath without aching. The tightness in her chest eased as it hadn’t since before she heard the news about Lizzie.

  They followed no road, but instead seemed to be riding along game trails. Gray Cloud certainly knew his way through these deep woods. Valerie had no doubt that she could get herself lost in ten minutes out here.

  She also knew that the only thing that restrained her impatience was the hope that they’d find something useful at the end of this ride.

  Guy drew up beside her a few times to ask how she was. He looked iconic, she thought, astride the horse as if he’d been born in that saddle. His long hair was caught at the nape of his neck in the way she’d become familiar with even though she wasn’t used to seeing it on a cop.

  “I’m fine,” she always answered even though she knew that she was apt to become saddle-sore if this ride went on too long. She didn’t care.

  What wasn’t fine was that she couldn’t entirely let go of worry. The man and the child were gone now, Gray Cloud had said. They might find nothing useful at all.

  Why the hell would the kidnapper have come to these mountains and woods anyway? Because he felt they would conceal him better? But why did he want to hide so far out of the way with Lizzie?

  Questions. Too many questions. Her sense of peace slipped away.

  After about three hours, which grew increasingly chilly as they climbed the slope, they came upon a mounted man who was waiting for them on his own pinto.

  “Jimmy Two Hands,” Gray Cloud said, then introduced Valerie and Guy.

  “I know Guy,” Jimmy said and didn’t sound totally approving. Then he turned his attention to Gray Cloud. “The man is gone. The child with him. They were staying in an abandoned cabin a mile from here. There’s some sign.”

  Sign? Valerie’s attention perked.

  “Why kind of sign?” Guy asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  More riding as Valerie’s impatience grew, as any peace she’d found deserted her. After this they’d have to ride back to Guy’s vehicle. Too long, especially if they found anything.

  “Any news from Connie Parish?” she asked as Guy drew up beside her again. His radio hadn’t crackled once so she knew there was no news. She needed to ask anyway.

  “Not yet. She’s probably found only more of the same. Mentions but nothing specific. I hope Judge Carter issues that warrant today.”

  She hoped so, too. Then there’d be so many records to examine. More information, she hoped.

  At long last they saw the cabin in the distance, a decrepit box of logs. A small clearing filled with brush surrounded it.

  “Whoever lived out here?” Valerie wondered.

  “Some old guy,” Guy answered. “A hermit who lived off the land.”

  “An ascetic,” Gray Cloud corrected. “Forsaking all civilization to pursue inner knowledge and peace.”

  That sounded like an interesting story, Valerie thought. She wanted to ask Gray Cloud if he spoke with the mountain, but didn’t dare. It was none of her business. Besides, she already felt as if she’d been permitted to know secrets and didn’t want to press.

  Nothing like a nosy White woman, she thought wryly. Which was probably how they saw her. White. She got it. Guy had been teaching her.

  When they reached the cabin, Jimmy Two Hands dismounted and the others followed suit. Apparently these horses didn’t need to be hitched or hobbled to keep them from wandering off. Reins were draped over their necks and they were allowed to browse.

  Guy pulled two collapsed leather buckets out of his saddlebags and filled them from liter water bottles. For the horses. Well, that probably explained the full leather panniers.

  “Before we go in,” Jimmy Two Hands said, “let’s walk around out here. There’s information.”

  He pointed. “Off-the-road vehicle. He must have come up through that break in the trees. See?” He pointed out faint tracks leading that way.

  “That would be an expensive vehicle,” Valerie remarked. A clue in itself, perhaps?

  Guy shrugged. “He could have rented it. We’ll have to check into it.”

  Gray Cloud spoke. “He’s also not allowed to use it here. How long ago, Jimmy?”

  “Two days. See how the green parts of the brush are already straightening out?”

  A whole lot of info from something that was barely visible to Valerie’s eyes. Once it was pointed out to her, faint as it was, she could see it. She’d never have noticed by herself. Her impression of Jimmy Two Hands skyrocketed.

  Once the trail of the vehicle had been marked by everyone’s gaze, they approached the cabin’s single door. It didn’t even have a window, although a window would have been madness, given the winter.

  Jimmy spoke. “There’s not much inside, but enough to make me wonder. We heard about the missing child.”

  He retrieved a tactical flashlight from his own saddlebag. Gray Cloud pointed to Valerie’s horse and she opened one of her own saddlebags, finding three flashlights in there. She passed them out.

  “Move carefully,” Guy warned. “Disturb nothing.”

  Jimmy gave him a nod of approval.

  Inside, they found a wooden bench and a rustic lumber table with enough dust to suggest that it had been unused for years. A few empty cans and food packets. Then Valerie drew a sharp breath.

  The dust had been disturbed on the bench and the table. Then Guy pointed. “The dirt floor has been messed with in that corner.”

  * * *

  “SOMEONE STOPPED HERE,” Gray Cloud reminded them. “It might mean nothing.”

  It might or might not. Narrowing the beam on her flashlight, she began a minute inspection of every part of the cabin, as did Guy. As if they were a forensics team.

  Guy hoped for any clue beyond that someone had been here. He was particularly interested in the area of the dirt floor that was a mess of boot prints, and the rough logs around it. He wanted any sign that a child had been here even though a witness had reported it.

  He wasn’t finding any though and cussed silently. A clue, damn it. A clue. He didn’t know how much information it would give them except that Lizzie might have been here. If she had been, that wouldn’t tell them where she might have gone, any more than Kell’s dog’s discovery had. But maybe they’d have something more useful to consider.

  Then Jimmy spoke again. “Do you smell it?”

  Valerie straightened and sniffed. There it was. “Soiled disposable diapers.” Faintly she detected the smell of feces, ammonia and baby powder.

  “Buried,” Guy said and eyed the disturbed dirt. “Here maybe.” He turned to Gray Cloud. “Any kind of shovel?”

  Gray Cloud nodded, then went outside to whistle. One of the pintos trotted over. A minute later he returned with a collapsing shovel.

  “Here,” said Guy, pointing. “He trampled it for a reason.” Then he took the tool from Gray Cloud and began digging. He imagined Val’s heart was in her throat, as was his. They might find something worse than diapers in here. If the odor was diapers.

  Val and Gray Cloud kept their flashlights on the area while Jimmy moved around the cabin, continuing to search.

  “Lizzie’s too old for diapers,” Val said, her voice trembling.

  Guy answered. “And maybe the kidnapper didn’t know any better way to deal with the problem. I doubt he was lugging a kiddie toilet.”