Goldie didn’t dare drive as far as there. Knowing her luck, she’d lose sight of the cabin the instant she tried moving her truck. Instead, she retrieved her bag, lobbed it over her shoulder, and began the trudge through the brush.
Despite the chill and the fading light, the air smelled amazing. Fresh pine and clean dirt, reminding her of home. Twigs cracked beneath her feet. She did her best to keep her eyes on the cabin ahead of her, using her cell as a flashlight in the darker places where the latticed trees above provided a little too much cover.
“Whew,” she said as she approached the cabin’s door. It was a single-level structure, Lincoln logs blown life-sized, with a slanted roof and an awning over the door. Not the kind of getaway most families would use. More like a rustic, romantic escape, tucked away like a secret.
She bit her lip and knocked.
There was no answer.
Goldie sighed and stared at the last dregs of amber light sinking behind the horizon. Fade, fade, fade. She had the weirdest urge to reach her hand toward the light like a dying heroine in a movie. Like that would do any good. Within moments, she was surrounded by darkness.
“Well, that’s just great,” she mumbled. Leave it to her to not only get lost on the road, but then leave that road and get lost in the woods to boot!
Chirruping noises came from the trees, accompanied by the occasional scuffle of some kind of critter that could undoubtedly see her, even if she couldn’t see it.
She knocked again, pounding her fist on the door. “Hello? Anyone in there?”
The dead cabin windows stared at her in reply.
Goldie plopped her bag down on the wooden planks serving as a porch. She tromped to the window and peered inside. Through a small crack in the curtain, she saw more blackness.
Perfect. Just perfect. Little Miss No Luck stuck out here, in the woods, in the dark. She checked her cell again, but there was exactly the same zero service there’d been the last time she tried. Even if she did have service, her aunt had only given her an address and an email. No number.
“I can’t stand around here all night,” she mused, feeling the very depths of hopelessness.
As far as she could tell, she had two options. She could attempt to make it back to her truck, but that could only make things worse than they already were if she got lost again. Or, she could rough it out here in the cold air. Slinking against the porch with her arms folded, she was too afraid to sleep for fear of who knew what lived out here. She hadn’t heard a wolf howl yet—thank you very much, Pocahontas—but she didn’t want to discount the fact that there could be very silent, very hungry wolves stalking her right this second.
There was only one thing for it.
“Great.” Using the dwindling battery life on her phone, she shined a light toward the door once more. She reached for the handle. It didn’t budge. Fighting away despair, she reached again, clicking down the latch, jiggling it, ramming her shoulder in for good measure.
The shoulder was the trick. The door swung open.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FARTHER ADRIAN DROVE, FOLLOWING turns through Montana’s mountainous terrain, the deeper his dread grew. His family’s cabin was the last place he wanted to be. Bad memories, conversations, experiences he’d suppressed for years, were perking their annoying heads at the sight of every new tree. To anyone else, he was sure the view was spectacular, but to Adrian it was only arguments and disappointments that had caused him to leave in the first place.
Adrian slowed at the next bend. He didn’t need any kind of direction to tell him he was getting closer. Even though it’d been years since he’d been to the cabin, the way there was instinctive. It surprised him after all this time, but the truth was he could probably find it in his sleep.
The road widened momentarily, allowing space for a small white Toyota pulled off to the side. It was abandoned, from the look of things, unless someone was having some car trouble. Adrian slowed, pulling to a stop beside it and glanced around. No owner stood nearby. No hood gaped open or other sign of need. In fact, there wasn’t anyone in sight.
Probably just a sightseer, he decided. Or maybe some hikers. This particular route was popular with off roaders and even mountain bikers, too. It was completely possible they’d hauled their bikes from the truck bed and were out enjoying the scenery.
Shrugging it off, Adrian pulled forward and followed the hidden curve in the trees, so often missed by passersby. The road turned from pavement to dirt, and he settled in for the bumpy jaunt that would lead to his least favorite place in the whole world.
The Hummer he’d rented took to the road better than he expected. An SUV wasn’t typically the kind of car he drove, but he liked its military style, its abundant storage and comfortable seating so much, he was thinking of buying one to add to his collection once he got back to Chicago.
Lofty and solemn, the cabin came into view through a break in the trees. The exposed logs were stacked perfectly, stained golden and glowing in the morning sun. Something hitched in his chest, but he did his best to disregard it. He was here to find his dad’s lockbox, that was it. Then he was heading back down as quickly as the speed limit and mountain switchbacks allowed. Not only was the fundraiser creeping ever closer that evening—a fundraiser his mother insisted he secure a date for—but his flight home was scheduled the next morning. He needed to find that lockbox.
Adrian parked the cobalt blue Hummer, killed the ignition, and stepped out. The morning forest air was crisp, fresh with the hint
