“Do you think we missed it?” Kensie asked.
“It’s possible. Usually people who live out this way don’t want to be too far off of a main trail, because even these can get buried when the snow gets deep. But the road did split ten miles back. If we’d taken the other way, we would have ended up near where Henry lives. I went this route because I figured if Henry had seen your sister—if she really looks like you, the way Jasper said—Henry might have spoken up.”
“Why would he? He seemed too busy trying to kill me.”
He reached for her hand, squeezed it briefly. “I mean afterward. When the police were there and we were talking about your sister. If he lived near someone who looked like you, he might have put it together and said something, tried to get a little leverage.”
She leaned back against her seat, twisting to face him. “Maybe we should pay him a visit and ask.”
“Maybe,” Colter replied, less enthusiastic about that idea. If they asked, Henry was likely to lie if he thought he could get anywhere—or just to torture Kensie, because he was a sick SOB. If he knew anything, he probably would have already volunteered it.
“Hey, what’s that?” Colter slowed the truck until it was barely creeping forward as he peered through the thick trees.
“Where?”
Colter pointed. “Up ahead, at the one o’clock position, about a hundred feet ahead of us.”
Kensie leaned forward again, squinting through the snow, which was beginning to fall a little faster. “I don’t see anything.”
He gave the truck a little more gas until Kensie exclaimed, “Oh!”
“It is a cabin,” Colter muttered. And it was about as well hidden as you could get. If they hadn’t been looking, they might have driven right past it. Positioned close enough to the road to get in and out, but far enough back to remain unseen unless you were looking. And on the other side was a mountain, so no one would notice it from that direction.
The wood cabin looked like it might have been hand constructed, but as they continued to drive forward, he realized it was a lot bigger than he’d originally thought. “You could fit a whole family in there.”
His shoulders slumped as he said it. How likely was it that the person who’d grabbed Alanna lived in a cabin this big, just the two of them?
He swore as he spotted a sign at the entrance of the long unpaved drive leading up to the cabin. Two slabs of wood, one underneath the other, were staked into the ground at the entryway. The bottom one read Trespassers will be shot. The top one read The Altier Family.
“Isn’t that the name of the couple Yura mentioned when we stopped by his check-cashing place?”
“What?” Kensie was still staring intently at the cabin.
“The Altiers. I’m pretty sure that’s the couple who paid Henry with checks sometimes for odd jobs. It’s not the guy, Kensie. Yura said this is a couple, with a bunch of kids.”
Her disappointment was all over her face as she turned toward him. “Well, maybe they know who else lives around here. Let’s go talk to them.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He pointed at the Trespassers will be shot sign.
As he did, he spotted a station wagon in the distance, up beside the cabin, and his heart rate doubled. Most people who lived around here drove huge trucks. The last time he’d seen a station wagon was the one that had nearly run Kensie down on the main road in Desparre.
He’d assumed it had been an accident, an idiot driving an even more idiotic car for Alaska weather. But maybe it hadn’t been an accident at all. Maybe, right from the start, Kensie had been a target.
“Kensie, what did you do when you got to town? Before Rebel saved you from that car?”
She frowned at his change of topic, but answered anyway. “Not much. My plane landed and I rented a truck, then drove into town. I had to stop for directions a couple of times.”
“Did you tell people about why you were here?”
“Sure. I figured I might as well, in case someone knew something. Why?”
Colter pointed through the trees again, at the station wagon. “I think that’s the car that nearly ran you down. I think word got around that you were here, looking for Alanna, and someone didn’t want you to find her.”
Instead of fear, excitement shot across Kensie’s face. “This could be it,” she breathed.
“We need to go back and get the police,” Colter told her, his gaze returning to the sign warning off trespassers.
“But—”
“If we’ve really found her, Kensie, it’s not going to do her any good to get ourselves killed.”
She glanced over her shoulder, back behind where Rebel sat, to where Colter had his shotgun. Her gaze lingered on it a long moment before she nodded. “You’re right.”
Not wanting to turn around in the Altiers’ driveway and draw attention, Colter shifted into reverse, hoping there was a wide enough gap in the trees somewhere nearby for him to change direction. The truck was just starting to move backward when Kensie blurted, “Wait!”
Jamming his foot on the brake, Colter glanced back at the cabin. A group of kids had stepped outside and he scanned through them, looking for anyone who resembled Kensie.
In a way, they all did, at least from a distance. Dark hair, slight olive tone to the skin. But as he scanned them, he realized none were the right age. The youngest girl looked to be about six, then there was a boy who was probably twelve, another girl who might have been sixteen and an older boy who had to be in his early twenties. They looked like siblings.
Colter swore. “Kensie, Jasper might have seen that girl there, the oldest one.
