Final Resort. Dana Mentink

both stood motionless, listening. The sound of an engine floated through the air and a snowmobile appeared at the bottom of the slope.

      Paul’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

      “Who is that?” she asked.

      The snowmobile took off in their direction, gaining speed as it went. Ava stood frozen as it barreled toward them. Surely, the driver would stop, slow down as he approached.

      He didn’t. Incredibly, he seemed only to increase his speed. Paul shoved Ava away. “Get in the car.”

      “Wait,” she screamed as Paul took off heading for the trees.

      The snowmobile roared closer, changing course to target Uncle Paul.

      “Get away, Ava,” Uncle Paul yelled over his shoulder. “Get away now.”

      * * *

      Luca looked over the pristine slope, skis poised to begin the descent. He could not keep from turning his gaze to the valley down below, ringed with hills. He remembered his high school winter breaks spent skiing here. His heart replayed the memory of the young woman who was so at home on the snow she seemed to fly over it, like a hawk skimming over the crystal world below. He was proficient on skis but never as good as she was, not even close. He wondered if she ever visited here, now that her property was closed up. Everything had changed her senior year after the car accident crippled her father and her mother committed suicide six months later.

      “Hey, there,” Stephanie said softly. “Lost in thought?”

      He avoided looking at his sister. Even though he was elated that she and her high school sweetheart, Tate, had reunited in the course of their last treasure hunt, the happiness that shone on her face reminded him that he had just ended things with a woman he’d dated casually. There was no spark there, no spring of devotion like he’d seen in the eyes of his sister when she talked about Tate. “No, just remembering how good the runs were on Whisper Mountain.”

      She didn’t answer, pushing a strand of her short dark hair back under her ski cap, gazing into the distance at the empty slopes. “It’s a prime piece of real estate. Do you think Dad will buy it?”

      He nodded. “I think he’d be a fool not to. Anyway, let’s get some slope time before Victor lines up our new mission.” Victor was the eldest Gage sibling and recently married in a double wedding along with Tate and Stephanie. It was fitting, as their last job at Treasure Seekers had turned up an eighteen-million-dollar violin and nearly gotten them all killed at the hands of a psychopath. They were all due for some good times.

      Stephanie shivered, and he knew she was reliving the memories of their near escape, too. “Let’s get back. Tate’s probably missing us.”

      Luca grinned. “Missing you. We’re still not best buds.”

      “That’s because you’re both stubborn gorillas.”

      “True, but he’s your stubborn gorilla now, and he looks at you like he can’t believe you’re really his.”

      She blushed. “It drives him crazy that his bum leg keeps him down there while I’m up here, so I suspect he’s strong-armed someone into giving him a pair of skis. I’d better get back before he thinks he’s ready for the expert slopes.”

      “You go on,” Luca said with a chuckle. “I’m going to take it slow. Meet you down there.”

      “Take it slow? Since when?” Stephanie cocked her head and gave him that look. “Sure?”

      “Sure.”

      “All right, but don’t do anything crazy on the slopes. There’s a storm coming in. Remember, you’re a treasure hunter, not an Olympic athlete.” She swished away down the hill, skis gliding smoothly over the sparkling ground.

      She was right, he was a treasure hunter at heart and it had been his idea to form the Treasure Seekers agency in the first place. He’d told himself it was to help his brother Victor deal with his first wife’s sudden death, but it was more than likely a way to soothe his constant restlessness. In the off season when he wasn’t piloting a helicopter for the U.S. Forest Service, there was not enough to keep him busy and busy was the only thing that kept him sane. He was the kid in grade school who could never seem to stay in his seat. Some things hadn’t changed.

      He and his siblings had found treasures, all right, everything from lost masterpieces to priceless stamps, yet he always experienced a letdown after each case, as if the treasure, rich though it was, was somehow not the prize he was meant to be looking for.

      “Earthly treasures aren’t going to satisfy,” he could hear his father say. But he felt so alive when he was deep in the throes of a search, however dissatisfying the ending might be.

      He shook the thoughts away and pulled his goggles into place.

      One more run.

      He shouldn’t be skiing here, so close to the shut-down Whisper property. He puzzled over why the fond memories of his past there felt so strong. Idly he wondered what Ava would do after her family’s property was sold. At least the sale might afford them some security. That’s what Luca’s father believed when he proposed buying it pending Luca’s report.

      Head out of the clouds, Luca.

      He mentally picked out the path he intended to take down the mountain and readied himself to push off.

      A streak of black caught his attention.

      He jerked toward the movement, thinking he had imagined it until the shape zinged again through the white-robed trees finally coming to a stop on a flat rock that protruded above the snow. The dog barked, a loud, agitated sound that cut through the quiet of the snow-covered hollow.

      Luca stared at the animal. Even though he could not figure out what a dog would be doing alone out here on the slopes, he was far more surprised by one particular detail. The animal was big, a scruffy black-and-tan creature that spoke of German shepherd parentage with something fluffier mixed in, but the strangest thing about him was his left ear, the top of which had been cut off somehow long ago, leaving a flattened tip.

      Luca had known a dog with just such an ear, but he could not believe it. Ava’s dreamer of an uncle owned a critter that answered to the same description, but it could not be one and the same. Uncle Paul, last Luca had heard, was lying low to escape a group of unsavory folks from whom he’d borrowed money.

      “Mack Dog?” Luca yelled out, amazed that he remembered the name.

      The dog jerked as if he’d gotten a shock, stood up and wagged a tentative tail in Luca’s direction.

      A noise from over the hill made them both tense. Luca was not sure but it might have been a shout or maybe just the echo of some agitated bird.

      Mack Dog leaped from the rock, floundering in the snow before he began an awkward journey in the direction of the noise, bulldozing his way through the frozen piles, standing every few feet on his rear legs to get his visual bearings.

      Luca watched the dog in amazement.

      How could it be Mack Dog?

      He listened again, heard a snowmobile engine. Just someone enjoying the slopes like himself, who had probably lost track of his dog. He should ski on, go to meet his sister, but something turned him in a different direction, toward a smooth section that would take him to the source of the noise.

      Mack Dog, or whoever’s dog it might be, wouldn’t survive long left alone on the mountain. Luca poled out to a promising spot and skied as quickly as he could manage downslope, where he edged into a turn that would take him toward the hill. He could make out Mack Dog barreling through the trees in the same direction.

      The slope was not as smooth as he made the turn, the snow uneven and bumpy. He had to use his poles vigorously to keep the momentum, and his breath came in white puffs. Finally he made it to a spot where he could see the terrain. Through a curtain of whirling flakes, he spied a road winding below him