Mountain Hostage. Hope White

“I packed snickerdoodles for our snack. That should motivate you.”

      “With red and green sprinkles?”

      “Of course!”

      Before Zoe could open her mouth to demand a snickerdoodle for sustenance, Shan had reached a sharp turn up ahead and was out of sight.

      It made sense that Shan could outhike Zoe, considering Shan’s job at the Mt. Stevens Resort was mostly physical, whereas Zoe’s job required hours of sitting and listening.

      A woman’s scream echoed across the mountain.

      “Shannon!” Zoe called.

      Adrenaline coursing through her body, she rushed to get to her friend. She must have twisted an ankle or injured herself somehow. “Shannon, answer me!”

      Nearly losing her footing, she took a deep breath. Slow me down, Lord. Keep me safe. If Zoe injured herself as well, she’d be no help to Shannon.

      As Zoe reached the turn, Shannon darted around the corner and slammed into her. “Run, Zoe, run!” She pushed her for encouragement.

      A bear, it had to be a bear, right? There was no way they could outrun a bear. Zoe had seen her share of National Geographic specials on wildlife. Would he try to eat them or—

      “Stop!” a male voice said.

      That didn’t sound a like a bear.

      “Don’t stop, Zoe!” Shannon said.

      Zoe focused on bending her knees to give her balance as she scrambled down the trail. Her pepper spray, why had she left it back at the house? Because you didn’t expect to need it out here, she told herself. She thought hikers were nice sorts of people, nature lovers, tree huggers and—Shannon slammed into Zoe from behind. Zoe slid and prayed. Please, Lord, not now, I’m not ready to end my work on earth!

      With a thunk, she hit a boulder meant to guard hikers at the outlook from the steep drop below. She glanced up...

      In time to see a man the size of a pro wrestler grab Shannon from behind.

      “No! Let go of me!” Shannon cried, trying to pull away from him.

      The guy, wearing a brown snow jacket and maroon ski mask, started dragging her away.

      “Zoe, run!”

      Instead, Zoe scrambled to her feet and went after them. Pay attention, Zoe. Pay attention to every detail. They were going to survive this assault and she would have to testify against this creep.

      She grabbed Shannon’s arm and swung at the guy with her hiking stick. With a frustrated grunt, he threw Shannon aside and yanked on Zoe’s stick, pulling her within inches of his face.

      Those eyes. She’d never forget his practically black eyes, glaring at her from behind the knit mask.

      “This is not your fight,” he said in a low, threatening voice.

      “She’s my best friend!” Zoe struggled to pull free.

      “Then you’ll die with her.”

      “Leave her alone!” Shannon charged and hit the guy shoulder to midsection. A linebacker couldn’t defend himself against her velocity, a skill Shan had learned from her two football-playing brothers.

      The attacker loosened his grip and Zoe wrenched free from his hold.

      “Run, Zoe!”

      The man grabbed Shannon again, and she struggled against him. He started to hoist her over his shoulder, but she managed to rip off his ski mask.

      His long, angular face, flushed bright red with anger, etched itself in Zoe’s brain. He was in his midthirties with a scar above his left eye.

      “Let me go!” Shannon cried.

      Zoe charged, more out of instinct than intellect, and in one swift motion, the giant backhanded her.

      Zoe’s head snapped to the side and she stumbled back over the edge...

      ...into the white abyss below.

      The text came in at 1:21 p.m.

      Search-and-rescue volunteer Jack Monroe subtly flashed the alert on his phone to his second-in-command, Heather Bond, and excused himself from the business meeting with Brighton International. This was why he’d hired Heather: to manage his IT security business so he’d have the flexibility to leave Seattle and join a search when necessary. Depending on the mission he could be gone for days, taking up temporary residence close to the action.

      At 3:02 p.m., Jack pulled up at the command center in the Cascade Mountains with Romeo, his border collie–Bernese mix, and was given instructions by the command chief.

      By 3:15 p.m., Jack and Romeo had joined a team and were hiking up Mt. Stevens. Their assignment: find a fallen and suspected injured hiker, called in by a pair of hikers who had heard a woman scream and seen someone in a royal blue jacket fall down the mountainside. They weren’t sure where she’d landed.

      Fresh snow covered the trails and the wind was picking up.

      “Amateur hikers should never go out in this kind of weather,” Beatrice Spears said under her breath. Bea’s Lab mix, Cooper, continued his search for scent.

      “It was supposed to be mild in the mountains today,” Leslie Vonn said. Her dog hadn’t been qualified yet, but it was good to have the extra person to offer praise when the dogs found the lost hiker.

      When. Because if was not an option in Jack’s mind.

      “Did you hear about the hiker who disappeared at Crystal Mountain last weekend?” Bea asked.

      “Got buried in an avalanche?” Leslie recalled.

      “The dogs found her in less than twenty minutes. Fast.”

      Jack listened. He wasn’t much for small talk, didn’t know how to execute it effectively or, for that matter, what the purpose was. Another reason he’d hired Heather.

      “I think Cooper’s got something,” Bea said.

      The three humans watched Cooper zigzag up ahead. Something sparked in Jack’s chest, a familiar pang whenever one of the dogs caught scent and went into a hyperfocused state.

      Maybe this would be an easy rescue, unlike...

      Hope dissolved into frustration as the memory surfaced. He shoved it aside. There was no added value in remembering his failure.

      Romeo raced ahead of Cooper and stopped, nose in the air, tail up, intently focused. The team caught up to Romeo on the snow-covered trail, where the dog stood over a red scarf. Jack praised him for the find, then Romeo sat, awaiting further instruction.

      “Think it belongs to the victim?” Bea said.

      “It’s possible.” Leslie reported their finding to Command. “Let’s continue up the trail.”

      “If the victim was seen falling from the Prairie’s Peak area, how would her scarf end up here?” Bea said.

      “Maybe it’s not hers,” Leslie said.

      “Or she was coming down the trail when she fell,” Jack finally said.

      The women glanced at him, as if they’d forgotten he was there. Jack liked it that way, dissolving into the background, watching, listening, so he could better understand people.

      Another twenty-one minutes passed as they continued their ascent. The snow had let up a bit. Jack naturally hiked ahead of the women due to his tall stature and long gait.

      They had gone silent, probably not wanting to interrupt the dogs’ focus, especially now that they knew they were on the right track. Another reason Jack