S O M E W H E R E

D A R K

(A Piper Woods Mystery—Book 7)

M o l l y   B l a c k

Molly Black

Bestselling author Molly Black is author of the MAYA GRAY FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eleven books; of the RYLIE WOLF FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books; of the TAYLOR SAGE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eight books; of the KATIE WINTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eleven books (and counting); of the RUBY HUNTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); of the CAITLIN DARE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the REESE LINK mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the CLAIRE KING FBI suspense thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the PIPER WOODS mystery series, comprising eight books (and counting); of the GRACE FORD mystery series, comprising eight books (and counting); of the CASEY BOLT mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the JADE SAVAGE mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the ELISE CLOSE psychological thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); of the TESSA FLINT mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the CLARA PIKE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the CASSANDRA FIERCE suspense thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Molly loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.mollyblackauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2024 by Molly Black. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Francey used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

CASSANDRA FIERCE SUSPENSE THRILLER

RISING TIDE (Book #1)

RISING FEAR (Book #2)

RISING ABYSS (Book #3)

RISING TERROR (Book #4)

RISING DARKNESS(Book #5)

RISING DOUBT (Book #6)

RISING NIGHT (Book #7)

ELISE CLOSE SUSPENSE THRILLER

BEHIND HER LIES (Book #1)

BEHIND HER SMILE (Book #2)

BEHIND HER SECRETS (Book #3)

BEHIND HER GATES (Book #4)

BEHIND LOCKED DOORS (Book #5)

CLARA PIKE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

REMEMBER THE FEAR (Book #1)

REMEMBER THE DEAD (Book #2)

REMEMBER THE LIES (Book #3)

REMEMBER THE SILENCE (Book #4)

REMEMBER THE PAST (Book #5)

TESSA FLINT MYSTERY SERIES

BARELY SEEN (Book #1)

BARELY HEARD (Book #2)

BARELY FORGOTTEN (Book #3)

BARELY MISSING (Book #4)

BARELY ALIVE (Book #5)

BARELY THERE (Book #6)

BARELY SILENT (Book #7)

JADE SAVAGE MYSTERY SERIES

ALL SHE FEARS (Book #1)

ALL SHE WANTS (Book #2)

ALL SHE REMEMBERS (Book #3)

ALL SHE NEEDS (Book #4)

ALL SHE HIDES (Book #5)

ALL SHE DREADS(Book #6)

ALL SHE LOST (Book #7)

CASEY BOLT MYSTERY SERIES

BROKEN (Book #1)

FLAWED (Book #2)

BLEMISHED (Book #3)

DAMAGED (Book #4)

TWISTED (Book #5)

FRACTURED (Book #6)

TAINTED (Book #7)

GRACE FORD MYSTERY SERIES

NEARLY MINE (Book #1)

NEARLY SAFE (Book #2)

NEARLY FREE (Book #3)

NEARLY GONE (Book #4)

NEARLY HIS (Book #5)

NEARLY LOST (Book #6)

NEARLY DONE (Book #7)

NEARLY NEXT (Book #8)

CLAIRE KING MYSTERY SERIES

ONCE HE SEES (Book #1)

ONCE HE LONGS (Book #2)

ONCE HE TAKES (Book #3)

ONCE HE FEELS (Book #4)

ONCE HE KNOWS (Book #5)

MAYA GRAY MYSTERY SERIES

GIRL ONE: MURDER (Book #1)

GIRL TWO: TAKEN (Book #2)

GIRL THREE: TRAPPED (Book #3)

GIRL FOUR: LURED (Book #4)

GIRL FIVE: BOUND (Book #5)

GIRL SIX: FORSAKEN (Book #6)

GIRL SEVEN: CRAVED (Book #7)

GIRL EIGHT: HUNTED (Book #8)

GIRL NINE: GONE (Book #9)

GIRL TEN: WANTED (Book #10)

GIRL ELEVEN: VANISHED (Book #11)

RYLIE WOLF FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

FOUND YOU (Book #1)

CAUGHT YOU (Book #2)

SEE YOU (Book #3)

WANT YOU (Book #4)

TAKE YOU (Book #5)

DARE YOU (Book #6)

TAYLOR SAGE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

DON’T LOOK (Book #1)

DON’T BREATHE (Book #2)

DON’T RUN (Book #3)

DON’T FLINCH (Book #4)

DON’T REMEMBER (Book #5)

DON’T TELL (Book #6)

KATIE WINTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SAVE ME (Book #1)

REACH ME (Book #2)

HIDE ME (Book #3)

BELIEVE ME (Book #4)

HELP ME (Book #5)

FORGET ME (Book #6)

HOLD ME (Book #7)

PROTECT ME (Book #8)

REMEMBER ME (Book #9)

CATCH ME (Book #10)

WATCH ME (Book #11)

RUBY HUNTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IF I RUN (Book #1)

IF I TELL (Book #2)

IF I LIVE (Book #3)

IF I FORGET (Book #4)

IF I RETURN (Book #5)

CAITLIN DARE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

COME GET ME (Book #1)

COME FIND ME (Book #2)

COME TAKE ME (Book #3)

COME CATCH ME (Book #4)

COME SAVE ME (Book #5)

REESE LINK MYSTERY

BEYOND REASON (Book #1)

BEYOND REACH (Book #2)

BEYOND REPAIR (Book #3)

BEYOND DOUBT (Book #4)

BEYOND NORMAL (Book #5)

PIPER WOODS FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMEWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

SOMEWHERE SANE(Book #2)

SOMEWHERE WHOLE (Book #3)

SOMEWHERE FAR (Book #4)

SOMEWHERE WRONG (Book #5)

SOMEWHERE HIDDEN (Book #6)

SOMEWHERE DARK (Book #7)

SOMEWHERE SILENT (Book #8)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Rita Williams trudged through the deep snow of the Rockies, her breath visible in the frigid air.

It's got to be out here somewhere, she thought.

The sun was sinking fast, casting long, cold shadows across the landscape, and the wind was picking up, a sure sign of bad weather. She knew it would be dark soon, but she was determined to press on. She had been searching for Surnia arctica—or the 'Arctic Hawk Owl,' as most people called the rare creature—for nearly a week now, enduring the harsh winter conditions for a chance to capture the perfect shot.

This particular owl was a legend among wildlife photographers. It’s pure white feathers and elusive nature made it a coveted subject, rarely seen, let alone photographed. Rita had first heard about the owl from a fellow photographer who claimed to have glimpsed it years ago. Ever since, it had become her obsession. She had traveled from one cold region to another, following rumors and sightings, hoping to be the one to finally capture its beauty on film.

Her binoculars bounced against her chest, and she pressed a hand to the worn case—not just to stop it from bouncing, but to feel the reassurance of that seasoned leather. It had belonged to her late father, a nature enthusiast who had instilled in her a love for the wilderness from a young age. They had spent countless weekends exploring forests and mountains, her father teaching her about the delicate balance of nature and the art of patience.

When he passed away two years ago, Rita found solace in their shared passion, using her camera to keep his memory alive. The arctic hawk owl had become a symbol of that connection. Finding and photographing it would be a tribute to her father, a way to honor the man who had taught her to see the world through a lens of wonder and respect.

Determined, Rita pressed on through the thickening snow, her eyes scanning the darkening treetops. She felt her father's presence with her, guiding her steps, urging her not to give up.

I'll just climb this next ridge, she thought. If it's not up here, I'll turn back.

It was a steep climb, her boots sinking deep into the snow, but she was more than up to the task. She smirked, thinking of her ex-boyfriend—a self-proclaimed wilderness expert—and the excursions they'd gone on together, his overconfidence in his own abilities, and his disdain toward her or anyone else when they couldn't keep up with him. If he could see her now, he might realize she was far more capable than he'd ever dreamed. Just because she didn't vlog about climbing mountains didn't mean she couldn't conquer the wilderness.

As she dug deep with every step, she pictured the disdain on his face when she told him she wanted to break up. She'd looked for understanding, a conversation, but he'd refused to have anything to do with her, saying he never wanted to see her again.

After that unpleasant breakup, she'd thrown herself into her work, seeking refuge in the solitude of nature, where the wounds could begin to heal. With every step up the ridge, she felt the sting of old wounds, but also the strength that had come from surviving them. The snowy wilderness had become her sanctuary, a place where she could rebuild herself piece by piece. The search for the rare owl was more than just a professional pursuit; it was a testament to her resilience and determination to find beauty and meaning in the world again.

Reaching the crest of the ridge, she paused to catch her breath, her heart pounding both from the exertion and the flood of emotions. She scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of the elusive bird, hoping her efforts would finally be rewarded.

Finding a sheltered spot, Rita settled in to wait. She knew patience was key in wildlife photography. Moments ticked by as the cold slowly settled on her. She knew she needed to get back, but she felt she was so close to success. If she could just get one shot of the owl…

Her eyes widened as she spotted a white blur against the dusky sky. Her heart leaped with excitement—was it the owl? She quickly raised her camera, zooming in, her breath held in anticipation. But as the lens focused, her excitement deflated. It was just a cluster of snow-laden branches, their shape deceptively owl-like in the fading light.

Disappointment washed over her.

Oh, well. You gave it your best. Maybe tomorrow, huh?

Glancing at the bank of clouds rapidly approaching, she realized she had probably taken too long already. She sighed, taking one last longing glance at the ridge's crest before turning to make her way home.

As she started her descent, the wind picked up, howling through the trees. Snow began to fall more heavily, the flakes swirling around her in a blinding flurry. Within moments, the storm had thickened, obscuring her path and transforming the familiar landscape into a disorienting white maze.

Rita's heart pounded harder, this time with fear. Visibility dropped to nearly nothing, the once clear trail now buried under a blanket of snow. She struggled to find her bearings, each step uncertain as the storm enveloped her. Determination gave way to survival instinct as she fought to navigate through the raging blizzard, her thoughts consumed by the urgent need to find shelter before the cold claimed her.

Rita's pulse quickened as the storm closed in around her, the cold biting deeper with each passing moment. Panic set in as she realized the gravity of her mistake—staying out so late had been reckless. Now, the swirling snow obscured everything, turning the forest into an indistinguishable blur. She stumbled, her feet sinking into drifts, every step a battle against the encroaching frost.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air burning her lungs. She forced herself to keep moving, but the growing dread was hard to ignore. What if she never found her way back? Was she going to die out here, buried in a snowstorm?

Just when she thought all hope was lost, Rita's eyes caught a darker shadow among the white—a gaping maw in the side of a rocky outcrop. A cave. Relief surged through her, and she hurried toward it, her steps frantic and unsteady.

Stumbling into the cave's entrance, she collapsed against the cold stone wall, her body trembling from the exertion and the cold. The howling wind outside seemed distant now, the cave providing a temporary reprieve from the storm. She hugged herself tightly, trying to retain what little warmth she had left, her mind racing with the realization that she had narrowly escaped the clutches of a frozen death.

As Rita's breath steadied and her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cave, she began to notice her surroundings.

This wasn't an ordinary cave.

The walls glistened with intricate ice sculptures, each more stunning and sophisticated than the last. The sculptures depicted animals, abstract forms, and hauntingly lifelike human figures, their features frozen in expressions of joy, sorrow, surprise, anger.

She marveled at the detail, the craftsmanship evident in each piece. Whoever had created these had spent countless hours, maybe even years, honing their art.

Curious, Rita reached for her camera, her fingers stiff and clumsy from the cold. She began to photograph the sculptures, the flash illuminating the ice.

The first click of the shutter brought a sense of normalcy, grounding her in familiar territory despite the strangeness of her surroundings. She moved slowly through the cave, capturing the shimmering beauty of the frozen gallery. Each sculpture told a story, and she felt a surge of excitement at the thought of sharing this discovery with the world. She almost forgot she'd nearly been buried alive by the storm not long ago.

Her lens focused on a particularly striking figure—a majestic monkshood flower, as beautiful as it was dangerous. Rita couldn't help but wonder about the artist, imagining them carving these masterpieces in solitude, driven by a passion for preserving beauty in the heart of the frozen wilderness.

She was so engrossed in capturing the intricate details of the monkshood that she didn't know someone else was there until she heard the voice.

"Enjoying the art?" the voice asked, smooth and calm.

Rita gasped, nearly dropping her camera, and spun around to face the entrance. There, silhouetted against the blinding white of the storm outside, stood a man. His features were obscured by the shadows, leaving his face a mystery.

Her heart pounded in her chest, fear and surprise mingling as she struggled to find her voice. "Yes," she finally said, her breath visible in the cold air. "They're incredible. Did you make them?"

The man stepped forward slightly, but not enough for her to see him clearly. "Yes," he replied. "I'm glad you appreciate them. Not many people get to see my work."

Rita felt a shiver run down her spine, though whether from the cold or something more ominous, she couldn't tell. She tightened her grip on her camera, her mind racing. "They're beautiful," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "How long have you been doing this?"

"A long time," he replied. "It's…a passion of mine, you might say."

The storm howled outside, and Rita felt the walls of the cave closing in. "It's amazing," she said again, shivering. "But it's freezing in here. Do you have anything to start a fire with?"

The man stiffened, a subtle shift in his demeanor that Rita couldn't miss. "No fire," he said curtly. "The sculptures are delicate. Heat would ruin them."

Rita's unease grew. "I understand, but it's dangerously cold. Maybe we could just make a small one, away from the sculptures?"

"No," he said, more forcefully this time. "I said no fire."

There's something wrong with this guy, she thought as a warning alarm went off in her head. Rita nodded, backing carefully away. "Okay, I get it. The art comes first."

The man's eyes seemed to glint with something unspoken. "Exactly. The art must be preserved."

Rita forced a smile, trying to hide her growing fear. "You know, I really should get going," she said, taking a tentative step toward the entrance. "Before the road becomes impassable."

She started forward, hoping she could slip past him. But he was quick, stepping directly into her path and blocking the exit.

"If you're going to leave," he said, "you should go out that way. You'll have more shelter from the wind." He pointed toward the back of the cave.

Rita hadn't seen another exit—she'd been quite sure there wasn't another exit, in fact—but she instinctively turned to check. "I don't see—" she began, and then a hand wrapped around her mouth, the thumb and finger pinching her nose closed.

She fought, thrashing wildly, but he was too strong for her to break his hold. She felt her body weakening, weakening, and she sank down as the edges of her vision grew dark.

She was so very, very tired.

CHAPTER ONE

FBI agent Piper Woods stood outside the ICU, her fingers tracing the worn edges of the leather bracelet on her wrist. She tried to steady her breathing, but each inhale felt like breathing against a massive weight pressing down on her chest.

Please, she thought, please let her be alive. Please let her make it through this.

The cold, sterile scent of the hospital filled her nose, mingling with the antiseptic aroma of disinfectants. She glanced at the closed double doors leading to her mother’s room, her mind replaying the long sequence of events that had led to this moment.

Her mother, Ila, had disappeared when Piper was just ten years old. One moment Ila was there, packing for a trip to visit family; the next, she was gone without a trace. The police investigation turned up nothing, and Piper’s father grew increasingly paranoid, dragging Piper deeper into the Alaskan wilderness to escape what he believed were threats against them. Those years were valuable, filled with survival lessons that Piper would later use in her career, but they were also marked by a profound sense of loss and abandonment.

It wasn’t until recently that, through a series of discoveries, Piper had learned that her mother was still alive, living in an off-grid commune in Utah called Golden Meadows. It was there, years after her father had died of a heart attack, that Piper had been reunited with her mother. The reunion was bittersweet; Ila’s reasons for disappearing were as heart-wrenching as they were complex, involving threats Piper could barely comprehend. Yet, the bond between them had been rekindled, and they'd begun rebuilding their relationship, albeit slowly and with many unspoken pains.

Until last night, that was. When someone crept into Ila's room and tried to strangle her with a wire. Ila had, miraculously, fought off her attacker and managed to call Piper for help, but by the time Piper got there, Ila had passed out in a pool of her own blood. The ambulance had arrived shortly afterward, and since then Piper had been able to do nothing except wait.

Wait and hope that the mother of her childhood, whom she'd lost for so long, wasn't about to disappear for good.

Sitting in the ICU waiting room the following morning, Piper realized that if her mother didn't make it out of this alive, Piper would feel personally responsible for her mother's death for the rest of her life. After all, she believed she knew who'd attacked her mother: Byron Gray, the serial killer who'd been haunting her nightmares for years.

And he'd done it to get to Piper.

The sound of the ICU doors opening snapped Piper out of her reverie. She looked up to see a doctor stepping out. He was in his mid-forties, with salt-and-pepper hair neatly cropped and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. His white coat was immaculate, as if this were his first day on the job, but the deep lines of fatigue etched into his face told another tale. He had kind, steady eyes that held a depth of compassion, and he moved with a calm, measured grace that bespoke years of experience in high-stress situations.

The doctor approached Piper, his expression serious but not devoid of hope. He held a clipboard in one hand and extended the other in a gesture of introduction. "Ms. Woods, I’m Dr. Harrison," he said.

Piper stood up quickly, her impatience bubbling over. "How is she? Can I see her?" she asked, her voice trembling with urgency.

Dr. Harrison held up a calming hand. "Ms. Woods, your mother is stable for now. She’s resting, and we’ve managed to stop the bleeding. But she’s still very weak and needs time to recover."

Piper’s shoulders sagged with a mix of relief and frustration. "I need to see her," she insisted, her eyes pleading.

Dr. Harrison nodded understandingly. "You can, but only for a few minutes. She needs rest more than anything right now."

Piper didn’t wait for more. She hurried forward, and the doctor barely had time to open the door before Piper burst through it.

The antiseptic smell grew stronger, mingling with the soft beeps and hums of medical equipment. They reached Piper's mother’s room, and Dr. Harrison gently pushed the door open.

Ila lay in the bed, pale and fragile, her neck bandaged and an IV drip attached to her arm. Piper’s breath hitched at the sight, but she forced herself to remain composed. She moved to the bedside, taking her mother’s hand gently in hers. The warmth of Ila’s skin was a small comfort, a reminder that she was still here, still fighting.

"I’m here, Mom," Piper whispered, her voice breaking. "I’m so sorry. I should have protected you."

Ila’s eyelids fluttered, and for a brief moment, her eyes opened, focusing on Piper with a weak but reassuring gaze. Piper squeezed her hand gently, feeling a small glimmer of hope amid the sea of guilt and fear.

“Did you see anything?" she asked. "About the man who attacked you?” Even though she was convinced Byron Gray was responsible, there was a great deal she didn't know about the man, and something as simple as an identifying characteristic could prove crucial in catching him.

The doctor cleared his throat. "I don't think this is the time…"

Piper shot the doctor a glare, and he backed off, raising a hand in self-defense.

Ila’s eyes searched Piper’s face, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall. She took a shaky breath and whispered, “I didn't see much. It all happened so fast, and it was so, so dark in there…"

She closed her eyes. Piper had the distinct sense her mother wouldn't be able to stay awake for very long.

"Did you notice any strange smells?" she asked, desperate. "Anything about his face? Anything that might help me identify him?"

Ila's eyes remained closed for several seconds, and Piper began to worry she'd fallen back asleep. Then she murmured something.

Piper leaned closer. "What did you say?"

"Coal dust. On his hands and clothes."

"Coal dust?"

Ila said nothing. Her face was serene, quiet. The heartbeat monitor kept up a steady beeping.

Piper squeezed her mother’s hand, her mind working to make sense of this new piece of information. Coal dust—what could it mean?

"Your mother is very lucky to be alive, Ms. Woods," Dr. Harrison said softly. "If she hadn’t managed to fight back and call for help when she did, the outcome could have been much worse."

Piper’s jaw tightened at his words. "Lucky," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at her mother’s fragile form, the bandages stark against her pale skin. It didn’t feel like luck to her. It felt like a cruel twist of fate, a punishment for finding her mother after all these years only to have her nearly taken away again.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was her fault, that her mother’s suffering was a consequence of her actions. The guilt weighed heavily on her, a constant reminder of the dangers her life brought to those she loved.

"I’ll give you some time with her," the doctor said. "If you need anything, the nurses will be right outside."

Piper nodded, her focus never leaving Ila’s face. As the doctor left the room, she leaned closer, whispering, "I promise I’ll make this right, Mom. I’ll find the man who did this to you. I’m so, so sorry." She brushed a stray lock of hair from Ila’s forehead, determined to make good on her promise no matter the cost.

In the silence that followed the doctor's departure, Piper’s thoughts drifted back to her history with Gray. After spending several years with the Bureau, she had been assigned to track a serial killer whose methods were both brutal and meticulous. Byron Gray had become her obsession, a dark figure lurking at the edges of her career. She had followed his trail through multiple states, piecing together the gruesome pattern of his killings.

The case had reached a devastating climax when Gray abducted a young woman named Fiona Taylor. Piper had been so close, just a step behind him, but she hadn’t been fast enough. By the time she reached the scene, Fiona was dead, her life snuffed out in a manner that haunted Piper’s dreams. Gray had escaped, slipping through the cracks of the investigation like a ghost. The guilt of failing to save Fiona and capture Gray had wrecked Piper, driving her to quit the Bureau. She couldn't bear the weight of another failure, another life lost because she hadn’t been quick or clever enough.

Piper had rejoined the Bureau later, not out of a renewed sense of duty, but to use its resources to find her mother. The trail had led her to the commune in the Rockies, and when she finally found Ila, she thought she could leave her life of danger behind. She decided to settle into a quieter life at Golden Meadows, hoping to rebuild her relationship with her mother and find some semblance of peace.

But Gray had found her, shattering the fragile safety she had tried to create. Ila's attack was a cruel reminder that her past wouldn’t let her go.

Not while Byron Gray was alive and free.

The door to the room opened softly and Lawrence Wade—Piper's long-time partner in the FBI—stepped inside, carrying a bouquet of fresh flowers. He was a giant of a man, dark as onyx and built like a fortress, exuding strength and quiet confidence with every step.

"I got here as quick as I could," he said, pressing his lips together in a sympathetic smile. "How's she doing?"

Piper glanced up at Wade, her eyes weary but grateful for his presence. "She's stable, but still very weak," she replied, her voice tight with emotion.

Wade nodded, his expression softening as he looked at Ila. "I brought these," he said, holding out the flowers. "I thought they might brighten up the room a bit."

Piper took the bouquet, appreciating the gesture. The vibrant colors of the flowers contrasted sharply with the sterile whites and grays of the hospital room. "Thank you, Wade," she said, managing a small smile. "She'll like them."

He moved to stand beside her, his eyes lingering on Ila before shifting back to Piper. "We'll find who did this," he said quietly, his tone resolute.

Piper sighed, the weight of her earlier thoughts pressing down on her again. "I know who did it. It was Byron Gray."

Wade blinked, looking troubled. "I know how much you want to catch him, but we need to be careful. We can’t make assumptions about who attacked your mother."

"The way he attacked her, Wade—it's the same way he attacked his other victims."

"I thought he used a wire."

"He did," Piper said, faltering slightly.

"The Necklace Stranger always used a necklace."

"I know…but it's pretty much the same. Either way, he was trying to get to me—I'm sure of it."

Wade studied her, looking doubtful. Then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his bald head. "Whatever the case," he said, "the important thing is she's alive. We'll have her monitored around the clock—he's not getting in here."

Piper wanted to say that they needed to go after Gray, not wait for him to come to them again, but Wade cut her off.

"To be honest, I had another reason for coming here," he said.

Piper arched an eyebrow, waiting.

"We just got put on a new case," he said. "Up in the Rockies."

Piper frowned, her heart sinking. "A new case? Wade, I don’t know if I can—"

"I know," he interrupted gently. "You want to go after Gray. But the trail's cold—he disappeared without a trace, and nobody at Golden Meadows saw him or has any clue where he might've gone. It's a dead end."

Piper thought about her mother's mention of coal dust. Was that a lead? What did it mean?

"I hate to do this to you," Wade continued, "but I really need you on this one. Besides…maybe it's best to let someone else handle your mother's case. Someone with a little more objectivity, a little more distance."

Piper stared at her mother. "I'm not leaving her."

Wade nodded, not looking surprised. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph, which he set on the table beside the flowers.

"What's that?" Piper asked.

"A picture of a young woman by the name of Rita Williams."

Piper's heart sank. "You trying to guilt me?"

"What would your mother want, for you to sit in here watching or sleep, or be out there helping me stop a guy who just tied a woman up and let her freeze to death?"

Wade said nothing. He just stared at her, waiting.

Reluctantly, against her better judgment, Piper reached for the photograph.

CHAPTER TWO

Piper gripped the steering wheel tightly as she navigated the winding road that led up into the Rocky Mountains. Wade had known exactly how to convince her to work on this new case, and she wasn't sure whether to be grateful or resentful.

Wade sat beside her, going over details of the case on his phone. She had to admit, it was good to see him. His presence was comforting, stabilizing. They'd had a strange relationship—coworkers and friends for most of their time as partners, then recently, after Wade revealed his feelings for her, Piper had gone back and forth between wanting to pursue a relationship with him and wanting to just focus on her mother and leave the rest of the world alone.

Despite her mixed messages, Wade had somehow stuck around, even threatening to quit if their boss fired Piper for how she handled the previous investigation. He was a keeper, for sure.

Still…Piper wanted to take things slow. She liked how it was right now, and she didn't want to dive into deeper waters without knowing what rocks might be waiting for them. She hoped Wade could understand that.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?" Wade asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Piper frowned at him, surprised. "What wasn't?"

"The attack on your mother. Even if it was Gray, it wasn't your fault."

Piper stared ahead and said nothing. She felt quite differently.

"You can't put this on yourself," he continued. "If you do, it'll just—"

"Can we focus on the case at hand?" she asked. "Sorry, I just…I don't want to think about Gray right now."

Wade gave her a long look. Was he offended, wounded? He looked like he was ready to say something more on the subject, but instead he just nodded and said, "Sure thing."

He returned his attention to his phone and cleared his throat. “Alright, here’s what we’ve got,” he began, his tone all business now as if he had stuffed his feelings into a neat little box. “Victim's name is Rita Williams, a wildlife photographer. She was found in a cave, tied to a stalagmite."

Piper felt a touch of guilt for having brushed his concerns aside, but she did her best to ignore it. She didn't have time for such introspection right now.

"Cause of death?" she asked.

"The coroner hasn't made any conclusions yet, but the most obvious explanation is exposure."

Piper’s eyes narrowed as she listened, her mind already piecing together the scene. “Who found her?”

“A group of morning hikers stumbled upon the cave,” Wade continued. “They were exploring off-trail when one of them noticed half-buried footprints leading to the cave. When they went to investigate, they found Rita’s body along with a number of ice sculptures. They called it in immediately.”

Piper frowned, curious. “Ice sculptures? Inside the cave?”

Wade nodded. “They’re scattered throughout the cave, almost like an art exhibit."

"What are they sculptures of?"

"People, animals, ordinary objects. All kinds of things. It looks like someone was just practicing whatever just struck their fancy."

Piper took a deep breath, unsure what to make of this. What kind of person left ice sculptures in a cave?

“Do we have any leads on who might have done this?” she asked.

Wade shook his head. “Not yet. The hikers didn’t see anyone else in the area, and there were no obvious signs of recent activity outside the cave. It’s remote enough that someone could have been working there for a while—making those sculptures, I mean—without being noticed.”

Piper chewed her lip. "What kind of person goes to a remote cave in the Rocky Mountains to make ice sculptures?"

***

The question haunted Piper as she parked at the base of the dirt trail that snaked upward into the mountains. She had investigated many strange crimes in her time, but this one…

As she climbed out of the car, a cold gust hit her face.

"Why couldn't he pick a cave in the desert," Wade grumbled as he slammed his door shut. He'd always hated the cold—he'd told Piper that it reminded him too much of growing up in Detroit.

The ground was covered in a light blanket of snow, the early sun casting a soft glow over the untouched landscape. Piper pulled her coat tighter around her, glancing up at the path they would need to hike to reach the cave.

Piper felt very differently. The cold, especially the mountains like this, reminded her of Alaska, where she grew up. She loved the wilderness, loved its rugged beauty, and there were times when she was more than a little tempted to go back to her cabin in Alaska and live out her days as a hermit.

"Looks like we’ve got a bit of a trek ahead of us," Wade said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Don't leave me in the dust, alright?"

Piper grunted. "You'd better pray we don't run into any bears, because I sure won't be the one they're chewing on."

"Oh, I wouldn't think to run from a bear." He patted his sidearm.

Piper arched an eyebrow. "You think you could take down a grizzly with that?"

"Better than letting him run me down."

Piper sighed and shook her head. "Your gun's not gonna stop a grizzly. If a grizzly charges, you drop to the ground and play dead. Cover your neck and lie still. It's your best chance."

Wade grunted. "Just what I want to do—put myself at the mercy of a massive, savage predator."

"I hate to say it, Wade, but if you run into a grizzly in close-quarters…you're already at his mercy."

They began their ascent, the snow crunching underfoot as they navigated the narrow, winding trail. The silence of the mountains was broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the occasional call of a distant bird. Piper appreciated the serenity, a welcome relief from the chaos of her thoughts.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, the mouth of the cave came into view. Piper could see the Search and Rescue team gathered near the entrance, their breath visible in the cold air as they spoke in hushed tones.

One of the members of the team broke away from the group and approached the two FBI agents. His rugged appearance, complete with a weathered face and a scruffy beard, spoke of countless hours spent in harsh conditions. Yet, the unease in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Agent Woods, Agent Wade," he said, extending a hand. "I’m Trent Rogan. I've seen a lot in my time, but this...I’ve never seen anything like this." His voice wavered slightly, betraying his unsettled state.

Piper shook his hand, her grip firm. "What can you tell us, Mr. Rogan?"

Trent took a deep breath, composing himself. "The hikers who found her are pretty shaken up. They’ve been escorted back to town for questioning and support. We’ve secured the scene as best we could, but it’s…it’s like something out of a nightmare."

"What about the cave itself? Does it seem stable?"

Trent nodded. "As far as I can tell. You got to be careful—some of these caves are prone to collapsing. Even a loud noise might be enough to bring the ceiling crashing down on your head in some cave. But there doesn't appear to be much danger in this particular one."

Piper exchanged a glance with Wade, then turned back to Trent. "Show us to the body, would you?" she asked.

Trent led them into the cave. Immediately the temperature dropped, the light dimming. The sound, too, changed, becoming enclosed, womb-like.

A short distance in, they found a body tied to a stalagmite. Trent stepped aside, allowing Piper and Wade to take in the scene fully. The sight was both beautiful and horrific, the ice sculptures surrounding Rita’s frozen form adding a surreal quality to the macabre tableau.

"Dear God," Wade muttered under his breath, his professional composure momentarily slipping.

Piper’s eyes roved over the scene, taking in every detail. Rita’s head was slumped forward, her hair frozen in place. The ropes binding her to the stalagmite were taut, with no slack or indication of hurried or panicked tying, suggesting a meticulous and practiced hand. The sculptures around her varied in size and form, from delicate ice flowers to abstract shapes that seemed to twist and turn in the dim light.

Trent cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "We found some personal items near the entrance—her camera bag, some supplies. But there’s no sign of a struggle. There was a bad storm here last night, so it's possible she came into the cave looking for shelter."

Piper nodded, her mind racing. "We’ll need to take a closer look at those items, see if they can tell us anything about who might have done this."

Trent nodded, his expression still tense. "I’ll bring them to you. Just...be careful in here. The ice is slippery—wouldn't want to take a fall." He sounded like he was worried about more than just the ice, however, and Piper had a good idea she knew why. The sculptures seemed to watch them with cold, unfeeling eyes, like a living presence in the room with them.

"Wade," she said quietly, "let’s start documenting everything. We need to understand the mind of whoever did this."

Wade nodded, pulling out his camera and notepad. "On it."

While Wade began taking pictures, Piper approached Rita's frozen body, her breath visible in the cold air. There were no apparent wounds on Rita's body, no markings. Had she been knocked out, tied to the stalagmite while she was unconscious?

She reached out, her gloved fingers gently brushing against the rope binding Rita to the stalagmite. The knots were tight and precise, not the work of an amateur. Piper's gaze traveled down Rita’s arms to her wrists, where the skin was rubbed raw beneath the ice.

"Look at this," Piper said, pointing to the abrasions. "She struggled against the restraints for a long time. She was definitely alive while she was tied here."

Wade nodded, his expression grim. "Then she woke up and tried to free herself, but to no avail. The killer left her to freeze to death."

Piper’s stomach churned at the thought. Rita had been conscious, aware of her situation, fighting against the cold and the ropes until her body gave out. The brutality of it was both physical and psychological.

"Why go through all this trouble?" Wade asked. "Why not just hit her in the head with a rock and be done with it?"

Piper straightened, her eyes sweeping the eerie, frozen gallery around them. "I don't know," she said quietly.

"And what's with all the sculptures?"

"If you ask me, I'd say they’re all part of a message. This isn’t just about killing—it’s about making a statement. Our killer wanted to create a scene, an installation of terror."

Wade took a step back, surveying the sculptures with new eyes. "An artist of death," he muttered. "Someone who sees this as more than just murder. It’s a twisted form of expression."

Piper nodded. "And Rita was the centerpiece. The question is, why her? Was she chosen at random, or did she have a connection to the killer?"

Just then, Trent Rogan returned with a bundle of Rita’s personal items. "Here’s what we found near the entrance," he said, handing over the camera bag and supplies.

Piper took the items, setting them down carefully on a flat rock. "Thanks, Trent."

As she unzipped the camera bag and began to inspect its contents, her mind remained fixated on the scene before her. Every detail mattered, every clue was a piece of the puzzle. And with each step closer to understanding this horrific tableau, Piper knew they were also one step closer to the killer.

She glanced at Wade, who was meticulously documenting the sculptures. "We need to be thorough," she said. "We’re not just looking for evidence. We’re looking for a story—a narrative that the killer left behind. And somewhere in that story is the key to finding him."

Wade nodded, his camera clicking as he captured another angle. "We’ll find it, Piper. We’ll find him."

Piper meticulously examined Rita’s belongings, laying them out one by one on the flat rock. The camera bag contained several lenses, a cleaning kit, and a few memory cards. She carefully set the camera aside, planning to check the contents of the memory cards later. Next, she pulled out a well-worn notebook, flipping through pages filled with notes and sketches of various wildlife.

"She was dedicated to her work," she murmured, tracing a detailed sketch of a bird with her finger. "Looks like she had a keen eye for detail. These notes are meticulous."

Wade leaned over, glancing at the notebook. "Anything about why she might have been here? Any recent entries?"

Piper scanned the latest pages, but they were filled with observations about the local flora and fauna, nothing that hinted at danger, a planned meeting with a stranger, or anything else suspicious. She shook her head. "Just notes on her photography subjects. Nothing that stands out."

She moved on to the other items: a map of the area with various trails marked, a small first-aid kit, and a water bottle. Each item told her a little more about who Rita was—organized, prepared, passionate about her work—but none of it pointed directly to her killer.

Wade's phone buzzed. He glanced at it.

"Looks like local police found Rita's car," he said. "We should go check it out."

Piper nodded. "Just one more thing first."

She picked up Rita’s camera, turning it on and expecting to find a number of pictures of the mountains. To her surprise, however, there were no pictures at all.

"What's wrong?" Wade asked.

"The memory card—it's missing."

"Think it could've fallen out?"

Piper shook her head. "Not a chance. Someone took it out."

"Think the killer took it because his picture was on it?"

"Maybe," Piper murmured. "Or maybe he just wanted a souvenir of his victim. What better souvenir than a list of the things that captured her attention shortly before she died?"

CHAPTER THREE

Piper and Wade stood by Rita's vehicle, a rugged SUV parked at the base of the trail. Snow covered the windshield and the hood, a testament to the storm that had raged through the mountains the previous night, and it hadn't even begun to melt despite the warm, late morning sunlight bearing down on it.

Just a day ago, Rita Williams had been sitting in this car, planning a hike into the mountains. Unaware that it would be her last.

"Let's get this over with," Piper said, pulling on a pair of gloves.

They opened the doors and began their search. The interior was neat but lived-in, with various personal items scattered throughout. A pair of hiking boots lay on the floor, and the backseat was piled with camping gear and photography equipment.

Piper rummaged through the glove compartment, pulling out a stack of maps and brochures. She unfolded them, noting the routes Rita had marked. "She was thorough," Piper said, more to herself than to Wade. "Looks like she had a detailed plan for her trip."

Wade, searching the backseat, held up a thermos and a half-eaten sandwich. "She was well-prepared, too. Plenty of supplies. No signs she was planning to leave the area anytime soon."

Piper glanced at the maps again. "There are notes in the margins of these maps about wildlife. Looks like she was searching for an owl—an 'arctic hawk owl,' apparently."

"Never heard of it," Wade said.

"I have. It's quite rare."

Wade sighed. "There's nothing in here. Besides, what are we even looking for? We have no idea why this guy targeted her—we don't even know if he was stalking her or if it was just a crime of opportunity."

"You're just grumpy because you're cold," Piper said. "Have you checked the trunk?"

Grumbling to himself, Wade moved to the back of the SUV and popped it open. "More camping supplies," he said. "A sleeping bag, a portable stove, and several containers of food. Everything neatly packed and organized. Just more evidence of her being a meticulous and prepared person."

Piper sighed and leaned her head back. "We’re learning more about who she was, but not about who did this. There has to be something we’re missing."

She moved to the front seat, checking under the seats and in the center console. She found a notebook similar to the one they had seen in the cave, filled with more observations and sketches. It painted a picture of a passionate and dedicated photographer but offered no new leads.

"Hold on," Wade said, stepping away from the vehicle and holding his phone to his ear. Piper watched him, wondering what the call could be about. She waited, drumming her fingers on the dashboard and thinking about that missing memory card.

Was the killer scrolling through the pictures even now?

"Understood," Wade said. "Thanks, deputy."

"What was that about?" Piper asked as Wade ended the call.

"That was Deputy Collins from the county sheriff's office, responding to that request we put in for information on any recent unusual activity or missing persons reports in the area.”

"And? Don't leave me in suspense."

"A few hours ago, a woman named Anna Clarke was reported missing. She was camping in the area with some friends, but went off on her own for a hike and never came back.”

Piper tensed. "And nobody's heard from her?"

Wade shook his head. "Nothing so far. But let's not jump to conclusions. This could be totally unrelated to our case."

"It could be," Piper murmured. "Or we could be dealing with a serial killer."

"That seems like a bit of a leap."

"Does it? Seeing Rita Williams in that cave, tied up like that—did that look to you like the work of a first-timer? That was planned, Wade. That's not the kind of thing you come up with on the spot, and it's not the kind of thing you carry out without experience."

He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "What are you saying, Pip?"

"I'm saying we need to organize a search party, because Anna could be out here right now, slowly freezing together. And we might be the only people who can save her."

***

Within the hour, search parties were gathering, a mix of local law enforcement, Search and Rescue volunteers, and additional agents from the Bureau. Piper stood before the search party, a mix of local law enforcement, Search and Rescue members, and local volunteers, all of them bundled up for the cold and armed with emergency supplies should anyone get lost and stranded in the mountains.

“Listen up,” she began, her voice carrying over the group. “We believe Anna Clarke, a local artist who went missing just a few hours ago, may be connected to the murder of Rita Williams. There’s a chance Anna is still alive, and we need to find her before it’s too late. We’ll be searching the area where Anna went missing, as well as any known caves nearby."

She pointed to the maps, highlighting the key locations. “We’ll split into teams and cover as much ground as possible. Stay in contact, and if you find anything—anything at all—report it immediately. Anna’s life could depend on it.”

The team members nodded, their expressions grim but determined. As they began to move out, Piper felt a flicker of hope. They had a lead, and they had the manpower. Now, it was a race against time.

Wade approached her, a concerned look in his eyes. “If she's out here, I sure hope she's dressed warmly.”

Piper nodded, her jaw set. “I hope she just drove off and didn't tell her friends, but we have to prepare for the worst. In these conditions, the situation can get desperate in a hurry—you get a mechanical injury out here, and you're done."

"Better a mechanical injury than being targeted by a serial killer," Wade said.

Piper sighed. "Unfortunately, these mountains can be just as brutal, especially if she doesn't know how to survive out here."

Wade placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "One way or another, we'll find her." He stared into her eyes with a rawness, a vulnerability, that made Piper's stomach tighten. She turned away, not wanting to get sidetracked.

"Then we'd better get started looking," she said, ignoring Wade's gaze.

Armed with this dubious confidence, they set out on the trail. This time, Piper didn't slow herself to allow Wade to keep pace—time was too valuable for that. She hurried along, splitting off from the rest of the group and taking a narrow path that climbed steeply upward towards the area known locally as 'Owl's Hollow.' This section of the Rocky Mountains was notorious for its treacherous terrain and unpredictable weather patterns.

She was close to where Anna had last been seen, near the 'Whispering Pines Trail.' The local rangers had informed them that this area was riddled with small caves and rocky outcrops, making it a challenging search zone.

Piper pulled out her map, studying the topography carefully. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed a series of potential cave systems near a place called 'Echo Canyon.'

"She could've taken shelter in one of these caves," she muttered to herself, tracing the route with her finger.

The voices of the other searchers faded behind her as she entered a forest of towering conifers. The air was cooler in here, but the wind was no longer breathing down her neck.

Tracking was second nature to her, ingrained by years of training with her father. He had been a seasoned tracker, spending countless hours teaching her the skills that now guided her every step. Piper could almost hear his voice, steady and calm, offering guidance.

Always look for the smallest signs, he used to say. A broken branch, disturbed snow, even a faint scent on the wind can tell you where someone has been.

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered, feeling a pang of loss mixed with gratitude. He had prepared her for moments like this, and she felt him with her, guiding her steps.

She moved swiftly through the dense forest, her eyes scanning the ground for any sign of tracks or disturbances. The towering conifers offered some protection from the biting wind, but the cold still seeped through her layers of clothing. She pushed on, driven by the thought that Anna could still be out here, somewhere.

As she moved deeper into Echo Canyon, the terrain grew more challenging. The narrow path wound between towering rock faces, their surfaces slick with ice and snow. Piper's breath came in steady puffs, each exhale forming a cloud in the frigid air. She knew this area was filled with hidden pitfalls and sudden drops. Navigating this terrain alone was risky, but Piper couldn't afford to slow down. Not when every moment could be the difference between life and death.

After what felt like an eternity, she spotted something unusual: a broken branch, its jagged edge protruding from the snow. Piper knelt down, examining it closely. The break was relatively fresh, the wood not yet weathered by the elements. She glanced around, her eyes narrowing as she noticed a faint indentation in the snow nearby.

A trail.

The tracks led her to a small clearing where the snow was disturbed in a wider pattern. Piper crouched again, studying the signs. Someone had paused here, perhaps to rest or to decide on their next move. Her mind worked quickly, analyzing the scene.

She noticed a few broken branches and disturbed patches of snow leading off to the right, towards a rocky outcrop that matched the cave system she had identified on her map. The tracks were more erratic here, suggesting a sense of urgency. Piper's instincts told her she was on the right path.

She remembered her father’s stories of tracking fugitives and lost hikers through the wilderness. He had always emphasized the importance of patience and observation. The forest tells a story, he would say. You just have to listen.

Piper listened now, her eyes catching subtle changes in the landscape. She moved forward, her steps sure and purposeful. The connection to her father gave her strength, his wisdom a steady guide.

Suddenly, she noticed something unusual—a small, dark object partially buried in the snow. She approached cautiously, crouching to examine it. Her gloved hand brushed away the snow, revealing a leather glove, slightly damp from the melted snow. It was small enough that she doubted it had belonged to a man.

Her heart quickened. Could it have been Anna's?

Piper's instincts told her she was on the right track. The glove's location aligned perfectly with her theory about the Echo Canyon cave system. She pressed on, her steps more urgent now.

The tracks became more distinct as she moved deeper into the forest, leading her toward a rocky outcrop. The terrain grew steeper, the snow-covered rocks challenging her footing.

Reaching the top of the outcrop, Piper paused, scanning the landscape below. The tracks led down into a narrow ravine that she recognized from her map as the entrance to the Echo Canyon cave system.

Taking a deep breath, she descended into the ravine and continued to follow the tracks, her senses on high alert. The trail became more defined as she approached the cave entrance, confirming her suspicions about Anna's path.

"Come on, Piper," she whispered to herself, recalling her father’s voice. "You’ve got this. Keep looking."

As she stood there, trying to regain her bearings, a subtle shift in the wind brought a faint, unfamiliar scent to her nose. It was a mix of damp earth and something colder, almost metallic. She turned toward the source of the scent, noticing a slight depression in the snow-covered ground leading toward a cluster of boulders.

Curious, she approached the boulders. As she rounded the largest one, she spotted a narrow opening partially hidden by overhanging branches and snow. It was exactly where her map had indicated a cave entrance might be.

Piper's pulse quickened. Was it a cave? Had Anna ventured into a cave, just as Rita had?

She crouched down, peering into the darkness of the cave. The scent was stronger here, the cold air emanating from within. Her breath formed clouds in the frigid air as she carefully entered the cave, her flashlight cutting through the gloom.

The cave was narrow at first, but it opened up into a larger chamber. Her flashlight beam swept across the room, revealing an all-too-familiar scene. Her heart sank as she saw the ice sculptures—not nearly as many as she'd seen in the cave where Rita was found, but still enough to make the link undeniable.

And there, in the center of the chamber, expertly bound and frozen to death, was a woman who matched the description of Anna Clarke.

They were too late.

CHAPTER FOUR

Piper stood at the edge of the living room, her heart heavy as she watched Rita Williams' mother and sister huddled together on the couch. For Piper's part, there was no need to put on any emotion she didn't feel. The sight of Rita's body, not to mention the discovery of Anna as well, was still fresh enough that Piper's heart ached as if she had known the two young women herself.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, almost mocking glow on the scene. The earlier discovery of Anna Clarke's body had left Piper feeling raw and frustrated, but seeing Rita's family in such pain brought a new level of urgency to her mission. She had to find the killer, not just for justice, but to bring some semblance of peace to those left behind.

Evelyn, Rita's mother, an older woman with silver-streaked hair, clutched a worn tissue in her trembling hands. Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, stared blankly ahead. Beside her, Rita's younger sister Emily, a woman in her early twenties, sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking with each tear.

Piper approached cautiously, feeling the gravity of the moment. Wade was already speaking softly with the family, his calm presence a small comfort in the midst of their grief.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Piper said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. She knelt beside the couch, making eye contact with Rita's mother. "We’re doing everything we can to find the person responsible."

Rita's mother nodded slowly, her voice cracking as she spoke. "Thank you. Rita...she was such a kind soul. She didn’t deserve this."

Piper’s chest tightened with emotion. "No, she didn’t. And we won’t stop until we find who did this."

Rita’s sister, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, looked up at Piper. "Do you have any leads? Anything that can help catch them?"

Piper exchanged a glance with Wade, who nodded slightly, encouraging her to share what she could. "It appears that the person who targeted Rita may have targeted another woman as well. We're looking into connections between the two of them."

Piper took a deep breath, steadying herself before she spoke. "The other woman’s name was Anna Clarke. Does that name ring any bells?"

Emily shook her head, her brows knitting together as she tried to recall. "I don’t think so. Rita never mentioned anyone named Anna Clarke."

Piper and Wade exchanged a quick glance, then turned their attention back to Evelyn and Emily. "We need to ask you a few more questions about Rita," Piper said gently. "Is there anyone who might have wanted to harm her?"

Evelyn looked pained, as if the very thought of someone wanting to hurt her daughter was too much to bear. "Rita was such a kind person. She didn’t have enemies. Everyone loved her."

Emily nodded, then hesitated. "She did go through a bad breakup a few months ago, but I don’t think Marcus would have done anything like this. He moved to another city for a job, and they hadn’t been in touch."

Wade made a note of the name. "We’ll look into it, just to be thorough. Was there anything else that seemed off recently? Was Rita ever afraid for her life?"

Evelyn shook her head slowly. "No, she never said anything about being afraid. She was always so focused on her work, on her photography. She loved being out in nature. It was her escape."

"Did she ever mention feeling like she was being followed or watched?" Piper asked.

Emily thought for a moment. "No, nothing like that. She was always cautious when she went out, always let us know where she was going."

Piper sighed inwardly, feeling the frustration of another dead end. "Did Rita have any significant contacts or acquaintances through her work? Anyone she might have recently met who seemed…unusual or overly interested in her?"

Evelyn’s face softened with a hint of a sad smile. "She met many people through her photography. There was always someone new at the art shows or out in the field. She mentioned a few names here and there, but no one who stood out as a threat."

Piper nodded, trying to connect the dots. "Did Rita ever show any interest in ice sculpture? Did she mention anything about it recently?"

Emily shook her head. "No, she was always focused on her photography. Ice sculptures were never something she talked about. She loved capturing nature in its raw form, not creating it."

Wade leaned in slightly. "Did she ever mention anyone else who was interested in ice sculptures? Maybe someone she met recently who had a passion for it?"

Evelyn and Emily exchanged a glance, both shaking their heads. "Not that I remember," Evelyn said softly. "It seems like such a specific and unusual hobby."

Piper felt a pang of frustration. The conversation felt like it was leading nowhere. She glanced at Wade, who nodded subtly, signaling that it was time to wrap things up.

"We appreciate your time," Piper said, rising to her feet. "If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to contact us."

Wade handed them his card. "We’ll follow up on the leads we have. Thank you for your help."

As they turned to leave, Emily suddenly looked up, a spark of realization in her eyes. "Wait! There was someone...a man named Henry Nolan. He's a local tour guide Rita worked with a few times."

Piper and Wade exchanged a glance. "Henry Nolan?" Piper repeated. "What can you tell us about him?"

Emily frowned slightly as she recalled the details. "Rita met him last year during one of her shoots. He helped her find good locations for her photography—she said he knew the area like the back of his hand. They worked together a few times after that. He seemed very knowledgeable and friendly."

"Why didn’t you mention him sooner?" Wade asked, sounding more curious than accusatory.

Emily bit her lip, looking a bit guilty. "I guess because he never seemed like a threat. Rita trusted him, and they got along well. But now...considering everything, maybe he's worth looking into?"

Piper nodded, making a note of the name. "Thank you, Emily. This could be important. We’ll definitely follow up on it."

Evelyn reached out and touched Piper’s hand. "Please find who did this. For Rita."

Piper squeezed her hand gently. "We will. I promise."

As Piper and Wade left the house, the cold afternoon air biting at their faces, Piper turned to Wade with a thoughtful expression. "What do you say you work your magic, see what you can find online about this Henry Nolan guy?" She could do it herself—it would've been just about impossible to function in society without the ability to operate a smartphone—but she disliked technology, always had. Wade, on the other hand, seemed more than happy to get lost in the digital labyrinth.

Wade nodded, pulling out his smartphone as they walked toward their car. He tapped quickly on the screen. After a few moments, he frowned, his brows furrowing deeper with each passing second.

"Found something on his social media page," he said. "Looks like Henry was out camping in the Rockies the night Rita went missing—all alone, nobody to provide an alibi. And that's not all."

"Not all?" Piper asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He was also a suspect in a case a few years back—another woman found dead in the mountains. It was ruled an accident at the time because there wasn’t enough evidence to prove otherwise, but still…"

"So he knows the area, he has a suspicious history, and he was by himself the night Rita was killed," Piper said. "Sounds like someone we should talk to."

"Right," Wade said, putting his phone away. "Before he sets his sights on another victim."

CHAPTER FIVE

Lindsay Torres knelt down, her gloved hand gently brushing the moss that clung to the rocky outcrop. The vibrant green, highlighted by the afternoon sunlight, stood out starkly against the snowy backdrop, a small patch of life thriving in the harsh conditions.

"So beautiful," she murmured.

As an environmental scientist, Lindsay had always been fascinated by extremophiles—organisms that survived and even flourished in extreme environments. This particular species of moss was rare, known to endure freezing temperatures and high altitudes.

Her mind buzzed with excitement as she carefully took samples, eager to analyze them back in her lab. Discoveries like these fueled her passion for understanding the resilience of nature.

She had always been captivated by the natural world. From a young age, she had spent countless hours exploring the woods near her childhood home, collecting leaves, studying insects, and marveling at the complexity of ecosystems. This passion led her to pursue a degree in environmental science, and she quickly established herself as a dedicated and talented researcher.

Her parents weren't quite as enthusiastic about her career choice, however. They worried about her spending so much time alone—' If a wild animal doesn't get you,' her father said during a recent video call, 'cabin fever will.' But Lindsay was used to the wilderness.

Besides, she had Mark back at the base camp, her dedicated coworker and one of the few people she knew who mirrored her excitement on these topics. She looked forward to sharing her findings with him.

Excited by her discovery, Lindsay moved around to examine more of the moss. The vibrant green patches clung tenaciously to the rocky outcrops. She snapped several photos, documenting their placement and growth patterns, her mind buzzing with the possibilities of her findings.

As she shifted to a new angle, something unusual caught her eye—a set of tracks in the snow nearby. Frowning, she approached them, curious. The tracks were distinct, made by a pair of heavy boots, and they led directly to a spot not far from where she had been working.

Kneeling down, Lindsay examined the tracks more closely. The snow around the prints was slightly melted, indicating they were recent. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the implications.

Someone had been standing there, just a few yards away, watching her while her back was turned.

A chill ran down her spine, not from the cold, but from the unsettling realization that she was not as alone as she had thought. She straightened up, scanning the surrounding forest for any signs of movement. The trees stood silent and still, offering no clues to the identity of her observer.

Who could have been out here in such a remote location? And why had they been watching her?

Maybe it was Mark, she thought. Maybe he finished with the lichen and hiked up to give me a hand with the moss.

If that was the case, however, why hadn't he joined her? Where had he gone?

Her pulse quickened, and she decided to pack up her equipment. The thrill of discovery had been overshadowed by a growing sense of dread. She needed to get back to the base camp and report this strange encounter.

She stowed her sample containers in her backpack, ensuring they were secure and wouldn’t be damaged during the hike back. Her camera was next, carefully wrapped and placed in its protective case. She checked her field notebook, making sure it was zipped into an inside pocket of her jacket, close to her first-aid kit and water bottle. Then she turned her attention to her GPS device, which was clipped to her belt, right where it belonged.

With everything packed, Lindsay took one last look at the tracks in the snow. The thought of someone watching her, hidden among the trees, wicked all the saliva from her mouth. She set off in the opposite direction of the tracks, her pace brisk.

The snow crunched under her boots as she made her way back to the base camp. The trees closed in around her, the once comforting silence now feeling oppressive. She kept glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see a figure lurking in the shadows.

Each step away from the site where she'd been gathering moss brought a small measure of relief, but the unease lingered. Could it simply have been a curious hiker, maybe someone too shy to interrupt her? A hermit, perhaps? She had heard stories of mountain people who lived off the grid, keeping to themselves.

Yes, that was probably the kind of person it was. She was sure of it.

The path became steeper, and she adjusted her pace, careful not to slip on the uneven ground. Then she heard a sound on the wind. She paused, her heart pounding in her chest as she strained to listen.

Had someone shouted?

The cry came again, more distinct this time—a man’s voice, filled with agony. Lindsay immediately reached for her radio, her fingers fumbling in her haste.

"Mark, come in," she said urgently. "There's someone hurt out here. I’m going to check it out. If you don't hear back from me in ten minutes, send help."

The radio crackled with static, but no response came. Lindsay listened expectantly. Was the mountain interfering with the signal?

She clipped the radio back onto her belt and moved toward the source of the cries, compelled by an instinctive urge to help…but then she stopped, thinking about those tracks she'd seen earlier. A voice in her mind pleaded with her just to go back to the base camp. If someone really was in danger, she could get Mark and they could return together.

Then again, what if this person couldn't wait that long?

Who else was out here?

"Hello?" Lindsay called. The response was immediate, another cry of pain that seemed to come from higher up the slope. That was it—she couldn't waste any more time, not while someone was in pain.

Her decision made, she pushed forward, slipping on the snow as the terrain grew steeper. The trees closed in around her, their branches heavy with snow. The path was uneven, and she had to watch her footing carefully, but the cries spurred her on.

"Where are you?" she called, her voice echoing through the forest.

"Over here!" the voice shouted, filled with torment. "Please, help me!"

Lindsay’s heart ached for the person in need. She rounded a bend and saw a figure lying on the ground a few yards ahead, partially obscured by the trees. The man clutched his leg, which appeared to be twisted at an unnatural angle.

"What happened?" Lindsay asked, rushing to his side.

The man looked up at her, his face contorted with pain. "I fell," he said, gesturing at the slope above and behind him, where the snow had been disturbed as if someone had gone tumbling over the side of rock and landed on the ground far below. "My leg...it’s broken. I can’t move."

Lindsay dropped to her knees beside him, quickly assessing the situation. "Okay," she said, trying to keep her voice calm and soothing. "I’m going to help you. We need to get you out of here and back to safety. But first, let's deal with that leg."

As she glanced around, looking for something to use as a splint, her eyes fell on the mouth of a cave nearby. Her heart skipped a beat. The cave was dark and foreboding, sinister somehow. She shook her head and went back to searching for a splint.

She grabbed a sturdy branch and set to work breaking the branch until she had a suitable length. "Hang on," she said. "I’ll get you out of here."

The man nodded weakly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Lindsay focused on her task, but as she did so, the sense of unease from earlier returned, stronger than ever, and she had to resist the urge to keep glancing at the cave.

Once the splint was the length she needed, she knelt down to get a better look at the man's leg. It occurred to her that, despite the height from which he'd fallen, it was surprising that the snow hadn't cushioned his leg more. In fact, if she didn't know better, she'd have expected him to be perfectly fine after such a fall—a bit rattled, maybe, but without any broken bones.

Then again, maybe he'd landed on a bed of rock hidden just beneath the snow. She wasn't a detective, after all.

She began to carefully brush away the snow covering the leg. The pant leg was rolled up, revealing bare skin. She searched the skin for a fracture…

And found none. No break, no swelling, not so much as a scratch. The leg was simply contorted at an odd angle, almost as if the man had deliberately—

Sensing movement, she glanced up just as the man pulled something from his jacket pocket—a knife. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Please," she said, stepping back. "If you want money…" She trailed off, knowing this wasn't the sort of trick someone played in order to get money.

The man rose, his 'broken' leg supporting him with no trouble. He took a step toward her and raised the knife.

"Has anyone ever told you," he asked, "that you have beautiful eyes?"

CHAPTER SIX

The snow crunched loudly under the tires as Piper's and Wade’s SUV slowed to a stop outside Henry Nolan’s cabin. It was two o'clock. The structure loomed ahead, a solitary silhouette against the backdrop of the dense, snow-covered forest.

Piper’s heart raced, adrenaline flooding her veins as it so often did when preparing to confront a potential serial killer.

Piper had dealt with a number of serial killers before, and there some characteristics they had in common. They were methodical, calculating, often egotistical. Part of their skill, however, was in disguising themselves—contrary to what pop culture might suggest, you couldn't just look into their eyes and figure out what they were capable of. Often, they presented themselves as harmless, regular people.

But Piper had learned to look beneath the mask. Whoever this Henry Nolan guy was, he wasn't going to talk his way out of this situation with a charming smile and a few polite jokes.

Piper climbed out of the car, her eyes fixed on the cabin. It looked deceptively peaceful, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. But she knew better. Her instincts, honed from years of tracking dangerous individuals, told her that danger lurked just beyond those wooden walls.

They approached the cabin with measured steps, the snow muffling their movements. Piper’s senses were on high alert, every sound amplified in the tense silence. The wind whispered through the trees, and the faint smell of pine mingled with the acrid scent of smoke.

Wade motioned for her to take the lead. Piper’s pulse quickened as she inched closer to the door, her breath coming in shallow, controlled puffs. She signaled Wade to cover her and then tried the handle—locked. Her mind raced as she assessed their options.

“Back door,” she whispered, nodding toward the side of the cabin.

Wade nodded, and they moved as one, circling the building. Piper’s thoughts were a blur of tactics and potential threats. She couldn’t shake the images of Rita and Anna, their lives brutally ended. It fueled her resolve.

As they reached the back of the cabin, Piper spotted a small window slightly ajar. She glanced at Wade, who gave a quick nod. Taking a deep breath, she slowly pushed the window open, praying it wouldn’t creak.

The dim interior of the cabin came into view. Piper scanned the room, noting the sparse furnishings and the faint smell of wood smoke. Just as she was about to climb inside, a loud thunk reverberated from behind the cabin, followed by a rhythmic thudding.

Piper and Wade exchanged a puzzled glance. Then, they each drew their weapons and hurried to the corner of the cabin.

Piper peered around. In the backyard, a man was splitting firewood with a maul, his back to them.

"Think he's our guy?" Piper murmured to Wade.

"Fits the description," Wade murmured back.

Piper stepped forward, keeping her weapon at her side. "Henry Nolan?" she called.

The man turned, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the two agents. He didn’t put down the maul, but instead gripped the handle tightly.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice edged with suspicion.

"We need to talk," Piper said. "About Rita Williams."

Nolan’s eyes flickered with something—recognition, maybe fear—but his expression remained neutral.

"Why don't you put down the maul and we can go talk inside?" Wade suggested.

Nolan’s grip tightened, his knuckles white against the dark wood. "I’m a little busy, in case you couldn't tell," he said, turning back to his work. The maul came down with a heavy thud, splitting a log cleanly in two.

Piper and Wade exchanged a glance, then stepped closer, undeterred. "Mr. Nolan, this is serious," Wade said. "A woman was murdered."

Nolan, in the act of setting the next chunk of firewood on the stump in front of him, paused. He stared at the wood for several seconds, as if silently processing the news he'd just heard.

Is he processing the fact that Rita Williams is dead? Piper wondered. Or the fact that we've come to question him about it?

Whatever was going on in Nolan's mind, he seemed to shove it aside. He raised the maul and brought it down again, sending two clean halves of wood—birch, judging by the white bark—flying in either direction.

"Henry," Piper said, "we know you worked with Rita. For all we know, you're the last person who saw her. We could really use your help."

"I'm not getting mixed up in this sort of thing again," he said, picking up another log.

"You're talking about that missing persons case."

"Which I had nothing to do with, just like I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Rita." The maul came down again, this time striking a knot and failing to split the log all the way through.

"Then why not talk to us and clear your name?" Piper asked. "The sooner we understand your side, the sooner we can move on."

Nolan worked the maul up and down, extricating it from the log. "I'm just a guide trying to make a living, okay?"

"Still," Wade said, "you have to admit it's a striking coincidence—your ties to the two different cases."

Nolan spun around and glared at Wade, the maul still gripped tightly in his hands. "A woman went missing during one of my tours—a tragic accident, that's it. She slipped, fell, and by the time we found her, it was too late. Nothing mysterious about it."

He paused, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "But the police needed someone to blame. I was the easy target—the guide responsible for her safety. They dragged my name through the mud, insinuated I had something to do with her death. Do you have any idea what that's like? To be innocent and treated like a monster?"

Piper watched him carefully, noting the anger and hurt in his eyes. "And what about Rita? When was the last time you saw her?"

Nolan slammed the maul into the stump. "I told you, I don't want to go through this sort of thing again."

"We understand your frustration," Wade said, "and I promise this doesn't have to take long. You were out camping in the mountains last night, is that right?"

Nolan's face tightened with frustration. "I was scouting new locations for my tours, yes. The Rockies are always changing, and I like to find fresh spots to keep things interesting for my clients. Plus, I needed some time alone. It's my way of clearing my head."

"Can anyone corroborate that?"

"Just my sleeping bag. Look, I get it—I knew the woman, I was out in the mountains when she went missing, so I must've killed her, right? But I had nothing to do with it. I was miles away from where they found Rita."

"What about Anna Clarke?" Piper asked.

Nolan frowned. "Who?"

"Where were you this morning?"

"This morning? I was leading a tour. A big one."

"Can anyone else verify that?" Wade asked.

For the first time, Nolan grinned. "I've got something better—hard evidence. Come on, I'll show you." He headed toward the cabin, gesturing for them to follow.

Piper and Wade followed Nolan into the cabin, the interior of which was bare, utilitarian. Nolan moved to a cluttered desk in the corner, sorting through a stack of papers and a laptop. He booted up the computer, then navigated through a number of documents.

"Here," he said, pointing at the screen. "These are time stamped photos from the tour I was leading. We were way up in Bear Creek Valley, miles from here."

Piper leaned in, scrutinizing the images. Each one showed Nolan with a group of hikers, time stamped with the date and time, just as he'd said. The photos were clear, capturing the natural beauty of the area and the evident camaraderie of the group.

Piper’s mind raced as she processed this information. If Nolan had a solid alibi for the time Anna went missing, it complicated things. Given the similarities in the killings, she was confident the same person had killed both women. If Nolan didn't kill Anna, then it stood to reason he probably had not killed Rita, either.

Nolan crossed his arms. "Satisfied now?"

Piper nodded slowly. She was increasingly convinced that Nolan wasn't the man they were looking for, but that didn't mean he couldn't help them.

She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture of the intricate knots used to bind Rita. "What do you make of this?" she asked.

Nolan's eyes widened as he examined the image. "Those are some serious knots—way beyond your average climber or hiker. Whoever did this knows their stuff."

"Any idea who might have that kind of skill?"

"Well, it's not common, that's for sure. You'd need years of experience. Maybe someone with a background in mountaineering, rock climbing, or even sailing. Those knots look almost…nautical."

Piper and Wade exchanged a glance. This was new information—a potential lead to follow.

"There's something else," Piper said, showing Nolan a photo of one of the ice sculptures found at the crime scene. "What can you tell us about this?"

Nolan studied the image, his brow furrowed. "That's...unusual. Most ice sculptors I know of work with manufactured ice blocks. But this...this looks like it was carved from naturally formed ice. See how uneven the base is? That's characteristic of ice found in caves or formed by waterfalls."

"What does that tell you?" Wade asked.

"Well, it suggests that whoever made this is working on-site, in the mountains. They're not bringing in ice from elsewhere. It's a distinctive approach—takes a lot of skill and patience."

Piper felt a chill run down her spine. "So we might be dealing with someone who lives up here? In the mountains?"

Nolan nodded slowly. "It's possible. There are a few cabins and shelters scattered throughout these mountains that aren't on any official maps. Places where a person could hole up for long periods without anyone knowing."

This revelation hung in the air, heavy with implications. Piper's mind was already racing, considering the vastness of the Rocky Mountains and the challenge of finding someone hidden within them.

"One more thing," Nolan added, his voice quieter now. "If this person is living up here, creating these sculptures...they must have an intimate knowledge of the area. The kind that takes years to develop."

Piper nodded, her determination growing. They had new leads to follow, but the enormity of the task ahead was daunting. Somewhere in these mountains, a killer was hiding, blending into the harsh landscape like a predator in its natural habitat.

As they prepared to leave, Piper turned back to Nolan. "Thank you for your help. If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to contact us."

Nolan nodded, his expression grim. "I hope you find whoever did this. The mountains...they're supposed to be a place of beauty and challenge, not...this."

As Piper and Wade drove away from Nolan's cabin, Wade broke the silence. "So," he said, "we're looking for a highly skilled outdoorsman, possibly living off the grid in these mountains, with experience in climbing or sailing, and a talent for ice sculpture. That narrows it down to...about a million square miles of wilderness."

Piper's jaw tightened as she stared out at the passing landscape. "Then we better start looking."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Wade stirred his coffee absently, glancing across the table at Piper and wondering where her mind was—wandering down some dark path where he couldn't follow her, more than likely.

They were at a small diner nestled in the mountains. It was a quaint, rustic spot, its walls adorned with vintage photographs of the Rockies and old ski posters. The wooden beams overhead added to the cozy, cabin-like atmosphere, and the soft hum of conversation mixed with the occasional clatter of dishes. A fireplace in the corner crackled softly, casting a warm, amber glow.

Through the large windows, Wade could see the snow-covered peaks of the Rockies, their majestic beauty tinged with an eerie stillness. The snow was falling gently, blanketing the ground in a pristine layer of white. Pine trees stood tall and silent, their branches heavy with snow, creating a picturesque yet isolating scene.

As Wade studied Piper, who was gazing out the window, Wade's heart ached for her. He couldn't imagine how he would react if someone targeted his mother. It had to be eating her up inside, the knowledge that the person who'd nearly taken her mother's life was still out there somewhere, free to strike again.

He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he wasn't sure if that would make her uncomfortable. The truth was Piper had always been a mystery to him. One moment, her eyes lit up when she looked at him, her laughter carefree and natural as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. The next moment, she was talking about giving up her life and going to live with her mother in that commune, a place where a man like Wade would never belong.

It was a push and pull that left him feeling unsteady, yet he couldn’t walk away. Despite her ambivalence, Wade was drawn to her. Piper’s strength, her determination to seek justice, and her vulnerability beneath that tough exterior captivated him. He admired her resilience, the way she pushed forward even when the odds were against her.

The waitress arrived, a friendly smile on her face as she pulled out her notepad. "What can I get you folks today?"

Wade glanced at the menu briefly. "Is it too late for breakfast?"

The waitress smiled again. "It's never too late for breakfast."

"In that case, I'll have the breakfast special with scrambled eggs and bacon, please. And a coffee refill."

The waitress nodded, jotting down his order, then turned to Piper. "And for you, ma'am?"

Piper seemed lost in her thoughts, her eyes still distant. Wade cleared his throat. "Piper," he said softly, trying to get her attention. When she didn't respond, he decided to order for her. "She'll have the oatmeal with fresh fruit and a cup of tea," he said.

The waitress nodded again, giving Wade a knowing look before heading back to the kitchen. He appreciated her understanding and hoped the simple meal would at least encourage Piper to eat something. God knew they were burning enough calories hiking around the mountains.

Piper finally seemed to snap out of her reverie, looking at Wade with a mix of gratitude and apology. "Sorry," she murmured. "I just...I can't stop thinking about what my mother told me."

He studied her, waiting.

"The coal dust on the clothes of the man who attacked her," she said. "What if Byron Gray was hiding in a coal mine nearby? Or what if he’s working as a miner as a cover?"

Wade nodded, acknowledging her train of thought. "Anything's possible, I guess. But I really think we need to focus on our current investigation first. We can't be in two places at once."

Piper clenched her jaw, clearly frustrated. "I need to catch him, Wade. He’s the reason my mother’s in the hospital. He’s the reason for all of this."

Wade took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I know how important it is for you to put him away. But we owe it to Rita and Anna to see this through. We can't just drop everything to go investigate some coal mine for an unrelated case."

"It's not just a case—this is my mother he attacked! I've been doing some research, and there's a coal mine about fifty miles north of Golden Meadows—"

"Fifty miles?" Wade sighed and shook his head. "We can't take that kind of detour. If it was close by, maybe, but fifty miles—"

"I don't care if it's a thousand miles away! Gray is out there, and every day we wait, he gets further away. I can’t just sit here and do nothing!"

Wade felt a pang of frustration. He wanted to help her, but she wasn’t seeing reason. "Pip, listen to me. We will go after Gray. I promise you. But if we split our focus now, we risk losing everything we’ve worked for on this case."

Piper’s eyes flashed with anger. "I can’t let him get away again, Wade. I won’t. If you’re not going to help me, maybe I should just go alone."

Wade swallowed hard. He knew how stubborn Piper was. If he didn't talk her back from the ledge now, she probably would indeed go out on her own. That would not only be risky, but it would force him to decide between her and his career, which was an unfair choice. He didn't want both of them to lose their jobs by going rogue, not when they could tackle both cases with a little patience.

He reached across the table, his hand covering hers. "You're not going to do this alone. As soon as this case is over, we’ll go to the mine, ask questions, do whatever it takes to find Gray. But please, let’s finish what we started here first."

The waitress returned with their food, setting the plates down gently. Piper immediately withdrew her hand from Wade's, a gesture that felt like the jab of a knife.

Why is she so skittish about us? he thought. What's holding her back?

"Enjoy!" the waitress said before slipping away, unaware of the tension between them.

Piper glanced at the oatmeal and tea Wade had ordered for her, but she didn't start eating. Instead, she looked up at Wade, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation. "You don't understand. Byron Gray...he's not just out there somewhere. He’s here, in my head." She tapped the side of her temple for emphasis. "I see him in my nightmares every night. I can’t escape him."

Wade’s heart tightened at the vulnerability in her voice. She was always so strong, so determined, but now she was raw and exposed. Anger surged through him—not at Piper, but at Gray. The man had taken so much from her, haunted her every waking moment, and Wade hated him for it.

"I know you want to stop him," he said. "I know how much he's taken from you. But there's a right way and a wrong way to do this, and I'm telling you, the right way is to wait." In the back of his head, he knew there was a possibility this advice would come back to bite him. What if, after all, they waited and because of the delay, Gray got away? Would Piper ever forgive him?

She could ask for a leave of absence. But given how she'd flip-flopped in the past, risking her job to investigate personal matters and leaving her commitment to the Bureau in doubt, there was no way their boss would grant it. If Piper stepped away from her job now, she was done.

For good.

And that was something Wade couldn't live with.

Tears welled up in Piper’s eyes, and when Wade took her hand again, she squeezed back tightly. "I just can’t stop thinking about what he did to my mother. How he’s always one step ahead. I feel like I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to strike again."

Wade’s grip tightened. "We’ll make sure he can’t hurt anyone else, Piper. But we need to be smart about it. We need to finish this investigation first, and then we’ll put all our resources into finding Gray. We’ll bring him to justice, I swear it."

Piper looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt. Finding none, she let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Wade smiled tightly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You don’t have to find out. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

Piper glanced away, as if unsure how to respond to this. She stared at the oatmeal, pushing it around with her spoon.

"You need to eat," he said gently, though his voice carried an edge of insistence. "You’ve got to stay strong if we’re going to get through this."

She sighed, but finally took a small bite, nodding in reluctant agreement.

"Just be glad I didn't order you a tray of Rocky Mountain oysters," he said.

She shot him a glare. "You wouldn't dare."

Wade watched her eat a few more bites, feeling a bit of relief. Then he pulled out his phone and opened the folder containing the photos from the crime scenes.

"Let’s go over what we know about the current investigation," he said, trying to shift the focus.

He zoomed in on one of the photos of Rita Williams. "Whoever did this is very skilled with ropes," he said. "These knots…they’re not something you just pick up casually. This person knows what they’re doing."

Piper nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "It could mean they have a background in something that requires knot-tying skills: sailing, climbing, maybe even certain types of craftwork."

"Given where we are, a lot of people here would know how to use ropes for climbing. It’s a popular activity. What if the killer is a skilled mountain climber?"

Piper’s eyes lit up with the possibility. "It makes sense. Climbing requires knowledge of knots, ropes, and precise techniques. Plus, climbers are familiar with the terrain and can move through these areas without leaving a lot of traces."

Wade nodded, feeling a surge of determination. "We should look into local climbing clubs, gear shops, and any events related to climbing. If the killer is active in that community, someone might have noticed something unusual."

Piper took another bite of her oatmeal, the wheels in her mind clearly turning. "We should also check if any climbers have gone missing recently or if there have been any accidents that might have involved someone with those skills."

Wade made a note on his phone. "We’ll need to cross-reference anyone with climbing expertise who has a background that might link them to the victims. Maybe someone with a history of violent behavior or who has had conflicts with others in the climbing community."

Piper nodded, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was good to see that hope—Wade would've done just about anything to see it in Piper's eyes more often.

He leaned back and stared out the window at the imposing Rockies, their snow-covered peaks looming large. As he did so, a dark thought crossed his mind.

If they were right about the killer’s skills, the mountains weren’t just a hiding place—they were his element, his playground.

Which made Wade and Piper no more than trespassers.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The man studied the block of ice, imagining the shape hidden beneath the surface.

"It'll be perfect," he murmured. "I just have to set it free."

The cave was his sanctuary, a hidden realm where he could lose himself in the process of creation. He had chosen this place carefully for its remoteness and the chilling temperatures that preserved his work. The flickering light from his lantern cast dancing shadows on the cave walls, illuminating the intricate details of his sculpture.

He reached for his tools, laid out meticulously on a worn cloth beside him. There was a fine-toothed saw for rough shaping, chisels of various sizes for detailed work, and a set of small, delicate knives for the finishing touches. Each tool had its purpose, honed through years of practice to create his icy masterpieces.

He began with the saw, its sharp teeth biting into the ice with a satisfying crunch. He worked methodically, removing large chunks to reveal the rough outline of his vision. The saw moved effortlessly in his hands, guided by his practiced eye.

Next, he switched to a larger chisel, refining the shape with careful precision. Each tap of the mallet was measured, each cut intentional. He worked slowly, letting the sculpture take form under his skilled hands. The rhythm of his work was almost meditative, a dance between man and ice.

For the finer details, he selected a smaller chisel and a fine-bladed knife. He carved intricate patterns, delicate curves, and sharp lines, bringing the sculpture to life. The ice responded to his touch, yielding to his expertise. The cool air of the cave kept the ice firm, allowing him to work without fear of it melting.

His methods were self-taught, born from a fascination with the ephemeral nature of ice. He had spent years perfecting his craft, studying the way light played on the crystalline surface, experimenting with techniques to capture the essence of his subjects. It was an obsession that consumed him, driving him to create ever more elaborate works of art.

The final step was polishing, a process that required both patience and precision. He used a soft cloth and a mixture of water and alcohol, smoothing the surface until it gleamed. The finished sculpture stood before him, a testament to his skill and dedication.

He stepped back, admiring his work. The ice sculpture was beautiful, haunting in its perfection. It was a moment frozen in time, a testament to his dark artistry. He felt a surge of satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment that only came from creating something truly exquisite.

This sculpture held a special significance for him. It was not just another piece of art, but a manifestation of his innermost thoughts and desires. The woman represented something he could not fully articulate, an ideal of perfection that he sought to capture and preserve. In her frozen form, he saw a purity and stillness that eluded him in the chaotic world outside.

This was more than just a creation—it was an extension of himself, a way to express the complexity of his inner world. The woman in the ice was perfect, unchanging, and eternal, embodying the qualities he both revered and sought to possess.

He heard a rustling sound behind him, but he ignored it. He was too focused on the sculpture. He had to savor this moment; after all, he'd earned it.

Then he heard a soft moan, a sound that cut through the stillness of the cave. He sighed and, turning, looked at the woman tied to the large stone behind him. She was just waking up, her eyes fluttering open, her movements sluggish as she tried to orient herself.

A satisfied smile spread across his face. He wanted her to be awake, to understand what was happening to her. The fear in her eyes, the dawning realization of her situation—it made this whole process so much more satisfying.

The woman’s eyes widened as she took in her surroundings, her gaze landing on the ice sculpture first, then on him. She struggled against the ropes, but they held firm, digging into her skin and limiting her movements. Her breathing quickened, the soft moan turning into a whimper of fear.

He watched her, his eyes cold and calculating. He took a step closer, the crunch of his boots loud on the icy floor. The lantern light flickered, casting shadows on the walls and highlighting the terror in her eyes.

He gestured to the sculpture, his expression one of pride and satisfaction. The woman’s eyes darted between him and the ice figure, her fear palpable. He reveled in the power he held, the control he exerted over both his art and his captive audience.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked.

The woman’s eyes widened in horror as she realized the sculpture was an imitation of her. She struggled harder against the ropes, her voice breaking into desperate pleas.

"Please, let me go," she begged, her voice trembling with fear. "I won't tell anyone. Just let me go."

He watched her with cold detachment. Her pleas were a distraction, an unwelcome intrusion into his moment of triumph. He usually avoided this—avoided the messiness of their emotions, their desperate attempts to appeal to his humanity. It was easier to leave before they woke, to let the cold silence of the cave envelop his final creation.

But now, confronted with her fear and desperation, he felt a momentary twinge of doubt. Had he gone too far? Did he really want to face the raw humanity of his victims, to see the life drain from their eyes?

"I'm so cold," she said. "I'll freeze to death out here. You don't really want that, do you? You're not a bad person."

The man said nothing—he merely stared, ingraining the image of her into his mind. Then, satisfied, he turned to continue packing his tools. He moved with deliberate slowness, savoring the control he wielded over the situation.

Her voice grew more frantic as she realized he was leaving. "Please! Don't do this! I won't tell anyone, I swear! I won't tell a soul!"

He paused, considering her words. Part of him wanted to believe she could be different, that she might appreciate his art if given a chance. But he knew better. He had heard these promises before, seen the same desperation in other eyes. It always ended the same way.

With a final glance at the sculpture, he turned and walked towards the cave's entrance. The woman's cries echoed behind him, but he forced himself not to look back. He stepped into the light, the cold air biting at his face as her cries grew fainter.

No, he thought as he stepped into the light, and her cries grew fainter behind him. You won't.

CHAPTER NINE

Piper stepped out of the ranger lodge, Wade beside her, the cold mountain air hitting her face like a slap. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, trying to stave off the chill, both physical and emotional.

What a waste of time that had been.

They had just finished talking with a few rangers about dedicated climbers in the area, climbers who would be able to tie knots like the ones found on the victims. After investigating all the climbers the rangers mentioned, however, they hadn’t found anyone suspicious.

No leads, nobody to interview. In short, nothing to write home about.

Piper had been trying to keep her spirits up all day, but it was getting harder. Each lead that turned into a dead end felt like another nail in the coffin of her hope.

As they approached the SUV, Wade broke the silence.

"Well, that went well," he muttered.

Piper sighed, running a hand through her hair. "We can’t give up. There has to be something we’re missing. Maybe we need to broaden our search, look into people who might have learned climbing skills elsewhere, not just the local climbers."

Wade nodded, unlocking the SUV. "We should also consider people who might have had training in other fields—military, search and rescue, anyone with a reason to know these kinds of knots."

Piper climbed into the passenger seat, the leather cold against her as she shut the door. "We can’t rule out anyone with a connection to the mountains, either. Maybe someone who moved here recently, someone who blends in but has a past we’re not aware of. We need to cast a wider net."

Wade started the engine, the heater kicking on with a welcome blast of warmth. "Sounds like a plan, Stan," he said.

Despite these new theories, Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that they were just spinning their wheels. Every idea seemed plausible, but nothing tangible had come from their efforts. As they drove through the winding mountain roads, the vastness of the Rockies seemed to mock their search, the snow-covered peaks indifferent to their struggle.

Suddenly, Wade’s phone rang, cutting through her thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern as he answered.

"This is Wade," he said.

Piper watched his face, reading the growing tension in his eyes. He nodded a few times, listening intently.

"Understood. We’ll be there as soon as we can." He ended the call and looked at Piper, his jaw tight. "Another woman has gone missing in the area."

***

Piper's stomach felt like it was caught in a clenched fist as she and Wade arrived at the base camp where Lindsay Torres, the missing woman, had been working. If Lindsay had been taken by the killer they were searching for, then it meant he'd attacked three women in a little over a week.

He worked fast. Frighteningly fast.

The camp was a small, rugged setup nestled in a clearing surrounded by towering pines. A few tents were scattered around, their bright colors standing out against the snow. A large, central tent served as the main hub, with tables and equipment neatly organized inside. The air was filled with the scent of pine and the faint smoke from a fire pit.

As they parked and stepped out of the SUV, they were met by a man in his mid-thirties. He had a rugged, outdoorsy look, with tousled brown hair, a thick beard, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a heavy flannel shirt and a well-worn jacket, his jeans tucked into sturdy hiking boots. His face was etched with worry, but he approached them with a purposeful stride.

"I'm Mark Callahan," he said, extending a hand. "I work with Lindsay."

Piper shook his hand, noting the firm grip. "Piper Woods, and this is Wade. Were you and Lindsay close?"

Mark swallowed hard. "Close enough. Not dating or anything like that, but we're friends." He shook his head, and Piper had the impression he was fighting back tears. "I just really hope this was nothing more sinister than an accident."

"So do we," Piper said. "What can you tell us about Lindsay?"

"She's one of the best environmental scientists I know. She’s passionate, meticulous, a real zealot—you have to be to come out here to study extremophiles." He chuckled, but he didn't seem to find his own joke very funny.

"When did you realize she was missing?"

"Just a few hours ago. This morning, she went to check on some moss samples she found yesterday. She was supposed to radio back this afternoon, but I haven’t heard anything."

Wade glanced around the camp, assessing the setup. "Is there anyone else here who might have seen or heard from her?"

Mark shook his head. "It’s just the two of us out here right now. The rest of the team is at the main research facility, about twenty miles from here."

Piper looked at Mark, noting the concern in his eyes. "Describe Lindsay for us. What was she wearing when she left?"

"She’s about five-six, with dark hair tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing a green parka, black snow pants, and a red knit hat. She took her usual gear—her camera, GPS, and a small pack with samples and tools."

Piper exchanged a look with Wade. "We’ll start by retracing her steps. Can you show us where she was headed?"

Mark nodded, his face etched with worry. "Of course. Follow me."

"How long have you known Lindsay?" Wade asked, glancing at Mark as they navigated the narrow path.

"About five years," Mark replied. "We met at a conference on environmental science and hit it off right away. She’s incredibly dedicated to her work—one of the most driven people I’ve ever met."

Piper nodded, keeping her eyes on the trail ahead. "Has she ever gone off the grid like this before? Any reason to believe she might have just…lost track of time?"

Mark shook his head. "No, she’s always been reliable. Even when she’s deep in her research, she keeps to her schedule. This isn’t like her at all."

"Did she mention anything unusual or out of the ordinary recently?" Piper asked.

"Not really," Mark said, furrowing his brow. "She was excited about some moss samples she found. She said they were unlike anything she’d seen before. But other than that, nothing out of the ordinary."

Wade glanced at Piper, then back at Mark. "Has she ever talked about feeling watched or mentioned anyone suspicious hanging around?"

Mark shook his head.

"Can you think of anyone who might have a reason to harm her?" Piper asked. "Any conflicts, professional or personal?"

Mark shook his head again. "No, Lindsay is well-liked and respected. She doesn’t have any enemies that I know of. She’s dedicated to her work and stays out of trouble. If someone attacked her…" He sighed. "It just doesn't make any sense."

As they pressed on, the trees grew denser and the path became more challenging.

"How far did she usually go for her research?" Wade asked, watching Mark closely.

"Not too far from camp," Mark replied. "She liked to stay within a couple of miles for safety reasons. We should be getting close to where she was headed."

Piper nodded, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of disturbance. "We’ll find her, Mark. We’re not giving up."

Mark gave a tight smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it. Lindsay means a lot to me, to the whole scientific community. It'll be a huge relief when she's back, safe and sound."

The trio emerged into a small clearing where the forest canopy opened up to reveal patches of vibrant green moss clinging to rocky outcrops. The area was serene, almost untouched, with sunlight filtering through the branches above and casting dappled shadows on the ground. The clearing was quiet, save for the gentle rustle of branches in the wind.

"This is where she was gathering samples," Mark said, his voice tinged with both relief and worry. "She must have been here recently."

Piper nodded, her gaze sweeping the area. "Thanks, Mark. You’ve been a big help. We’ll take it from here. You should head back to base camp and stay by the radio in case she tries to contact you."

Mark hesitated, looking around the clearing one last time. "Alright. Please find her."

"We will," Wade said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We’ll let you know as soon as we have any news."

Mark nodded, his face a mask of concern, before turning to make his way back down the trail toward the base camp. Piper and Wade watched him go, then turned their attention back to the clearing. The silence of the forest pressed in around them, heightening their awareness of every small sound and movement.

Piper took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Let's see if we can figure out what happened here," she said, moving further into the clearing.

Piper scanned the ground, looking for anything out of place. She moved carefully, her breath visible in the cold air. Wade followed her lead, both of them attuned to the slightest hint of disturbance in the tranquil clearing.

Piper's gaze settled on a patch of snow near the edge of the clearing. There, partially hidden by the shadows of the trees, was a set of footprints. She crouched down, her heart rate picking up as she studied them more closely. The prints were larger than Lindsay’s, clearly made by a man’s boot.

"Wade," she called softly. "Take a look at this."

Wade knelt beside her, his expression darkening as he took in the size and direction of the footprints.

"He was here," Wade said.

Piper nodded. "And he was watching her. But then their trails part ways. The question is…do they later intersect?"

CHAPTER TEN

"So," Wade said, "whose tracks do we follow: Lindsay's or the man's?"

Piper chewed her lip, considering their options. "If we follow his tracks, we might catch up to him and get some answers. But if we lose Lindsay’s trail, we could miss a crucial opportunity to find her."

Piper felt the weight of the decision pressing down on her. Both options had risks, and time was of the essence. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to think clearly.

"We need to find Lindsay," she said finally. "Her safety is our top priority."

Wade nodded, his expression resolute. "Agreed. We can double back and follow his tracks later if we need to."

With their decision made, Piper and Wade began following Lindsay’s tracks, which seemed to be heading back toward the base camp along a different route from the one Piper and Wade had taken. The prints were clear in the snow, leading them along a path through the dense forest. As they moved, Piper kept a close eye on the ground, looking for any signs of disturbance.

After a little while, the tracks suddenly veered off to the side, as if Lindsay had been distracted by something. Piper crouched down, studying the new direction the tracks took. She noticed the prints had become deeper and more spaced out, indicating that Lindsay had started moving faster.

"She was in a hurry," Piper said. "Something must have caught her attention."

Wade looked around, scanning the area for any clues. "Was she running toward something, or away from something?"

"Only one way to find out," Piper murmured.

They followed the tracks, moving quickly but carefully. The path led them away from the main trail, deeper into the forest. Piper’s heart pounded in her chest as she pushed through the underbrush, the cold air biting at her face.

Suddenly the underbrush gave way and Piper found herself in a small, hidden clearing. The first thing Piper noticed were clear signs of a struggle—disturbed snow, broken branches, and scattered leaves. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what must have happened.

"This is where he attacked her," she said in a low, hollow voice.

Wade knelt down, examining the scene. "It looks like she tried to fight back. There’s no blood, so that’s a good sign. But where did they go?"

Piper didn't have to read the tracks to find out. A short distance away, she could just make out the entrance to a cave. Her heart sank.

That was where they would find her, barring some miracle.

Wade, noticing the cave, cursed under his breath. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see what we see."

They cautiously made their way into the cave, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. This cave was smaller than the ones where the previous victims had been found, its walls close and claustrophobic. There were no stalactites or stalagmites here, only smooth, cold stone.

Piper’s breath caught in her throat as her flashlight beam landed on a figure tied to a large stone in the center of the cave. The woman fit Lindsay Torres’s description perfectly. Her skin was pale and lifeless, her eyes closed as if in sleep. Piper’s heart ached at the sight; it was clear she had died of exposure.

"Shit!" Wade said, his voice filling the confined space. The ceiling seemed to vibrate above them, spilling dust on their heads.

"Careful," Piper murmured. "It wouldn't take much to bring this place down."

Lowering her gaze from the ceiling, she studied the room more carefully. In front of Lindsay’s body was an ice sculpture, a miniature that looked strikingly like the dead woman. The delicate features, the contours of her face, even the details of her clothing were all captured with chilling accuracy. The small sculpture gleamed in the dim light.

"It's like he was making a portrait of her," Wade said. "Her likeness trapped in ice."

***

As darkness fell outside, Piper examined the numerous sculptures—taken from all three crime scenes—arranged on the folding table. Each sculpture was a testament to the killer’s meticulous craftsmanship, haunting in their precision and beauty.

The task of transporting the ice sculptures from the caves to the tent had been a logistical challenge. Given the size and fragility of the pieces, the team had had to be extremely careful. They'd used insulated crates lined with foam padding to protect the sculptures from damage during the hike, pulling the crates on specially designed sleds. It had been a slow, challenging process on the narrow hiking trails, but the hard work had paid off.

Piper could've simply taken examined photographs, but that seemed insufficient for her purposes. She'd wanted all the sculptures in one place so she could examine them together and walk around them, viewing them from every angle.

The first cave had yielded several sculptures, each distinct and unsettling. One was a cabin, the walls comprising its walls gleaming like ribs. Beside the cabin were smaller sculptures of flowers, trees, and what looked to be boulders.

The second cave had contained more of the same, a bizarre collection of ice art that included not just human figures but also animals. There was a majestic eagle, wings outstretched as if about to take flight. Near it stood a wolf, its icy fur bristling with an almost lifelike texture.

The third cave, where they'd found Lindsay, had held only two sculptures: one a rough and unshaped chunk of ice, the other a miniature version of Lindsay herself. Piper figured the first sculpture was one the killer had abandoned, either because he ran out of time or lost interest.

The second sculpture, however, was as beautiful as the other was crude. The attention to detail on the miniature was extraordinary—the way Lindsay's hair was tied back in a ponytail, the contours of her face, even the texture of her clothing. This sculpture seemed more personal, almost as if the killer had spent extra time ensuring every detail was perfect. The resemblance to Lindsay was uncanny.

What was the killer trying to communicate through these sculptures? What did they all mean?

As she stood there, the cold air seeping into the tent, Piper felt the weight of the investigation pressing down on her. These sculptures were more than just a representation of the victims—they were a window into the mind of the killer, a glimpse of the darkness that drove him. She had to understand them if she was ever going to stop him.

Just then, Wade entered the tent, his expression a mix of weariness and determination.

"Any luck looking into the victims?" Piper asked.

Wade shook his head. "As far as I can tell, none of them knew each other, and they didn’t have any friends in common."

Piper frowned, trying to piece together the fragments of information they had. "What about the remark Emily Williams made? She mentioned that Rita had recently gone through a bad breakup."

Wade nodded, recalling the conversation. "Yeah, I looked into that. Her ex-boyfriend’s name is Marcus Flint. He was in Salt Lake City at the time of Rita’s murder."

Piper raised an eyebrow. "How solid is his alibi?"

"Pretty solid," Wade replied. "He was attending a marketing conference—several other vloggers vouched for him."

Piper sighed, feeling the frustration mount. She stared at the ice sculptures again, which seemed to mock her inability to connect the dots.

Wade glanced at the sculptures, his brow furrowed. "Any luck with these?"

Piper shook her head, frustrated. "No, nothing yet. I was thinking we should investigate ice sculptors in the area. Can we use your laptop?"

Wade looked around the cold, unheated tent, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Not in here, that's for sure. Let's head over to the heated tent."

Piper nodded, and they made their way out of the tent, trudging through the snow toward the small heated shelter. As they stepped inside, the warmth was a welcome relief. The tent was modest, with just enough space for a folding table, two chairs, and a small portable heater that hummed softly in the corner. A thermos of coffee and a couple of mugs sat on the table, along with Wade's laptop and a scattering of papers.

The heat enveloped them, making the space feel cozy and intimate. Piper couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness as she and Wade settled into the tent. The soft light from the lantern cast a warm glow, creating a small oasis of comfort in the otherwise harsh and unforgiving environment of the mountains.

Wade opened his laptop, the screen casting a pale blue light in the dim tent. "Alright, let’s see what we can find about local ice sculptors," he said, his fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to dig into their next lead.

As Wade typed away on his laptop, Piper leaned over his shoulder, watching the screen intently as they sifted through profiles and portfolios. They came across several sculptors, each with impressive resumes and unique styles. Each of them, however, had alibis for the times of the murders. One had been in Europe for a series of art shows, another had been hospitalized with a severe case of pneumonia, and the third had been working on a massive ice sculpture in Alaska.

Three strikes so far.

Piper sighed. "There's got to be a way to narrow the search. What if you cross-reference sculptors with caves? We might get lucky."

"I guess it's worth a shot," Wade murmured, though it was clear from his tone that he wasn't optimistic.

He entered the details into the search engine. Then, as he scrolled, Piper suddenly grabbed his arm.

"There," she said, noticing a photograph of an ice sculpture in a cave. "Ivan Merrick. Click on that article."

Wade did so. The article was an interview with Merrick in which he talked about his interest in caves and how they made perfect studios for his art. He claimed he often used these natural formations to create and display his sculptures.

Piper’s pulse quickened. "Can you find him on social media?"

Wade tapped away at the keyboard. Within moments, he had Ivan Merrick's profile pulled up. The latest post, published earlier that day, included pictures of Merrick's gear along with a brief caption: Heading out for a solo climb. Camping in the mountains for the next few days to find inspiration.

Piper scanned the post, her heart racing. "He’s out there now—and if he is the killer, he could be hunting again."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Piper and Wade set out along the mountain trail, the darkness of night enveloping them. The beams of their flashlights cut through the blackness, illuminating the path ahead. The air was crisp, their breath visible in the cold.

Wade glanced at Piper, concern etched on his face. "Maybe we should wait until morning. If one of us tweaks an ankle out here, things could get bad in a hurry."

Piper set her jaw. "We don’t have time to wait, Wade. Every minute counts. If Merrick is out here, we need to find him before he moves—or before he has a chance to hurt anyone else."

Wade was not so easily convinced. "We're up in the mountains at night. Nobody's gonna fly a helicopter out here to rescue us if one of us gets injured."

"I don't need a helicopter."

"You're not the one I'm worrying about."

Piper glanced at him. He had a point—he was a bear of a man, so he had to be putting a good deal of stress on his legs as he waded through this snow.

"If you want to go back," she said, "go ahead."

He stared at her, looking sad—almost disappointed. "You know I'm not going to do that."

She said nothing, just looked at him. It made her uncomfortable, the way he hinted at the depth of his feelings for her. She cared about him, too, yes, but she sensed that if he had his way, they'd be going a hundred miles an hour—marriage, kids, who knew what else.

We've got a good thing going, she thought. No need to ruin it by moving too quickly.

"If we don't find any sign of him in the next hour," he said, "we turn around and march right back. We're not tramping all over the mountain searching for him, alright?"

Piper nodded. "Okay." It seemed like a fair compromise.

They pressed on through the snow. The trail wound through dense forest, the trees towering above them like silent sentinels. The only sounds were the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Wade stayed close, his flashlight sweeping the path ahead. "If we stick to this trail, it should lead us to the area where Merrick was last seen. We’ll need to keep an eye out for any signs of his camp."

Piper nodded, her eyes scanning the darkness for any clues. "We’re going to find him, Wade. We’re going to stop him."

The trail grew steeper as they ascended, the incline becoming more challenging with each step. Eventually they reached an area that was nearly vertical, a sheer cliff face rising dauntingly before them. The rock was slick with patches of ice glowing in the moonlight.

Wade stared up at the cliff, running his flashlight beam along it. "You've got to be kidding me."

Piper assessed the cliff, her eyes tracing possible handholds and footholds. She knew it would be risky to climb it, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. "Come on," she said, keeping her voice light. "We'll be fine. Just follow my lead."

"You do realize I weigh twice as much as you do, right? There's gotta be a way around."

"It’ll take too long. We can climb this—I’ve done it before."

"Maybe you have, but I sure as hell haven't. If I try going up that thing, I'll crash back down like Humpty-Dumpty. Good luck putting me back together again." He snorted.

Piper placed a hand on Wade's shoulder and looked up into his eyes. "Lawrence," she said, using his first name as if she were a teacher speaking to a stubborn student, "I need you to go out on a limb and trust me, okay? I'll be right beside you, telling you what to do. I know you can do this."

"That makes one of us," Wade muttered.

"Just take it one step at a time, one handhold at a time. Before you know it, you'll be having the time of your life."

Wade snorted again. "Next thing you'll be trying to sell me a bridge in Brooklyn." He lifted his hat, rubbed at his bald head, and then tugged the hat back on again. "Well, I can see you're not gonna listen to reason. Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit," Piper said. Then, without thinking, she stood on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Wade stared at her, blinking like a bashful bear, and Piper allowed herself a brief smile before spinning around and starting to climb.

"Come on, Wade," she said. "One handhold at a time."

Wade grumbled something under his breath, then began his ascent. Piper waited for him, pointing out places for him to grab hold. As he began scrambling upward, she braced him with her hand, helping him balance.

"You’re doing great," she said. "You should start teaching classes."

Wade laughed, his voice strained. "They'd sue my ass off."

Piper laughed, too, as she continued to climb. It felt good to lift the mood for a change.

Then, just as Piper was looking up to see how much more climbing they had to do, Wade cursed as his boot slipped on a patch of ice. He skidded downward, his hands grasping desperately for something to hold.

Piper caught his hand and was nearly yanked off the cliff by his weight. At the same time, however, his heel caught on a lip of ice, just enough to take most of his weight off her.

"You didn't think I was going to let you go that easily, did you?" she asked, grimacing.

"It'd make both of our lives a lot simpler," Wade muttered.

As they neared the top, Wade's breath came in heavy gasps. He struggled to pull himself up the last few feet, his muscles trembling with effort. Piper was there, her hand outstretched to help him over the edge.

"See?" she said with a grin. "I knew you could do it."

Wade stood, shaking out his tired muscles. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Let’s keep moving before I realize I should be dead."

The terrain was more level now, and Piper spotted the glow of a fire up ahead. There were a few objects visible in the glow of the flames: logs, dark against the snow, and a small tent.

Piper and Wade exchanged a glance, their breath visible in the cold air. "Let's see if anyone's home," Wade said, his voice low.

They moved quietly. The fire popped and crackled, spitting small embers that sizzled in the snow. There was no sign of anyone around, though it was possible someone was sleeping in the tent. It wouldn't be a surprise, given the lateness of the hour.

They approached the tent warily, flashlights cutting through the darkness. Piper reached out, hesitating for a moment before pulling back the flap. Inside, the tent was empty, though it looked recently occupied. A sleeping bag lay unrolled, and there were personal items scattered about—clothing, a backpack, and several chisels that Merrick likely used for his ice sculptures.

"He's not here," Piper said, puzzled. She glanced at the fire, noting that some of the logs hadn't even blackened. They must've been put in the fire very recently, which meant—

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" a voice demanded.

Piper and Wade froze, turning slowly to face the source of the voice. A man stood a few yards away, his figure partially obscured by the shadows of the trees. He held a rifle, its barrel trained directly on them, and his face was hidden behind a ski mask. The flickering light of the fire cast a menacing glow on his rugged features.

"Easy there," Piper said, raising her hands slightly to show they meant no harm. "We’re not here to cause trouble. My name is Piper Woods, and this is Wade. We’re with the Bureau."

The man’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the rifle tightening. "The Bureau? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"We're investigating a series of crimes in the area," Wade explained, keeping his voice calm. "We believe Ivan Merrick might be involved. We saw signs of a camp and thought we might find him here."

The man didn’t lower his rifle, but his expression shifted slightly, as if considering their words. "Merrick? He’s not here. I haven’t seen him."

Piper glanced at Wade, then back at the man. "Do you know him?"

The man shrugged one shoulder. "I know who he is, but I haven’t seen him. I’m out here camping by myself. Haven’t seen anyone else around, in fact—nobody except that dodgy old fellow in the watchtower, I guess. Earl something-or-other."

Was he lying? Piper had a pretty good idea what Merrick looked like from the articles she'd seen online, but this man's mask made an effective disguise. She would have liked him to remove the mask, but considering the fact that he was putting a rifle at them, she didn't think she was in a position to make demands.

Piper lowered her hands slightly, trying to convey trust. "When was the last time you did see Merrick?" she asked, deciding to play along and act as if this man wasn't Merrick.

The man’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. "You said you’re with the Bureau?"

Wade slowly reached into his jacket and pulled out his badge, holding it up for the man to see. "We've got proof if you need it."

The man studied the badge, but said nothing. If it put his mind at ease, he didn't show it.

"I don't think we got your name," Piper said.

The man hesitated before answering, "Jack Collins."

"How long have you been out here, Mr. Collins?"

Collins shifted his weight, still holding the rifle but no longer pointing it directly at them. "A few days. Just needed some time away, you know? Away from people."

Piper exchanged a quick glance with Wade. Collins's vague response rang false in her ears. "Have you heard or seen anything unusual while you’ve been out here?"

Collins shrugged, his expression guarded. "Just the usual sounds of the forest. Haven’t seen anyone around."

"Think we could see your ID?" Wade asked, trying to sound casual.

Jack tensed, his grip tightening on the rifle again. "What, you don't trust me?"

"It's just a matter of protocol, Mr. Collins," Piper said.

Collins grunted. "Protocol, huh? You expect me to believe you ask everyone that question?"

Wade smiled politely. "Now you see, Mr. Collins, the fact that asking to see your wallet is turning into such a big deal—well, that really gives me pause. Makes me wonder why you don't want us to see it."

Collins's expression hardened, and for a split second, Piper saw something shift in his eyes—something that made her stomach tighten with dread. "Ain't about hiding anything," he muttered. "I left my wallet back in my truck, so I can't show it to you, anyway."

Awfully convenient, Piper thought.

"Where's your truck parked?" she asked.

Collins's eyes narrowed, and he pointed vaguely to the east. "About a mile that way. I prefer to camp away from the roads."

"Why'd you choose this spot?" Wade asked, his tone casual. "It’s pretty remote."

Collins shrugged, his grip still firm on the rifle. "Like I said, I needed to get away. Too many people back in town. Gotta clear your head sometimes, know what I mean?"

"Makes sense," Wade said in a companionable tone. "You know, we could clear this whole thing up pretty quickly if you'd just take your mask off."

Collins stared back at Wade. "I'm not gonna do that. Now, how about you turn around and—"

"Do you do a lot of ice sculpting?" Piper asked.

Collins stared at her, puzzled. "What?"

"I couldn't help noticing those tools lying over there." She gestured toward the chisels. "Are those Merrick's, or are you going to pretend you just happen to be into ice sculpting, too?"

Collins stared at her, gritting his teeth. Then he shook his head, angry.

"I wish you hadn't said that," he said, raising the rifle.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wade sprang forward, barreling into Collins just as the rifle went off. The bullet cut through the air, whizzing past Piper's ear and splintering the bole of a pine.

The two men rolled to the ground. Then Collins sprang to his feet, swinging a knife. The rifle lay lost in the undergrowth.

"Easy, there," Wade said, raising his hands in warning. "You sure you want to do this?"

Piper’s heart pounded as she watched the blade glint in Collins’s hand. She edged to the side, hoping to get behind him while Wade kept him distracted.

Collins's eyes darted between Wade and Piper, wild with desperation. "Stay back! I won't go back to jail."

Wade kept his voice calm, his eyes locked on the knife. "You don’t have to make this worse. Just put the knife down, and we can talk."

Collins’s eyes flicked to Piper, who had managed to edge closer. "Stay where you are!" he shouted, the knife flashing in the light.

Piper stopped, hands raised. "Alright, alright. We’ll stay put. Just tell us why you’re out here."

Collins hesitated, his eyes flicking between them. "I told you, I’m just camping."

Wade took a cautious step forward, his hands still raised. "Come on, man. You really expect us to believe that? You tried to shoot my partner because of those chisels. Just admit that you're Ivan Merrick."

Collins’s grip tightened on the knife, but his resolve seemed to waver. "I'm going to walk away now," he said. "Don't follow me." He began to edge away.

"You won't get far," Wade said.

"No? We'll see about that. I know these woods pretty well. If you think you can find me again out here—" Just then, while walking backward, he stumbled on a root. Piper saw her chance and lunged forward, aiming for his arm. Collins reacted quickly, slashing at her with the knife, but she managed to dodge the blow, grabbing his wrist with both hands.

Wade moved swiftly, tackling Collins and knocking him to the ground. The knife clattered away, out of reach. Collins struggled, kicking and twisting, but Wade pinned him down, using his weight to keep him immobile.

Collins thrashed, but Wade’s hold was too strong. "Get off me! You don’t understand!" he shouted, his voice edged with panic.

Wade ripped the mask off Collins' face, revealing none other than Ivan Merrick. He stopped struggling, breathing heavily. "Just get off me, would you?"

Piper glanced at Wade, who nodded. Slowly, they eased off Merrick, keeping a wary eye on him as they let him sit up. Piper picked up the knife, tucking it into her belt.

"Alright," she said, blowing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Now talk."

Collins rubbed his wrists, glaring at them. "My name is Ivan Merrick. I was just trying to stay off the radar. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble."

"Why didn’t you want us to know your identity, Merrick?" Piper asked.

Merrick glared at them, his eyes burning with resentment. "You have no idea what you’re dealing with," he said. "If my identity gets out, it’s not just me who’s at risk. You have no idea how deep this goes."

Piper’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that? Who are you protecting?"

Merrick looked away, a mix of fear and defiance in his eyes. "I’m not a killer, but I have secrets. Secrets that people with a lot of power and influence want to keep buried. If you expose me, it’s not just my life that’s at stake."

"What kind of secrets are we talking about?" Wade asked.

Merrick’s face hardened. "Before I started working as an ice sculptor, I was involved in something...something illegal. I was part of a smuggling ring, okay? Art, artifacts, you name it. We moved valuable items across borders, under the radar."

Piper’s eyebrows shot up. "And you’re saying this smuggling ring is still in operation?"

Merrick nodded, his expression grim. "Yes. And the people who run it are not the kind you want to cross. They’re dangerous, and they have eyes everywhere. If they find out I’ve been caught, they’ll assume I’m talking. They’ll come after me—and after you for capturing me."

Piper felt a chill run down her spine. "Why did you come out here, then? Why hide in the mountains?"

Merrick sighed. "I left the smuggling ring years ago, tried to start fresh with my ice sculpting. But you can never really escape that life. I thought I was safe out here, away from prying eyes. When you showed up asking questions, I panicked. I heard about the murders and the ice sculptures, so when you saw those chisels, I knew you weren't going to let me go. But I couldn’t let you take me in without a fight."

Wade glanced at Piper, his eyes narrowed in thought, then turned his attention back to Merrick. He pulled a trio of photographs from his pocket—the three murdered women. "You recognize any of these women?" he asked.

Merrick leaned forward to study the photos. Then he shook his head. "Never seen them before. I'm guessing they're dead?"

"Where were you yesterday morning?" Piper asked.

"In Denver for an ice sculpting exhibition. You can check with the event organizers."

Wade pulled out his phone, making a note. "And two nights ago?"

"Aspen, teaching a workshop. There were about twenty students, plus staff at the venue. They’ll all vouch for me."

Piper frowned, considering his words. "And last night?"

Merrick’s eyes clouded, as if pained. "I was at my sister’s house in Boulder. Her son was in the hospital, and I was there to support them. That's when I heard about the murders on the news. You can call my sister—she’ll confirm I was there."

Wade looked at Piper, his expression thoughtful. "We'll look into those dates."

Merrick swallowed, looking relieved. "Does that mean I can go?"

"You just aimed a rifle at a federal officer," Piper said. "You can kiss your little camping trip goodbye."

She pulled out her handcuffs. Merrick shook his head, pale. "You're making a terrible mistake."

"Then we're making a mistake," Wade said. "You ain't got a choice here."

Merrick tensed as if ready to make a run for it, but Wade grabbed his arm.

Though Piper suspected by now that Merrick was probably innocent, it would be helpful to have him in custody while they verified his alibis, just in case it turned out he was lying again. As she and Wade led him down the trail, however, she found herself wondering how many other camps might be hidden in the vastness of these mountains.

And whether one of them might be the den of a serial killer.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Piper paced back and forth in the small, heated tent, the warmth doing nothing to soothe her nerves. Wade sat at the folding table, his laptop open as he typed away, investigating Ivan Merrick’s alibis.

"Any luck?" she asked, glancing at Wade.

Wade nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the screen. "I reached out to the event organizers in Denver. They confirmed Merrick was at the ice sculpting exhibition during the time of the first murder. His attendance is well-documented."

Piper felt a mix of relief and frustration. "What about the workshop in Aspen?"

Wade’s fingers flew over the keyboard. "I’m waiting to hear back from the staff, but I found some photos online. Merrick’s in a few of them, with timestamps that align with the time frame of the second murder. It looks solid."

Piper sighed, rubbing her temples. "And his sister in Boulder?"

"I left a message. If she confirms he was there, it’ll back up his story for the third murder."

Piper nodded. They needed to be thorough. If Merrick's alibis held up, they would have to go back to square one.

"It’s looking more and more like Merrick is innocent," she said, a trace of frustration in her voice. "So what’s our next step?"

Wade leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Sleep?"

Piper gave him a look.

"What?" Wade asked, shrugging. "I was serious. I don't know about you, but I'm running on fumes here."

"Well, sometimes that's the job." She smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"Fair enough. But we don't even have a lead here. We're just…" He stifled a yawn. "I don't want us to run ourselves into the ground for no reason, that's all."

A notification popped up on the screen.

"What's that?" Piper asked.

Wade leaned forward. "A message from someone on staff at that workshop Merrick said he attended in Aspen. Looks like his alibi checks out." He exhaled, closing his laptop. "That settles it. Merrick is definitely not our guy."

Piper’s shoulders slumped, the weight of disappointment pressing down on her. She stared at the table, frustration gnawing at her insides. "Damn it," she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Wade watched her, concern etched on his face. "It's not just about this case, is it? You're thinking about Byron Gray, too."

Piper looked away, her jaw tight. "Every moment I spend on this case is a moment I’m not looking for him. He’s out there somewhere…and I have no idea where. For all I know, he's sitting outside that hospital right now, figuring out how to get to my mother."

Wade watched her with solemn eyes. "What makes you so sure he won't target you directly?

A cold shiver ran down Piper’s spine. "I’ve thought about that. But I don't think it's his style. He knows he can hurt me more by going after the people I care about."

Wade nodded slowly. "A real psychopath. But we'll catch him, Pip. His days are numbered."

Piper nodded back, though she wasn't much comforted by this. As her eyes roved over the cluttered table, they landed on the maps and files strewn about. An idea sparked in her mind. "Wait a minute," she said suddenly. "We still haven't mapped out the caves."

Wade frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Marking where the victims were found. Maybe there’s a pattern we’re missing."

"Okay," Wade said slowly, grabbing a paper map from his bag and spreading it out on the folding table. "I suppose it's worth a shot."

Piper pinpointed the spots where the bodies of Rita Williams, Anna Clarke, and Lindsay Torres had been discovered. As they connected the dots, a pattern started to emerge. Piper’s eyes narrowed as she traced her finger along the map.

"Look at this," she said, her voice growing more excited. "There’s a trail that runs near all three caves. Cowen’s Folly."

Wade peered at the map, his brow furrowing. "Why haven't we heard of this trail before? Why hasn't anyone mentioned it to us?"

Piper shrugged. "By the look of it, it's not a well-known trail—the name of the trail is so small, you can barely read it. It's probably used by experienced hikers and climbers who want to avoid the main routes."

Wade tapped his chin thoughtfully. "We should talk to someone who knows more about it—one of the rangers, maybe, or a local guide. Someone familiar with the less-traveled paths and hidden spots."

Piper looked at Wade. "What did Merrick say about that Earl fellow?"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The man crouched beneath the tree, his breath coming in shallow, controlled bursts. He scanned the small clearing below, where two tents were set up: one large and one small. The larger tent was dark and silent, but the smaller, heated tent glowed softly, casting the shadows of two figures moving inside. Investigators.

What do they know? he thought. Are they on to me?

He tightened his grip on the tree trunk, the bark rough against his gloves. He had been careful, meticulous even. How could they have traced anything back to him? The thought gnawed at him. Had he missed something? Left a clue he wasn’t aware of in one of the caves?

No, they can’t know. They can’t possibly know.

But the doubt lingered, eating away at his confidence. He had seen them poring over maps, their faces tense with concentration. What had they found? What had he overlooked?

The man shook his head, trying to silence the voices arguing in his mind. He had to stay calm, think clearly. Panic would only make things worse. He glanced back at the tents, the shadows still moving, the investigators deep in discussion.

He had managed to stay one step ahead so far, but the noose was tightening. He could feel it. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline making his hands shake. He couldn’t afford to slip up now. If they caught him, they would put him away for the rest of his life.

He wasn't about to give up his freedom.

The man crouched lower, blending into the darkness, his eyes never leaving the small tent. The investigators were relentless, but so was he. If they thought they could catch him, they had another thing coming.

The man watched intently as the two investigators emerged from the smaller tent, each carrying a backpack. They exchanged a few words, their breath visible in the cold night air. To his surprise, they appeared to be preparing for a hike. He frowned, perplexed by their decision to venture out in such harsh conditions.

It must be a promising lead. Have they called in backup? They won't bring in a helicopter this time of night, but search parties…

He imagined a tide of people combing through the mountains like ants, searching for him. He shuddered. He felt an instinctive urge to turn the other way and run, but no—he was not going to go hide in his burrow like some animal. Whatever they knew—or thought they knew—about him, he wanted to find out.

No matter how risky it might be.

As the investigators started down the trail, their flashlights cutting through the darkness, the man waited a few moments before rising to his feet. He moved cautiously, keeping a safe distance. The crunch of snow underfoot was the only sound, and he took care to make as little noise as possible.

Stay calm. Stay hidden.

He trailed them through the dense forest, the towering trees providing ample cover. The investigators’ voices were low, their words indistinct, but their body language suggested urgency. Whatever they were after, it was important.

The trees began to thin, and the man noticed the faint outline of a structure up ahead. As they drew closer, the shape resolved into a lookout tower, its silhouette stark against the night sky. The investigators paused at the base, their voices too low to hear.

He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The lookout tower brought back memories he would have preferred to forget. He had run into the man who operated it before—a cantankerous old ranger who had a keen eye and a sharp tongue. The thought of another encounter made his skin crawl.

Damn it, not him. Not now.

Had circumstances been different, he might've targeted one of these two investigators—the slimmer, shorter one, who was probably a woman. But it was too risky to make such a move right now.

No, he would wait, biding his time. And if he got the opportunity later on to grab her…

Then he would strike without hesitation.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The chill of the night air gnawed at Piper’s exposed skin as she and Wade emerged from the dense forest, the towering silhouette of the lookout tower looming ahead. The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the structure, making it appear both majestic and foreboding against the star-studded sky.

Piper stopped to catch her breath, gazing up at the weathered wooden tower. "There it is," she said, her voice hushed in the stillness of the night. "This is the place."

Wade shone his flashlight up the tower’s length, illuminating the rickety steps leading to the enclosed observation deck. "I didn’t know people still did this kind of thing," he said, his breath visible in the cold air.

The lookout tower looked like it had been standing guard over the forest for decades, a silent sentinel against the threat of wildfires. The base was sturdy but worn, the wood darkened with age and exposure. Metal brackets and bolts glinted dully in the flashlight’s beam, holding the structure together. A small, hand-painted sign near the base read: 'Firewatch Tower - Est. 1952.'

Piper scanned the surroundings. The area was open, with a clear line of sight for miles around. An old dirt path, now partially obscured by overgrown grass and shrubs, wound its way up to the tower. Nearby, a small shed leaned precariously to one side, its door ajar and creaking softly in the wind.

"This place must have seen a lot," Piper mused. "Imagine the stories it could tell if it could talk."

Wade began to ascend the steps, each one groaning under his weight. "I'll settle for this Earl fellow doing the talking."

Piper followed, her flashlight casting long shadows on the worn steps. The climb was steep, and the wind howled around them, adding to the sense of isolation. As they reached the top, Piper could see the faded paint on the walls of the observation deck, the large windows giving a panoramic view of the forest below.

Wade knocked on the door, which swung open with a reluctant creak. Inside, the cabin was sparsely furnished with a wooden table, a couple of chairs, and an old stove. Maps and charts covered the walls, alongside yellowed photographs and notes pinned haphazardly.

An older man with graying hair and a weathered face stood in front of them. His clothes were rumpled—it appeared they had woken him up. He blinked at them, his eyes adjusting to the light.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Piper stepped forward, extending a hand. "I’m Agent Piper Woods, and this is Agent Wade. We’re with the Bureau. We need to ask you some questions."

Earl eyed them warily before shaking Piper’s hand with an exaggerated flourish. "Earl’s the name, Earl Thistle wood. You two lost? Or just out for a midnight stroll?" He let out a chuckle that sounded almost maniacal in the quiet of the night. "Not many folks come up here at this hour, that’s for sure."

Wade glanced around the room, noting the vintage radio set and the stack of logs by the stove. "We’re looking into some recent activity in the area. We were hoping you could help us with information about any caves along Cowen’s Folly."

Earl’s expression softened slightly, giving way to a thoughtful demeanor. "Cowen’s Folly, huh? Been a while since I heard anyone mention that trail. Come on in, come on in. Don’t mind the mess." He chuckled again, motioning for them to enter.

Piper and Wade exchanged a glance before stepping inside. The interior of the tower was cluttered but cozy, filled with an eclectic mix of old books, survival gear, and personal mementos. Earl shuffled over to the stove and stoked the fire, the warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room.

"So, what brings you two up here in the dead of night?" Earl asked, settling into a chair and gesturing for them to sit.

Piper took a seat, trying to focus Earl’s attention. "We’re investigating a series of murders. The bodies were found in caves along Cowen’s Folly. We were hoping you could tell us about any other caves or hidden spots in that area."

Earl scratched his head, his gaze drifting to a map on the wall. "Cowen’s Folly... I remember when that trail was first blazed. Dangerous place, lots of hidden nooks and crannies. You know, back in '67, I found a whole family of raccoons living in a cave up there. Smart little critters. They’d figured out how to open my food stash. Had to outsmart them with a bear-proof container." He laughed, lost in the memory.

Piper exchanged another glance with Wade, who tried to steer the conversation back on track. "About the caves… Are there any specific ones we should know about? Places someone might use to hide?"

Earl’s eyes lit up. "Oh, caves, yes! There’s a few I can think of. There’s Widow’s Hollow, a deep, dark place. Folks say it’s haunted, but I think it’s just the wind." He chuckled again, his attention already wandering. "And then there’s the Devil’s Alcove—real tricky to get to, but a great spot if you don’t want to be found."

Piper leaned forward, trying to keep him focused. "Can you show us these spots on the map?"

Earl stood up and wandered over to the wall map, tapping it with a bony finger. "Sure thing. Now, where’s my glasses... Ah, here they are!" He grabbed a pair of thick, round spectacles from the table and peered at the map. "Let’s see... Widow’s Hollow is right about here, and Devil’s Alcove is over this ridge."

Piper took note of the locations. "Thank you, Earl. This is really helpful."

Earl smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Always happy to help. Course, there are some cabins around, too—bits of private property here and there that bump up against federal land. One of those could be a good place to hide."

Piper nodded, filing that information away for later. She tried to bring the conversation back to the present. "Do you know if there are any other caves we should be aware of? Maybe ones that aren’t well-known?"

Earl nodded absentmindedly, already puttering around the room. He picked up a battered old book and started flipping through the pages. "Let me see... There was that one cave near the old mine...oh, what was it called? Ah, never mind, it’ll come to me." He set the book down and moved to a shelf cluttered with trinkets and knick-knacks.

Wade glanced at Piper, frustration starting to show. "Earl, we really need to know about any hidden caves that might not be on the official maps."

Earl turned back to them, holding a small, rusted tin in his hands. "This tin here, it belonged to my grandfather. Used to keep his tobacco in it—always smelled like peppermint and pipe smoke. Funny how certain smells can bring back memories, isn’t it?"

Piper took a deep breath, trying to keep her patience. "Are there any other caves along Cowen’s Folly?"

Earl blinked, as if suddenly remembering why they were there. "Oh, right. Caves. There’s one more...Eagle’s Nest. Real hard to get to, almost nobody goes there. But it’s a good spot if you want to stay hidden." He wandered over to the map again, tapping another spot with his finger.

Piper noted the location. "Got it. Widow’s Hollow, Devil’s Alcove, and Eagle’s Nest. Thank you, Earl."

Earl grinned, pleased to be of help. "Glad I could assist." Then he frowned, looking puzzled as they made their way to the door. "Leaving already? I was just about to put the kettle on. Stay for some tea, why don’t you?"

Piper shook her head. "Thanks, but we really need to get moving. There’s no time to lose."

Earl frowned, clearly not understanding the rush. "Well, if you’re heading out to Cowen’s Folly, you’ll need a guide. Those woods can be treacherous, especially at night."

Piper exchanged a glance with Wade, who shrugged slightly. "We’ll be fine," Piper said. "You’ve been a great help already."

But Earl was already pulling on a heavy coat and lacing up his boots. "Nonsense! You’ll get lost without me. I know every inch of those woods. Besides, it’s been a while since I had a good adventure."

Piper wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned. The old man’s knowledge of the area could be invaluable, but his eccentricity and age might slow them down. "Really, it’s not necessary. We don’t want to inconvenience you."

Earl straightened up, his eyes twinkling with a mix of determination and excitement. "Inconvenience? Why, this is the most excitement I’ve had in years! And don’t worry about me. I may be old, but I’m tougher than I look."

Wade gave Piper a look that said he was willing to go along with whatever she decided. She took a deep breath, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. But we need to move quickly."

Earl beamed, grabbing a lantern and his walking stick. "Lead the way, agents. This old firewatcher still has some spark left."

As they descended the lookout tower and headed back into the forest, Piper’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

"Hello, this is Agent Woods," she said, her voice tense.

"Agent Woods, this is Dr. Harrison. I need to talk to you about your mother."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Piper’s grip tightened on the phone, her mind racing. "Is she okay? Has something happened?"

Dr. Harrison’s voice was calm but serious. "Your mother’s condition is stable, but there have been some…complications."

Piper swallowed hard. "Complications?" Ahead of her, Wade and Earl thumped down the stairs, Earl regaling Wade with a story involving a pesky squirrel and a bottle of whiskey.

"As you know, your mother went into hypovolemic shock before arriving here," he said carefully. "We had to perform an additional procedure to address some internal bleeding. She’s in recovery now, but she’ll need close monitoring."

Piper felt a knot of worry tighten in her chest. "Internal bleeding? How serious is it?"

"It’s hard to say at this point," Dr. Harrison replied. "The next twenty-four hours are critical. We’re doing everything we can to stabilize her."

"Do I need to come back to the hospital?"

"I understand your concern, but right now, there's nothing you can do for her here except hope and pray."

Piper closed her eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. "Are you sure? I feel like I should be there."

"I understand, Agent Woods," Dr. Harrison said gently. "But there’s really nothing you can do right now. She’s in good hands. The best thing you can do is continue your work and stay strong for her. We’ll keep you updated on any changes."

Piper took a deep breath, struggling to push down her anxiety. Below her, the steps continued to clang as Wade and Earl neared the bottom of the stairs.

"Alright," she said. "Thank you, Dr. Harrison. Please call me if there’s any change."

"I will," Dr. Harrison said. "Take care, Agent Woods."

Piper ended the call and took a moment to compose herself. Wade slowed, letting the babbling firewatcher go on ahead of him, and regarded Piper with concern. "Everything okay?"

Piper shook her head slightly. "My mom had some complications. She’s stable, but it’s touch and go. They had to do another procedure. The doctor said there’s nothing I can do for her right now."

Wade placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She’s tough, Pip. Just like you. She’ll pull through."

Piper nodded, swallowing hard. "Thanks, Wade. Let’s keep moving. We need to find those caves."

"You know, I once saw a mountain lion up close on this trail," Earl was saying, his eyes gleaming with the memory. "Scared the bejeezus out of me, but I stood my ground. Showed him who was boss."

"That must have been quite an experience," Wade murmured, then rolled his eyes at Piper. She smiled, despite the bad news she'd just received.

"Oh, it was!" Earl continued, seemingly energized by the audience. "And then there was the time I had to chase off a bear that was getting too close to the tower. You learn a lot about courage living out here."

The forest around them was dense and shadowed, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The air was crisp and cold, each breath forming small clouds that quickly dissipated. Trees towered above them, their branches creaking softly in the wind, and the occasional hoot of an owl echoed through the stillness.

"You know, this trail has seen its fair share of history," Earl said, his voice animated. "Back in the '70s, we had a group of hikers who swore they saw Bigfoot around here. Came running down the mountain faster than I’ve ever seen anyone move. Turned out it was just a bear standing on its hind legs, but they were convinced."

The ground beneath their feet became uneven, a mix of dirt and roots that made each step a careful calculation. Bushes rustled occasionally, likely disturbed by nocturnal animals. Despite the cold, there was a faint, earthy scent of pine and moss, grounding them in the rugged beauty of the wilderness.

"And over here," Earl continued, gesturing to a clearing ahead, "is where we found an old boot once. Just one boot, mind you. No sign of the owner. Never did figure out that mystery."

Piper’s mind wandered as Earl’s stories filled the air, her thoughts flitting back top her mother. Maybe there really wasn't anything she could do for her mother…but shouldn't she try? Shouldn't she be there beside her, if only to hold her hand?

And what would she say? Piper thought. She'd tell you there are other people who need you a whole lot more than she does. People you can actually help save.

The path narrowed as they approached a ridge, the landscape becoming more rugged. Rocks jutted out from the ground, and the incline grew steeper. The lookout tower was far behind them now, and the forest felt deeper, more isolated.

"Watch your step here," Earl said, his voice carrying a note of genuine concern. "This part can be tricky, especially at night."

Piper and Wade carefully navigated the rocky terrain, the silence punctuated by the crunch of gravel underfoot. As they continued, the landscape opened up slightly, revealing a small, starlit clearing. The trees framed the night sky, which was dotted with countless stars, a breathtaking sight that momentarily eased Piper’s mind.

Then Piper spotted something dark against the dim landscape: a cave, its entrance partially obscured by hanging vines and fallen branches. The rocky opening yawned before them, dark and foreboding.

Earl stepped aside, gesturing grandly. "Here it is, Widow’s Hollow. Be careful in there—it’s easy to get turned around."

Piper shone her flashlight into the cave, the beam cutting through the darkness. She glanced at Wade, who nodded, and together they stepped inside, the cold air immediately enveloping them.

The cave walls were rough and jagged, covered in patches of moss. Water dripped from the ceiling, creating a steady, rhythmic sound that echoed through the cavern. The ground was uneven, a mix of rock and dirt that made their footing precarious.

Piper moved cautiously, her flashlight sweeping across the space. She was searching for any signs that the killer had been there—ice sculptures, remnants of rope, anything. Wade did the same, methodically checking every crevice and corner.

"See anything?" Piper called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wade shook his head, his expression grim. "Nothing so far. Just some trash."

They moved deeper into the cave, the air growing colder the further they went. Piper’s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anticipation and dread. They had to find something, some clue that would lead them to the killer.

But as they searched, all they found were discarded wrappers, empty cans, and other bits of trash left by previous visitors. There were no ice sculptures, no signs of recent activity. The cave was just an empty, cold space.

Piper sighed, frustration bubbling up inside her. "There’s nothing here. No sign that anyone’s been here recently."

Wade kicked a piece of debris aside, shaking his head. "It’s a dead end."

They made their way back to the entrance, where Earl was waiting, his face a mix of curiosity and concern. "Find anything?"

Piper shook her head, making no effort to hide her disappointment. "Just old trash. No sign anyone's been living here recently."

Earl frowned, his brow furrowing. "Well, there are more out there. We’ll find something."

Piper nodded, trying to keep her frustration in check. "Let’s move on to the next one."

As they stepped out of the cave, Piper took a deep breath, gathering her resolve. The search wasn’t over. They still had other caves to check, other leads to follow.

As they continued their trek through the forest, Piper couldn’t shake the feeling that they were getting closer, inch by inch. The killer was out here, and she was determined to find him, no matter how many caves they had to search.

"See that rock formation up there?" Earl said, pointing to a knobby outcropping of rock in the distance, high on a slope a few miles away. "That there's called the Giant's Elbow. There was this one time…"

Piper, tired of his anecdotes, tuned him out. She sank into her thoughts for a short distance, letting her mind wander back to the freedom of her childhood: long treks through the great Alaskan wilderness with her dad, camping under the stars and fishing upstream from bears and hewing a cabin log by log.

Then something Earl had said invaded her thoughts. She snapped her head up.

"Wait a minute," she said sharply. "What did you just say?"

He stared at her, surprised. "I was saying I tried to offer him half my ham sandwich—he looked pretty hungry—"

"Who? Who did you offer half your ham sandwich to?"

Earl shrugged. "Just some fellow I ran into, living in one of the caves around here."

Piper's heartbeat picked up, her attention fully on Earl now. "What did he look like?"

Earl scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, he was a scruffy-looking guy. Looked like he hadn’t seen a proper bed or shower in weeks. Real suspicious-like. Tried to blend in, but he was clearly out of place."

Wade stepped closer. "Which cave was this?"

Earl shrugged, motioning further up the trail. "Devil’s Alcove, I believe. I warned him he was breaking the law, living there like that. Told him he had to move on. He didn’t seem too happy about it."

Piper’s heart raced with a mix of excitement and caution. "Did he say anything to you? Anything that stood out?"

Earl nodded, his expression serious for once. "He was muttering something about staying hidden, about needing to be left alone. Had a real nervous energy about him, like he was afraid of something—or someone."

Piper exchanged a look with Wade, both of them recognizing the potential lead. "We need to check out Devil’s Alcove," she said. "Earl, can you take us there?"

Earl grinned, clearly pleased to be of use. "Of course! Follow me. It’s a bit of a hike, but I know the way."

As they followed Earl through the forest, Piper felt a renewed sense of urgency. This strange individual could be their best lead yet. If he wasn't the killer, he very well might have seen or heard something that could lead them to the killer.

The forest seemed to close in around them, the trees growing denser as they moved farther from the trail. The air was colder here, the ground more uneven. Piper’s flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing glimpses of the rugged terrain ahead.

When they finally reached the entrance to Devil’s Alcove, Piper felt a chill run down her spine. The cave’s mouth was wide and dark, like a gaping maw ready to swallow them whole. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

"Here we are," Earl said, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness. "Devil’s Alcove. Be careful in there—it’s easy to get lost."

"You're not coming in?" Wade asked.

"Me?" Earl shook his head quickly. "I prefer the fresh air." He smiled, but Piper sensed a hint of nervousness in the old man. Did he just dislike caves, or was there something particularly upsetting about this one?

Piper shone her flashlight into the cave, the beam revealing jagged walls and a rough, uneven floor. The air was noticeably colder, carrying a faint, musty odor. She made her way forward, Wade just a few paces behind her. Earl remained at the entrance, his lantern casting a warm glow that barely penetrated the darkness.

The cave was vast, with high ceilings that disappeared into shadow. Stalactites hung from above, glistening like icy daggers in the flashlight beams. The ground was uneven, strewn with rocks and debris that made each step a careful calculation. The sound of dripping water echoed around them, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Piper’s heart pounded in her chest as they ventured farther in. She kept her eyes peeled for any signs of recent activity. As they moved deeper, the beam of her flashlight caught a glimpse of something ahead—a cluster of objects against the far wall.

“Wade, over here,” she called softly, motioning for him to follow.

As they approached, the scattered objects came into focus. There was a makeshift camp: a sleeping bag, a small pile of clothes, and a few empty cans. Piper’s pulse quickened. Someone had definitely been living here.

“Looks like Earl was right,” Wade murmured, scanning the area.

Piper’s flashlight rested on the sleeping bag. It was zipped up, and there was a lump in the middle that suggested it might be occupied. Her breath caught in her throat as she and Wade exchanged a tense glance.

“Could be someone in there,” Wade whispered, his hand moving to his sidearm.

Piper nodded, her own hand resting on her weapon. They approached the sleeping bag cautiously, their flashlights illuminating every inch of the cave around them.

When they were just a few feet away, Piper signaled for Wade to cover her. There was no telling how this man might react to their presence. If he was innocent, he might be willing to talk, try to assure them he had nothing to do with the murders.

But if he was the killer…

Well, he might just assume they already had enough evidence to take him in. In that case, he probably wouldn't have much interest in talking. He might have a gun in the sleeping bag with him or a knife. Piper would prefer a gun. Much easier to deal with in close quarters.

Taking a deep breath, Piper reached out with her free hand, gripping the edge of the sleeping bag. With a swift motion, she unzipped it, ready for anything.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Diana Foster’s breath caught as she crested the ridge, the vast expanse of the Rockies spreading out before her in a breathtaking panorama. The morning sun painted the snow-capped peaks in hues of pink and gold. She paused, pulling out her camera to capture the moment, her heart racing with the thrill of discovery.

She loved these solitary adventures, far from the curated perfection of her online presence. Here, in the wild beauty of untouched nature, she felt truly alive. She adjusted her lens, framing the shot just right, the crisp air biting at her cheeks.

"Another masterpiece," she whispered to herself, snapping a series of photos. Her followers would love this—nature in its purest form, a testament to the solitude she cherished and celebrated.

Diana tucked her camera back into her bag and pulled out her journal, jotting down notes for her next blog post. She described the colors of the sunrise, the sharpness of the cold, the sense of peace that enveloped her here. Words flowed effortlessly, each sentence a tribute to the wilderness she adored.

As she wrote, movement caught her eye. A herd of deer had appeared on the slope below, their graceful forms moving silently through the snow. Diana watched, entranced, as they made their way across the landscape. She raised her camera again, capturing their journey in a series of rapid shots.

Her mind wandered as she documented the scene. Despite the beauty around her, a familiar loneliness tugged at her heart. The pressures of maintaining a perfect image for her audience weighed heavily on her, the constant need to project an idealized version of her life leaving her feeling isolated.

"One step at a time," she reminded herself, pushing the thoughts aside. This trip was about finding inspiration, reconnecting with the raw beauty of the world. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air clear her mind.

Diana packed her journal and camera away, shouldering her backpack with a renewed sense of purpose. She had a whole day of exploration ahead, and she was determined to make the most of it. Turning her gaze back to the horizon, she spotted a dense grove of evergreens in the distance. It looked like the perfect place to lose herself for a few hours, to find the solitude she craved.

With a smile, she set off down the trail, her boots crunching in the fresh snow. The sun climbed higher, casting a warm glow over the landscape. Birds sang in the trees, their songs a cheerful counterpoint to the silence of the mountains.

As Diana made her way toward the grove, her thoughts drifted to the stories she could tell, the beauty she could share with her followers. Each step brought her closer to the inspiration she sought, the elusive feeling of being truly connected to the world around her.

She was so free out here, so alone, so—

Without warning, a nagging memory surfaced—news reports about recent murders in the area. She recalled the grim details: bodies found in remote caves, victims left to freeze to death. Her mother’s worried face flashed in her mind, pleading with her to cancel the trip.

“Diana, it’s not safe out there,” her mother had insisted, her voice trembling with fear. “Especially not for you to be on your own.”

“I can look after myself, Mom,” Diana had reassured her, masking her own unease. “I’ll stick to the main trails, and besides, I have my pepper spray. I’ll be fine.”

Now, as she walked deeper into the wilderness, Diana felt the small can of pepper spray in her pocket. It was a comforting weight, a reminder that she wasn’t entirely defenseless.

She scanned the area, her senses heightened. The forest was quiet, the only sounds the crunch of her boots and the occasional rustle of leaves. She tried to shake off her unease, instead focusing on the beauty around her. This was her escape, her sanctuary. She couldn’t let fear rob her of the joy she found in these solitary moments.

As she approached the evergreens, the air grew colder, the shadows deeper. Diana took a deep breath, reminding herself why she was here. She had a story to tell, a world to share with her followers.

A sudden movement caught Diana’s eye. She turned, spotting a flash of fur darting between the trees. Curious, she watched as a sleek, auburn fox emerged from the underbrush, its keen eyes locking onto hers for a moment before it bounded away.

Diana’s heart raced with excitement. Capturing a fox in its natural habitat would make for a beautiful addition to her blog. She adjusted her backpack and followed the animal, her steps quickening as she tried to keep it in sight.

The fox moved gracefully, weaving through the trees with an effortless agility. Diana navigated the uneven terrain as best as she could, her camera ready in her hands. The forest grew denser, the sunlight struggling to penetrate the thick canopy above, casting everything in a muted, greenish light.

She pushed through a thicket, branches scratching at her jacket, but the fox remained tantalizingly out of reach. "Just a little closer," she whispered to herself, feeling the thrill of the chase.

The fox paused near a small, bubbling stream, glancing back at her as if waiting. Diana took the opportunity to snap a few photos, capturing its poised elegance. She moved slowly, careful not to startle the creature.

Suddenly, the fox darted across the stream and up a narrow path that wound its way through the trees. Diana hesitated for a moment, glancing back the way she had come. The grove of evergreens was no longer visible, hidden by the twists and turns of her pursuit. The rational part of her mind warned against venturing farther off the main trail, but the photographer in her couldn’t resist.

With a determined breath, she followed the fox up the path, her boots slipping slightly on the damp ground. The air grew colder, the shadows longer, but Diana pressed on, driven by the promise of a perfect shot.

The path led her to a small clearing surrounded by tall pines that swayed gently in the breeze. The fox stood at the edge of the clearing, looking back at her one last time before disappearing into the forest. Diana raised her camera, capturing the moment as the animal vanished from sight.

As she lowered her camera, a sense of accomplishment washed over her. She had done it—captured a moment of pure, wild beauty. The effort had been worth it. She took a moment to catch her breath, her surroundings coming into sharper focus.

But as she moved to take out her journal, an unsettling feeling crept over her. The clearing, while beautiful, felt strangely isolated. The noise of the stream and the rustling leaves seemed to fade, leaving an eerie silence in their place. Diana glanced around, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Her eyes scanned the clearing, her breath catching as she noticed a figure partially obscured by the trees on the far side. A man was there, his focus intently on a block of ice, his hands deftly carving it into an intricate sculpture.

Her initial apprehension gave way to curiosity. What was someone doing out here, in such a remote location, carving ice sculptures? She moved closer, her steps quiet and deliberate. The ice sculpture was beautiful, a delicate and elegant figure emerging from the frosty block.

"Hello?" Diana called out softly, not wanting to startle him.

The man looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, there was a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, perhaps, or recognition. He straightened, setting down his tools and wiping his hands on a rag.

"Hello there," he said. "I didn’t expect to see anyone out here."

Diana offered a friendly smile, stepping closer. "I didn’t expect to find an ice sculptor in the middle of the forest. What are you working on?"

The man gestured at the half-finished sculpture, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Just a miniature of someone I met. I find it peaceful out here, away from everything."

Diana nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie. "I know what you mean. I’m a travel blogger, always looking for inspiration in places like this. Mind if I take a closer look?"

"Not at all," he said, stepping aside to give her a better view.

Diana moved closer to examine the sculpture. It was exquisite, the ice capturing the light and refracting it into a thousand tiny rainbows. "This is incredible," she said. "You’re very talented."

"Thank you," he replied, watching her closely. "What brings you out here on this fine morning?"

She shrugged, her attention still on the sculpture. "Just looking for something unique to write about. This place is perfect—remote, beautiful, serene. And now I have a great story about an ice sculptor in the Rockies."

The man's smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’m glad you think so. It’s rare to meet someone who appreciates art the way you do."

Diana sensed a depth to his words, an understanding of the loneliness she often felt. "Do you come here often?"

"As often as I can," he said, his tone casual. "There’s something about the quiet that helps me focus. It’s like the world fades away, and all that’s left is the ice and the vision in my mind."

Diana nodded, feeling a connection to his sentiment. "I can relate. It’s why I love traveling to places like this: It gives me a chance to disconnect and find clarity."

The man studied her for a moment, then nodded. "It’s a rare thing, finding someone who understands that. Would you like to see more? I have a few other pieces inside the cave."

The offer intrigued her. Exclusive content like this could make for an amazing blog post. Still…this man was a total stranger, and they were completely alone. Wouldn't it be wiser to just go on her way?

"It's right there," the man said, jabbing his thumb toward a small, dark opening a stone's throw away. "I promise it's a lot less creepy than it looks." He smiled. Something about the smile made Diana want to trust him. She thought about the loneliness of her life and her longing to find a kindred soul…and she found herself torn between a desire to get away as fast as she could and to enter that cave and learn all she could about this man.

"Come on," he said, nudging her boot with his own. "It'll just take a minute. We didn't meet like this by chance—it's fate. Has to be."

Diana took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She found herself smiling, charmed by his friendliness. "I'd love to see your other sculptures," she said.

He smiled again. "I was hoping you'd say that."

He turned and led her toward the cave entrance, the air growing colder as they approached. She expected they would stop just a few feet in, but to her surprise, the cave continued for dozens of feet, disappearing into blackness.

She hesitated. "I don't know," she said, biting her lip.

"Come on," he said, putting a hand on her arm and tugging her forward. "You've got to see my gallery."

The touch of his hand flipped a switch in her head. She jerked free and took a step back. "Don't touch me," she warned.

He smiled patronizingly, as if dealing with an unreasonable child. "No need to be dramatic."

Diana glanced toward the glow of daylight at the entrance of the cave. "I'm gonna leave now. This was a mistake."

At the sound of her words, the man's smile fell. His eyes became as flat and lusterless as river pebbles.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, swiftly moving between her and the entrance.

Diana reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the cold metal of the pepper spray canister. The recent news reports flashed through her mind, and she thought of her conversation with her mother.

You were right, Mom, she thought. You were right.

"I'm warning you," she said. "If you don't get out of my way—"

Moving with startling speed, he grabbed her wrist just as her hand emerged with the pepper spray, the force of his grip causing the can to clatter to the ground. Diana gasped, struggling to pull away, but he was too strong.

"Let me go!" she cried, panic rising in her chest.

The man clucked his tongue. "And I thought we had so much in common."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The first light of dawn crept through the thin walls of the tent, casting a pale glow on the cluttered table inside. Piper sat hunched over a map of the area, her eyes red and heavy with exhaustion. Wade sat opposite her, his head resting in his hands as he struggled to stay awake.

Neither of them had slept at all last night. The tension and frustration hung thick in the air, the hours ticking by in a blur of worry and determination. The discovery of the empty cave had been a painful blow, leaving them with more questions than answers.

Piper traced the lines of the map with her finger, her mind racing despite the fatigue. “We must have missed something. There’s got to be another place he could be hiding.”

Wade lifted his head, rubbing his eyes. “We’ve combed through this area a dozen times, Pip. If he was ever in that cave, he’s long gone by now.”

Piper shook her head, refusing to give in to despair. “Leaving his sleeping bag like that—it smacks of desperation. I doubt he'll have gone far. It's not like he can just decide to stop killing. More than likely, it's compulsive, an obsession."

The map was marked with the locations of the known caves they had searched, including Widow’s Hollow and Devil’s Alcove. Piper’s eyes lingered on the unmarked areas, the dense forest and rugged terrain that stretched out between the trails.

“What if there’s another cave we don’t know about?” she mused. “A place that isn’t on any of the maps?”

Wade frowned, leaning in to get a closer look. "It's possible. But how do we find it? We've already talked to Earl and the Rangers. They've given us all the information they have."

Piper sighed, frustration bubbling up inside her. “I don’t know. But we can’t give up now. He’s out there, Wade. And we’re running out of time.”

She rubbed her forehead, weary of coming up short. Then she rose.

"Where are you going?" Wade asked.

“I need to take a walk,” she said, more to herself than to Wade. "I'll be back in a bit."

The cold morning air was bracing as she stepped outside. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows over the snow-covered ground. Piper’s thoughts drifted back to her mother, lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. The fear that Byron Gray might return to finish what he started gnawed at her insides.

She pulled out her phone and dialed the hospital’s number, her heart pounding as she waited for someone to pick up.

“St. Mary’s Hospital, how can I help you?” the receptionist answered.

“Hi, this is Piper Woods. I’m calling to check on my mother, Ila Woods. She’s in the ICU.”

“One moment, please.” There was a brief pause, and then a nurse came on the line. “Ms. Woods, your mother is stable. No emergencies.”

Piper let out a breath she hadn't realized she’d been holding. “Thank you. Can I talk to her? Is she awake?”

“She’s been in and out, but I can see if she's awake now. Hold on a moment.”

There was a rustling sound, and then she heard her mother’s weak voice. “Piper?”

“Mom,” Piper said, her voice breaking. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, sweetheart. But I’m hanging in there.” Ila’s voice was frail, but there was a strength in it that gave Piper hope.

“Mom, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I promise I’ll find the man who did this.”

“Piper, you don’t need to worry about me. Just take care of yourself. That’s all I want.”

"And all I want is for you to be safe. I've waited so long to see you again, Mom—I'm not going to let anyone take that from me. I want…I want things to go back to the way they were before." She paused, choked up by the flood of memories that spilled over her: swinging with her mother in the bench on the porch, sitting on her mother's shoulders and plucking apples from a tree, snuggling together by the fire on a cold winter's night while her mother told her the stories of her people…

"Piper," Ila said softly. "You know we can never really go back, right?"

"Of course I know that." The line went silent for several moments. “Is there an officer stationed outside your room?” Piper asked.

There was a rustle of cloth. "Yes, I can see someone sitting out there. Detective Walters said he’s assigned someone to stay here around the clock.”

“Good. I can’t take any chances with Byron Gray." She paused, not wanting to elaborate on her suspicions that Gray would return. She didn't need to alarm her mother.

“Piper," Ila murmured, "I’ve been thinking. What if it wasn’t Byron Gray?”

Piper frowned, her grip tightening on the phone. “What do you mean? Who else would it be?”

“You know about those people who were hunting me."

She did. Years ago, Ila had apprehended a high-level killer, a charismatic leader with a cult-like following. His acolytes had vowed vengeance on Ila, so it made sense that Ila might think one of them had attacked her.

Still, the wire her attacker had used—it was too similar to the MO of Byron Gray, the so-called 'Necklace Strangler,' for Piper not to see a connection.

Piper shook her head, though her mother couldn’t see it. “Mom, I’ve thought about that, but it doesn’t add up. Byron Gray had every reason to come after you. He wanted to hurt me, and he knew attacking you would do that.”

"How can you be so sure? Maybe they've been looking for me all this time, and they finally found me."

Piper closed her eyes, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling up inside her. “Mom, listen to me. I’ve been tracking Gray for years. He’s a twisted psychopath, and he’s the one who did this. I need you to trust me on this.”

Ila sighed, the weariness in her voice palpable. “I do trust you, Piper. I just…let's talk about something else, okay? This is giving me a headache."

"Okay," Piper said, nodding. "I didn't mean to stress you."

The line went silent for a few moments.

“Remember when we used to go camping in the summers?" Ila said suddenly. "Your father would always get up early to make some of those homemade venison sausages of his."

"And you’d scold him for waking us up with his clanging pots.”

A soft chuckle came from the other end of the line. “Yes, and you’d be the first one up anyway, eager to explore. Your father always said you had the spirit of an adventurer.”

“Those were good times,” Piper said, smiling at the memories. “I miss those days.” And I'd do anything to bring them back, she thought.

“I do, too,” Ila replied, her voice wistful. “We were a good team, the three of us.”

Piper nodded, though tears stung her eyes. “We still are, Mom. I’m doing this for us, for our family.”

“Speaking of which,” Ila said, her tone shifting slightly, “tell me about this current investigation. What are you working on?”

Piper took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. “Another serial killer."

"Good grief."

"You sure you want to hear about it? You just said you were getting a headache."

"I know, I know. Just tell me some of the basic details. I want to know what's going on in my daughter's life."

"Well, this killer's been targeting women and leaving their bodies in remote caves here in the Rockies. We think he’s an experienced ice sculptor—he leaves these intricate ice sculptures near the bodies.”

“An ice sculptor?” Ila sounded puzzled. "That's odd. Any leads so far?"

“Not really. We thought we had something solid with a guy named Merrick, but he turned out to be a dead end. Now we’re trying to map out all the caves the killer might be using and figure out his next move.”

Ila was silent for a moment, digesting the information. “It sounds like a complex case, Piper."

Piper sighed. “It is. I mean, the ice sculptures—what do they mean? Why does he leave them? They must have some significance, but I can't figure it out.”

“Maybe they’re symbolic,” Ila suggested. “Killers always have a reason behind their actions, no matter how twisted it might be. What kind of sculptures are they?”

“A mix of things. We’ve found trees, flowers, animals. They’re detailed and beautifully made, but it’s the randomness of the subjects that puzzles me. It’s like there’s no pattern.”

Ila was thoughtful. “Have you considered they might not be random? Sometimes patterns aren’t immediately obvious. What if he’s trying to tell you something?”

“Tell me something?” Piper echoed, her mind racing. “Like what?”

“Well,” Ila continued, “if the sculptures aren’t just decoration, they could be a form of communication. Maybe he’s leaving clues. Think about how artists use symbols to convey messages.”

"It makes sense," Piper said. "But if that's the case…what in the world is he trying to say?"

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Wade leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. He and Piper had been examining the sculptures for hours, their map spread out on the table between them. Piper, exhausted from lack of sleep, had been drinking coffee from a large thermos. Wade could see the toll the case was taking on her.

Piper traced a line on the map, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She seemed obsessed, her focus intense and unwavering. Wade watched her, worry gnawing at him. "Anything?" he asked.

She didn’t look up, her attention fixed on the map. "Not yet. I'll let you know if that changes."

Wade sighed. He considered remaining silent—it was abundantly obvious she would have preferred that—but he cared too much about her to do that.

"You need to take a break, Pip. Get some sleep. You’re running yourself into the ground."

Piper finally looked up, her eyes flashing with frustration. "I don’t have time to sleep, Wade. We’re close to something. I can feel it."

"And what good will it do if you collapse from exhaustion? You’re not thinking straight. You need rest."

"I don’t need rest!" Piper snapped. "I need to find this guy. Every minute we waste is another minute he could be planning his next move."

Wade shook his head, his patience wearing thin. "You’re not invincible, Pip. You can’t keep going like this. You’re going to make mistakes, and that could set us back even more in our investigation."

Piper glared at him, her frustration boiling over. "I don’t have the luxury of taking a break. I can’t let him slip through our fingers again."

Wade stood up, matching her intensity. "And I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself. You need to sleep, Piper. Just a few hours. It’ll make a world of difference."

Piper’s eyes softened for a moment, but then her resolve hardened. "I appreciate your concern, but this isn't a debate."

Wade stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Pip, please. I’m worried about you. I know how much this means to you, but you can’t do it alone. Let me help you. Let me take over for a bit while you rest."

Piper shook her head, her jaw set. "I can’t, Wade. I can’t stop now."

Wade felt a surge of frustration and helplessness. "Damn it, Piper! Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

Piper’s eyes blazed with anger. "Back off, Wade. It's not your job to babysit me."

"No, but it is my job to have your back—a job you’re making it impossible. You need to trust me."

Piper shook her head and said nothing. Apparently, she was done talking, so Wade decided to change strategies. He swiped the map from the table and rolled it up.

Piper's eyes flashed with anger. "Give that back."

"No," he replied, holding it out of her reach with his long arms. "Not until you agree to take a break. You can’t keep going like this."

Her face was a mask of fury. "I’m not playing games, Wade. Give me the map."

For a moment, Wade wondered if he had gone too far. He didn't know what would happen if he continued to push her. When she'd calmed down, would she understand he was really looking out for her, or would she hold it against him? He hoped it wouldn't be the latter…

But that was a risk he'd just have to take. For her sake.

He shook his head, his grip tightening. "I'm not giving it to you until you—"

Suddenly the tent flap rustled and a young park ranger burst in, her face pale and eyes wide with urgency. "Agents! A hiker reported seeing a stranger near Devil’s Alcove."

"And?" Wade asked.

"And this hiker was mumbling something about caves. Think it's worth checking out?"

Piper and Wade froze, the tension between them evaporating instantly. Piper snatched the map from Wade’s slackened grip and quickly folded it, her focus shifting.

"Where's the hiker now?" she asked, her tone all business.

The ranger swallowed hard. "He’s at the ranger station, giving a statement. He said the man was acting strange, carrying what looked like sculpting tools."

Wade looked at Piper, their earlier argument forgotten. "We need to get there. Now."

***

The man chatting with the ranger by the fireplace was tall and lanky, with sandy blond hair that curled at the ends. He wore a well-worn hiking jacket and had a charming smile that seemed to light up the room.

Friendly-looking guy, Wade thought. Surprised he didn't strike up a conversation with the stranger he came across.

“Agents,” the ranger said, turning to them. “This is Peter Mathis. He’s the hiker who saw the suspicious individual.”

Peter stepped forward, extending a hand to Wade. "Peter Mathis. A pleasure to meet you."

Wade shook his hand, noting the firm grip and easy confidence. “Lawrence Wade. This is Piper Woods. Can you tell us what you saw?”

Peter nodded, his expression serious. “Of course. I was on the trail near Devil’s Alcove, just taking in the scenery, when I saw this guy. He was moving quickly, almost like he didn’t want to be seen. He had a bag with him, and I could see some tools sticking out—looked like sculpting tools to me.”

Piper stepped closer, her eyes intent. “What did he look like?”

Peter scratched his chin, thinking. “Tall, lean, dark hair. He had this intense look about him, like he was on a mission. When he saw me, he kind of froze for a second, then took off into the trees.”

“Did you follow him?” Wade asked.

Peter shook his head. “No, I didn’t want to get too close. I’ve heard about the murders, and I didn’t want to take any chances. I figured it was best to report it to the rangers.”

Wade glanced at Piper, who was scribbling notes. “And he was muttering something?"

Peter nodded. "About a cave—I couldn't make heads or tails of it. He seemed a bit…I don't know…out of touch?"

Piper looked up from her notepad. “Can you show us exactly where you saw him?”

Peter’s eyes lit up with eagerness. “Absolutely. I can take you there myself if you want. I know these trails like the back of my hand. Truth be told, it would feel good to help out—it’s creepy knowing someone like that is out there.”

Wade felt a niggling unease at how eager Peter was to assist. Trying to mask his suspicion, he decided to probe a bit. “Just a few more questions before we go. Mind telling us what you do for work, Peter?"

Peter looked puzzled. "Is that really important right now?"

Wade waited.

Peter sighed. “I’m a freelance writer. I do a lot of travel pieces, outdoor adventures, that sort of thing. The Rockies are perfect for inspiration.”

Piper looked up from her notes. “Freelance, huh? That must give you a lot of flexibility.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. It’s why I love it. I get to explore places like this and write about my experiences. It’s a dream job, really.”

Wade continued, trying to keep the conversation casual. “What brings you out here this time of year? Not exactly peak tourist season.”

Peter shrugged. “I like the solitude. Plus, winter landscapes have a certain beauty that you just don’t get in the summer. I’m working on a piece about winter survival techniques.”

Piper and Wade exchanged a glance. Peter’s answers sounded smooth, almost rehearsed. Or was that just part of his charm?

“And you just happened to be near Devil’s Alcove?” Wade asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

Peter nodded again. “Yeah, I was exploring some of the less-traveled paths. That’s when I saw the guy. Figured I should report it right away.”

Wade forced a smile. “Good call. We need all the help we can get.”

Peter returned the smile, his demeanor unchanged. “Happy to help. Now should we get going, or…?”

Wade gestured, and Peter led the way. The two agents followed him outside.

Wade kept going over the man's story. Everything seemed to check out, but something still didn’t sit right. He decided to keep a close eye on their new companion as they made their way up the slope.

“It’s just a short hike from here," Peter said. "I’ll show you exactly where I saw him.”

They set off down the trail, the crisp winter air biting at their faces. Wade kept a steady pace, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. Peter moved with confidence, clearly familiar with the area.

As they approached the spot Peter had mentioned, Wade’s unease grew. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about Peter didn’t add up.

Peter stopped suddenly, pointing to a small clearing ahead. “There. That’s where I saw him.”

"Thank you," Wade said. "We'll take it from here."

He and Piper moved forward cautiously, their senses on high alert. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sound their footsteps crunching in the snow.

Wade glanced at Peter, who was watching them closely. “Anything else you can tell us?”

Peter shook his head. “No, that’s all I saw. Just him and his tools.”

Piper scanned the clearing, her eyes narrowing as she spotted something in the snow. She moved closer, crouching down to examine it. "Wade, over here," she called, her voice low but urgent.

Wade hurried to her side, glancing down at the set of tracks Piper had found. They were faint, partially obscured by the fresh snowfall, but they were definitely there. "These look fresh," he said, his heart rate quickening. "Could be our guy."

Piper nodded, her expression determined. "Let's see where they lead."

CHAPTER TWENTY

Piper moved quickly, her eyes trained on the faint tracks in the snow. Each step was a calculated effort to keep the trail in sight. She felt a spark of excitement and hope in her chest.

Could this be the killer's trail?

The tracks led downhill, the snow-covered terrain becoming steeper and more treacherous. Piper's boots crunched through the crust of ice with each step, and behind her she heard the matching rhythm of Wade's footsteps. She maintained her balance as the incline grew steeper. The tracks remained clear, guiding her like a beacon.

The trail led straight toward a narrow, unmarked path snaking through the dense forest. Piper followed it, the trees growing thicker, their branches interlocking above her head, creating a tunnel of sorts. The path was barely visible, but the tracks remained her guide.

As she descended further, she noticed the path widening slightly. Ahead, a man-made bridge spanned a small, icy creek. The bridge was old but sturdy, a testament to its builder's craftsmanship. Signs of human habitation began to emerge beneath the trees—discarded tools, remnants of a fire pit, and footprints leading toward the bridge.

Piper stopped and studied the area, her senses on high alert. The smell of smoke drifted on the breeze, and her eyes followed the source. There, nestled in a copse of pine trees, was a cabin, almost hidden from view. Smoke trailed lazily from the chimney, curling into the sky.

She crouched, observing the cabin, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and caution. As she stared at it, she recalled Earl's words about there being places where private property jutted up against federal land. Perhaps this was one such place.

Wade caught up to her, his breath coming in quick, visible puffs in the cold air. “Whew,” he huffed, leaning on his knees for a moment. “Think that's where our boy lives?”

“Only one way to find out,” Piper replied, her eyes narrowing with determination.

The two agents approached the cabin cautiously, not seeing signs of anyone around. The area was quiet except for the soft rustling of the trees in the wind. Piper knocked on the door, her heart pounding. There was no answer.

She glanced at Wade, who shrugged. "Maybe he's out. Let's check around back."

Piper nodded and moved toward the back of the cabin, her senses on high alert. As she rounded the corner, she froze. A large, ferocious-looking dog stood between her and the back door, its hackles raised and teeth bared.

"Easy, boy," Piper said softly, holding out her hand in a placating gesture. The dog snarled, a deep, guttural sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

She slowly backed away, keeping her eyes on the dog. But the dog followed, its posture threatening, ready to attack at any moment. Piper’s mind raced, trying to think of a way to calm the animal without getting bitten.

Suddenly, a gruff voice broke the tension. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing on my property?"

Piper turned to see a tall, rugged man with a graying beard standing a few yards away, his piercing blue eyes locked onto her. He held a rifle loosely in one hand.

"Tell your dog to back off," Piper said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We’re federal agents. We just want to ask you a few questions."

The man didn't lower his rifle, and he didn't tell the dog to back off. "I don’t care who you are," he said. "You’re trespassing."

The dog stopped advancing but remained tense, watching Piper with sharp eyes.

"Who are you?" the man demanded again, his voice cold.

Piper took a deep breath, trying to project calm and authority. "My name is Piper Woods, and this is Lawrence Wade. We're investigating a series of murders in this area. We believe you might have seen or heard something that could help us."

The man’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t talk to Feds. Get off my property."

Wade stepped forward, his hand resting on his sidearm. "Sir, we’re not here to cause trouble. We just need some information."

The man’s grip on the rifle tightened, his knuckles whitening. "I don’t care what you need. You’re on my land, and I want you gone." The dog growled, as if to underscore its master's hostility.

Piper glanced at Wade, sensing the tension rising. "We’re not leaving until we get some answers. People’s lives are at stake."

"As far as I'm concerned, the only lives at stake are yours if you don't turn around and get your asses out of here, understand?"

It was clear there was no talking him down—if Piper and Wade stayed, this would probably get ugly.

"Alright," she said, raising her hands. "We're leaving." They retreated into the woods, moving slowly so as not to give the man a reason to escalate the situation. The dog growled, but didn't follow them.

Once they were out of earshot, Wade turned to Piper, his voice low and tense. "Well, that was fun. Too bad I forgot to wear my brown pants today."

Piper sighed, glancing back in the direction of the cabin. "We need to figure out if this man could be the killer. We can't just walk away because he doesn't want to talk to us."

Wade frowned. "But how do we prove his innocence or guilt? We don’t have a warrant, and he’s not exactly being cooperative."

Piper thought for a moment. "We need to search his cabin. See if there’s anything that ties him to the murders."

Wade’s eyes widened. "Are you serious? You want to get both of us killed?"

"We're armed, too."

"Yeah, but he's got a dog. Those things are vicious—and sneaky as hell." He shuddered.

"Then we'll just have to wait until he leaves."

"And if they take hours?"

Piper kept her gaze on the cabin, her jaw set. "I wouldn't worry too much about that."

"Why not?"

She pointed. "Because he's already on the move."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Piper watched the man head off into the woods, followed by his loyal sidekick. She waited until the two were completely out of sight before turning to Wade.

"You keep watch," she said. "Make sure they don't come back while I'm in there."

"Now, hold on," Wade began, but Piper didn't wait for him to finish. She hurried ahead, trusting him to have her back.

It was just a short jog across the open, and then she was at the cabin. She carefully pushed the door open, slipping inside. The interior was dimly lit, the smell of wood smoke and pine filling the air.

She moved quickly but methodically, checking drawers, cabinets, shelves. She found tools, supplies, and personal items, but nothing that linked the man to the murders. Frustration began to creep in, but she pushed it aside, determined to be thorough.

In the back room, she found a workbench cluttered with various tools and projects. Her eyes landed on a set of knives laid out neatly, each one sharp and meticulously maintained.

Could they be used for ice sculpting? She wasn't sure, but it seemed like a possibility.

She continued her search, forcing her weary eyes to focus.

The low rumble of Wade's voice reached her through the open door. "Piper…"

"Just a minute," she said. There had to be something here, but where? Where should she look? Was it possible the killer had trophies of his victims? What might she find that would tell her whether or not this fellow was the one they were looking for?

"Damn it, Piper! You can't keep being reckless like this!"

"I'm not being reckless!" she shouted back. "It's called a calculated risk. Besides, why are you so worried? Afraid that dog's gonna get you?"

"I'm not worried about me."

She paused, sensing he was holding back far more than what he was saying. Now wasn't the time to ask, though. Realizing time was running out, Piper scanned the room frantically. Her eyes landed on a small, locked box tucked away under the workbench. Her instincts told her it could be important.

She reached for it, her fingers trembling with urgency. The lock was sturdy, but she found a small screwdriver nearby and used it to pry the box open. Inside, she found a collection of photographs and handwritten notes. Her eyes widened as she sifted through them, her heart racing with both fear and excitement.

These items could be the key to understanding this man's connection to the murders. There could be a journal, a photograph of the victim, a souvenir taken from one of the victims—

He's coming back!" Wade warned.

With the box clutched tightly against her side, Piper slipped out of the cabin, her pulse pounding in her ears. She dashed to the cover of the trees, joining Wade just as the man and the dog reappeared in the clearing. The dog glanced in their direction, sniffing the air, and for one terrible moment Piper thought it would bound after them. Then it snorted and jogged after its master.

Piper and Wade continued through the woods, finally reaching a safe spot to stop and examine the contents of the box. Piper’s heart pounded with a mix of excitement and anxiety as she set the box down on a fallen log and began to carefully remove the items.

Wade watched closely, his eyes reflecting the same anticipation. "What have we got?" he asked, his voice low.

Piper sifted through the photographs and notes, her excitement quickly giving way to disappointment. The photographs were old family pictures—the man posing with his wife and two children. The notes were letters exchanged between family members, discussing mundane matters of daily life and the challenges of living in the wilderness.

"There’s nothing here," Piper said, her voice tinged with frustration. "These are just personal items. Nothing incriminating."

Wade frowned, his own disappointment evident. "It doesn't prove he's innocent, but…" He trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken. It didn't prove anything, either way. The by-the-book approach would be to continue to investigate this man, keep watch on him, and figure out where he went and what he did.

Something else, however, was nagging at Piper's mind.

"What reason do we have to believe this man is involved in the murders at all?" she asked.

Wade frowned, thinking. "Mathis said this guy was hiking along with ice sculpting tools, and—"

"Peter Mathis. That's right. The only reason we're out here is because of him." She paused, gathering her words. "Awfully helpful of him to volunteer that information, wasn't it?"

"Not to mention how he guided us out to the trail," Wade said, rubbing his chin.

Piper nodded. "Almost like he wanted us to go on a wild goose chase."

***

Wade let out a heavy sigh as he got off the phone. "That was the local sheriff," he said. "Nobody's seen or heard from Peter Mathis. Didn't even recognize the name."

Piper and Wade were back at the ranger station, the warmth of the wood-burning stove providing a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The interior of the station was cozy but functional, with wooden walls lined with maps and bulletin boards. A long table occupied the center of the room, cluttered with various pieces of equipment, papers, and coffee cups. In the corner, a radio crackled softly, providing background noise.

"The name doesn’t match any records, either," Wade continued.

Piper’s heart sank a little, but she tried to stay focused. "Could be an alias."

Wade nodded, frustration evident in his eyes. "The sheriff ran the name through the database—no matches, no history, nothing. Whoever he is, he’s been covering his tracks well."

Piper leaned against the table, shaking her head. She couldn't believe they'd been sidetracked so easily. For all she knew, the man posing as Peter Mathis could be the killer. It wouldn't be the first time a serial killer had inserted himself into his own murder investigation.

He's probably laughing his ass off right now, she thought.

"What did you mean, back at the cabin?" she asked. "When you said you weren't worried about the dog?"

Wade sighed and looked away. "Nothing I haven't said before."

"Wade…" Her heart was heavy. "You know I care about you, right?"

"Of course." He still wasn't looking at her.

"It's just…sometimes you seem to want to take things so fast, and I…"

"I know. You're not ready."

She swallowed hard.

Finally, Wade looked at her. "But while you're waiting—while we're both waiting—how much of life will pass us by?"

The radio crackled again, breaking the moment. The announcer’s voice came through the static, delivering a weather report.

Attention, residents and visitors in the area. A severe winter storm is approaching, expected to hit within the next few hours. High winds and heavy snowfall are anticipated. Travel is strongly discouraged. Please take necessary precautions and stay indoors.

Piper frowned, sensing she should address Wade's words, but not sure how. When would she be ready to really move forward and embrace whatever life threw their way? Ever?

"It's not looking good," Wade murmured, staring out the window at the clouds gathering. "We should consider leaving the mountains until it passes. It’s not safe up here."

"The killer may still be up here, Wade, and he could be hunting. We’re close. I can feel it."

Wade sighed, rubbing his temples. "I get that, but we need to think about our own safety, too. If we get caught in the storm, we’ll be no good to anyone."

Piper leaned against the table, her eyes fixed on the map spread out before her. "We’ve got gear, we’ve got experience. We can handle this."

They fell into silence, the tension between them thick. Piper was still thinking about Wade's earlier question. She sensed she might be mulling that one over for a long time.

The radio crackled once more, distracting them from their argument.

We have received reports that another hiker has gone missing in the area. The hiker is a young woman named Diana Foster. If you have any information on her whereabouts, please contact local authorities immediately.

"You still want to leave?" Piper asked Wade.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

"I saw her just after sunrise," Marjorie Collins began, her voice strong despite her age. "She was heading up the trail, looked like she was in a bit of a hurry."

It was late afternoon, and Piper and Wade were at a trailhead, speaking with two people: a ranger named Tom Harris, and Marjorie Collins, the last person to have seen Diana Foster. Marjorie was an older woman bundled in a thick parka with a woolen hat pulled down over her ears. Her face was weathered, her skin deeply lined from years of outdoor exposure, but her eyes were bright and alert. She leaned on a walking stick, the remnants of a campfire smoldering nearby. Her pack lay neatly beside a fallen log.

Piper nodded, taking notes. "Did she say where she was going?"

Marjorie shook her head. "Not exactly. She mentioned she was looking for some solitude, needed inspiration for her writing. We talked for a few minutes—nice girl, very polite. She asked about good spots for a quiet hike."

"Did she seem worried or anxious about anything?" Wade asked, his breath visible in the cold air.

"No, not worried. More like...determined," Marjorie replied. "She had that look in her eye, you know? Like she was searching for something, or maybe trying to escape something. I suggested a few places up the trail where she might find what she was looking for."

"Did you see anyone else around?" Piper asked, glancing up from her notes.

Marjorie frowned, thinking back. "No, just us two. The trail was quiet. But with this storm coming, most folks have cleared out."

The ranger cleared his throat. He had a square jaw, a short-cropped beard, and piercing green eyes that seemed to take in every detail. He was clad in a thick, insulated jacket with a park service patch on the shoulder.

"Agents," Harris said, his voice deep and steady. "This storm may be one of the worst we’ve seen this season. The mountains can be treacherous in weather like this. Whiteouts, falling branches, hypothermia—it’s no joke out here."

Piper met his gaze, undeterred. "We understand, Ranger Harris, but Diana is out here, and she could be in danger not just from the storm but from a serial killer as well."

Harris's expression was serious. "I get that. But I can't risk sending anyone out in this weather. We’ll have to wait till it blows over. We can only hope Ms. Foster has found shelter."

Such as a cave? Piper thought with a shudder.

"Well, we're not waiting," Piper said. "We're going after her."

Harris shook his head, as if to say he thought they were throwing their lives away. "Best of luck to you, then."

As Piper and Wade moved away, Wade said, "Maybe we shouldn't rush into this."

"You want to sit on your hands, too?"

"No, it's just…we have no idea where she is, where she was going. We should do some research, see if she has any favorite places out here, that kind of thing. It could give us a better idea of where to look."

Piper shook her head impatiently. "We don’t have time for that, Wade. Every minute we wait, she gets further away. I can pick up her trail—I know I can. If we wait, though, the snow will fill it in."

Wade chuckled humorlessly as he glanced at the increasingly dark sky. "This is a role reversal, huh? You want to speed things up, while I want to slow them down."

Piper swallowed hard and looked away. She didn't want to complicate the case with her personal feelings any more than she already had.

"I'm following her trail, one way or another," she said. "If you want to head back and do some research, knock yourself out."

Wade frowned, clearly unhappy with the idea. "And leave you out here alone?"

"I'm in my element, Wade. I grew up in the Alaskan wilderness, remember? I've dealt with plenty of storms."

Wade hesitated, worry etched on his face. "If you lose the trail or can't find it," he said, "you'll come right back?"

"Of course," Piper said, though she wasn't sure this was a promise she could keep. "Besides, I have my phone. We can keep in touch."

Wade stared at her for a few long seconds, his expression dubious. "You know I would be devastated if I lost you, right?"

"I know."

"Keep that in mind when you're thinking of doing something reckless, okay?"

"Okay."

Still, Wade lingered, looking unhappy.

"I'll be fine," Piper said, walking backward. "Call me if you find anything." She turned away, afraid that if she stayed any longer, he would try to convince her not to go.

As she walked, she scanned the trail, which was disturbed by several sets of prints—four, it appeared. Two were large enough that she suspected they'd been made by men, while the other two were smaller. Of the smaller two tracks, one of them was joined by a single point here and there as if someone had stuck their finger in the snow—a walking stick.

That must be Marjorie's, she thought, which means these other ones are probably Diana's.

Piper moved swiftly along the trail, the cold biting at her cheeks and nose. The landscape around her was a beautiful yet forbidding expanse of snow-covered pines and rocky outcroppings, the ground blanketed in a thick layer of white. The sky was a darkening gray, heavy with the promise of more snow to come. As she ventured farther from the ranger station, the silence of the wilderness enveloped her, broken only by the crunch of her boots in the snow and the occasional rustle of branches in the wind.

The air was crisp, each breath she took sending out small clouds of steam. Despite the cold, Piper felt a sense of exhilaration. She enjoyed being alone out here, the solitude giving her space to think and focus. This was her element, where she felt most alive and in control. Her training and experience guided her movements, every step calculated, every glance purposeful.

She tried to think like Diana, picturing the young woman’s determination to find solitude and inspiration. Where would she go? What path would she take? She imagined Diana’s thoughts, her drive to push forward despite the impending storm.

As the wind began to pick up, the temperature dropped further. Piper pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and adjusted her hat, preparing for the worsening conditions. Snowflakes began to fall, gently at first, then more heavily as the moments passed. The wind howled through the trees, causing the branches to sway and creak. The visibility decreased, the world around her becoming a swirling blur of white.

Piper kept her focus on the tracks, but it was getting harder and harder to see. The wind howled around her, and the snow fell in thick sheets. The tracks began to fade as the storm grew stronger, and suddenly she lost the trail entirely.

Damn it, she thought, scanning the area frantically. Where are you, Diana?

For a tense few moments, she searched blindly, following her instincts, hoping she would pick up the trail again.

Then she spotted a broken branch, the wood freshly exposed. She moved toward it, her heart racing as she regained the trail. Pausing, she glanced up the slope in front of her—

And saw the entrance to a dark, looming cave.

She paused, her breath visible in the frigid air. This could be it. For all she knew, Diana could be in that cave right this moment—and she might not be alone.

Piper drew her weapon, her senses on high alert, and stepped inside the cave, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. The darkness enveloped her, the only light coming from the entrance behind her. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The possibility of finding Diana’s lifeless body weighed heavily on her mind, each step filled with tension and dread.

As she moved deeper into the cave, the light from the entrance faded, and she switched on her flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing the rocky interior. Piper scanned the ground, her heart pounding. She half-expected to stumble upon Diana at any moment.

But the cave was empty.

Piper let out a slow breath, a mix of relief and confusion washing over her. She stepped further inside, her flashlight sweeping the area. She noticed signs of a struggle—the ground was disturbed, the snow near the entrance of the cave churned up and scattered. She crouched down, examining the marks closely. Two people had been here, and it was clear they had fought.

Her eyes caught on a small, metallic object partially buried in the snow. She reached out and picked it up, her heart skipping a beat. A fallen pepper spray can. It must have belonged to Diana.

Diana had been here, and she had fought back. But against who? And where had they gone?

She stood, her eyes following the trail of snowy prints leading toward a different exit from the cave, one Piper hadn't noticed before. A second set of tracks overlapped the first, their meaning abundantly clear.

Someone had chased Diana out of this cave. And he might still very well be on her trail.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

As Piper followed the trail, the storm thickened, turning the world around her into a swirling blur of white. The wind howled fiercely, and the snow fell so heavily that it became more and more difficult to follow the tracks. Each step was a battle against the elements, but Piper refused to give up. She pressed on, her eyes straining to discern the faint impressions in the snow.

But then, suddenly, she realized she had lost the tracks entirely. She paused, turning in circles, trying to find any sign of Diana’s passage. The snow was relentless, covering the trail faster than she could follow it. Frustration welled up inside her, but she knew she couldn’t afford to let it take over.

She had to think clearly.

Seeking shelter from the storm, Piper ducked under the low-hanging branches of a hemlock tree. The thick canopy offered some protection from the wind and snow, and she took a moment to catch her breath and consider her next move.

If she couldn't find the trail, how was she to figure out where Diana had gone? Look for landmarks, something she might've aimed for. No, that was impossible—the visibility was too poor.

Just then, Piper's phone buzzed. She pulled it out, shielding it from the snow with her hand, and saw that Wade was calling.

“Wade, I lost the trail,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “The storm covered it completely.”

“I figured as much,” Wade replied, his tone tense. “Listen, I’ve been digging into Diana’s personal life and any connections she might have to the other victims. I think I’ve got a lead.”

Piper sat up straighter. “What did you find?”

“Diana had a recent interaction with a guy named Marcus Flint."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Piper, but she wasn't sure why.

"He’s an experienced climber and survivalist," Wade continued. "Apparently, he taunted her, called her a ‘tourist.’ He has a bit of a reputation for being aggressive toward those he considers less experienced than he is, which includes most people."

Piper frowned, processing the information. “Isn't that the guy Rita Williams was dating?"

"The same."

Piper cursed under her breath. "I thought we cleared him."

"We did…but then I looked into his alibi again and found out his boss—the one who confirmed Flint was at that conference—is actually Flint's uncle. Not exactly a reliable witness. That's on me, Pip—I really dropped the ball on that one."

"Water under the bridge," Piper said, running a hand through her hair. "The only thing I care about now is how we find this guy."

***

Ranger Harris scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Marcus Flint, huh? Yeah, I remember him. Had a few run-ins with him over the years. He's got a bit of a temper, likes to push people around."

They were back at the camp, standing with Ranger Harris in the cramped, warmly lit ranger station. The walls were adorned with maps, rescue equipment, and old photographs of previous expeditions. The wood-burning stove in the corner filled the room with a comforting warmth that seeped into Piper's bones.

"Do you recall any recent conversations with him?" Piper asked.

Harris nodded slowly. "Last time I saw him, he was ranting about how tourists like Diana don’t belong out here. Said they were ruining the wilderness. He’s a purist, you know? Thinks only real survivalists should be out in these mountains."

Piper exchanged a glance with Wade, her suspicion deepening. "Do you know where he lives?"

Harris rubbed his chin. "He’s got a cabin up in the hills, off the beaten path. Not many folks know about it, but I can give you directions."

Piper nodded, jotting down the address Harris provided. "Thanks, Ranger Harris. We appreciate the help."

They stepped outside into the howling wind and blowing snow. Piper’s breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air. She and Wade climbed into the SUV, the vehicle already covered in a fresh layer of snow.

Piper gripped the steering wheel tightly, her eyes focused on the barely visible road ahead. The windshield wipers struggled to keep the glass clear, and the tires crunched through the accumulating snow. The storm was relentless, making the drive treacherous.

"It's really gonna suck if we get stuck," Wade said, his voice tense as he glanced at the swirling white outside. "I swear, when I retire, I'm gonna move to some place where snow is treated like fake news."

"Guess you don't want to come back to Alaska with me, huh?" Piper asked, winking at her partner.

He grunted. "I've already been there, remember? One visit was enough."

The SUV’s headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the falling snow and the narrow path ahead. The storm showed no signs of letting up, but Piper pressed on, determined to reach Flint’s cabin.

For a while, there was nothing but the guard rail along the road and a scattering of evergreen trees. Then, the cabin suddenly emerged from the thick curtain of snow. Piper slowed, careful not to break too hard on the slick road.

"Think that's him?" Wade asked, pointing at a man in a parka who was shoveling his driveway.

As they got closer, the man looked up, staring at the SUV. His face was partially hidden beneath his hood, but Piper could see enough to recognize him.

"That’s the guy who told us his name was Peter Mathis," Piper said urgently.

As if recognizing them at the same time, Flint dropped the shovel and sprinted toward a truck parked nearby. He jumped in and started the engine, the vehicle roaring to life.

Piper slammed the SUV into gear, the tires spinning briefly before finding traction on the icy driveway. Flint's truck sped off, spraying snow behind it. Piper and Wade tore after him.

The wind howled, and the snow continued to fall heavily, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Piper gripped the steering wheel tightly, her eyes locked on the tail lights of Flint’s truck ahead. The road was narrow and winding, with sharp turns and steep drops.

"Stay on him!" Wade urged, his eyes fixed on the fleeing truck.

"I'm trying," Piper replied, her voice tense. "The roads are slick. One wrong move, and we're done for."

Flint's truck skidded around a corner, barely maintaining control. Piper followed, the SUV fishtailing briefly before she corrected their course. The landscape was a blur of white and black, the headlights barely piercing the dense snowfall.

Up ahead, Flint's truck hit a patch of ice and swerved violently, crashing into a snowbank. The impact was severe, but he quickly reversed and tried to get back on the road. Piper saw her chance and accelerated, closing the distance between them.

"We've got him!" Wade shouted.

But just as they neared the truck, Flint managed to get free of the snowbank and sped off again. Piper slammed the brakes, trying to avoid a dangerous collision, and the SUV skidded before she was able to regain control.

Piper’s hands were clammy on the steering wheel, her focus intense as she took off after Flint again, navigating a series of turns.

"Come on, come on," Wade murmured. "We can't let him get away."

Finally, the road straightened out, giving Piper a clear shot. She floored the accelerator, the SUV roaring as it closed the gap. Flint's truck loomed larger and larger, the distance between them shrinking.

"Get ready!" Piper called to Wade.

With one final push, Piper brought the SUV alongside Flint's truck, the two vehicles careening dangerously close on the icy road. Wade rolled down his window, ready to confront Flint, who glanced over, his face twisted in anger and fear.

Before he could react, Piper swerved the SUV, forcing Flint's truck toward the edge of the road. He lost control, the truck skidding wildly before crashing into a tree, coming to a violent stop.

Piper brought the SUV to a halt, breathing heavily from the adrenaline. "Let’s go," she said, opening her door and stepping out into the snowstorm.

Piper and Wade approached the crashed truck cautiously, their weapons drawn, eyes scanning for any movement. Snow continued to fall heavily, muffling the sounds around them. The truck’s engine was still running, the front end crumpled against the tree.

As they neared, Marcus Flint—or Peter Mathis, as he had introduced himself—stumbled out of the truck, clutching his arm, his face twisted in pain and anger. He tried to make a run for it, but his injuries and the deep snow slowed him down.

"Stop right there!" Piper shouted, her voice cutting through the storm.

Flint hesitated for a split second, then lunged to the side, attempting to scramble up the embankment. Wade moved quickly, cutting him off and forcing him back toward Piper. Flint looked around desperately, but there was no escape.

"You're not going anywhere," Wade said.

Flint glared at them, breathing heavily. "I want an attorney."

"We’ll get you an attorney," Piper replied, keeping her weapon trained on him. "But first, you’re going to tell us where Diana Foster is."

Flint shook his head, a defiant gleam in his eyes. "I’m not saying anything without representation."

Piper’s frustration flared, but she kept her composure. "We know you’ve been lying to us. We know you were messing with us, trying to throw us off your trail. Just tell us where she is."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you a damn thing."

Wade stepped closer, his eyes cold and calculating. "You’re only making things worse for yourself. The storm is getting worse, and if Diana’s out there, she won’t survive much longer. If you have any humanity left, you’ll tell us where she is."

Flint’s expression didn’t change. "Attorney. Now."

Piper and Wade exchanged a frustrated glance. Short of coercing Flint into answering them, there was nothing they could do—and as tempting as such an idea was to Piper, she knew it could very well compromise the investigation later on. Saving Diana's life was important, but if they let the killer go in the process, they might just be sacrificing other lives later on.

"Let’s get him back to the ranger station," she said, her voice tight with anger. "We'll see how he feels about talking when he realizes how few options he has."

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Piper stared across the ranger lodge at Marcus Flint.

Talk, you bastard, she thought. Before it's too late for Diana…if it isn't already.

The howling wind and pelting snow outside made it clear they wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. The room was filled with the soft, crackling sound of the fire, offering a semblance of comfort against the fury of the blizzard.

Flint sat in a sturdy wooden chair, his hands cuffed in front of him. His eyes were cold and defiant, refusing to meet Piper’s gaze. The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy silence hanging in the air.

"Where is she, Flint?" Piper demanded. "What did you do with Diana Foster?"

Flint snorted, but he said nothing, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. The flickering firelight cast shadows across his face, making him look even more sinister.

Piper picked up a stack of crime scene photos, strode across the room, and laid them on the desk. "Any of these look familiar? Is this your handiwork?" She studied his face, hoping for some reaction, some tell that would indicate he was familiar with the sculptures.

He merely continued to stare at the floor, however, giving nothing away.

Piper’s patience snapped. She grabbed Flint by the collar, shaking him violently. "Tell me where she is! If you hurt her, I swear—"

Wade rushed over and pulled Piper away. "Easy, Pip. This isn’t helping."

Piper wrenched herself free from Wade’s grasp, her breathing heavy with anger and frustration. "He knows where she is, Wade! He’s just sitting there, saying nothing while she could be out there, dying!"

Wade guided her to the other side of the room, away from Flint’s icy gaze. "I know you’re angry," he said in a low voice. "I am, too. But threatening him isn’t going to make him talk. We need to think this through."

Piper’s eyes were blazing, but she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "You think he might be innocent?"

Wade glanced back at Flint, who was watching them with narrowed eyes. "I don’t know. He’s hiding something, that’s for sure. But we don’t have any solid evidence linking him to the murders. We need to be smart about this."

Piper nodded, her anger still simmering but under control. "I'm just worried Diana is out there, on her own."

"As soon as this storm lets up, we can go looking for her. If she's out there, we'll find her."

Piper took a deep breath, calming herself. Composed again, she turned her attention to Flint once more.

"You dated Rita Williams, is that right?" she asked.

Flint said nothing.

"Why did you run from us, Mr. Flint?" she asked.

Still, Flint said nothing. It seemed he was going to live up to his name.

Piper glanced at Wade, who merely shrugged. There was no need to say what they were both thinking: that the only way they were going to get Flint to crack was with hard evidence. And right now, they didn't have any.

"Well, that's ugly as hell," Flint said. "What's it supposed to be, a turd?"

He was leaning forward, studying the crime scene photos Piper had left on the desk. It seemed his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Piper picked up the photograph Flint had been studying: a picture of the second sculpture discovered in the cave where Lindsay Torres was killed, the sculpture that had looked unfinished to Piper. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "It's a house. A little crooked, maybe, but…"

Flint grunted. "Are you kidding me? A house?"

Piper studied him. If he had carved the sculpture himself, maybe she could get him to admit what he'd been trying to make.

"What do you think it is, then?" she asked.

Flint shook his head dismissively. "You call yourselves rangers, go tramping all over these mountains, and still you can't see what's staring you right in the face."

"What?" Wade asked. "What's staring us right in the face?"

"You think I want to help you out with your little investigation?"

"You don't know," Piper said, egging him on. "You act like you're an expert, a rugged wilderness survivalist, but you're really just all talk, aren't you?"

His eyes hardened. "I know these mountains better than you ever will, Ranger," he growled. "I could navigate them blindfolded."

"Then prove it," Piper said. "Tell us what the sculpture really is if you're so knowledgeable."

Flint’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching. "It's not a house, alright? You really can't see it?"

Piper crossed her arms, waiting.

Flint leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "You idiots can't even recognize one of the most famous landmarks around here. That sculpture is supposed to look like the Giant's Elbow."

Piper's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise. "The Giant's Elbow?" she repeated, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah," Flint sneered. "It's a rock formation about five miles from here. Looks like a bent elbow. You really didn't know that?"

Piper looked at the picture again. Yes, it did resemble the rock formation Earl had pointed out to them. But what did that mean?

"Why would someone carve a sculpture of that?" she asked.

Flint shrugged. "How should I know? I'm not the one who did it, in case you're still wondering."

Piper was indeed wondering, but her doubts about Flint's guilt were increasing. Then a thought came to her. As Flint leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, clearly bored, Piper glanced at Wade and gestured toward the far side of the room, where they could speak without being overheard. Wade followed her.

"What is it?" he asked in a low voice.

"Landmarks," Piper said, her mind whirring. "These sculptures aren't random—they're things the killer has seen, looked at with his own eyes. And that means—"

"We can use them like a map, figuring out where he's been," Wade finished for her. They locked eyes.

Piper nodded. "Exactly." She pulled out a map, spread it on the desk, and followed the contours of the mountains with her fingers, noting the locations of some of the landmarks the killer had made sculptures of. "These landmarks are all in a straight line," she murmured. "One after the other. Given the direction, the next logical place for him to leave a body would be somewhere around…here." She tapped her finger on the words Holler Pass.

Wade straightened, his eyes bright with urgency. "Which means Diana could be out there right now."

***

Piper and Wade trudged along the trail, the darkness around them deepening as the storm grew more fierce. The wind howled, whipping snow into their faces and obscuring their path. Piper’s flashlight cut through the swirling snow, casting a narrow beam of light ahead. Every step was a battle against the elements, but Piper pushed forward, her determination unwavering.

"Come on, Wade, keep up!" Piper called over her shoulder, her voice barely audible above the wind.

Wade lagged behind, struggling to maintain his footing on the slippery trail. The snow was knee-deep in places, making each step a grueling effort. "I’m doing the best I can, Piper!" he shouted back, his breath visible in the frigid air. "This storm is brutal!"

Piper felt a surge of frustration. They were so close, and every second felt like an eternity. She stopped and turned, her eyes narrowing as she watched Wade struggle to catch up. It took all her willpower to bite her tongue.

Wade finally reached her, his face flushed with exertion. "I'm a lot…bigger…than you are," he said between breaths. "This ain't easy for me."

"I know," Piper said. "Just don't have a heart attack, alright?"

He grinned. "I'll do my best."

Piper scanned their surroundings, searching for anything recognizable: a distinct rock formation, a particular bend in the trail. But the heavy snowfall covered everything, making even the most obvious markers hard to spot.

What if they went the wrong way, got lost and stranded out here? Could they survive the night in such brutal conditions? The questions swirled in her mind, but she pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand. Diana was out here, and she couldn’t afford to falter.

They reached a particularly dangerous section of the trail: an icy ledge along a steep drop. The ledge was narrow, with a sheer drop to one side and a rocky wall on the other. Piper took the lead, carefully testing each step before putting her full weight down. The wind howled around them, threatening to throw them off balance. Wade followed closely, his steps mirroring hers.

Halfway across the ledge, Piper heard a distant rumbling. Her heart skipped a beat as the sound grew louder, the unmistakable precursor to an avalanche. She turned her head, eyes wide with alarm. "Wade, hurry!"

They both quicked their pace, shuffling along the icy ledge. The rumbling intensified, and now Piper could see a wall of snow and debris cascading down the mountain.

Spilling directly toward them.

She reached the end of the ledge just as the avalanche struck. She pressed herself against the mountain, ducking and covering her head with her arms. The avalanche hit with terrifying force, a wave of snow sweeping across the ledge. The sound was deafening.

When the snow had finally stopped, Piper lifted her head and looked around. Where she had hoped to see Wade, she instead saw only snow—a heap of snow covering the ledge she had just crossed.

There was no sign of Wade anywhere.

"Wade!" she shouted, but her voice was swallowed by the freshening wind, which sprayed snow in her face.

Panic surged through Piper as she scanned the area, fearing the worst. "Wade!" she called again, fearing the worst. "Can you hear me?"

For a moment, there was only the howling wind and the relentless snow. Piper's heart pounded in her chest, terrified at the thought of Wade being swept off the cliff by the avalanche. What if she never got to see him again, never got to speak with him again? What if that future Wade so desperately wanted was stolen away in a moment, the decision forever taken from their hands?

Didn't she want that future, too, if she was honest with herself? Didn't she at least want to give it a try?

Then, from the other side of the drift, she heard his voice, muffled but clear. "I’m okay—just had to backpedal. You keep going while I find a way around."

Relief washed over her, though her heart still ached with worry. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, go! I’ll catch up with you."

Reluctantly, Piper turned away from the drift, her steps heavy with concern. She moved forward, the storm closing in around her, the path ahead more uncertain than ever. The weight of responsibility pressed down on her shoulders, but she knew she couldn’t stop now.

She had to find Diana. She had to end this. And she had to believe that Wade would be okay, that he would find his way back to her.

The storm thickened, the snow falling in heavy, relentless waves. Piper could hardly see more than a few feet in front of her, the world around her reduced to a swirling white void. The cold seeped through her layers of clothing, chilling her to the bone. Each step felt like an enormous effort, her legs heavy and unresponsive.

She pressed on, fighting against the wind and snow. Her mind raced with uncertainty, the storm playing tricks on her senses. Where should she go? How much further could she push herself in these conditions?

As she trudged forward, her breath coming in ragged gasps, she saw something in the distance—a faint shape against the whiteout. She blinked, trying to focus, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and desperation. It was a signpost, barely visible through the storm, its weathered wood standing resilient against the elements.

'Holler Pass,' the sign read. She recognized it from the map, and it gave her a rough idea of where she was.

Her spirits lifted, a surge of hope renewing her strength. She pushed on, the sight of the sign giving her the determination she needed to keep going.

She walked for what felt like an eternity, the storm unyielding. Just when her hope began to waver again, she saw another shape materialize through the snow. It was dark and irregular, standing out against the uniform white. As she drew closer, she realized it was the entrance to a cave, partially hidden by the snowfall.

She had found it.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Ah, the snow. Beautiful and deadly.

The snowstorm raged around the man, turning the world into a chaotic swirl of white as he stalked across the mountains, his footsteps barely making a sound in the howling wind. He felt a sense of exhilaration, the storm heightening his senses and adding an element of challenge to his hunt.

Diana’s footprints were faint, already starting to be covered by the falling snow, but he could still see them, a trail leading him to his next masterpiece. He reveled in the thrill of the chase.

He paused, kneeling to examine a deeper imprint in the snow. Diana had stumbled here, leaving behind a small handprint in the snow. He touched it, sensing her fear.

To him, this wasn’t just a hunt—it was the creation of art. Each step he took was deliberate, calculated, as if choreographing a dance. He saw himself as an artist, and his medium was the cold, unforgiving ice. His motives were clear to him, if not to anyone else: He preserved beauty, capturing it in its purest form, forever untouched by time or decay.

Rising, he continued his pursuit, his mind drifting back to his origins.

Years ago, he had discovered his calling. Growing up in a cold, remote town, he had been fascinated by the way ice encapsulated and preserved objects. A childhood spent exploring frozen landscapes had turned into an obsession. He had always been different, drawn to solitude and the stark, haunting beauty of winter.

His first experiment had been with small animals, creatures that had died in the harsh winters. He would find them, perfect in death, and encase them in ice. But as he grew older, he realized that his true art required a more profound subject.

He spotted a flash of color ahead—Diana's jacket. His pulse accelerated as he quickened his pace.

For years, he had suppressed his darker urges, channeling his obsession into more socially acceptable forms of ice sculpture. He had even gained some recognition in the art world for his unusual techniques and haunting creations. But it wasn't enough. The temporary nature of his art left him feeling hollow, unfulfilled.

Then, three months ago, everything changed. He had been hired to create an ice sculpture for a wealthy couple's anniversary. The wife, a former model, had caught his eye—her beauty was ethereal, timeless. As he worked on the sculpture, he overheard the couple arguing. The husband berated his wife, mocking her for trying to cling to her youth, sneering that her beauty was fading.

Something snapped inside him that day. He realized that true beauty was fleeting in this world, subject to the cruel ravages of time and the callousness of others. It was then that he decided he had to act to preserve this beauty before it could be tarnished or destroyed.

Diana appeared again, struggling through a deep snowdrift. He slowed his approach, not wanting to alert her to his presence just yet.

The first woman he had taken had been a revelation. He had stalked her, learning her habits, her routines. When he finally captured her, he had felt a sense of purpose, of destiny fulfilled. The process of freezing her, turning her into a permanent, unchanging sculpture, had been both meticulous and exhilarating.

With each subsequent victim, his technique improved, his vision crystallized. He wasn't just preserving beauty now; he was elevating it, transforming these women into something beyond mere mortality. In his mind, he was saving them from a world that would only destroy their beauty, giving them eternal life through his art.

He crouched behind a large boulder, watching as Diana paused to catch her breath. Her chest heaved with exertion, creating small clouds in the frigid air. Diana started moving again, and he followed, careful to stay out of sight.

His art was about preserving their beauty, creating a perfect, eternal moment. To him, it was a gift, a way of saving them from the ravages of time and mortality.

But lately, a new urgency had entered his work. News reports of his activities had started to circulate, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the authorities closed in. He had to complete his masterpiece, his magnum opus, before it was too late.

His latest subject had come to him entirely by chance. She had proven more formidable than he'd expected, however, attacking him like a wild cat and clawing at his eyes. He'd let go of her, terrified she would rob him of the ability to perceive the beauty he worked so hard to preserve, and she'd taken off running.

She had little chance of escaping her, however. He knew these mountains well, every cave and hidden path. Diana was running blindly, and he could sense her fear. It added to the excitement, the anticipation of the final moment when he would capture her and begin his work.

Diana was not far ahead, struggling through the deep snow, her movements frantic and disoriented. She was exhausted, her strength waning, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she succumbed.

He slowed his pace, savoring the moment. He watched her for a while, her beauty magnified by her vulnerability, her desperation. He felt a surge of satisfaction knowing that soon she would be part of his eternal gallery.

Diana stumbled, falling to her knees in the snow. He approached slowly, his heart pounding with anticipation. She looked up, her eyes wide with terror as she saw him.

"Please," she begged, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. "Don’t do this."

He smiled a cold, detached smile. "You’re beautiful," he said softly. "I’m going to preserve you forever."

He reached out, his hand steady despite the cold. Diana tried to crawl away, but she was too weak. He grabbed her arm, pulling her up and holding her tightly.

"It’s time," he whispered, his breath visible in the freezing air. "Time to become part of my art."

But Diana, it seemed, wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She twisted and kicked, trying to break free from his grasp. He grunted, struggling to maintain his hold without hurting her. He couldn’t afford to mar her beauty. She was perfect, and she had to remain that way.

"Stop fighting," he hissed, his breath visible in the freezing air. "You’re only making this harder."

Diana lashed out, her nails scratching his face. He winced and pulled his head back, but he didn’t loosen his grip. She screamed, a desperate, piercing sound that was quickly swallowed by the storm. He needed to subdue her, but he couldn’t risk causing any visible damage.

He let go of her, and she flopped into the snow. Then, before she could crawl away, he grabbed her leg and began dragging her. She fought, trying to pull free, but he was too strong.

Too, too strong.

He hadn't planned to drag her all the way to the nearest cave, but it seemed she was giving him no other choice. So be it.

As he pulled her through the snow, his mind raced with possibilities. Diana would be his crowning achievement, the centerpiece of his collection. With her, his work would be complete, his message to the world finally clear. Beauty, true beauty, could be eternal—but only through his intervention.

He sure was going to enjoy this.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Piper approached the cave cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. She drew her weapon, the cold metal a comforting weight in her hand. The storm outside howled, but inside the cave, it was eerily silent.

She took a deep breath and stepped inside, her flashlight cutting through the darkness.

The beam of light illuminated snowy tracks on the cave floor, indicating someone had entered recently. Piper’s eyes narrowed as she studied the tracks. There was only one set of footprints, but it appeared that person had been dragging something—or someone. She swallowed hard, imagining Diana being dragged in here against her will.

The cave was deep, the walls expanding as she ventured further. The floor was uneven, a mixture of ice and rock, and the air was cold and damp. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, and stalagmites rose from the ground, creating an otherworldly landscape. The sound of dripping water echoed through the cavern, adding to the sense of foreboding. She noticed small cracks in the walls and ceiling, a subtle reminder of the cave's instability.

Piper moved slowly, her flashlight sweeping from side to side. The passage twisted and turned, the walls closing in at times before opening into larger chambers. She kept her senses on high alert, every sound and shadow analyzed for potential danger.

As she ventured deeper, she heard faint voices echoing through the cave. She strained to listen, her pulse quickening. A woman’s voice, pleading and desperate, reached her ears.

"Please, let me go! I haven’t done anything to you!"

Piper’s grip tightened on her weapon, her heart aching for the woman. She moved closer, following the sound of the voices. A man’s voice responded, calm and cold.

"You don’t understand. This is for the best. I’m preserving you, making you perfect."

Piper’s blood ran cold at the words. She peered around a bend in the cave, her breath catching in her throat.

In a large chamber lit by a flickering lantern, she saw them. A woman matching Diana Foster’s description was tied to a large rock formation. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face pale. A man Piper didn't recognize stood behind her, tying the knots on the ropes binding the woman.

Piper took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She couldn’t let him harm Diana. She stepped into the chamber, her weapon raised, her voice steady and commanding.

"Step away from her. Now."

The man froze, turning slowly to face her. His eyes were cold, devoid of emotion. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Agent Piper Woods of the FBI. Now back off."

"FBI?" He sounded puzzled and almost…amused, like this was all a joke to him. "How'd you find me?"

"Doesn't matter. All you should be worried about right now is not getting shot. Now back away."

The man smiled—yes, he really did look amused—and then threw up his hands. "Whatever you said, Agent Woods." He stepped back and, before Piper could react, spun around behind the rock column, disappearing. Then he emerged a moment later by Diana's side, pressing a chisel to her throat. The metal glinted in the lantern light.

"Don't!" Piper shouted, taking aim. Even at a shooting range, with plenty of light and all the time in the world, hitting him from this distance—and not hitting Diana—would have been challenging. Under these circumstances, it was a complete gamble.

"Now it's my turn to call the shots," the man said, speaking over Diana's whimpering. "Drop your weapon or I kill her right here and now."

Piper’s heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. As much as she wanted to avoid letting this man dictate the situation, balking now could cost Diana her life. There was no telling how unstable this man was or how easily he might snap.

 Slowly, she lowered her gun and set it on the cave floor

"Kick it away," he ordered.

Piper complied, her eyes never leaving his. She kicked the gun across the cave floor, the metal scraping against the rock as it skidded out of reach. The man’s eyes flickered with satisfaction, but Piper could see the tension remaining in his body, the readiness to strike.

"Alright," she said, keeping her voice steady. "I’ve done what you asked. Now let her go."

The man smirked, pressing the chisel harder against Diana’s neck, drawing a small bead of blood. "You think it’s that simple? I’ve come too far to let this go now."

Diana closed her eyes and moaned.

Piper’s mind raced, searching for a way to defuse the situation. "You don’t have to do this. You can walk away—nobody else has to get hurt."

His eyes narrowed. "You don’t understand. This is art. She’s going to be perfect, preserved forever."

Piper took a slow step forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I understand more than you think. But there are other ways to achieve what you want without hurting anyone."

The man’s grip on the chisel tightened, his knuckles white. "You’re just trying to trick me."

Piper shook her head, her voice softening. "The ice sculptures you've made—they're beautiful. Anyone can see that. You have a gift, a great talent. But if you kill this woman, you'll go to prison for a long, long time." You're going there, anyway, she thought but did not say.

The man watched her, saying nothing.

"You won't be making ice sculptures in prison, I can tell you that," she added. "Won't you miss it? Wouldn't you rather continue doing your work than be locked away, robbed of the chance to continue using this gift of yours?"

The man hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. Piper saw her opportunity and took another cautious step forward.

"Let her go," she repeated. "I won't follow you. You can leave this cave and continue making your sculptures. That's what you really want, isn't it? To create your art?"

She was telling the truth about not pursuing him—not right away, that was. If he left now, she would focus on helping Diana escape those ropes. Then, afterward, she would go after the man.

The man straightened, his eyes sparkling, and Piper realized she'd said something wrong. "This is my art," he said. "There's nothing so beautiful as a human sculpture, is there? Why imitate the real thing when I have it right here?"

He shifted past Diana, pocketing the chisel and turning his attention back to the ropes he'd been tying when Piper had interrupted him. He was unarmed at the moment, but that chisel was still close at hand. He could draw it if Piper got close.

"I have to do this," he said as he worked. "Nobody understands the beauty in preservation, the perfection of capturing a moment in time. They all think I’m crazy, but I’m the only one who sees the truth."

Piper watched him carefully, her mind racing for a way to turn the tables. She needed to keep him talking, to buy herself more time.

"You don’t have to do this," she said. "There are other ways to express your art without hurting anyone."

He shook his head violently, his eyes wild. "No, you don’t get it. This is the only way. The world is full of decay and corruption. I’m saving her from that. I’m making her…eternal."

Piper took a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. "What’s your name?" she asked, hoping to establish some connection with him.

He glanced at her, suspicion in his eyes. "Ethan Frost. Not that it matters."

"It does matter, Ethan," Piper said softly. "It matters because you’re a person, not a monster. You have a choice here."

Ethan scoffed, pulling the ropes tighter. Diana winced in pain, but Ethan didn’t seem to notice. "Choice? What choice do I have? This is who I am. This is what I was meant to do."

Piper’s mind worked furiously. She needed to find a way to distract him, to create an opportunity. She glanced around the cave, looking for anything she could use. Her eyes landed on her gun, which rested on the ground not far away. If she could just get to it…

"Ethan," she said, trying to keep his attention on her. "You said you want to preserve beauty. But look at Diana. She’s terrified. This isn’t the way to honor her beauty."

Ethan paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. "What do you know about beauty?" he demanded.

Ila's words echoed back in Piper's mind: You know we can never really go back, right?

"I know that true beauty comes from within," Piper replied, inching closer to the fallen weapon. "It’s not about freezing a moment in time. It’s about living, experiencing, and growing. Diana is alive, Ethan. She has so much more beauty to share with the world."

Ethan’s eyes darted to her, narrowing in suspicion. He glanced at the gun, then back at Piper, realizing what she was doing. His face twisted with anger, and he whipped the chisel out of his pocket.

"Stop right there, or I swear I’ll kill her!"

Fine dust sprinkled down on Piper's head, but she hardly noticed it. She froze, her heart pounding. "Okay, okay," she said, raising her hands and backing away from the gun. She had to think of another plan.

What's he going to do when he finishes with the ropes? she wondered. He'd left the other victims to die of exposure, but of course there hadn't been a federal agent in the cave. There was no way he could just walk away now.

Which meant he had no choice but to kill Diana with the chisel…didn't it? Or would that interfere with his 'art'?

"If you cut her," she said, "there will be blood everywhere. You don't want to ruin your art that way."

"Perhaps not," Ethan said, staring thoughtfully at the chisel. He shrugged. "I'll just smother her, then."

"Please, no," Diana murmured.

Ethan placed the chisel between his teeth and went back to the knots. As far as Piper could tell, he had only to tie one more rope, then he was done.

Piper’s heart sank. She needed to find a way to turn the tables before he made good on his threat. But how? There was nothing in here except her gun and the lantern. She had already tested Ethan's patience by getting too close to the gun, and what was she going to do with the lantern? Pick it up and attack him?

She glanced at Diana, who was trembling, her eyes pleading for help.

"Ethan, look at her," Piper said, trying a different approach. "She’s scared. This isn’t the kind of beauty you want to create. You said it yourself—you’re an artist. This isn't art, it's…brutality."

"I’m saving her from the ugliness of the world," Ethan mumbled around the chisel.

"By making her suffer?" Piper countered. "That’s not salvation—that’s torture. Do you want to be remembered as an artist or a monster?"

Ethan’s eyes flickered with doubt. Piper saw her chance and took a cautious step forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace.

"Please," she said softly. "Let her go. You don’t have to do this."

Ethan’s eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment it seemed like he might listen. But just as quickly, his expression hardened again. "You don't understand and you never will," he said, his voice shaking. "I have to finish this."

Piper’s heart sank, but she knew she couldn’t give up. She had to think of something—and fast.

Scanning the room, her gaze fell on the lantern. Then she had an idea.

Ethan finished tying the knots, securing Diana to the large rock formation. He stood back, admiring his work with a sense of pride. "You see?" he asked, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. "This is the only way to preserve true beauty. To make it eternal."

Diana’s eyes filled with tears, her body trembling. "Please, don’t do this," she whispered.

Ethan ignored her plea, raising the chisel with a look of determination. "This is for the best," he said. "You’ll thank me in eternity."

Here goes nothing, Piper thought. Taking a deep breath, she lunged for the lantern.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Piper knocked the lantern down, and it shattered on the cave floor. The flame sputtered and died, plunging the room into complete darkness. For a moment, the only sounds were the frantic breaths of the three people in the chamber.

Then Piper rushed toward where she believed Ethan was standing. The darkness was disorienting, and her heart pounded in her ears. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her arm as something sliced through her jacket—the chisel. Ethan must have been swinging wildly.

Ignoring the pain, Piper charged forward again, slamming into Ethan with all her strength. They both went down, grappling in the darkness. The rough cave floor scraped against her skin.

Ethan grunted, his movements frantic and unpredictable. Piper struggled to gain the upper hand, her hands searching for the chisel. She could feel the cold metal as Ethan swung it again, narrowly missing her face. She grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply. He cried out in pain but didn't let go.

The two of them rolled, kicking and clawing at each other. Piper’s arm throbbed where the chisel had cut her, but she couldn't afford to think about that now. She had to stop him, had to save Diana.

Ethan’s strength was surprising, fueled by his desperation. Piper felt herself losing ground, her muscles straining. She couldn't let him win. Summoning all her remaining strength, she drove her knee into his side, using the momentary distraction to wrest the chisel from his grip.

With a triumphant shout, she flung the chisel away into the darkness, hearing it clatter against the cave walls. But Ethan wasn’t finished. He lunged at her, his hands finding her throat in the pitch black.

Piper gasped as Ethan's fingers tightened around her neck, cutting off her air. Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to stay focused. She had to break his grip. She clawed at his hands, desperate for breath, her vision starting to blur.

With a final burst of energy, she managed to twist her body, breaking Ethan's hold on her throat. She coughed, sucking in precious air, and then used her momentum to flip him onto his back. She pinned him down with her weight, her hands pressing his arms to the ground.

"Diana, are you okay?" she called out into the darkness.

"I’m here," came Diana’s trembling voice. "I’m okay."

Piper struggled to catch her breath, still pinning Ethan to the cave floor. Then she noticed a faint glow coming from the cave entrance—a flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. Relief washed over her as she realized someone was approaching.

"Wade!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the cave. "Wade, over here!"

Just as she called out, she felt a strange sensation—a sprinkling of dust from above.

Shit, she thought.

Ethan, pinned beneath her, began to laugh, a twisted, triumphant sound. "You don’t get it, do you?" he said, his voice filled with grim satisfaction. "The noise is going to bring the whole cave system down on us."

Piper’s eyes widened with horror.

"Come on!" Ethan shouted, his voice booming through the cavern. "Bring it down! Bring it all down!"

The walls of the cave trembled in response, more dust and small stones raining down from above. Piper felt a rising panic as she realized the danger they were all in. The entire cave system was at risk of collapsing, and they needed to get out—fast.

She covered Ethan's mouth with her hand to stop him from shouting, but it was too late. They couldn't stay here any longer—they needed to get out as soon as possible. But cutting Diana free would mean leaving Ethan alone.

Could she do that? After everything he'd done…could she let him escape?

"Stay down," she hissed at Ethan, knowing there was very little chance he would comply. She released him and scrambled over to Diana. Her fingers worked frantically to untie the ropes, but they were knotted tightly. Dust and small stones continued to fall, the trembling in the cave growing more intense.

"It’s okay, Diana," Piper said, her voice tight with urgency. "I’m getting you out of here."

"Where are you?" a voice shouted. It was Wade. Piper almost shouted back, then checked herself. No, it was too dangerous. She would just have to trust that Wade would find them on his own.

Piper pulled out a small knife and began cutting through Diana's ropes, her hands shaking with the effort. The cave shook violently, and larger chunks of rock started to fall around them.

"Bring it down! Bring it down!" Ethan shouted, as if his words were a ritualistic chant. Piper tried to block his voice out, focusing solely on freeing Diana. She could feel the vibrations intensifying, the ground beneath them shifting ominously.

"Almost there," she muttered, sawing through the last of the ropes.

A loud crack split the air, and a massive slab of rock fell from the ceiling, smashing into the ground nearby. Piper shielded Diana with her body, bracing for the worst. The cave shook violently, dust and debris raining down around them.

Tugging on the last rope, which Piper had partially cut, Diana managed to break free. At the same moment, a flashlight beam cut through the room, which was cloudy with dust.

"Piper!" Wade shouted. "This way!"

Piper didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing Diana's hand, she sprinted after Wade, who was already backpedaling, one hand raised to protect his head from falling rocks.

"Where’s the guy who attacked her?" he shouted.

"I don’t know!" Piper replied, her voice tight with frustration and fear. "I had to let him go."

They sprinted through the cave, the walls shaking violently. Piper held onto Diana, helping her move as quickly as she could. Wade led the way, his flashlight slicing through the thick dust and debris. They were almost at the entrance when a thunderous crash echoed through the cave.

Part of the ceiling collapsed in front of them, blocking their path with massive boulders. Wade skidded to a halt and bent over, coughing. "We'll have to find a way around!" he shouted. He pointed to a narrow passage off to the side, barely visible through the dust. "This way!"

Piper nodded, and they hurried toward the passage, the cave continuing to tremble ominously. They squeezed through the tight space, the walls pressing in on them. The sound of the collapsing cave grew louder, the air thick with dust and fear.

The passage twisted and turned, but finally, they saw a faint light ahead.

With a renewed sense of hope, they raced toward the light. The ground shook violently beneath them, and they stumbled, but they didn’t stop. Just as they reached the exit, the tunnel behind them gave one final, deafening roar and collapsed entirely.

They burst out into the open, gasping for air and covered in dust. Piper, Wade, and Diana tumbled onto the cold, clean snow. They turned to see the cave entrance sealed by tons of rock and debris.

For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath and processing what had just happened. Piper looked over at Wade and Diana, relief flooding through her. They had made it out alive.

Returning her attention to the collapsed cave, she searched for any sign of Ethan. The snowfall had lightened, allowing a clearer view of the cave entrance now blocked by rubble.

As if reading her thoughts, Wade said, "There’s no way he could have survived that. The entire cave collapsed—he’s buried under there."

Piper nodded, though the tension in her chest didn’t ease. "I know. It’s just...I wanted to make sure. He’s caused so much pain."

"We’ll get a team up here to search the cave once the storm is over," Wade said. "We’ll find his body. But right now, we need to focus on getting Diana to safety."

Piper took a deep breath, forcing herself to turn away from the cave. She looked at Diana, who was shivering and pale but alive. They had saved her, and that was what mattered most.

"Alright," Piper said, her resolve hardening. "Let’s get out of here."

They began their trek back down the mountain, the storm finally starting to abate. As they moved away from the cave, Piper glanced back one last time, hoping against hope that Ethan was truly gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Piper cradled a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, the steam rising and mingling with the crisp night air as she sat in front of a large fire. She sipped slowly, savoring the warmth that spread through her chest.

I can't believe it's over, she thought. I can't believe we're still alive.

The storm had passed, leaving the world blanketed in a pristine layer of snow that glistened under the moonlight. They were down at the base of the mountains, the warm light from a nearby ranger station casting a comforting glow. Wade stood a few feet away, making plans with a group of rangers to head up to the cave once daylight broke and search for Ethan Frost’s body, while Diana was taking a hot shower in a trailer nearby.

Piper watched Wade and the rangers, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion. As much as she wanted closure, she wasn't looking forward to the search. She would've rather crashed into bed and stayed there for a week.

Wade broke away from his conversation and sank into a chair beside Piper, his breath visible in the cold air. "They’re going to start first thing in the morning," he said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "We’ll get a team up there to sift through the debris."

Piper nodded, taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "Good. I want to be sure he’s really gone."

Wade nodded back, staring into the flames. It was a thousand-yard-stare, probably more a product of weariness than anything else.

"Thanks for finding us," Piper said.

Wade frowned at her, surprised. "As opposed to what? Heading back to the ranger lodge? Good luck, have fun catching a serial killer?"

Piper shrugged. "It would've been a lot easier for you."

Wade turned toward her, his knee brushing hers. "No, actually, it wouldn't have been. Sure, it would've been safer to just go back, but then I'd have to live with the knowledge that I'd failed you, left you holding the bag. That would've tortured me to no end."

"You're a good man, Lawrence Wade."

He grunted. "I try to do a good deed every once in a while."

They both fell silent, staring at the flames. Piper thought about the avalanche and how, for a few long moments, she'd suspected she might have lost Wade forever.

"Wade," she said softly. "I know you care about me and want to…to move forward in our relationship."

"It's okay, Pip. You don't have to—"

"No. Let me speak."

Wade took a deep breath and waited.

"I've been afraid," she said. "Afraid of losing the mother of my childhood, afraid of losing everything that's good about you and me." She shook her head. "But life doesn't work that way, does it? You only have the now, the moments right in front of us. You can't take a snapshot of perfection and keep it forever."

Wade stared at her, breathing deeply.

"I guess what I'm saying," Piper said, "is that I want to see where this goes—you and me. Wherever it goes, without reservation. Do you still want that?"

A small smile played at the corner of Wade's mouth. "I can't tell you how long I've waited for you to say that." He leaned close and kissed her, long and full. Afterward, they both leaned back, listening to the crackling of the fire. Piper felt worried and excited at the same time, two sides of the same coin. But she was good with that.

Life was never safe, no matter what.

Her mind drifted to Diana, who was resting inside a nearby trailer owned by one of the rangers.

"How’s Diana?" she asked.

"Shaken, but she’s strong," Wade said, his voice softening. "The medics checked her out. She’ll recover physically, but it’s going to take time for the emotional wounds to heal."

Piper nodded, her heart aching for the woman. "She’s been through so much. I just hope she can find some peace after this."

Wade leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the stars. "She will. She'll get the support she needs."

They fell into another comfortable silence, the events of the day catching up with them. Piper’s thoughts turned to Ethan Frost—how close he had come to succeeding in his twisted mission. "Ethan...I can’t believe he was so obsessed with his idea of preserving beauty. It’s terrifying to think how far he was willing to go."

Wade’s expression darkened. "He was a monster. But he’s gone now. We have to focus on the survivors, on the people who need us."

Piper took another sip of her hot chocolate, the warmth soothing her. "You’re right. It’s over."

They sat there, side by side, watching the fire and listening to the night. The weight of what they had been through pressed down on them, but there was also a sense of closure. They had survived, they had saved Diana, and now they could begin to heal.

As the fire crackled and the stars twinkled above, Piper felt a flicker of hope. They had faced the darkness and come out the other side. It was time to rebuild, to move forward, and to find peace in the aftermath of the storm.

"Has Flint's attorney arrived yet?" Piper asked, suddenly recalling their chase and subsequent arrest of Marcus Flint.

Wade nodded. "Apparently, he showed up while we were out following Diana's trail. The rangers were telling me about it."

"Surprised he'd brave a storm like this."

"Well, he's a young buck, eager to make a name for himself. Anyway, he had a brief conversation with Flint, and I guess they figured out pretty quickly that not cooperating was doing a lot more damage to Flint's reputation than the opposite."

Piper sat up, curious. "What did he say?"

"He admitted to dating Rita Williams, admitted it was a bad breakup. Even confessed he'd come out here to see if she was dating anyone else. He claims that's why he ran from us—he'd heard about Rita's death, and when he saw us bearing down on him, he just panicked. Then he figured the best thing was just to give nothing away."

Piper snorted. "Made himself look awfully guilty for no reason."

Wade nodded. "I agree. But not everyone's blessed with such a cool head as yours."

Piper rolled her eyes. Inwardly, however, she appreciated the compliment.

Wade shifted in his chair, turning to face Piper. His eyes held a softness that made her heart skip a beat. "I've gotta say, we make a pretty good team," he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Piper looked at him, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. "Yeah, we do," she agreed. "I couldn't have done this without you."

He reached out, his hand gently covering hers. The touch was warm, comforting. He was her safe person, her harbor in the storm. She didn't have to question his motives, didn't have to wonder if he was lying to her or hiding a crime or looking for an opportunity when she lowered her guard so that he could overpower her.

He was on her side—something she couldn't assume of anyone else in the world, except for her mother. And despite how much she loved her mother and how special a bond the two of them shared, there was something unique in her relationship with Wade.

Something uniquely grounding.

She didn't know where the future might lead or how big a role Wade would play in it, but for now, she was grateful to have him by her side.

"The feeling's mutual," Wade said with a smile that was more in his eyes than on his mouth.

Their eyes locked, and for a moment the world around them faded away. The fire's glow caressed their faces. Slowly, Wade leaned in, his lips brushing gently against hers in a second kiss.

The kiss was tender, filled with the unspoken emotions that had no place in the midst of a murder investigation. It was a moment of pure connection, encapsulating everything they had experienced together—the danger, the fear, the triumph, and the relief. Piper felt herself melt into the kiss, the warmth of his touch enveloping her.

When they finally pulled away, Piper rested her forehead against his. Neither of them spoke—there was no need to explain anything. They had gone through the ordeal together.

Piper leaned against Wade's shoulder, and they sat there together, watching the fire as it burned brightly against the backdrop of the night. For the first time in a long while, Piper felt hopeful. They had survived the storm, and now, with Wade by her side, she felt ready to face whatever the future held.

Piper was just beginning to nod off when one of the lights in the trailer winked off. Piper sat up straighter. "Is Diana still in there?" she asked.

"I think so," Wade said. "Still waiting for her parents to arrive."

Piper frowned, troubled by something but not sure what. "I'm going to check on her," she said, slipping out of Wade's warm embrace. Wade didn't protest—he was probably too tired to do so.

Piper walked over to the trailer, her breath visible in the cold night air. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer.

"Diana?" she called. "It’s Piper. Are you alright?"

Still no response. Piper’s concern deepened. Had something happened to Diana? She hadn't been injured during the escape from the cave—no more than a few cuts and bruises—but there was no telling how much emotional damage she'd suffered.

She's probably just taking her time in the shower, Piper thought. After everything she's been through, it must feel wonderful.

Yes…and yet she couldn't shake that nagging worry.

I'll just check in with her quick, make sure she's alright.

She tried the door and found it unlocked. Slowly, she pushed it open and stepped inside. The trailer was dimly lit and far colder than she'd expected. The back window was open, letting in the icy night air. Her eyes fell to the floor where she saw snowy footprints—large, unmistakably a man’s boot prints—melting into small puddles.

Her heart raced as she reached for her gun. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She heard a scuffing footstep behind her and turned, but before she could bring the gun around, Ethan barreled into her, shoving her back as he tried to wrestle the gun from her hands.

Their legs got tangled and then went down in a heap, still fighting for the gun.

Ethan was stronger than she was, but Piper had been trained for situations like this. She elbowed him hard in the ribs, then kicked out, shoving him away from her. He grunted, the breath momentarily knocked from his lungs, and she scrambled to her feet. With a surge of adrenaline, she took aim at him, finger poised on the trigger.

"Don't move!" she warned. Ethan simply glared at her, breathing heavily.

"Where's Diana?" she demanded. Fear constricted her throat as she scanned the darkened trailer for any sign of the young woman.

"I should’ve killed you in that cave," Ethan said, his face twisted with rage. "But I’ll finish the job now."

"Where. Is. Diana?" Piper repeated.

Just then, the door behind Piper creaked open and Diana stepped out, her hair wrapped in a towel. She stared at Piper, puzzled, and then her gaze shifted to Ethan.

Her mouth opened in horror.

Taking advantage of Piper’s momentary distraction, Ethan raced forward, knocking the gun aside just as Piper pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore through the flimsy trailer wall, the sharp report like a fireworks explosion in the confined space. Piper grappled with Ethan, her training kicking in as she fought to regain control of the weapon.

But Ethan was desperate, fueled by adrenaline and rage. He swung wildly, his fist connecting with Piper’s face. She staggered back, her vision momentarily blurred as pain exploded through her cheekbone. Then he was on her, wrenching the gun from her hand and throwing it across the trailer. He pushed her to the ground, his hands moving for her throat.

"Run, Diana!" Piper cried, her world narrowing to Ethan's lethal grasp.

But Diana didn't run. Ignoring her own terror, she lunged at Ethan from behind, pulling his arm away long enough for Piper to break free. She rolled away, gasping for air as Ethan turned his attention to Diana.

"No!" Piper screamed, watching as he backhanded Diana. She crashed into a small table, knocking over a lamp in the process. The bulb shattered, throwing shards of glass across the room.

Piper scrambled for the gun, her hands blindly feeling along the cold metal floor of the trailer. There! She stretched out her arm, fingers closing around the grip just as Ethan advanced upon her again.

She had no time to think, only act. In one swift motion, she swung the gun up and pulled the trigger. The report was deafening in the small trailer, a flash of bright and terrible light that lit Ethan's face in stark relief.

The bullet struck him in the shoulder, sending him careening sideways into a wall. Piper scrambled to her feet, her ears ringing as she pointed the gun at Ethan once more.

Ethan groaned and sagged against the wall, clutching his bleeding shoulder. His hate-filled eyes never left Piper's, even as she stepped forward to kick his legs out from under him. He collapsed onto his back with a thud, gasping for air as pain radiated through his shoulder. His dark eyes bore into Piper's, full of seething rage and defiance.

"I'll... kill you," he growled, his voice hoarse and pained.

"Shut up," Piper snapped, her heart pounding in her ears. Her gaze shifted to Diana, who was slowly picking herself off the ground, her face pale in the dim light.

"Diana?" she called out, her voice shaky. "Are you okay?"

Diana looked at her, a dazed expression on her face, and then nodded slowly. "I think so," she said, her voice trembling. "Are...are you?"

Piper nodded, trying to offer a reassuring smile despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "I'll be fine," she said, keeping her gun trained on Ethan as she slowly moved closer to Diana.

Just then, Wade burst into the trailer. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, looking around before his gaze landed on Ethan. His eyes darkened. “I’ll be damned—he’s still alive.”

“And that means he can answer for his crimes,” Piper said grimly. “It’s better this way. After everything he’s done, death would’ve been too easy.”

Wade nodded and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. While he secured Ethan, Piper led Diana out of the trailer and into the cold, dark night.

A car was approaching along the road. As it neared, Diana took off toward it without a word. The front two doors opened, and a middle-aged couple stepped out. They hurried toward Diana and met her halfway, wrapping their arms around her.

Watching the scene, Piper felt tears gathering in her eyes. That’s justice right there, she thought.

As Diana embraced her parents, Piper turned to Wade. "I can't believe he was still alive. How did he survive that cave-in?"

Wade shook his head, his expression grim. "Resourceful bastard. But now we can get some real answers."

Piper nodded. "What do we know about him? Who is this Ethan?"

Wade pulled out his phone, tapping quickly. "I requested a background check as soon as we had a name. It's just coming through now." He scanned the screen, his brow furrowing.

"Ethan Frost, thirty-four years old. Local to the area. He's got a record—mostly minor offenses, but there's a restraining order from five years ago. Stalking charges."

Piper's eyes widened. "So he's been escalating."

Wade nodded. "Looks like it. He worked as an ice sculptor, had some success in the local art scene. But he lost his business about a year ago—seems he had trouble keeping clients."

"Because he was creeping them out," Piper muttered.

"Probably," Wade agreed. "There's more. He spent some time in a psychiatric facility as a teenager. Diagnosis of obsessive-compulsive disorder with narcissistic tendencies."

Piper sighed, the pieces falling into place. "A narcissist obsessed with preserving beauty, who lost his legitimate outlet for his obsessions. It's no wonder he snapped."

"And the mountains provided the perfect hunting ground," Wade added. "Isolated, full of tourists who wouldn't be missed right away."

"At least now we can put a face and a story to the monster," Piper said, watching as the paramedics loaded Ethan into an ambulance. "It's over."

Wade put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It is. And thanks to you, he'll face justice for what he's done."

Piper nodded, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion wash over her. The case was closed, the killer caught. Now, it was time to heal and move forward.

EPILOGUE

Piper felt a strange mixture of excitement and trepidation as she pulled up outside the mine.

What were the chances Byron Gray was working here? What were the chances he had ever worked here? Piper's mother had claimed her attacker had coal dust on his hands and clothes, and this was the closest mine to Golden Meadows, so it stood to reason that perhaps Gray had been working here, using his job as a cover while he spied on Piper and her mother.

Or perhaps Piper was way off-base. There was only one way to find out.

The mining operation sprawled before her, a maze of machinery and dirt paths crisscrossing the area. Huge trucks rumbled past, carrying loads of coal, while conveyor belts transported the black ore from the depths of the earth. The air was thick with the smell of diesel and coal dust, mixing into a gritty, almost metallic scent that clung to everything.

She stepped out of the vehicle, her breath visible in the cold air. The sound of machinery was a constant roar, punctuated by the occasional shout from a worker or the clatter of equipment. As she walked toward the main building, she felt eyes on her. The workers, clad in heavy-duty overalls and helmets, looked at her curiously. She stood out like a sore thumb in her casual winter wear.

She pushed open the door to the main office, stepping into a slightly quieter environment. The smell of coffee replaced the harsh industrial scents outside. Desks were cluttered with maps, safety posters adorned the walls, and the constant hum of the heating system provided a low background noise.

She scanned the room and spotted a tall man with a thick mustache and a weathered face, wearing a hard hat and a high-visibility vest. He was standing by a large desk, reviewing some documents with an air of authority.

"Excuse me," Piper said as she approached him, raising her voice to be heard over the ambient noise.

The man looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed her. "Can I help you?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I’m Agent Piper Woods with the FBI," she said, flashing her badge. "I need to speak with the supervisor here."

"You’re looking at him," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "Name’s Hank Morris. What’s this about?"

Piper glanced around, ensuring they weren’t being overheard. "I’m looking for information on one of your workers."

Hank’s expression hardened. "I don’t just give out information about my employees. We’ve got rules and regulations to follow, not to mention privacy concerns."

Piper pressed on, her voice firm but polite. "This is a serious matter, Mr. Morris. I believe this employee may have committed a terrible crime."

Hank shook his head. "I understand, but I can’t just hand over employee records without proper authorization. You’d need a court order for that."

Piper bit her tongue, keeping her frustration in check as best she could. "I’m not asking for records right now, just some answers. It's likely he's a new hire, someone who joined the company in the past few months."

Hank’s eyes flickered with something—recognition, perhaps—but he quickly masked it. "We get new hires all the time, Agent Woods. Even if I was inclined to help you—and I'm not–you’d have to be a lot more specific."

Piper thought of what she knew about Byron Gray. She had a picture of him from years ago, and it was possible he looked dramatically different now. Still, it was worth a shot.

She pulled out the photograph and showed it to Hank. He studied it, working something out of his teeth.

Come on, Piper thought. Please recognize him.

After several interminable seconds, Hank finally shrugged one shoulder. "Don't know. Could be he works here, could be I've never seen him in my life."

Piper's heart sank. "Please, just take another look. Please?"

"I’m sorry, Agent Woods, but I don't recognize him. So if there's nothing else…"

"What about a name? Can you tell me if anyone named Byron Gray has ever worked here?" It was unlikely Gray would use his real name, but it was worth a shot.

Hank tapped away at the keyboard. "Sorry, no luck," he said. "Nobody by that name has ever worked here."

Piper wasn't in the least surprised. Gray was bold, even to the point of tempting fate, but using his real name would've been downright stupid.

"Now, if there's nothing else," Hank said, "I've got a very busy day, so if you'll excuse me…" He turned back to his desk, effectively ending the conversation.

Piper’s frustration bubbled to the surface, but she knew there was no point in pushing further. She would have to figure out another way to find Gray.

"Alright," she said, her voice tight. "Thank you for your time."

She turned and walked away, the noise of the mining operation almost drowning out her thoughts. The lead had seemed so promising, but without the cooperation of management, what could she do? Break in during the middle of the night and hack into their computer, searching the employee files for anything that might jump out at her. Walk the whole operation, hoping she could identify Gray with her own eyes—assuming he'd come back after assaulting her mother, which seemed improbable?

Even if he's here right now, he could be covered with coal dust. How would I recognize him?

She reached the door and put her hand on the latch, then paused. She wanted to have a plan, some next step to take in her search for the elusive serial killer, but nothing came to her.

With every passing second, it felt like he was going to get away with the attack on her mother, just like he'd gotten away with murdering Fiona Taylor and all those other women.

Just like she feared, he would always get away.

She lowered her head and closed her eyes. There had to be something she wasn't thinking of, some detail that would—

"Excuse me, Agent Woods?"

Piper turned to see a woman standing near the corner of the room, partially hidden behind a stack of crates. She was in her early thirties, with short, curly brown hair peeking out from under a knit cap. Her face was smudged with coal dust, and her eyes were sharp and curious. She wore a heavy-duty work jacket over her slim frame and thick gloves that she was now nervously wringing together.

"Yes?" Piper asked.

The woman glanced nervously toward Hank, then gestured for Piper to join her. Piper did, growing increasingly curious.

"I think I know who you’re looking for," the woman said in a hushed tone.

Piper's heart jumped. "You heard our conversation?"

The woman nodded, unabashed. "My name’s Maggie," she said, extending a gloved hand.

Piper shook the offered hand. "Piper Woods. But I guess you already knew that. What is it you think you know?"

Maggie lowered her voice conspiratorially. "A few months back, we had a new hire. A man who really kept to himself." She paused, gathering her words. "Didn’t talk much, but then again, a lot of people around here don't. Town like this gathers a lot of riff-raff from around the country, people on the run from something: a dead-end life, a dead-end relationship…the law."

Piper remained quiet. She didn't want to interrupt Maggie's train of thought.

Maggie took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "Anyway, a few weeks ago we had some problems with theft: someone was busting some of the locks on the lockers, picking through everyone's belongings. We found the thief—he had everything hidden in his truck like a packrat—and it was my job to make sure everything got to the people it'd been stolen from."

She paused again and began to chew her bottom lip. "Well, this man comes forward and claims this cheap necklace—the kind of thing a teenage girl might wear, you know? It was old, faded, like it had been handled a lot, and something about the man got me curious. He just seemed so…so cold, you know? Charming, but in a cold way."

"What did you do?" Piper asked.

"I looked up his employee file. He didn't have any emergency contact, any next of kin. Then I looked up his name on the internet…and there was just nothing about him. Complete blank."

Piper felt a chill along the nape of her neck. "What was the name?"

"Barry Givens."

"And did you have any further interactions with him?"

Maggie shook her head. "I stayed away from him after that—something about him was just…unsettling."

Piper showed him the picture of Byron Gray. "Is this the man you saw?"

Maggie studied it for a few seconds, then nodded. "Yes, that's him."

Piper's heartbeat kicked up a notch. "Does he still work here?" she asked.

Maggie frowned, chewing her lip again. "That's a funny thing—he stopped showing up just a few days ago. No explanation, no notice." She shrugged. "Then again, that's not uncommon, either."

"Do you have any idea where he could be now?"

"Well, his address is a PO box…"

Piper's heart sank.

"But I've got a feeling I know where he's been staying," Maggie added.

"And where would that be?" Piper asked, her heart starting to race.

Maggie looked hesitant. "It's just a hunch," she began, "but about a week back I was heading home late, took a shortcut through an old logging trail and I saw him."

"Saw him?" Piper echoed.

“Well, not him. Saw his truck. It was parked by the old Deerman cabin.” She paused, looking increasingly doubtful. “Or maybe a truck like it.”

Piper placed her hands on Maggie’s shoulders. “Maggie, how confident are you that it was Barry Givens’s truck?”

“Fifty-percent?”

Piper nodded, satisfied. In her world, those were good odds—excellent odds, in fact.

“I need a paper and pen,” she said.

Maggie frowned. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to write down exactly how I can get to that cabin.”

***

Piper drove down the winding dirt road, guided by the hastily-written instructions in her hand. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange and gold as it sank behind the mountains. Her heart pounded in her chest, a steady thrum that matched the rhythm of the truck's engine.

She had no idea what she would find at the cabin. Maybe Barry Givens would be there, maybe he wouldn’t. But she had to follow this lead. It was all she had left.

As the Deerman cabin came into view, Piper’s breath hitched in her throat. It was a rundown structure, half-hidden by towering pines, its windows dark. There was a foreboding silence that hung in the air—a silence broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance or the rustling of leaves in the brisk wind.

Piper parked her truck a fair distance from the cabin, switching off the headlights before she did. She didn't want to alert whoever might be inside—if there was anyone inside at all. The late evening chill crawled beneath her jacket as she stepped out, making her shiver involuntarily.

She approached slowly, her footsteps muffled by the layer of pine needles on the ground. She wished she had brought a flashlight as she fumbled blindly through the dark forest. Still, she pressed on, one hand unclasping her holster and drawing her sidearm.

As Piper drew closer, she could see a faint glow emanating from one of the cabin's windows. She crept alongside the wooden exterior until she reached it. Cautiously, she lifted herself onto the balls of her feet to peek inside.

The first thing that caught her eye was a flickering lantern in the middle of a single-roomed cabin. As her gaze wandered, she saw an unmade cot pushed against the opposite wall, an overturned crate serving as a make shift table, and an assortment of objects scattered on the floor. But what truly caught her attention was the faded necklace draped over the lantern. It was the same necklace Maggie had described: a cheap trinket that looked like it had been cared for with a surprising amount of tenderness.

A souvenir from one of Byron Gray’s many victims? They didn’t call him the Necklace Strangler for nothing.

Piper lowered herself, her heart thundering in her chest. He was here—Byron Gray was here. She had to call Wade, had to make sure that no matter what happened, Gray didn’t find a way to weasel out of this situation.

She was reaching for her phone when she heard a rustle of leaves behind her.

“Hello, Piper,” an oddly-familiar voice said. “I was wondering when you’d find me.”

NOW AVAILABLE!

SOMEWHERE SILENT

(A Piper Woods FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Eight)

“Molly Black has written a taut thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat… I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait to read the next book in the series!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

When a killer's silent symphony of screams echoes through deserted cabins, FBI Agent Piper Woods must follow a trail as cold as the victims she seeks to avenge. In a deadly game of hide-and-seek, will Piper's tracking skills be enough to unearth this predator before silence falls on another soul?

SOMEWHERE SILENT is book #8 in a long anticipated new series by critically-acclaimed and #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Molly Black, whose books have received over 2,000 five-star reviews and ratings. The series begins with SOMEWHERE SAFE (book #1).

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the Piper Woods series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series are also available!

“I loved this book! Fast-paced plot, great characters and interesting insights into investigating cold cases. I can't wait to read the next book!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“Very good book… You will feel like you are right there looking for the kidnapper! I know I will be reading more in this series!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“This is a very well written book and holds your interest from page 1… Definitely looking forward to reading the next one in the series, and hopefully others as well!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“Wow, I cannot wait for the next in this series. Starts with a bang and just keeps going.”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“Well written book with a great plot, one that will keep you up at night. A page turner!”

—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“A great suspense that keeps you reading… can't wait for the next in this series!”

—Reader review for Found You

“Sooo soo good! There are a few unforeseen twists… I binge read this like I binge watch Netflix. It just sucks you in.”

—Reader review for Found You

SOMEWHERE SILENT

(A Piper Woods FBI Suspense Thriller—Book Eight)

Molly Black

Bestselling author Molly Black is author of the MAYA GRAY FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eleven books; of the RYLIE WOLF FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books; of the TAYLOR SAGE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eight books; of the KATIE WINTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising eleven books (and counting); of the RUBY HUNTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); of the CAITLIN DARE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the REESE LINK mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the CLAIRE KING FBI suspense thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the PIPER WOODS mystery series, comprising eight books (and counting); of the GRACE FORD mystery series, comprising eight books (and counting); of the CASEY BOLT mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the JADE SAVAGE mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the ELISE CLOSE psychological thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); of the TESSA FLINT mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the CLARA PIKE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting); and of the CASSANDRA FIERCE suspense thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Molly loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.mollyblackauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

CASSANDRA FIERCE SUSPENSE THRILLER

RISING TIDE (Book #1)

RISING FEAR (Book #2)

RISING ABYSS (Book #3)

RISING TERROR (Book #4)

RISING DARKNESS(Book #5)

RISING DOUBT (Book #6)

RISING NIGHT (Book #7)

ELISE CLOSE SUSPENSE THRILLER

BEHIND HER LIES (Book #1)

BEHIND HER SMILE (Book #2)

BEHIND HER SECRETS (Book #3)

BEHIND HER GATES (Book #4)

BEHIND LOCKED DOORS (Book #5)

CLARA PIKE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

REMEMBER THE FEAR (Book #1)

REMEMBER THE DEAD (Book #2)

REMEMBER THE LIES (Book #3)

REMEMBER THE SILENCE (Book #4)

REMEMBER THE PAST (Book #5)

TESSA FLINT MYSTERY SERIES

BARELY SEEN (Book #1)

BARELY HEARD (Book #2)

BARELY FORGOTTEN (Book #3)

BARELY MISSING (Book #4)

BARELY ALIVE (Book #5)

BARELY THERE (Book #6)

BARELY SILENT (Book #7)

JADE SAVAGE MYSTERY SERIES

ALL SHE FEARS (Book #1)

ALL SHE WANTS (Book #2)

ALL SHE REMEMBERS (Book #3)

ALL SHE NEEDS (Book #4)

ALL SHE HIDES (Book #5)

ALL SHE DREADS(Book #6)

ALL SHE LOST (Book #7)

CASEY BOLT MYSTERY SERIES

BROKEN (Book #1)

FLAWED (Book #2)

BLEMISHED (Book #3)

DAMAGED (Book #4)

TWISTED (Book #5)

FRACTURED (Book #6)

TAINTED (Book #7)

GRACE FORD MYSTERY SERIES

NEARLY MINE (Book #1)

NEARLY SAFE (Book #2)

NEARLY FREE (Book #3)

NEARLY GONE (Book #4)

NEARLY HIS (Book #5)

NEARLY LOST (Book #6)

NEARLY DONE (Book #7)

NEARLY NEXT (Book #8)

CLAIRE KING MYSTERY SERIES

ONCE HE SEES (Book #1)

ONCE HE LONGS (Book #2)

ONCE HE TAKES (Book #3)

ONCE HE FEELS (Book #4)

ONCE HE KNOWS (Book #5)

MAYA GRAY MYSTERY SERIES

GIRL ONE: MURDER (Book #1)

GIRL TWO: TAKEN (Book #2)

GIRL THREE: TRAPPED (Book #3)

GIRL FOUR: LURED (Book #4)

GIRL FIVE: BOUND (Book #5)

GIRL SIX: FORSAKEN (Book #6)

GIRL SEVEN: CRAVED (Book #7)

GIRL EIGHT: HUNTED (Book #8)

GIRL NINE: GONE (Book #9)

GIRL TEN: WANTED (Book #10)

GIRL ELEVEN: VANISHED (Book #11)

RYLIE WOLF FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

FOUND YOU (Book #1)

CAUGHT YOU (Book #2)

SEE YOU (Book #3)

WANT YOU (Book #4)

TAKE YOU (Book #5)

DARE YOU (Book #6)

TAYLOR SAGE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

DON’T LOOK (Book #1)

DON’T BREATHE (Book #2)

DON’T RUN (Book #3)

DON’T FLINCH (Book #4)

DON’T REMEMBER (Book #5)

DON’T TELL (Book #6)

KATIE WINTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SAVE ME (Book #1)

REACH ME (Book #2)

HIDE ME (Book #3)

BELIEVE ME (Book #4)

HELP ME (Book #5)

FORGET ME (Book #6)

HOLD ME (Book #7)

PROTECT ME (Book #8)

REMEMBER ME (Book #9)

CATCH ME (Book #10)

WATCH ME (Book #11)

RUBY HUNTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IF I RUN (Book #1)

IF I TELL (Book #2)

IF I LIVE (Book #3)

IF I FORGET (Book #4)

IF I RETURN (Book #5)

CAITLIN DARE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

COME GET ME (Book #1)

COME FIND ME (Book #2)

COME TAKE ME (Book #3)

COME CATCH ME (Book #4)

COME SAVE ME (Book #5)

REESE LINK MYSTERY

BEYOND REASON (Book #1)

BEYOND REACH (Book #2)

BEYOND REPAIR (Book #3)

BEYOND DOUBT (Book #4)

BEYOND NORMAL (Book #5)

PIPER WOODS FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMEWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

SOMEWHERE SANE(Book #2)

SOMEWHERE WHOLE (Book #3)

SOMEWHERE FAR (Book #4)

SOMEWHERE WRONG (Book #5)

SOMEWHERE HIDDEN (Book #6)

SOMEWHERE DARK (Book #7)

SOMEWHERE SILENT (Book #8)