The clouds stayed heavy and the sky stayed dim, but all around them the world shone like it was covered with crystals.
Maddie felt Logan at her back, following closely in her footsteps. Literally. As if maybe Stefan or his friends (if he had any) would be less likely to see one set of footprints than they would be to see two. Or maybe they might think it was someone else—someone on their own. But there were no other people for miles and miles around.
That was something it had taken Maddie a long time to get used to. For the first year or so it always felt like the trees had eyes, like someone was watching, listening. Like there was a whole silent, invisible city living up on the hill with a bird’s-eye view of all she said or did.
But only the birds had that, Maddie knew now. And the birds, it seemed, weren’t talking.
Then it was as if Maddie had summoned one with her thoughts, because she heard a cry overhead and saw a bald eagle sweeping low, just above the snow-covered canopy of the trees.
“Was that … ?” Logan asked.
“We have a lot of eagles here. You can see their nests if you know where to look. They’re huge sometimes. Like houses. They mate for life,” she said without really realizing what she was saying.
Then she saw Logan’s grin and looked back to the path, too quickly.
There was a bush covered with berries nearby, and Maddie pointed at it. “Yummy,” she said as she pulled off as many berries as she could, passing a handful to Logan.
They walked a few yards more. Maddie could practically feel Logan’s gaze burning into her back. “Yummy,” she said, pointing to another bush. She pulled a few more berries and plopped them into her mouth. They were frozen, of course, but the cold, wet juice was a jolt to her system. She had a new bounce, a new purpose to her step when she saw yet another bush.
“Poison,” she said, pointing to the third type of berry.
“They look just like all the others,” Logan said.
Maddie glanced behind her. “Well, they’re not. Trust me.”
“So not yummy,” Logan finished for her.
Maddie couldn’t help but smile. “No. Not yummy.”
They walked on for a few minutes more, every moment bringing them closer to where they’d started last night, their big head start dwindling with every step.
They moved slower the closer they got. It was like they both knew that any breaking twig or carelessly kicked rock could start an avalanche. Not of snow or of rocks. But of awful.
Yes, Maddie thought with a nod. An avalanche of awful was just one careless step away, so she stepped very carefully indeed.
Logan must have felt it, too, because when he spoke, he whispered. “What are the odds that our friend never found Black Bear Bridge?”
Maddie wasn’t surprised at Logan’s change of subject. Then again, did it even count as a change of subject if said subject was constantly on one’s mind?
In the wintery stillness of the forest it was easy to believe that they were alone, locked together in some enchanted land. But they weren’t alone. Eagles flew and tree limbs cracked in the distance, breaking under their icy weight. And forgetting that they weren’t the only people in these woods was the most dangerous thing that either of them could do.
Maddie didn’t even bother to answer Logan’s question. It was an answer they both knew already. So instead she asked, “What would you do? If you were him, what would your play be?”
She could tell by the way he glanced around them that he wasn’t going to have to think about his answer. He’d been asking himself that question for hours.
“I’d find Black Bear Bridge and get on this side of the river, and then I’d find some nice, cozy place to take cover and wait for us. That phone is the best way to get help. It might be the only way to get help. And you can bet Stefan knows it.”
Maddie nodded. She kept pivoting, looking out across the white horizon just like her father had taught her when she was a little girl and he made his living looking over crowds, scanning for danger. There was never a time in Maddie’s life when she didn’t know how to scan for danger. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to not know that. Would she have preferred being a normal kind of girl who didn’t know what was out there? But, no, Maddie realized. She was the kind of girl who always liked to see things coming.
Logan studied her, read her silence. “It’s not too late, you know. We can still walk to Canada. Call it an adventure.”
Maddie couldn’t help but grin up at him. Logan had always had that effect on her. Spontaneous grinning usually ensued.
“I like Canada,” she said. “They have really good donuts.”
“They do have good donuts!” Logan exclaimed, as if he couldn’t believe he had forgotten that incredibly important fact about one of America’s closest allies and neighbors. “And I could learn to play hockey.”
Maddie turned. “We could put maple syrup on everything,” she said softly.
Then she felt Logan’s hand take hers, and she turned to study him. “We would be really good Canadians.”
“Right?”
Logan nodded. “Totally.”
But Canada was a world away. They might as well have been talking about setting up camp on the moon.
The wind was colder, but the rain had stopped and they were both dry, for which Maddie was eternally grateful. Still, there was a nagging itch in the back of her mind, a little voice whispering that they weren’t out of the woods yet.
They might never be out of the woods.
She looked up at the sky and knew that time was passing. Her father should have landed by now. The alarm should have sounded. Help was on its way, but Maddie had to keep Logan alive long enough for it to get there.
Time was ticking down, Maddie could tell. But toward what, she had no idea.
“How did they find me, Mad Dog?”
“Does it matter now?”
“Yes,” Logan practically snapped. “Because there’s no use risking our necks to get a sat phone if we have no idea who to call. What if there’s a mole in the Secret Service or the White House? What if some secure communications channel got hacked?” Logan took a deep breath. “How are we going to keep from messing up again if we don’t know where we messed up to begin with?”
To Maddie, it sounded like an excellent question. But it was one they didn’t have time to answer.
“We’ll figure that out, Logan. Later. After we call my dad and figure out a place for him to meet us. He can fly us out of here, and then we’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t know.” Logan’s gaze was trained on the horizon. “Something’s wrong.” He gestured to the snow and the ice and the thousands of empty acres that surrounded them. “Out there. I can feel it.”
Maddie wished she could argue, but she couldn’t find the words, so instead she said, “Tell me again, what he said on the phone.”
She expected Logan to roll his eyes. The answer hadn’t changed in the twenty minutes since she’d last asked.
But Logan was patient as he told her, “My Russian is pretty good, but it’s not perfect. And I only heard half of the conversation, but he said that he had to get me somewhere by a certain time—today, I think. I’m not sure what time exactly, but I got the impression that time was of the essence. They were going to be there, waiting and ready.”
“Who were they?” Maddie asked, but Logan just raised an eyebrow.
“The monster under the bed? The gunman on the grassy knoll?”
“Logan.” Maddie wasn’t losing patience. But maybe she was losing faith. “Was there a name? A group? An acronym? Anything?”
“A doctor,” Logan said. “He said they’d have a doctor there.”
“So they don’t just want you taken alive,” she said. “They’re planning on keeping you that way.”
“Yeah. Until they aren’t.”
Maddie could feel it then, the certain knowledge that Logan wasn’t as strong as he acted, as cool or as sure as he looked. He was taller. And stronger. And his hands felt better when she held them, and his chest made a much larger pillow than it had when they were ten. She was sure about all that. But Logan was still the same boy he’d been when they were standing in that corridor. He was still terrified he was about to watch someone he cared about get taken away forever. And his deepest fear—the one Maddie could see in his eyes—was that this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop it.
“It’s going to be okay, Logan. We’re going to get the phone and call my dad. He’ll tell us where he can land his plane, and then we’ll all go to Canada.”
“And get donuts,” Logan said.
Maddie smiled. “Exactly.” She turned and looked out at the frosty wilderness, eyes still scanning, mind still working. “But first we get a plan.”
You could hardly tell there’d been a bridge there.
Between the fire and the snow, all the boards were gone, burned or crashed into the water below; the rope had turned to ash. It seemed so much farther down in the light of day, so much so that Maddie wondered if she would have even been able to summon the courage to do what she’d done the night before if she’d been able to see the rocks and the rapids and the ice that lived below.
“It’s not that far down.” Logan’s words were strong, but his voice was significantly less steady.
“Yeah. Totally easy.”
“Right?” Logan asked.
“Right,” Maddie said.
But neither of them believed it. They stayed hunched behind an outcropping of rocks, higher on the hill. The river curved, and from their hiding place, with a light-colored blanket from the cabin draped over them, they had time to study the deep ravine and look for the pack and the phone and the man they knew had to be out there.
Hunting.
Maddie felt every bit her father’s daughter as she scanned the trees and the rocks. She looked up into the icy branches and squinted her eyes, cursing the fact that she didn’t have binoculars as she tried to see any footprints in the snow.
“What if he’s down there?” she said.
Logan looked at her. “Then I guess we can stop worrying that he’ll find us.”
It seemed as good a point as any.
Maddie didn’t want to wait too long. They didn’t want to lose the light, and even with the berries they’d found, that morning’s fish was a distant memory. And Maddie’s shoulder was starting to burn. The wound needed more than a splash of old vodka and some bandages. She needed a big shot of antibiotics and a bath.
And a hairbrush.
But mostly she needed to get Logan out of there and far away from Stefan and whatever mysterious rendezvous was waiting in the woods.
She cut her eyes up at Logan. “Will it work?”
He grinned back. “There’s one way to find out.”
The heat that Maddie felt as they eased down the hill, closer to the ravine and the river, had nothing to do with Maddie’s wound. It wasn’t even the fault of the boy who stayed at her back, glancing over his shoulder periodically, their footsteps light and soft on the slick ground.
When they reached the place where the bridge used to be, Maddie could see that the two posts that had once held the ropes were still standing, but the rest of the bridge was a memory.
She crept closer to the edge and peered over.
“I should go,” she said.
“No way,” Logan said too loud.
“I’ve been living here for six years, Logan. I’ve climbed trees and cliffs and pretty much anything that can collect ice. I can do this. I can—”
Logan didn’t argue. He just placed his hand on her shoulder and pressed his thumb against her bullet wound, and Maddie almost passed out from the pain. Stars swirled and her vision went black as she swayed. He hadn’t even pressed very hard.
“You were saying?” he asked.
“You don’t climb with your shoulder,” she tried, but Logan knew better.
“Liar. You climb with your whole body, Mad Dog. And you know it. Even a body as little and adorable as yours.”
Two things hit Maddie all at once:
First, the realization that Logan had called her little. And adorable. She wasn’t at all sure what that was supposed to mean, but she couldn’t possibly stop to figure it out because …
Second, Logan was taking off his coat and pushing up the sleeves of his shirt and she couldn’t really stop looking at his forearms. At some point in the past six years Logan’s forearms had become the most fascinating thing in the world, and Maddie had no idea how that had happened.
He placed his coat around her shoulders, tugged it tight. “Keep this warm for me, will you?”
Maddie didn’t know what to say.
Then Logan was looking over the edge again. Stefan’s pack peeked out from beneath the snow one-third of the way down. It wasn’t a solid cliff face, but it was close.
“It’s not that bad,” he said.
“Logan …” She started to argue. A part of her knew she needed to argue, but the part of her brain that was ticking away the moments had stopped sounding like a clock.
It had started sounding like a bomb.
“I’m lighter,” she told him.
He looked indignant. “I’m going,” he said. And then he grabbed her. And he kissed her. And Maddie thought that maybe Logan’s forearms were her second favorite thing.
When he paused and looked over the cliff one more time, he glanced back at her.
“It’s a piece of cake,” she lied.
But Logan just shook his head. “Man, I miss cake,” he said, then eased himself over the edge.
Maddie didn’t want to watch Logan’s descent. They had discussed this. They knew the risks—Logan knew the risks. They had both accepted them grudgingly, and yet accepting a thing and liking that thing were two incredibly different things indeed.
She watched until he was out of sight and then eased a little way down the edge of the river. She kept an ear tuned to the sound of her father’s plane. She kept one eye glued to the sky. Would he set out on foot, looking for them, or would he take the plane and search by air? Maddie couldn’t be certain. But she was sure she wasn’t alone.
She put the outcropping of rocks to her back.
And waited.
Alone.
Logan would be back soon.
If this plan worked, then they wouldn’t have to worry about being chased anymore. They’d get the phone and call her dad and then he’d come get them and fly them far, far away. If this plan worked, then it would soon be over.
Maddie wrapped Logan’s coat around her as she stood waiting. Listening.
The forest was full of sounds—rabbits and birds scavenging among the snow. Limbs falling and cracking under the weight of the first ice of the year.
But this was different. A crisp, clean snap.
Maddie spun to her left—looked back to the cliff—but it was too late. He was already there, standing in front of her. The gun was trained on the center of her chest, and the look on Stefan’s face was pure, unadulterated loathing.
“You should have forgotten about the phone,” he said.