“Fears are growing for the troop of Boy Scouts missing in the Denali wilderness. They were due back three days ago, and in that time they seem to have vanished without a trace—no cell phone calls, no sightings by other hikers. Search and Rescue teams are departing now with an obvious sense of urgency. The youngest of the boys is only twelve, and with nighttime temperatures already dipping below freezing in this Alaskan high country, there’s so much that might have gone wrong. Stay with us here at NBC Channel Eight, KFLS, for the very latest on this breaking story.”

Cassie waited until the red recording light was off before she set aside the microphone. “Let’s get back to the studio. We’ll edit on the way. I want to air this at five o’clock and send it on to national right away. Then we’re coming back to the airport because several of the parents are flying into Golden Falls, and we’re going to get their interviews before anyone else.”

“Sounds good, boss,” her cameraman said.

Fifteen minutes later, Cassie hurried into the KFLS studio building with the cut ready to air, looking for Steve. The news desks were quiet; Michael Driessner was off in a corner talking sweet to one of the college interns, and Cassie found Steve in his office. She knocked on the open door.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, come in.”

“We’ve got a massive breaking story,” she said. “I’ve already done an on-scene report and cut it. It’s being uploaded now for your review.”

Steve set down his coffee mug and raised his eyebrows. “And what is this massive breaking story?”

“Ten Boy Scouts and their two leaders missing in Denali, should have come back three days ago. Reported late last night when they missed their flight home to California.”

“Ten of them? How old?”

“Youngest is twelve, oldest is fourteen. The Sheriff’s Department just sent out helicopters. I’ve got footage of that, too.” And the rescuers. It had been a faraway shot, but she’d recognized Cody’s broad shoulders and shaggy brown hair from across the tarmac.

Steve had already stood up from his desk. “Good. Excellent. I’ll take a look at that cut now. How’d you find out?”

Cassie didn’t want to admit the whole truth—that she’d been awake early and listening to the emergency channel on her scanner app, waiting to hear Engine One go out on a call, knowing Cody was on shift.

“Picked it up on the scanner,” she simply said.

“Does anyone else have the story yet?”

“I think we got the scoop.”

Steve beamed.

“I can stay on it, right?” Cassie said. “I mean, I know I’m leaving, but—”

“It’s yours,” Steve said. “Now get out there.”

I’m going to miss him, she thought. He’d been a tough but fair boss, with high standards and high expectations. You could still learn a lot from him.

“I’m heading back out to the airport now—some of the kids’ parents are flying in this afternoon, and I want to interview them.”

“Perfect. Okay, I want you in the field for the main news broadcast tonight. At the Sheriff’s Department would be best, where they’re coordinating. I want interviews with the search and rescue people, too. This might be picked up by national. It will be, if we do it right.”

Cassie felt a thrill at the thought. Her face could be on television and computer screens across the country in a few hours.

Then another realization crashed through her. He’s going to know where I am. Her hands tingled with the familiar beginnings of a panic attack. If this story went big and got onto the national news—and every instinct of Cassie’s told her it would—her face would be everywhere, and he’d see it, and he’d be in Golden Falls, tiny Golden Falls, within a day.

If she did her job well, Stalker Doug was going to find her.

“Uh, Steve? On second thought, maybe Michael should take this one.”

Saying it was like a poison pill. This was a big break, and she hated, hated, that the specter of Stalker Doug might steal it from her, like he’d stolen so much else.

Steve peered at her. “Why would you hand off the biggest story of your young career? This could make you. Where’s your killer instinct?”

“My stalker,” she said. The word itself made her feel sick. “What if he sees me on the national news?”

“Here’s what I think,” Steve said after a moment. “This is a hell of a story, and I want my best reporter on it. That’s you. You’re leaving in less than a week, so even if he does see the broadcast and makes his way to Golden Falls, I don’t think he’d have time to find out where you live on his own.”

“In a small town like this, it wouldn’t be hard,” she said. “He could just park outside the studio and wait for me to come and go.”

“He could,” Steve said. “And I don’t want to pressure you, so if you really think it’s best, you can hand off the story to Michael.”

“You won’t win any awards if Michael covers it.”

“No, we won’t. But awards aren’t everything.”

Cassie glanced at the walls of his office. Every inch was taken up with an award of some sort, going back twenty years. Awards were everything, to Steve at least. And he’d been such a good boss to her. An award would be a nice going-away gift.

“I want this story,” she said.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right,” Steve said. “We’ll do our best to keep you safe. I’ll reiterate to the staff that no one at this news station is to reveal personal information to anyone. And I’ll hire a security guard for the remainder of your time on staff with us to patrol the parking lot and escort you to and from your car.”

“Thanks, Steve,” she said. “I appreciate it, truly. Now I need to run. I’ve got to go make that noise you always tell us to make.”

* * *

Cassie returned to the airport, where she’d arranged to meet two sets of parents arriving on that afternoon’s flight. Waiting for them at their gate, she was pleased no other reporters were there. When the parents arrived, one of the women threw her arms around Cassie as if they were long lost friends.

“Any word?” she asked desperately.

“No, but we’ve got lots of daylight left,” Cassie told her, introducing herself to each of the parents in turn. “And some of the best people in the world are searching for them.”

They set up the interview in front of a west-facing window that on this clear, sunny day would show off the magnificent foothills and distant massive rise of Denali.

“How did you discover your son’s troop hadn’t returned on schedule?” she asked the first set of parents.

“They missed their flight,” the mother said, already crying. “We waited for them at the airport, and they didn’t get off the plane!”

“Wasn’t there a communication plan before they left?”

“Not really,” the mother said. “They were out of range for the backpacking, of course, and then they were supposed to stay here in Golden Falls the last two nights at a campground. I guess we thought we’d hear if something went wrong. No news is good news, right?”

She tried to smile through her tears, but all Cassie could think was how backwards these parents had it. They should have had a plan, and a back-up plan.

“We’re not pleased with the lack of accountability around here,” the father said.

That wouldn’t go over well, Cassie knew. Alaskans were self-reliant. Neighborly, yes, but everyone understood the importance of being prepared. She wanted people to connect with the children who were missing, not get frustrated with these probably lawsuit-happy parents.

“Tell me a little bit about your son,” Cassie said, changing the tack of her questions.

“Brayden’s twelve,” the mother said, pulling up a picture on her cell phone. “He’s a great kid. He laughs all the time, never in a bad mood.” Her lip quivered. “His little sister—oh! I don’t know what we’d do without him.”

Much better, thought Cassie.

“He really cares about other people,” the father added. “He takes care of his sister and always rallies his soccer teammates. He’s a leader, that one. Born to be a leader. He’s out there somewhere—” he choked up “—and he’s doing everything he can to help the situation, sharing his rations, whatever he’s got. I know that for a fact. I know that about my son.”

After the interviews, Cassie hustled to the Sheriff’s Department, where searchers who’d been out all day were gathering. She took a few minutes in the van to get her hair and makeup ready for primetime and then jumped out to get more comments.

The news wasn’t good. No one had seen any sign of the Boy Scouts.

Steve called to tell her the story had been picked up by CNN, a co-affiliate of KFLS. They’d aired her earlier report and wanted Cassie live in ten minutes. From there, she’d go straight into the local breaking broadcast, and then onto the NBC Nightly News.

Cassie’s heart thudded. This wasn’t just a breaking story, it was her break. Her new bosses in Atlanta would get to see all the skills she could bring to the table.

You’ve got this, Cassie, she told herself. Go out there and kick some ass.

And she did. Once she had the microphone in hand, she was confident in her knowledge of the search effort and the identities of the missing boys. They aired clips of the helicopters leaving, of the tearful parents, and Cassie explained the particular challenges of the Alaskan landscape that the troop would be facing.

She’d just finished her report for NBC national when the two other news stations in town showed up with their vans, too late for any live national broadcasts. The rest of the afternoon was spent interviewing sheriff’s deputies and the search coordinators. She pored over Google Maps and emailed information back to KFLS so they could come up with graphics of where the hikers had been, and how the search would unfold in the harsh topography.

Finally, as the September twilight edged closer, she got footage of the searchers as they began to trickle back in groups of twos and threes. She got interviews of them, too, and kept an eye out for Cody, but didn’t see him. Did he spend the night out there? Knowing Cody, he probably did.

* * *

The next day was more of the same. Searchers left in the morning. More parents arrived. Profiles were done on the missing boys and their adult leaders, a dentist and a lawyer, and as the hours dragged on with no word, Cassie could see the growing dread on the faces of their families. She gave a second live report on CNN, and for the NBC Nightly News.

There was not a word, either, from Stalker Doug. Cassie’s phone stayed silent except for work-related calls and texts. Her email inbox was bursting, but she saw no alarming messages. She wanted to feel good about it—could she be that lucky that Doug hadn’t seen her on the news?—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the silence meant something, too.

But it didn’t matter. I’m leaving, she told herself. I’m leaving. A mantra of both escape and regret.

The evening after the second day of futile searching, Cassie finished up her last report in the parking lot of the Sheriff’s Department and had just stowed her microphone when she turned and, with a jolt like an electric shock, saw Cody walking across the parking lot looking tired and discouraged.

She longed to throw her arms around him, to pull him close and tell him he’d done good, to kiss him and offer him some comfort and—hell—make him hot chocolate or something. The burst of domesticity was almost a physical craving, to nurture this man and bring his sunshine-bright smile back to his rugged face.

But that wasn’t for her to do. Not anymore. Not ever again.

Then Cody saw her, too, and a mix of emotions crossed his face. Pain. Gladness. He turned toward her and then must have thought better of it, because he just half-lifted a hand and kept walking.

Cassie couldn’t stand it. Her heart felt squeezed beyond capacity.

“Cody,” she called. “Hey.”

He turned again. He didn’t move to greet her, but he didn’t walk away, either.

And so she went to him.