He thought he was checking out illegal logging in the Idaho mountains-until he found a German Shepherd locked in a frozen cage, staring at him like it had been waiting for exactly one person

snow where tracks would show. He skirted a gully where ice hid beneath powder. Twice he stopped and waited for Grant to catch up, not impatient, just certain.

At the creek, he slowed.

The water ran black beneath plates of ice. Alder branches leaned low over the banks, their thin shadows striping the snow. Atlas crossed on stones barely visible above continue reading …