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

wanted not to be seen.

In the truck, Ray turned the heater toward Atlas and sat for a moment without starting the engine.

“You want my advice?” he asked.

“No.”

“I’m giving it anyway. Don’t go up there alone again.”

Grant rubbed Atlas behind one ear, careful of the healing skin. “I wasn’t alone today.”

Ray gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”