Prologue
It was the best day of her life.
Tammy Jo Sullivan clutched the inside door of the ATV, her heart racing and her breath seizing. Being sixteen and able to date, finally, was totally sick. The best ever. She grinned and looked over at Hunter as he drove up the rocky trail of Snowblood Peak in the Northern Cascades.
He smiled back, his teeth a flash of white against his tanned face. His family had gone to Mexico for Thanksgiving break, and he said he’d spent most of the time in the pool now that football season was over and he could relax. She’d had to work at her mom’s restaurant during the time off school, but that was okay.
Now she was on a date, in a four-wheeler, with Hunter freakin’ Jackson. He was a senior and she a sophomore, and never in her life had she thought he’d like her. When he’d asked her out, to go RZR riding on Saturday before the winter really hit, she’d nearly died on the spot. Now here she was, strapped into the passenger seat, watching the scraggly pine trees fly by on either side of them. She laughed out loud.
Sandy Jones turned around in the rig in front of them and waved. She was blurry through the back plastic window and her bright red hat flopped to the side.
Tammy Jo waved back at her friend, her smile so wide it made her cheeks hurt.
“Having fun?” Hunter twisted the wheel and turned them around another corner. The trail slid from mud to ice, and the tires spun. Mud and a sprinkling of snow covered the jagged rocks on his side of the trail, which led up into more dark, winter-stripped trees.
“Yeah,” she said, holding on and not looking as the ground and trees dropped away on her side. “We’re up high.”
He brushed a little bit of mud out of his thick blond hair, mud he’d gotten while helping Tyson change a belt on his Polaris earlier. It was cool how good they were at fixing whatever went wrong. “You’re safe. I know what I’m doing.” As he spoke, the tires in front of them threw up mud with a trace of ice.
She swallowed. “Um, my dad said not to go past the snow line since we’ve had such a rainy autumn. The ground won’t be solid.”
Hunter punched the gas pedal. “We’re fine. Don’t you want to see the top?”
For the first time, her stomach cramped. “My dad said—”
“The ground looks good to me. I’ll keep a close watch on it.” Hunter reached for the beer in the middle cup holder and drank the rest down. Although it was only nine in the morning, it was his fourth beer, but he seemed okay to drive. “Get me another, would you?” He tossed the can in the back.
The drop-off to her right made her head spin. “Um, when we stop. I don’t want to take off the seatbelt right now.” She closed her eyes until the dizziness passed.
“Sure.” He reached over and placed his hand over hers.
Her eyelids shot open. Hunter was holding her hand. Be cool. She had to be cool. Even so, she turned her hand over and tangled her fingers with his. His were a lot bigger than hers, and his palm was warm. She bit her lip to keep from smiling again. Life could not get any better. Like, ever.
Several clumps of dirt and rock rained down from high above and skidded across the path. Hunter removed his hand from hers and used both on the steering wheel to drive.
The rig jumped, and Tammy Jo clasped the handle on the dash. “Um, the earth is loose. We should stop.”
“We’re fine.” Hunter drove faster, his head down, as the vehicle bumped and jumped over the rocks.
The ground turned to pine needles and snow mixed with mud. Slushy with a side of freeze.
She craned her neck to look up the mountain. “There’s a lot of snow higher up. It’s not frozen, Hunter. Just the noise from the RZRs could cause problems. Vibrations and all of that.”
He shrugged a wide shoulder. “I can handle it. Don’t worry.”
She stared over the side of the cliff, biting the inside of her cheek until it stung. Forlorn-looking spruce, pine, and alder trees peppered the embankment down at least three thousand feet to the bottom of a deep gulley.
She shivered.
The mountain roared.
She jerked her head. “What’s—”
“Hold on!” Hunter yelled.
She gasped and swiveled as far as the harness would allow, to see snow and mud break loose from the craggy mountain face above them. “No, we—”
The avalanche poured down, right into them. The force struck the driver’s side, nearly tipping them over.
“Shit!” Hunter yelled, furiously whipping the wheel to the right and turning the four-wheeler. The wall of mud and snow pushed them over the cliff, face first.
Tammy Jo slammed against her harness and pressed her hands on the dash, screaming. Terror ripped through her as they slid down the cliffside, close to a massive drop-off she hadn’t seen from above. They were going to die.
“I need to hit a tree,” Hunter gritted out, his hands and feet working wildly to keep the rig pointed down so it wouldn’t roll over.
She couldn’t breathe. The harness cut into her and her butt rose slightly off the seat, while her hair hung forward.
Hunter whipped the steering wheel, and they went into a skid, crashing into two pine trees on the passenger side. Tammy Jo careened against the door, and pain burst through her shoulder. She cried out.
“Hold on.” Hunter grabbed her hand.
She blinked, tears falling down her face. Tree branches, snow, and mud smashed into the rig and went by toward the cliff, but the trees kept them in place.
“We’ll be okay!” Hunter yelled, his body tense. “Just keep still. It’ll pass.”
She gasped out air, trying not to scream.
A branch thumped on the front window and she jumped. Then she looked closer. “Is that . . . ?” It looked like an arm attached to half a hand—with broken off nails.
More mud tumbled the flesh away.
Then a leg. Then another arm.
Finally, the roar of the avalanche died down.
A round object plunked onto the window and rolled to a stop. A skull with stringy blond hair coming out of the scalp stared right at them.
Hunter screamed, high and loud, his voice sounding just like a toddler on a carnival ride.
Chapter One
Laurel Snow swiped through the calendar on her phone while waiting for the flight to DC to board. The worn airport chairs at LAX were as uncomfortable as ever, and she tried to keep her posture straight to prevent the inevitable backache. Christmas music played through the speakers, and an oddly shaped tree took up a corner, its sad-looking branches decorated with what might’ve been strung popcorn. The upcoming week was already busy, and Laurel hoped there wouldn’t be a new case. She stuck in her wireless earbuds to allow an upbeat rock playlist to pound through her ears as she rearranged a couple of meetings.
The phone dinged and she answered while continuing to organize the week. “Snow.”
“Hi, Agent Snow. How did the symposium go?” asked her boss, George McCromby.
“As expected,” she said, swiping a lunch meeting from Thursday to Friday. “I’m not a teacher, and half the time, the audience looked confused. A young woman in the front row had serious daddy issues, and a young man behind her was facing a nervous breakdown. Other than that, one guy in the last row exhibited narcissistic tendencies.”