GRAND MARSAIS 9 NEWS
As Stanley Weathers faced the Channel 9 cameras he adjusted his tie and chafed at the latest ribbing he’d taken about his name. It had come from the new hire, some underling in the bowels of the TV station who obviously thought Stan had never heard anybody say, “A weatherman named Weathers? Did you make that up?”
When he got home he’d tell his wife Jean about it, and she’d find a way to make him laugh. If he got home. The snowstorm coming their way was a monster beyond anything he’d ever witnessed. He was going to have a hard time maintaining a cool professionalism during the weather report.
“Stan,” the cameraman said. “You’re on in two.”
He put on his stage smile and faced the cameras.
“Holly is her name, and she’s unlike any snowstorm we’ve ever seen.” He gestured to the weather map behind him, tracking the storm as he talked. “The blizzard that has held the Northwest in its grip since December 12 is sweeping toward Minnesota. This killer storm has left a path of destruction across Montana, Colorado, Nebraska and South Dakota.”
The death toll rose in his mind, and he paused, hoping his TV audience would perceive it as a planned break from his dramatic spiel. Stan was relieved the number of fatalities would be part of the news report, not the weather.
“Expect the blizzard to be one of the worst in the history of Minnesota with snow drifts as high as thirty feet. The mega-monster storm is on a path to hit Grand Marsais at 2:00 p.m. on December 23 and could last up to three days.”
There went the big family Christmas. That was the only good thing Stan could say about the storm. Jean had already called to say her parents had sent a text from Atlanta that their flight had been cancelled. He would have enjoyed seeing them, but he couldn’t say the same thing about Jean’s obnoxious, know-it-all twin sister Joan and her two teenaged brats who were traveling with them.
“Residents are urged to cancel holiday travel plans,” he told his TV audience. “Our team here at TV 9 News in Grand Marsais is standing by to bring you a list of airport closings. As always, Stan the Weatherman will be here at the station bringing you regular updates on Holly. Until then, stay off the roads. Be smart. Be safe.”
Chapter One
December 23
4:00 a.m.
“I should have picked her up.”
Joe left his vigil at the window that showed nothing except the distant shape of Carter’s Trading Post and the ghostly outlines of security lights that seemed to float above the water in the snow mists swirling through the darkness. A heavy blanket of snow had fallen on Grand Marsais during the night and the temperature had already dropped below zero, both precursors of the blizzard predicted to hit in early afternoon.
Maggie’s big chocolate Labrador retriever lifted his head at her husband’s uncharacteristic display of nerves then left his pillow by the fire and padded to lean against Joe’s leg.
It was uncanny, Jefferson’s ability to sense the emotional terrain of his family. Though Maggie shouldn’t have been surprised. The four-year-old search and rescue dog had displayed extraordinary intelligence from the moment Maggie started working with him. Even better, he had more heart than any dog she’d ever handled.
He was feeling their pain.
Their daughter Kate was missing, and had been since yesterday afternoon.
“You should have let me go after her,” Joe added as he sank onto the sofa, his face etched with worry and defeat.
The worry, Maggie shared, but if she let herself dwell on Joe’s sense of defeat and the many reasons why, she wouldn’t have the strength to get through this long vigil for her daughter.
“Don’t start, Joe.”
Hadn’t Maggie told herself the same thing a thousand times during the last sixteen hours? Kate, a freshman at the University of Minnesota in Duluth, reveled in her newfound freedom and had scoffed at the idea she couldn’t drive a hundred miles north for the holidays.
“Mom!” Even on the phone Kate’s most exasperated, longsuffering daughter tone had been evident. “I’ll be home long before this so-called monster storm hits.”
“You be careful. And start early. Don’t wait till the last minute.”
“I’m loading the car now. You worry too much, Mom.”
That had been nine o’clock yesterday morning. During normal winter conditions snowplows kept the roads between Grand Marsais and Duluth clean. That far in advance of the storm, Kate should have been home before noon, even in holiday traffic.
To make the nightmare even worse, her GPS tracker showed she’d veered far off course. Maggie had been flabbergasted when her daughter’s GPS put her in Chicago. And the last time she’d checked, Kate was in Detroit and moving northeast.
A thousand horrors played through Maggie’s mind--her daughter skidding off the road and landing in a spot hidden from highway traffic then picked up by a predator who could do anything. Haul Kate out of the country or easily vanish into nearly four million acres of wilderness known as the Superior National Forest. The idea of her daughter in the hands of a predator struck terror to Maggie’s soul.
“Don’t go there.” The sound of her own voice calmed her a bit, but her mind still spun in all directions.
What if Kate had arranged to meet someone, a guy her parents didn’t know, someone she’d met online? It happened all the time, vulnerable young girls with bleeding hearts falling for a sob story only to be lured off then led like lambs to the slaughter.
That didn’t sound like something her levelheaded daughter would do, but who knew how she might have changed under the peer pressure on a college campus?
“Joe, I’m going to make a cup of coffee. You want one?”
“No. I’m good.”
He wasn’t good. Any fool could tell by looking. She wasn’t good. They weren’t good--and hadn’t been for a very long time.
She was glad to escape to the kitchen. She popped a pod into the coffeemaker then made the call she didn’t want Joe to hear.
Ten years ago he’d have been right with her, taking turns as they called on their network of friends in law enforcement who knew them as two of the most successful search and rescue handlers in the U.S. Now everything about SAR, with the exception of Maggie’s dog, sent Joe scrambling backward into a private world of his own making, one with walls so thick and so high Maggie had no hope of getting through.
Longtime friend, Detective Roger Dillard, picked up on the first ring.
“This is Maggie Carter. Any news?”
“Kate has stopped moving. Her GPS tracker shows her in Toronto.”
The shock felt as if somebody had drained off all Maggie’s oxygen. Coffee forgotten, she sank into a chair.
“That’s impossible! She doesn’t know anyone there, and she’d never go off like that without telling us.”
“Are you sure about that? Maybe she had a secret boyfriend and is planning an elopement. It happens all the time.”
“Not with Kate. You know how responsible she is.” Roger’s daughter Teresa had been one of Kate’s best friends since kindergarten. The Johnson’s house was her second home. “Something awful has happened. I just know it.”