DANGER ON THE SLOPES

Ava Stanton has no need for love or tales of hidden treasure—until her uncle is kidnapped at her family’s ski resort. Now she needs help from professional treasure hunter Luca Gage...the man she’d tried to forget. Signs point to a fortune hidden in the mountain, and Ava and Luca need to find her uncle before his assailant finds them. As their search for treasure draws them closer together, Ava must decide how long she’ll run from love. She doesn’t have much time, because something is buried under Whisper Mountain—and someone is willing to do anything to get to it.

Ava watched Luca step onto the slick surface of the ice.

He teetered slightly before finding his balance. Face fixed in concentration, he moved slowly toward her.

“Hold on, Ava. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She watched through blurry eyes as he stepped onto the chunk of ice near her. She was amazed that he had not fallen through. Her body shivered so bad she could hardly keep him in her field of vision.

“Please go back,” she whispered.

Slowly, kneeling on a shelf of ice, he crouched over to grab for her sleeve. The green of his eyes was the only thing she could see clearly. His fingers gripped her wrist and he hauled her toward him, hoisting her over his shoulder. Ava wanted to say something, to force her body to work in some way, but she could not. She found herself slung head down, staring at the milky ice beneath Luca’s feet.

And then, with a sudden lurch, they both plunged through the ice.

DANA MENTINK

lives in California, where the weather is golden and the cheese is divine. Her family includes two girls (affectionately nicknamed Yogi and Boo Boo). Papa Bear works for the fire department; he met Dana doing a dinner theater production of The Velveteen Rabbit. Ironically, their parts were husband and wife.

Dana is a 2009 American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year finalist for romantic suspense and an award winner in the Pacific Northwest Writers Literary Contest. Her novel Betrayal in the Badlands won a 2010 RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. She has enjoyed writing a mystery series for Barbour Books and more than ten novels to date for Harlequin’s Love Inspired Suspense line.

She spent her college years competing in speech and debate tournaments all around the country. Besides writing, she busies herself teaching elementary school and reviewing books for her blog. Mostly, she loves to be home with her family, including a dog with social-anxiety problems, a chubby box turtle and a quirky parakeet.

Dana loves to hear from her readers via her website at www.danamentink.com.

Final Resort

Dana Mentink

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Again, the kingdom of heaven

is like a merchant seeking fine pearls,

and upon finding one pearl of great value,

he went and sold all that he had, and bought it.

—Matthew 13:45–46

To my Mike, who is a priceless treasure to me.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

ONE

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, and when he had found one of great value, he went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”

—Matthew 13: 45-46

Ava Stanton jumped when a bevy of quail scattered as she got out of the car, snow whisking in tiny puffs under their feet. One shot her a beady-eyed look as if to ask why in the world a woman would be out on the remote mountain road by herself, especially as another wave of winter storms rolled in across the Sierras. Ava wondered the same thing, pulling her knit cap farther down over her short blond hair. The family of quail left a profound silence behind as they moved away. In the distance, she caught the sound of skiers on the slopes of the neighboring Gold Summit Lodge which butted up against Whisper Mountain Resort property.

Won’t be our property much longer.

The thought sent a wave of despair through her. She shook it off. Too much coffee. Too little sleep. She was fatigued mentally and physically from the extra skiing classes she’d been teaching in Westbow, a town about twenty miles away where she rented a room. A useless effort. Hadn’t made a dent in the debt that buried Whisper Mountain.

The sky was cloudy and ominous. Shadows shifted on the lumps of snow that had collected on the steep slope overlooking an iced-over Melody Lake at the periphery of the Whisper Mountain Resort property.

She did not know the real name of the lake, only the nickname given to the small body of water by her uncle the day they’d scattered her mother’s ashes there, accompanied by the mournful singing of the birds. Melody Lake. How often she’d visited, watching the seasons morph from summer to the white cocoon of winter, the water gradually sealing over like her own grief. Sealed over, but still just as present.

The delicate cover of ice sparkled at her.

Thin ice.

How appropriate. Whatever her uncle Paul was involved in this time, he was no doubt teetering on the edge of another disaster. There was hardly much left to lose. Whisper Mountain was officially defunct, closed at the cusp of the ski season because there was no longer money enough to maintain the slopes and lodge. They’d kept the toboggan run open the past several years, but now there was not even money to keep that going. Thanks in part to Uncle Paul’s penchant for disastrous get-rich-quick schemes, the land would have to be sold without further delay. Looking along the graceful peaks adorned with white-crusted fir trees, her heart squeezed painfully. It was still Stanton-owned, at least for a few more months.

Again she looked toward the distant slopes of Gold Summit, partially owned by the wealthy Gage family. The rumor mill held that Luca, one of the sons, and his sister were visiting. Luca’s green eyes and infectious grin twirled in her memory. She’d read that he’d started a treasure hunting business. The perfect job for a guy perpetually in motion. When times were better, her father had frequently hosted marshmallow roasts attended by Wyatt Gage and his then-teen children. Happy days. Long gone.

She got back into the car to check her phone. She reread Paul’s old text, replete with errors.

Found my purl. Meet me at yer mothers lake. Secret.

What was it this time? Uncle Paul referred to his “pearl” for as long as she’d known him, a term applied to every treasure in the long list he’d pursued over the years. A new stock market tip? An undiscovered platinum mine that would save their bankrupt Whisper Mountain Resort? His latest woman? During his last phone call, he refused to talk other than to say he’d contact her soon. Not like the jovial Uncle Paul, the trickster, the showman.

She caught the sound of a set of boots crunching down the road. Uncle Paul appeared, wild black hair threaded with silver curling from under his red knit cap. He saw her and waved, looking around carefully before he marched down the slope to meet her.

He clasped her in a bear hug, cold cheek pressed to hers. “Avy, honey. You get more gorgeous every time I see you.” He pulled away to look into her face. “It’s those blue eyes. Like perfect lapis lazuli. Remind me of a set of stones I picked up in Myanmar.”

She could not resist the flattery and bestowed a kiss on his cheek. “All right. It’s only been a couple of months since we were together, so you don’t need to go overboard. I didn’t even know you were back in California.” She looked for her uncle’s ever-present shadow. “Where’s Mack Dog?”

“In the truck.”

Uncle Paul pointed to the top of the hill. She could just make out a glimmer of his dented pickup.

“He’s getting old now. Doesn’t like snow in his paws.” He sighed. “Me, too, getting old. Been thinking about a lot of things lately.”

The edge of melancholy in his words was so unlike him. “Where have you been? Why did you want to meet me?” She shivered and pulled her scarf tighter. “If you’re going to try to talk me out of selling the place, it won’t work. I’ve been the legal owner since I turned twenty-five two years ago.”

“Yes, I am, but not for the reason you think.” His eyes flickered over the frozen lake below them. He sighed, long and low, a sound so mournful that Ava felt a sudden twinge of dread.

“We don’t have any choice but to sell it,” she began, readying for yet another argument. “Dad thinks so, too.” Her father had thought so for years and hadn’t been shy about his opinions. She wished he was here now, but the winters were too harsh for a paraplegic in his condition.

He cut her off with a wave of his mittened hand.

“Ava, I know I messed up. Your mother left this place to us, and I took advantage. I blew it. Took money out figuring I could make it back and then some, but I never did.”

She hated the tone of defeat in her uncle’s voice. “You meant no harm. I know that.”

He shook his head, sending a sprinkling of snow loose into the air that mingled with the flakes just starting to fall. “In my mind I knew I could make Whisper sparkle by the time you were old enough to take the reins, to bring it back to the days when there were people all over the mountain and wagon rides and campfires at midnight. You remember?”

“I remember.”

“I know I was a wedge between your father and mother. Maybe if I’d stayed away, been more responsible, things would have turned out differently.”

“My father would still be disabled from the wreck, and Mom would still have given up.” She heard the bitter edge in her own words.

Uncle Paul heard it, too. The lines around his mouth deepened.

He flicked a glance toward the ridge above them where clouds massed in fantastic formation. “This time I really found it.” He moved closer and took her by the shoulders. “As soon as I get it authenticated, we’re going to have enough money to save Whisper Mountain with plenty left over.”

Ava knew enough not to feed into her uncle’s pie-in-the-sky notions. Even though she was barely twenty-seven, she had to be the mature voice of reason. “Whatever you think you’ve found, leave it where it is. I’m selling. I’ve got no choice.”

He looked behind them at the stretch of road that meandered up to the top of the next hill separating Whisper Mountain from Gold Summit, immediately to the west of them. A lacy curtain of snow had begun to fall, the flakes blown around them by a frigid wind.

“Why did we have to meet here?” she demanded again.

He shrugged, but she thought she saw a shimmer of fear in his eyes. “Proper thing, to tell you here that Whisper Mountain is saved. I come here to pray all the time and you used to, didn’t you, Ave? Do you still come?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore.” Whisper Mountain was a place dead to her, buried in the past. The only reason she’d returned from Westbow was to sell it. Snow settled onto her lashes and she brushed it away.

She’d lost too much because of her mother’s suicide ten years before. Ava’s own life would forever be bisected by her mother’s decision, into the time when she had been a normal, happy teen and after, when the world became an uncertain place. The source of her pain was right here on this piece of snow-covered world, and she was finally going to let it go.

“Uncle Paul, tell me—” she broke off as he started visibly, body tense.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?” she said, trying to pinpoint the source of his concern.

“I thought I heard Mack Dog. He must have gotten out and gone wandering again.”

They both stood motionless, listening. The sound of an engine floated through the air and a snowmobile appeared at the bottom of the slope.

Paul’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Who is that?” she asked.

The snowmobile took off in their direction, gaining speed as it went. Ava stood frozen as it barreled toward them. Surely, the driver would stop, slow down as he approached.

He didn’t. Incredibly, he seemed only to increase his speed. Paul shoved Ava away. “Get in the car.”

“Wait,” she screamed as Paul took off heading for the trees.

The snowmobile roared closer, changing course to target Uncle Paul.

“Get away, Ava,” Uncle Paul yelled over his shoulder. “Get away now.”

* * *

Luca looked over the pristine slope, skis poised to begin the descent. He could not keep from turning his gaze to the valley down below, ringed with hills. He remembered his high school winter breaks spent skiing here. His heart replayed the memory of the young woman who was so at home on the snow she seemed to fly over it, like a hawk skimming over the crystal world below. He was proficient on skis but never as good as she was, not even close. He wondered if she ever visited here, now that her property was closed up. Everything had changed her senior year after the car accident crippled her father and her mother committed suicide six months later.

“Hey, there,” Stephanie said softly. “Lost in thought?”

He avoided looking at his sister. Even though he was elated that she and her high school sweetheart, Tate, had reunited in the course of their last treasure hunt, the happiness that shone on her face reminded him that he had just ended things with a woman he’d dated casually. There was no spark there, no spring of devotion like he’d seen in the eyes of his sister when she talked about Tate. “No, just remembering how good the runs were on Whisper Mountain.”

She didn’t answer, pushing a strand of her short dark hair back under her ski cap, gazing into the distance at the empty slopes. “It’s a prime piece of real estate. Do you think Dad will buy it?”

He nodded. “I think he’d be a fool not to. Anyway, let’s get some slope time before Victor lines up our new mission.” Victor was the eldest Gage sibling and recently married in a double wedding along with Tate and Stephanie. It was fitting, as their last job at Treasure Seekers had turned up an eighteen-million-dollar violin and nearly gotten them all killed at the hands of a psychopath. They were all due for some good times.

Stephanie shivered, and he knew she was reliving the memories of their near escape, too. “Let’s get back. Tate’s probably missing us.”

Luca grinned. “Missing you. We’re still not best buds.”

“That’s because you’re both stubborn gorillas.”

“True, but he’s your stubborn gorilla now, and he looks at you like he can’t believe you’re really his.”

She blushed. “It drives him crazy that his bum leg keeps him down there while I’m up here, so I suspect he’s strong-armed someone into giving him a pair of skis. I’d better get back before he thinks he’s ready for the expert slopes.”

“You go on,” Luca said with a chuckle. “I’m going to take it slow. Meet you down there.”

“Take it slow? Since when?” Stephanie cocked her head and gave him that look. “Sure?”

“Sure.”

“All right, but don’t do anything crazy on the slopes. There’s a storm coming in. Remember, you’re a treasure hunter, not an Olympic athlete.” She swished away down the hill, skis gliding smoothly over the sparkling ground.

She was right, he was a treasure hunter at heart and it had been his idea to form the Treasure Seekers agency in the first place. He’d told himself it was to help his brother Victor deal with his first wife’s sudden death, but it was more than likely a way to soothe his constant restlessness. In the off season when he wasn’t piloting a helicopter for the U.S. Forest Service, there was not enough to keep him busy and busy was the only thing that kept him sane. He was the kid in grade school who could never seem to stay in his seat. Some things hadn’t changed.

He and his siblings had found treasures, all right, everything from lost masterpieces to priceless stamps, yet he always experienced a letdown after each case, as if the treasure, rich though it was, was somehow not the prize he was meant to be looking for.

“Earthly treasures aren’t going to satisfy,” he could hear his father say. But he felt so alive when he was deep in the throes of a search, however dissatisfying the ending might be.

He shook the thoughts away and pulled his goggles into place.

One more run.

He shouldn’t be skiing here, so close to the shut-down Whisper property. He puzzled over why the fond memories of his past there felt so strong. Idly he wondered what Ava would do after her family’s property was sold. At least the sale might afford them some security. That’s what Luca’s father believed when he proposed buying it pending Luca’s report.

Head out of the clouds, Luca.

He mentally picked out the path he intended to take down the mountain and readied himself to push off.

A streak of black caught his attention.

He jerked toward the movement, thinking he had imagined it until the shape zinged again through the white-robed trees finally coming to a stop on a flat rock that protruded above the snow. The dog barked, a loud, agitated sound that cut through the quiet of the snow-covered hollow.

Luca stared at the animal. Even though he could not figure out what a dog would be doing alone out here on the slopes, he was far more surprised by one particular detail. The animal was big, a scruffy black-and-tan creature that spoke of German shepherd parentage with something fluffier mixed in, but the strangest thing about him was his left ear, the top of which had been cut off somehow long ago, leaving a flattened tip.

Luca had known a dog with just such an ear, but he could not believe it. Ava’s dreamer of an uncle owned a critter that answered to the same description, but it could not be one and the same. Uncle Paul, last Luca had heard, was lying low to escape a group of unsavory folks from whom he’d borrowed money.

“Mack Dog?” Luca yelled out, amazed that he remembered the name.

The dog jerked as if he’d gotten a shock, stood up and wagged a tentative tail in Luca’s direction.

A noise from over the hill made them both tense. Luca was not sure but it might have been a shout or maybe just the echo of some agitated bird.

Mack Dog leaped from the rock, floundering in the snow before he began an awkward journey in the direction of the noise, bulldozing his way through the frozen piles, standing every few feet on his rear legs to get his visual bearings.

Luca watched the dog in amazement.

How could it be Mack Dog?

He listened again, heard a snowmobile engine. Just someone enjoying the slopes like himself, who had probably lost track of his dog. He should ski on, go to meet his sister, but something turned him in a different direction, toward a smooth section that would take him to the source of the noise.

Mack Dog, or whoever’s dog it might be, wouldn’t survive long left alone on the mountain. Luca poled out to a promising spot and skied as quickly as he could manage downslope, where he edged into a turn that would take him toward the hill. He could make out Mack Dog barreling through the trees in the same direction.

The slope was not as smooth as he made the turn, the snow uneven and bumpy. He had to use his poles vigorously to keep the momentum, and his breath came in white puffs. Finally he made it to a spot where he could see the terrain. Through a curtain of whirling flakes, he spied a road winding below him and beyond that, at the bottom of a steep drop-off, was the lake that he would forever think of as Ava’s.

Mack Dog erupted from the trees and skidded crazily to the road below before trotting around the corner. Luca shuffled carefully on his skis a few feet to the left which gave him a better view of the road below the hill on which he stood. He saw now where the dog was headed, to a battered pickup truck, the front driver’s-side door open. Papers and an overturned cardboard box lay on the snow, as if thrown there along with a messy coil of rope and a toolbox with assorted wrenches scattered about.

He stood, mouth open as the man he knew as Uncle Paul burst out of the trees, cheeks flushed with exertion.

A second figure ran into view. Drawing close, she reached up a hand and stripped off her knit cap in irritation. The blond hair shone brilliant against the red of her jacket.

He did not hear what she said to her uncle nor did he need to. Ava Stanton, no longer an awkward teenager, stood just below him, like some strange memory come to life before his eyes. There was such intensity on her face, such rigidity in her body that his breath caught, nerves tingling.

As if she heard his thoughts, Ava tipped her head up.

Her blue eyes met his, widening, probably lost in the same incredulity he felt.

So riveted was he by those blazing eyes that he did not register the engine until a blue snowmobile appeared, the driver’s face obscured by a helmet with a mirrored visor.

While Luca looked down at the bizarre scene, Paul’s mouth rounded in shock. The machine roared closer.

Something odd and out of place appeared in the driver’s hand, something black and shiny.

A gun.

Luca’s pulse hammered.

No, not a gun, something different.

Luca’s brain produced the fact even as his body pushed forward, hurtling down the icy hill as the snowmobile closed the gap to Ava and her uncle.

TWO

Ava tore her gaze away from Luca’s face in time to see the snowmobile zooming toward them through a gap in the trees. She had no time to puzzle over Luca’s sudden appearance. Feet frozen in shock, she felt the snow tremble under her boots, as the engine noise pierced the air with the intensity of a buzz saw. Ava had seen people do crazy things on the slopes before, something about the combination of speed and snow seemed to rob them of their senses, but this was different.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw something appear in the driver’s left hand while his right still gripped the accelerator. It was squat, compact, unfamiliar, but her instincts screamed in fear. The machine closed in, and she shouted to her uncle.

“Uncle Paul!” Her words were lost in the scream of the engine.

Paul raised an arm to his head as if to ward off a blow, Mack Dog barking wildly at the approaching threat, unsure whether to make for his master or the oncoming mechanical monster.

Ava started forward with no better plan than to somehow get to her uncle. Her feet slipped and slid on patches of ice as she stumbled toward him. The snowmobiler was not more than fifteen feet away and closing rapidly, the black instrument aimed at her uncle. She saw that the hand gripping the weapon was ungloved, the finger now flipped up a trigger guard and pressed an illuminated button. Tiny projectiles exploded from the barrel. She watched in horror as they pierced Uncle Paul’s jacket like a swarm of enraged hornets.

A wave of unseen energy swept through him. His body tensed and twitched as he went down, unconscious on the snow.

“No,” Ava screamed, scrambling to get to him.

The snowmobile stopped just long enough for the driver to haul Paul’s unconscious body up across his knees, and then the machine lurched forward again, heading straight for Ava.

Her blood turned to ice.

“You’re not taking him,” she yelled. “I won’t let you.”

She had no idea how to stop the assailant. The only notion that thundered through her mind was to somehow slow the person who was going to take away her uncle.

Her body went rigid, bracing for impact as the snowmobile’s skis flew across the ground.

The mirrored visor reflected her terrified face back at her as the driver made the final approach.

She threw up her arms and screamed.

The air was knocked out of her as she was tossed aside, not by the impact of the snowmobile, but by Luca’s body as he crashed into her and sent her sailing into a pile of loose snow. They fell in a tangle of skis and ice particles.

She felt his arms around her, trying to pull her away from the road, but she fought him off in spite of his strength.

“Let go.”

His green eyes flashed behind the swirl of snow. “Stay down.”

“Get off, Luca.” She struggled to her feet and pulled herself free from him and the pile of snow, ignoring his clasping hands. Then she was running, following the ruts of the snowmobile, pushing as fast as she could against the wind.

“Uncle Paul,” she screamed. Mack Dog raced along behind her, barking.

She heard Luca snapping off his skis, getting to his feet, calling out to her.

She ran up the hill and down toward the lake.

The snowmobile was stopped there, idling, the unconscious Paul still lying brokenly across the driver’s lap. She could see the driver considering how to get by her car which was partially blocking the road. Going around would put the machine on unstable ice, possibly causing the skis to founder.

The other side backed to a steep incline covered with loose powder which would undoubtedly ensnare the machine in moments. Ava continued to run as fast as her complaining muscles would allow. His indecision gave her a slim chance. If she could get her uncle off the machine and into the car...

She closed the gap, ten yards, now five.

Reaching forward, lungs burning with the effort, her fingers strained to grasp the metal passenger grip.

Paul stirred, and she thought she could hear him groan.

Almost there. Almost.

As her fingers touched the cold metal of the passenger grip, the driver jerked into action, revving the motor. The snowmobile leaped forward into the pitched snow. For a moment, she thought he would not make it as the skis began to sink into the surface. With a surge of her last bit of energy, she grabbed the bar, clinging there as she was dragged along behind. Her weight unbalanced the machine and it slowed.

She’d done it. He would have to stop.

Then the snowmobile jerked and skidded, throwing her loose and sending her tumbling down the slope toward the lake.

Arms spread, hands clawing, she tried to stop her momentum. Sky blurred with snow as she tumbled toward the glittering oval bowl.

In dizzying glimpses she saw the driver wrestle the machine back up to the road and disappear into the distance as the lake rushed up to meet her.

* * *

Luca finally struggled clear of the snow. He’d seen enough to know that Paul had just been abducted although he did not give himself time to mull over the insane scenario. He texted an SOS with his GPS coordinates quickly to his sister.

She would send help. He took off in the direction the snowmobile had gone, a frantic Ava charging after it.

Doing his best to avoid the slick patches of icy snow, he ran as quickly as he dared until he slid close enough to witness Ava clinging to the back of the snowmobile. He saw her tensed fingers lose their grip on the bar as the machine bucked on the uneven snow. The unconscious body of her uncle Paul would have slipped to the ground as well if it weren’t wedged under the handlebars.

The driver gave only a cursory look behind him as he fled onward, kicking up a cloud of white in his wake, Mack Dog in loud pursuit. Luca had no thought of giving chase as he scrambled to the edge of the slope where he saw Ava rolling helplessly, like a tumbling rag doll. He crashed down the hill after her, trying to calculate in his mind how it would end.

Would she stop before she reached the edge of the lake?

He remembered his early days apprenticing on a Life Flight helicopter. The horrifying call on that crisp February morning; a child wandered out on the ice, fallen through. A father heedless of his own safety following his boy into the same deadly snare. That day it had switched from a rescue to a recovery and the anguish of it clung to him even after so many years. Luca blinked away the thought.

Ava would stop her desperate roll before she got to the water; she had to. He floundered through a deep pocket of snow, the cold seeping into his clothing and making his eyes tear. He flailed out of the depression in time to see Ava’s jacket snag on a root thrust through the winter ice.

Her head bounced against the ground as she came to a stop, jacket precariously held in place by the small piece of wood.

Luca muttered a prayer of heartfelt thanks as his mind ran through options. Poised as she was only six feet above the lake, he would be able to reach her and drag her back up hill. The farther away from the water, the better.

Heart still pounding with exertion and adrenaline, he saw her eyes fixed on his.

“My uncle,” she called to him. “I’m okay. Go help him. Please.”

His heart skipped a beat at the raw emotion in her face. “Help is coming,” he said, easing toward her down the slope. He placed each boot with care, trying not to dislodge the crusts of snow that might knock her loose from her perch.

“Luca, please go after Uncle Paul.” She was nearly shouting now, tears trickling from her eyes and etching her face in frozen trails. “I’ll climb back up in a minute. As soon as I get my breath. Please.”

She was begging. He could not stand it. He spoke soothingly, a tone borne of many harrowing experiences in the fire service. “We’ll get you away from the water. Then we’ll find your uncle.”

Her answer was lost in a churning of snow as Mack Dog appeared at the edge of the road where the snowmobile had made its risky maneuver around the car. When he caught sight of them down below, his tail began to whisk in excited circles and he charged down to meet them.

“Stay, dog, for once in your life,” Luca thundered.

The dog paid no heed, pulling even with him. Luca reached out a hand to grab the jingling collar. Mack Dog moved toward Luca until he caught sight of Ava down below. He abruptly turned and plowed toward her, throwing frozen bits into the air.

“No, Mack Dog. Come here,” Luca tried again.

Mack Dog trotted downslope and shoved his face into Ava’s, nose first. She jerked back in surprise and the tiny movement was enough. The twig on which her jacket was snagged gave way and Ava slid like a human toboggan toward the lake.

“Luca,” she screamed, her fear magnified by the thin air as she slipped away from him.

All thoughts of caution were gone now as he foundered down the slope, stumbling and falling as he went. At one point he was almost close enough to grab her, his fingertips grazing the slippery fabric of her jacket.

It wasn’t enough. She skidded right through the scant black shrubs that protruded through the frozen layer at the water’s edge and sailed out onto the iced surface of the lake, finally coming to a stop about ten feet out. Mack Dog started to follow her, but Luca grabbed his collar and yanked him to a sitting position.

“Stay.”

Something in Luca’s ferocious tone convinced the dog, and he sat obediently on the snow.

“Ava?” Luca called. For an agonizing moment, she lay still on the ice.

“Ava,” he called again. “Look at me.”

Slowly she raised her head, and his heart resumed beating. The ice held and she was conscious.

“Listen,” he said. “You have to stay completely still.”

She nodded and he put a tentative foot out on the ice. There was an ominous crack, loud as a gunshot. He stepped quickly back and checked his watch. He estimated the time he’d texted Stephanie to be about ten minutes ago. Help would be arriving soon, but he could not count on it. He looked around for a stick long enough to reach out to her and found nothing.

His mind flashed back to the contents of Uncle Paul’s truck and the long tangled rope thrown out upon the snow.

“I’m too heavy to walk out to you. I’m going to go get a rope,” he yelled to her. “Don’t move until I get back.”

She didn’t answer, instead laying her head down on her arm.

The motion caused his heart to pulse with a mixture of emotions he could not decipher.

He wondered as he struggled up the hill, Mack Dog behind him, if she was thinking of her mother then. Luca suppressed a surge of anger at the woman who had cut Ava’s heart to ribbons. How could anyone kill themselves and leave a vulnerable teen behind?

His muscles protested as he cleared the slope and ran up the iced road. He wanted to take out his phone and reassure himself that Stephanie was on the way but he could not do it, so strong was the rising tension inside him. Ava was petite. He could recall with ridiculous clarity how her slender wrist fit easily in the circle of his fingers when they would conduct arm wrestling contests. Delicate, but so was the ice that was the last barricade between her and a slow death by drowning.

He was sprinting now, the snow increasing from trickles to torrents, obscuring his vision momentarily as he paused to wipe his eyes. The truck swam into view, drifts of snow collected across the bed and partially concealing the contents strewn on the ground. He found the trail of rope, its end poking up just enough for him to grab hold. As he pulled it up, he noticed tiny metallic circles, like bits of confetti, slowly being swallowed up by the falling snow. He snatched one up and stowed it in his pocket before taking a quick look in the truck.

As he’d suspected. No keys, but he did find a leash which he clipped on the excited Mack Dog.

They took off running back to the lake, both Luca and the dog alternately stumbling on the slick ground. He tied Mack Dog to the fender of Ava’s car, eliciting a bark of outrage.

“Sorry, can’t have you adding any weight to the ice.” He raced to the edge of the slope, immensely relieved to see Ava still lying there.

“I’m coming down,” he called.

She didn’t move.

Quickly he tied the rope around the sturdy trunk of a pine that stood sentry over the valley below. He unrolled it as he plunged back down the slope, praying it would be long enough to reach her. He made it to the water’s edge with a good fifteen feet to spare.

Enough.

Barely.

“I’m going to throw you the rope. Grab an end and I’ll haul you in.”

No answer.

“Ava,” he shouted, startling a bird in the nearby shrubs. “You’ve got to get the rope.”

With no response from her, the feeling of dread in his gut increased. He knew that head injuries were silent killers. Her progress down the hill had been bumpy. Pulling his phone out with fingers gone numb from the biting cold, he saw the message.

SOS rec’d. 911 en route.

Stephanie didn’t waste time asking superfluous questions. She was on her way with the ski patrol, he was sure.

But how long?

The snow was falling fast now. Ava’s jacket was already covered in powder, flakes plastering her hair. How long before her body became hypothermic? “Ava, wake up,” he shouted again, his strident tone ringing across the ice.

Something in her unconscious brain must have heard him, because she stirred.

“That’s it,” he called again. “Wake up. Open your eyes. I’m going to throw you the rope.”

She raised her head, expression confused.

Breathing hard, he forced his tone from commanding to something calmer. “Here,” he said. “I’m right here. You need to reach out your hand and get the rope, okay?”

She blinked and her blue eyes rapidly widened, a look of panic setting in.

Two seconds later he figured out why as the ice under her body broke, sending out splintering cracks in all directions.

THREE

Ava’s stomach lurched in terror as she felt her legs drop through the ice and into the frigid water below. The breath was driven from her lungs. She’d thought she was numb from lying there for so long, but the cold was like an electric shock, jolting her body to the core. Arms scrambling, she tried to grab on to something, but her fingers raked through loose snow without finding a handhold. Inexorably she was sliding toward the exposed depths of the lake. Her feet splashed into the water.

“Luca,” she screamed.

His body stiffened, mouth open.

Nothing she did slowed her progress. Just before her torso slipped in, she managed to hook her hands into a crack, holding the frozen mass to her body like a bizarre icy life preserver. Her legs remained submerged, but her head and shoulders were above water, at least for the moment.

Luca was shouting something, but the thundering of her heart drowned out his cries. She felt as if the lake was some live thing, sucking her down to the bottom, like it had done to her mother. In a few moments, her body would be claimed by it.

Ava felt the spark of anger light in her belly. Her mother had willingly offered herself up to death, walked into those dark waters and left her sixteen-year-old daughter behind with only an unpredictable uncle and a wounded father to care for her. She chose the lake, she chose her own drowning.

Why? Ava felt the puzzle rise again in spite of the horror of her situation.

Her mind circled the question that she’d wondered about countless times before.

Why did you choose these frigid waters over me?

Ava felt that old pain lance through her, through her frozen legs and into her heart, right up to her fingertips which were rapidly becoming too numb to maintain their grip.

I won’t give up.

Ever.

I won’t make the same choice you did, Mom.

She tried to hug the ice more tightly, but the strength seemed to be leaching out into the water that surrounded her. She kicked her legs to keep the circulation going, but they felt like two pieces of wood.

Luca tossed something at her. A rope, she finally realized. A spark of hope thrilled inside her as it slithered across the ice.

She tried to grab for it, but the motion almost cost her her grip on the ice. The rope fell away and disappeared into the water between two floating pieces. She did not dare let go of the ice to fish around for it.

“I can’t,” she said, breathless.

“Yes, you can,” Luca shouted, enraged. He reeled in the coil and tried again.

The rope hit the water just in front of her, splashing her face with stinging droplets. Blinking, she tried again to grab for it. This time the ice broke into several smaller pieces like a frozen jigsaw puzzle. She struggled to keep her grip on the larger of the chunks. Clinging there, breath coming in desperate pants, her body shivered violently.

Luca was furiously gathering in the rope, getting ready to toss it again. She saw him swinging the rope, strong arm tense.

“I can’t get it, Luca,” she called. “I can’t let go.”

She couldn’t tell if he heard her or not. Despair added weight to her sodden clothes and she felt herself sinking lower into the water. Luca dropped his arm and turned away.

She felt oddly relieved. She did not want him to see her desperation, the fear that made her weak. Help would come soon, she knew. The ski patrol would make it on scene quickly enough, but hypothermia would arrive before they did. It could take less than fifteen minutes in freezing water for death to come. She clung tighter to the ice, trying to calculate how long she’d been in the grip of the frozen lake. Her arms were clumsy, fingers nearly useless.

Her gaze went to the road, to the rut marks left by the snowmobile. Who would want to hurt Uncle Paul? Truthfully, many. He’d crossed a number of people, cheated them even. There were plenty of men eager to settle a score.

She heard a noise and saw Luca with a rope tied around his waist, charging out onto the ice. Blinking to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating, she looked again. What was he thinking? His six-foot muscled bulk would break through the ice in a moment and send him into the frozen water right along with her.

“No, Luca,” she called, voice weak as a kitten’s.

He did not alter course, so she tried to yell louder.

“Go back.” Her words were faint but noisy thoughts crowded her mind.

Go back, Luca. Don’t throw away your life for mine.

She felt sick at the thought, but she knew he would probably do the same for any other man, woman or child he found in the same situation, and probably an animal, too. She remembered the bird he’d told her about that he’d retrieved after it had gotten tangled in some old tree netting. People said he was crazy to climb a fifteen-foot pine to free a sparrow. People were right.

With dread, she watched him step onto the slick surface. Ice crackled around her as he planted one foot in front of the other, as if he was navigating some strange tightrope through the water. He moved closer, teetering slightly as he kept his balance. Face fixed in concentration, he moved slowly toward her until he was close enough for her to hear him.

“Hold on, Ava. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Please go back,” she whispered. Please.

She watched through blurry eyes as he stepped onto the chunk of ice near her, amazed that he had not fallen through. Her body shivered so badly she could hardly keep him in her field of vision.

Slowly, kneeling on a shelf of ice, he crouched over to grab for her sleeve. The green of his eyes was the only thing she could see clearly, just as vibrantly green as she remembered. His fingers gripped her wrist and she imagined they must be warm, warmer than hers anyway, but she could not feel anything. She was having a hard time seeing him through her growing cloud of confusion.

“Let go now, Ava.”

She could not force her fingers to relinquish their grip.

Hold on, her mind screamed and her body obeyed, clinging in manic determination to that small hunk of ice.

“Let go,” Luca demanded again.

She closed her eyes and pressed harder against the ice chunk, her limbs like the twisted branches of the trees that ringed Melody Lake.

His grip tightened around her wrist and he began to pry her fingers away from the ice. “Ava, you’re coming with me one way or another.”

She was tired, more tired than she’d ever been. Her body felt suddenly as if it was heating up, warming from the inside. If she didn’t get her jacket off, she thought she would roast.

She wiggled on the ice.

“What are you doing?” Luca said.

“Taking off my jacket. Too hot.”

He grabbed both wrists now. “That’s the hypothermia talking. You’re not hot. You’re cold and we’re getting out of here.”

He hauled her toward him, her legs sliding out of the water.

Her mind whirled from the sudden movement and she closed her eyes to steady herself. When she opened them again, she was looking into Luca’s grave face. He was pulling her up, grabbing on to the front of her jacket, until she felt herself hoisted over his shoulder. She wanted to say something, to force her body to work in some way, but she could not. She found herself slung head down, staring at the milky ice beneath Luca’s feet.

There was a sudden lurch, a cry of surprise from Luca and then the view changed as they both plunged through the ice.

* * *

Luca had the presence of mind to hold his breath when they broke through the crust and splashed into the lake. Frigid water enveloped him and he fought the urge to gasp at the pain of it. Holding as tightly to Ava as he dared, he kicked back to the surface. Shaking water from his eyes he turned her, his arms under her shoulders in the only maneuver that came back to him from his days as a high school lifeguard.

He heard her whimper softly, and the sound gave him renewed courage. There was still life in her, that tenacious spark that would be enough to help her survive this. Fighting against the shudders that shook his body, he freed one hand to find the rope he’d tied around his waist.

He tugged them along, one-handed. Their progress was a series of awkward, lurching moves that brought them incrementally toward shore. Broken ice floated around them, and he did his best to avoid the sharp edges, although he felt something cut into his arm anyway. His biggest concern was his hold on Ava which was weakening as the glacial water robbed him of feeling in his extremities.

The distance to the shore was probably only ten feet, but it may as well have been miles. At first Ava had tried to help, leaning into him and kicking feebly at the sharp bits of ice that crowded them. As time wore on, she had grown progressively more still until she was a deadweight.

“Almost there,” he said. “Stay with me.” He squeezed her as tightly as he could, his arm sinking into the pillowy layer of her jacket.

He pulled them both along, every movement an agony. Slower and slower they moved until his hand slipped off the rope. Fear clawed at his insides as he struggled to keep Ava from floating away while he flailed for the rope.

His fingers would not cooperate. Clumsily he floundered, trying to force his hand to clasp the slick rope again.

Come on, Luca.

Grab it.

He felt his hold on Ava loosening. His choice came down to letting go of her or holding on and giving up on the rope, their only chance. He threw up a silent prayer, channeling his remaining stamina into keeping Ava in his arms.

Vision blurring, he looked in desperation at the shore which seemed to be miles away. Faintly he heard Mack Dog barking excitedly. Dark shadows swam in front of his eyes, and his ears began to play tricks on him. From far away he heard an engine approaching up the road at top speed. He imagined his sister roaring up in typical wild fashion behind the wheel of her Mustang.

It was imagination, purely. The logical side of his brain knew a car could never travel at such speeds on iced-over roads. Unable to muster the strength to attempt a one-armed swim stroke, he could only float, trying to keep Ava’s chin above water.

“Luca.”

The voice came from far away.

A woman’s voice.

“Luca,” the voice came again, louder.

He forced his eyes to focus on the face of his sister waving frantically, a snowmobile parked crookedly nearby. Someone was with her, a man wearing the red-and-black jacket emblazoned with the white cross of the ski patrol. There was a jerk on the line, and he was pulled toward the shore. All he had to do was hold tight to Ava.

It’s almost over.

He forced himself to repeat it, although his body was frozen to a state of near agony. Ava’s eyes were closed now, the white circle of her face just clear of the water, sections of hair floating like a corona in the dark water.

Almost there.

Tate, Stephanie’s husband, pulled up on another snowmobile and hustled to the water’s edge to meet them, his stiff leg making him ungainly.

They were close enough for Luca to see the ski patrol guy tugging madly on the rope, Stephanie assisting. In excruciating increments, they finally drew near enough for hands to grab hold of Ava and haul her out of the water. Tate and Stephanie each took one of Luca’s frozen arms and dragged him out, too, immediately enveloping him in a thin, silver blanket.

“She was in the water longer than me,” Luca said, through chattering teeth.

The ski patrol worker wrapped her securely, strapping her into a toboggan. “We’ll get her to the ambulance. It’s just down the hill.”

“Land a chopper,” Luca choked out. “She needs to get to a hospital now.”

“Snow movement near the landing site. Can’t get a chopper in here. We’re working on another accident and too much activity during avalanche conditions is a bad idea.” The rescue worker didn’t slow as he strapped Ava in and called into his radio. “Transporting now. I’ll be there in five.” He looked at Luca. “There’s another ski patrol right behind me to take you.”

Luca was too cold to answer.

Stephanie chafed his hands. “I got your SOS and called Tate. A guy at the lodge loaned me a snowmobile. I found the truck down the road, so I figured there was an accident. What happened?”

“Ava’s Uncle Paul. Abducted.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Here? On the slopes? How did that happen?”

“Snowmobiler shot him with a Taser.”

Luca noted a grave look steal over Tate’s face. “Blue snowmobile?”

Luca nodded.

Ava moaned. In spite of Stephanie’s restraining hand, Luca crawled over to her, his legs too weak to support him.

Her lips were a bluish tint, stark against the milky pallor of her face. She mouthed the words Uncle Paul.

He squeezed her hand with his own frozen fingers. “We’ll find him.”

Tate’s frowned deepened.

“What is it, Tate?” Luca said as the ski patroller readied himself to pull the toboggan away.

Tate hesitated. “I was late because there’s a rescue going on a few miles down the road from here. I had to go around.”

Luca’s stomach tightened.

“A rescue?”

Tate nodded, lowering his voice. “A snowmobile at the bottom of the ravine. Burned pretty bad. They figure it exploded on impact.”

Luca forced out the words. “Blue?”

He didn’t need to hear Tate’s answer. He looked down at Ava and knew she’d heard it loud and clear.

A single tear fell, freezing a trail of grief onto her face.

Whoever had abducted Uncle Paul had probably caused his death, too.

Snow began to fall heavily now, and he brushed it away from Ava’s cheek. The tips of his fingers were too cold to feel her skin, but it looked soft, feather soft.

A brisk breeze kicked up the snow around him, hissing as if it whispered secrets.

With a tingle of fear, he wondered if Ava would be the next life claimed on this rugged mountain.

FOUR

Sergeant Cecil Towers stood politely next to the bed, his dark eyes nearly a match for his dusky skin. His uniform was smartly pressed, fitting his slender frame nicely. A tinge of gray showed on his close-cropped hair. He reached out a hand to straighten the box of tissue on her bedside tray.

Her body reacted viscerally, edging away from the man who was guilty of nothing but informing her three weeks from the end of her senior year of high school that her mother’s body had been recovered from Melody Lake. Even with her eyes closed she would never forget the tiniest detail of that visit, from the curve of his thin lips to his spotless uniform and the way he wiped his feet meticulously on the doormat before he’d entered Whisper Mountain Lodge.

Ava had gotten the gist of her situation from the nurses. She’d been more or less out for ten hours. No, she had not lost any fingers or toes amazingly, and no, they knew nothing about her uncle Paul. She remembered Luca being there and although she’d willed herself to ask him, to beg him to tell her of her uncle, her body would not come out of its frozen stupor. Now there was no sign of Luca, but now she had a cop to pump for information.

“Are the police looking for my uncle?”

The question seemed to startle Towers, who raised an eyebrow and leaned closer. “Hello, there. I thought you were asleep, Ms. Stanton.”

She repeated her question.

“First off, I’ll tell you that we have not found your uncle. Why don’t you go over the whole series of events? I was already briefed by Luca Gage, but let’s see if you have anything fresh to add.”

She told him every detail.

The Sergeant wrote with precision on a small tablet. When she ran out of words he smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth. “Did your uncle tell you about anyone who might have wished him harm?”

She shook her head.

He eyed her closely. “But there are people, aren’t there? A long list, as a matter of fact, from disappointed investors, loan sharks...” He flipped back to an earlier page. “Disgruntled husbands.”

Ava felt her face grow hot. “He wasn’t perfect, but he deserves to be found, doesn’t he?”

“Of course. We’ll start a thorough background to come up with a list. In the meantime, we’ve got a crew up on the mountain searching.” He slid his pencil back into his breast pocket. “You should know,” he said, voice soft. “There has been a lot of snow movement where the machine went over, Ms. Stanton. It may be some time before we can locate the driver or anyone else.”

Ava felt the walls crush in around her. She swallowed hard. “Are you saying if he’s down there, hurt or dying you can’t do anything about it?”

He sighed, as if he had been expecting the question. “The dogs are out and Search and Rescue, but the snow is continuing to move and the ravine is extremely deep. There’s a storm coming in.” He patted her hand where it lay on the bed, his palm oddly cool. “We’ll do what we can, I promise.”

Tears fell hotly down her cheeks. “He found something, some sort of treasure, and he was abducted. He’s still alive, I know he is. You’re not doing enough to find him.”

The officer’s eyes hardened for a moment. “Actually, I’m quite eager to take custody of your uncle. He’s the reason I lost part of my front tooth last week.”

Her mouth fell open. She was vaguely aware of Luca standing in the doorway, but she was too dumbfounded to pay him much heed. “My uncle broke your tooth?”

“To be fair, I walked into a dispute between your uncle and a local here in town. The local was extremely angry and threw an ashtray which intercepted my tooth instead of your uncle’s face, although he deserved it more, no doubt.” Another ghost of a smile that left no warmth in his eyes.

Ava groaned. “What did my uncle do this time?”

“Seems he sold the gentleman a necklace claiming it was an expensive antique.” Sergeant Towers raised an eyebrow. “It was more along the lines of cheap costume jewelry. Of course the local was booked for assault, but by the time I’d sorted that out, your uncle had already taken off.” The slight smile didn’t leave his face. “So you see, if your uncle is still alive, I’m looking forward to speaking with him.”

Towers wished her a good afternoon and promised to contact her soon before he left. Ava bit her lip. Uncle Paul’s sins were catching up with him. Or was he already dead? Buried under a ton of snow and ice until the spring would release his body?

Through blurry eyes she saw Luca approach the bed. He was no longer the rambunctious teen she’d known. His shoulders were now impossibly broad, face filled out and the shadow of a beard showing on his unshaven face. How could he look so strong, so healthy in that all-American way as if he hadn’t nearly drowned along with her? Someone had supplied him with dry jeans that clung to his long legs and a T-shirt that was too tight for his biceps. She swiped at her eyes with the sheet.

Luca stared at her, eyes wandering over her bruised face. “How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling? How would you be feeling if it was your uncle?” She clamped her lips together, mortified. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, she wanted to say, but she could not summon up the strength to make herself say it.

His cheeks colored slightly, the only reaction. “Right. Dumb question. Sorry. Let’s stick to business, then. I’ve done some checking around. Your uncle didn’t make many friends here. He was looking for something, following the trail of a wealthy man who used to live up the mountain.”

She looked Luca over more closely, noting a bruise that darkened his cheekbone. He had no business walking out on that frozen lake to get her. She should be gracious, express her thanks. Instead, she wished with all her heart that he would go away and take his calm “I’m in charge” attitude with him. Now, above all things, she did not need him around, this wealthy successful man who made her stomach jump for some strange reason.

He continued to regard her with a contemplative look. “You said your uncle thought he found a treasure. What was it?”

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t give you any idea? Coins? Old stock certificates? Did he mention anything like that?”

“I said I don’t know.”

He thought for a moment. “We have to find out. It will lead us to whoever did this.”

She gritted her teeth. “Look, I know you hunt for treasure professionally now, but...”

He suddenly flashed her a mischievous grin. “My exploits have reached even this humble hamlet?”

Her cheeks burned at the slip. So she’d kept tabs on his career. Who wouldn’t? It was just an occasional internet search on an old high school friend. No, an acquaintance. She knew about the Gage siblings and their treasure hunting business that had recovered numerous rich prizes for private clients. But she had no intention of allowing him to become involved in her current mess. “You’ve done enough.” She swallowed hard. “Thank you for getting me out of the water.” She kept her eyes riveted to the faded Smokey the Bear on the front of his shirt. “I’ll find out what happened to him on my own.”

“How?”

“I’ll hire someone. A detective.”

Luca cocked his head. “It just so happens that Treasure Seekers is setting up a temporary satellite office right here in town until Uncle Paul’s situation is resolved. Stephanie and Tate are already hard at work. Victor promises to join us when he can.”

“No.” She shook her head, sending a pain shooting up her neck. “You have a business to run.” No doubt a girlfriend waiting in San Francisco. “I don’t want you involved.”

His smile was gentle. “I already am.”

“You’re not. You should leave.”

He folded his arms, brows drawn together. “I almost didn’t make it out of that lake, either. That’s something I take personally. Whatever your uncle found, someone was willing to kill you to get their hands on it. Maybe it’s not a treasure, but then again, maybe it is.”

She closed her eyes. “No, Luca. I don’t want your help.” When she opened them again, he was staring at her.

He sighed. “All right. Cards on the table. I have another reason for staying. I got a call from your father.”

She stiffened. “Is he...”

“He’s fine. The police called him to notify him about your accident. Because he couldn’t talk to you, he called my father.”

She should have known. Bruce had been friends with Wyatt Gage since their days serving together in Vietnam.

“He said to tell you he’ll come as soon as he’s fit to travel.”

Ava groaned. She did not want her father on a plane so soon after a surgery to relieve pressure on his lower back. She’d just returned from visiting him. “I’ll call him. Tell him I’m okay.”

Luca nodded. “The doctors filled him in. He asked me to look into the situation, to find out what happened to your uncle and what he was after because he thinks it might endanger you.”

She felt like screaming. “He can’t stand Uncle Paul. He just wants him out of my life.”

Luca appeared unsure how to respond.

“My uncle was looking for something, some sort of treasure. All I know is he was planning to buy an unclaimed storage unit. He told me a while back that he thought it might have belonged to a rich family, I think the name was Danson, but I don’t know anything else, okay?”

“Okay. That’s a place to start.”

She drew herself up as high as she could against the pillows. “I don’t want help. I can take care of myself.”

He grinned. “That much I already know. I remember how you could make it down the mountain no matter how rough the snow or how bad the weather. You beat me every time we raced, and that bugged me like nobody’s business.”

She felt a small thrill that he remembered their time together as vividly as she did. “Proves my point,” she said.

He bent slightly so he could look her full in the face and her stomach fluttered just like it had in high school when she drew near the popular, easygoing Luca Gage.

“Your father and my father go way back,” Luca was saying. “He’s asked me to look into this matter. I’m going to find a treasure if there is one and figure out what happened to your uncle Paul, because that’s what I do.”

“So it doesn’t matter what I want?” she demanded, sitting up higher against the pillows.

“No,” he said, turning to the door and giving her a cheerful smile. “It doesn’t.”

* * *

Luca found his sister waiting in the lobby, drumming manicured fingers against the dark denim of her jeans.

He shrugged. “She’s okay. No permanent damage.”

Stephanie’s lips curved. “And I’m guessing from the look on your face, she wants you to leave her alone?”

He didn’t answer.

“And I’m also guessing you’re not going to cooperate?”

He paced to the window. “This isn’t about Ava. I gave my word to her father. We’re going to find out if there really is a treasure. It’s the only way to find the person who abducted Paul and sent us to the bottom of the lake.”

She watched him pace the beige tiled floor. “Typically, that’s the police’s job, crime solving and all that.”

“This time they’re going to have help. What do you know about John Danson? Paul might have bought his unclaimed storage unit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Danson? I remember we came across that name in one of our cases way back. He was a bit of an eccentric, the sole survivor of a wealthy family, but mentally unstable. I read in the paper he died six months ago, leaving no heirs and not much of an inheritance because he donated the family fortune to charity over the years.”

“Not all of it. I remember reading that there was one item in the Danson treasure trove, a particularly valuable one, that never turned up.”

She stretched her slender arms over her head and yawned. “And you happen to think Paul found that particular item?”

“Ava said her uncle was after Danson’s storage unit.”

She stood and smoothed her leather jacket. “Luca, even though you’re a big dope sometimes, I love you anyway, so I have to say, this is dangerous.”

He grunted. “What’s dangerous? It couldn’t be worse than getting caught in a burning building.”

She shivered, no doubt reliving the perils of their last treasure hunt for a stolen violin that almost cost both Stephanie and Tate their lives. He was sorry for his joke. Another stupid remark from big-mouth brother. “Hey, I’m sorry. Poor taste.”

She waved a hand. “Not that kind of dangerous. The kind of danger that comes from getting involved in complicated family business. Bruce doesn’t like Paul. Ava loves him. Is the truth going to make things better or worse?”

He turned away, gazing out the window into the piles of dirty snow churned up along the newly plowed road. “I don’t know.”

She came close and put a hand on his arm, voice soft, her head barely reaching his shoulder. “And I remember how you used to show off for Ava. I always thought you had a thing for her.”

“I showed off for all the girls, not just Ava.” He gave her a squeeze. “This is professional. Treasure hunting only. That’s all I’m here for.”

Stephanie chewed her lip. “Did you tell her Dad is interested in buying Whisper?”

“No, that seemed like a little much for the moment. I’ll tell her at a better time.”

Something flickered in her eyes, but mercifully, she did not comment. “Because I know better than to argue when you have your jaw set like that, I’ll work on the details. The first thing is to find a temporary space for Treasure Seekers. Gold Summit is booked solid for the next two weeks. I’m still looking for a place.”

He nodded, relieved to be hammering out a plan. “Doesn’t have to be fancy. An internet hookup, a couple of mattresses on the floor, and I’m fine.”

“Speak for yourself. I require better accommodations than that, and it’s gotta take dogs.”

“Dogs?”

She nodded. “Until Ava is sprung and takes possession of Mack Dog, he’s your new hairy little brother.”

He laughed. “I always wanted another brother. Victor is no good at fetch.”

“Swell, then you can share your mattress with him. Tate filled up his pockets with dog biscuits and took him for a walk.”

Pockets.

The word sizzled through him and he jerked. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“Some investigator.” He groaned. “I’m an idiot.”

“Not all the time,” Stephanie replied. “But what did you do this time?”

“It’s not what I did, it’s what I didn’t do. I know how to find out who abducted Paul. The answer has been in my pocket the whole time.” He jogged for the door.

“What?” Stephanie said. “What are you talking about?”

He didn’t reply as he sprinted into the late-afternoon sunlight.

* * *

It was nearly noon the next day when Ava eased out of her car, her ribs and legs sore and complaining, tired from the effort of convincing the doctors to discharge her. Even though she’d wanted to head immediately to the spot where the police were concentrating their rescue efforts, she’d been clearly ordered in polite tones by Sergeant Towers to keep out of the way. He further informed her that the contents of Uncle Paul’s truck had been seized and would be returned when the police were good and ready.

Didn’t matter. Ava knew where Uncle Paul had been staying to spearhead his ridiculous treasure hunt. It was a start anyway.

The Peak Season Trailer Park was as tidy as it had been for the last twenty years, nicely tended units with cement walkways between that were cleared of snow. Uncle Paul often stayed at the place over the years when he was avoiding facing Ava’s father.

“Paul’s a scammer and he always has been. Every time he shows up here he wants money for some ridiculous scheme,” her father had said with increasing frequency in the months before a blown tire caused the wreck that paralyzed him.

Marcia, her mother, would not reply, dipping her head and chewing her lip. Ava knew what she was thinking then.

He’s my brother. He needs my help.

The thought startled her, so like the words running through her own mind at that moment.

He’s my uncle. He needs my help.

But now a grimmer thought chased right along behind.

If he’s still alive.

He was her mother’s only relative. If he was dead, wouldn’t she feel it? Have some sense that his life had blinked out?

No, she acknowledged. She would not feel it. The place where her soul had been was sodden and numb. A nebulous hope was all she had left and she would hold on until it was pried from her cold fists.

Resolutely, she crunched through the snow to the caretaker’s trailer.

A familiar man with ruddy cheeks and a crew cut prickling his big head greeted her. His jowls were fleshier than she remembered. His overall rumpled quality remained the same from the faded jeans to the tattered down vest he might have been wearing steadily since she’d seen him some ten years before.

“Ava Stanton, you’re all grown up,” he said, squeezing her in a hug that nearly made her cry out.

“Hello, Bully. Good to see you.”

“You, too. Pauly told me you’re a real looker, and I can see he’s not joking.” Bully’s smile dimmed after a moment. “Uh, you know the cops have been here. Said he’s in trouble. Said maybe he’d been abducted.”

She told him what she knew.

Bully considered. “You think he’s dead?”

She sighed. “I’m not sure.”

His rounded shoulders slumped. “Ah, things finally caught up with Pauly.”

Her heart sped up a tick. “What things?”

Bully looked away. “You know. Pauly’s a scammer, no disrespect intended.”

“But what was he involved in this time, Bully? Who was after him?”

“Dunno. He was scared about something. Told me not to tell anyone he was staying here.” Bully’s eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t even tell me what was up, and haven’t I known the guy for twenty years?”

She felt an inexplicable thickening in her throat. “Don’t let it get you down. He didn’t tell me, either.”

Bully’s shrugged. “Heard you was going to sell Whisper Mountain.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s the plan. Did Uncle Paul tell you?”

“Naw, just heard it somewhere.”

She wondered where, but she did not press the point.

Bully pulled a toothpick from the dispenser on his small table and chewed it. “Told Pauly I heard about the sale, and you know what he says to me?”

He leaned in close enough for her to catch the scent of bacon that clung to his flannel shirt.

Bully’s brow wrinkled. “He tells me, ‘Don’t believe everything you hear,’ and he flashes this smile like I-got-a-secret-that’s-going-to-turn-things-upside-down. What do you think that means?”

Ava could only shake her head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

“That’s fine, then.” Bully nodded and handed her a key. “He’s staying in the one he always does, number 17. Some people came this morning and wanted to rent out a few trailers, but I ain’t about to rent that one out even though the police have cleared it. No one is staying in that trailer ’cept you until we figure out what happened to Pauly.”

Ava nodded, unable to speak, accepted another crushing hug from Bully and followed him outside, shivering. Bully’s puffy vest had a tear down the back, but the man seemed completely impervious to the temperature, as if he was showing her the way to some beachside cabana instead of a trailer parked in the snow. She trudged along the path to number 17, feeling the weight of the past twenty-four hours slowing her down.

What could she hope to discover in her uncle’s trailer?

“Here you are,” Bully announced grandly. “I just put a new microwave in not two months ago. Works slick as a whistle.”

She thanked him again, grateful that he did not trap her in another rib-crushing hug before he left.

Sliding the key in the lock, a movement caught her eye. Someone looked out from the trailer that faced hers.

Someone familiar.

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