We can’t find Mabel or Kelly.
I lost count of the number of people out, riding the trails for hours. But there’s not a trace of the girls to be found, the falling snow and blowing wind covering whatever tracks they might have made.
“I hate being on the ground like this. I wish I could use my plane,” Jonah snarls, peeling off his helmet.
My heart beats in my throat as we climb the steps, our limbs numb from the ride. The buzz of approaching snowmachines trails behind us. I don’t have to look to know it’s the McGivneys, who have no intention of leaving us tonight, whether we want them to or not.
This is becoming our routine—tragedy strikes and we congregate. It would be uplifting if not inspired by such horrible events.
Agnes is waiting for us at the door. The grief on her face says she has already received the grim news from the state troopers that they’ve called off the search until morning due to poor visibility.
“I’m gonna gas up and go back out on my own,” Jonah says by way of greeting.
“No, you’re not!” we both respond in unison, followed closely by similar reactions from Astrid and my mother.
“You can’t go out again tonight. Look at you both. You’re frozen!” My mom peels my stiff, snow-caked scarf from around my neck as if to make her point.
“And there are two teenaged girls out there, frozen!”
“Jonah!” Astrid scolds.
He smooths a palm over his forehead and tempers his tone. “I’m sorry. But I can’t sit around here while she’s out there.”
“And I can’t have you and Björn going rogue tonight.” There’s desperation in Astrid’s voice.
Jonah’s eyes bulge. “What do you mean? Where the hell did Björn go?” He scans our living room, as do I. Only a weary-looking Simon remains, quietly sitting at the dining table by the dim cast of an oil lamp. All the food has been tucked away and the kitchen is spotless.
“He was upset that he was left behind while everyone else went out.” Astrid hesitates. “He needs to feel useful in situations like this, and you made him feel old and useless.”
Bewilderment mars Jonah’s face. “You’re kidding me, right? I don’t give a shit about Björn’s ego right now. You shouldn’t, either.”
“I’m explaining what happened.” Astrid holds a hand up to stall Jonah’s rant. “Kelly’s mother phoned here to see if we’d heard anything. Björn answered. She mentioned not being able to go look for her daughter because of her two young children at home. So Björn asked if he could borrow her snowmachine to go out and join the search. She agreed to lend it to him.”
Jonah looks like his mother slapped him across the face. “Tell me you didn’t let a sixty-nine-year-old man from Norway go out into the Alaskan wilderness in a blizzard, alone?”
“I tried to stop him,” Astrid begins.
“He’s not alone. Roy went with him,” Agnes says calmly. I don’t know how she’s keeping her cool at a time like this. “Roy came by about an hour after you guys left. He heard all the engines and thought it might have something to do with Mabel, so he came looking for an update. When he saw how determined Björn was to go out there, he said he’d go with him. Roy drove him over to the Prichards’ to get the snowmachine and off they went.”
Jonah rubs the back of his neck. “At least he’s not completely alone.”
“He’s in good hands if he’s with Roy,” Muriel says, stepping inside to catch the tail end of the conversation. “He’ll make sure they get back.”
Astrid offers her an appreciative smile. “They took Mabel’s sweater with them. He said Oscar is especially good with scents.”
“In this weather?” Jonah runs a hand through his mussed hair. “Not that good.”
“Actually, I looked it up and research shows wolves can pick up the scent of their prey from two and a half kilometers away, even when it’s buried under several feet of snow.” Simon frowns. “I mean, not that I think they’re—” Clearing his throat, he announces, “I’ll boil some water for tea,” and scurries off to the kitchen.
“Those two went out four hours ago?” Jonah pulls his sleeve up and checks his watch.
“Yes. And it’s been at least thirty years since Björn has sat on one of those things. I can’t imagine he’s too comfortable right now, with his back problems.”
“As long as his ego isn’t suffering,” Jonah mutters dryly.
I bite my tongue against the urge to point out that this all sounds like something Jonah would pull. That’s a conversation for later, once everyone’s safely home.
“I’m sorry, Mom, but I’ve gotta go back out.”