The mountains reached out to claim me. Waves of glacier-carved ridgelines stretched to the horizon, gnarled limestone fingers clawing into the valley floor below. It didn’t look exactly like the kid’s photo, yet similarities stood out. The search had narrowed significantly. Meanwhile, the terrain still threatened to swallow anyone who got distracted.

​

Moving to safer ground, I untied the rope from my harness and stretched. My ribs, poorly mended, still hurt. Andy was anchored just off the edge, whistling into the wind, working the belay as our junior partner made the ascent.

 

“Beautiful up here,” he said idly, eyes fixed on his climber. “Maddie would have loved this climb.”

 

I didn’t reply, and he let it slide.

 

“Going to go look around,” I told him.

 

“Not before you buckle those crampons, detective.”

 

“Right. Sorry.”

 

“Stop apologizing.” He frowned but stayed on task. “Don’t start making this feel like work for me. You’re exhausted, emotionally shot, and you’re focusing on the goal instead of staying alive on the way there.”

 

I stopped apologizing.

 

“Take a damn ice axe, just in case. Keep to the center lane. And if you feel like you need to reach for something, you don’t. Wait for us. Me and the kid will square the gear away and come find you.”

 

I gave him a nod he didn’t see and grabbed an axe, then worked my way north along the ridgeline, crampons crunching into the gritty spring snowpack. The wind picked up as I approached a little bottleneck of jagged boulders. Scraping sideways into the rough maze of stone, I caught a hint of snow in the air. My pulse quickened and I moved deeper, my mind slipping into unconscious navigation as I considered that I hadn’t ever thought about what I’d say to her in this moment. The mere idea of arriving here was improbable enough, had consumed my thoughts for the past few months. Until now.

 

It was snowing. She was close.