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  Drawing a sharp breath, I said, "No, I don't. He knew Shaun was lying. Calvin isn't stupid. He knew Korbie and I were--are--in danger, and he knew Shaun was at least partially responsible. Anyway, Shaun was hardly innocent. How many times did he hold a gun on me and Korbie? We were unarmed. You didn't seem to care then. You're just angry because Shaun was your friend. If their roles had been reversed, Shaun would have shot Calvin without a moment's thought. You can't honestly tell me Shaun felt any remorse when he shot the game warden. And don't forget about the police officer he shot before you fled to the mountains, or the girl he sent to the hospital. Shaun had no regard for life. I'm not sorry Calvin shot him."

  Jude nodded. Not in a way that made me think he agreed with me. It was more that he now understood my frame of mind, and took note of it. "I definitely think we should go to Idlewilde. Assuming Calvin can find Korbie, he'll take her there. Which means getting you to Idlewilde, and reuniting you with your friends, should be our top priority."

  I stared at him curiously. For the second time I asked, "Why are you helping me?"

  He leaned back against the roots, lacing his fingers behind his head and crossing his ankles, looking for all the world like a carefree lumberjack. "Maybe I'm in this for me. It's in my best interest to explain myself to Calvin. I wouldn't want him to shoot me too," he suggested lightly enough, but--perhaps I imagined it--with a touch of dark severity.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jude and I sat on ground mats and a sleeping bag under the uprooted tree, huddled around the fire, soaking up every last ripple of heat. Jude asked a few more questions about Calvin, which made me think he was scared of him, but mostly we kept the conversation light.

  As Jude talked, I found myself wondering about him. Why he'd left California. How he'd fallen into an uneasy friendship--or maybe "partnership" was the better word--with Shaun. I wanted to question him, but I was afraid he'd see it as a trick to get him to reveal details that I could use later to help the police identify him. Which, in part, was my intent. I had a moral obligation to aid the police in capturing Jude. But on a more personal level, I was growing increasingly curious about him. For reasons I didn't want to dissect.

  I was beginning to doze off to the low, pleasant timbre of Jude's voice, when without warning he said, "Once we get to Idlewilde, Calvin is going to want to turn me over to the authorities. It was Shaun's idea to abduct you, but I went along with it." He frowned. "He might even try to use physical force to detain me."

  Suddenly fearful that Jude would change his mind about helping me to Idlewilde, I quickly said, "We can tell Calvin that you turned on Shaun and helped me escape."

  "Your story won't match Korbie's."

  "We'll tell Calvin you turned on Shaun after you abducted me. That you were scared to stand up to Shaun at first, because he was the ringleader and had a gun, but when you saw how horribly he treated me, you decided to take matters into your own hands."

  Jude shook his head, unconvinced. "That doesn't erase the fact that I took you in the first place. Calvin doesn't strike me as the forgiving type--for him, there's no such thing as a mistake. He'll want retribution."

  No such thing as a mistake? He sounds like Calvin's dad, I thought.

  "I'll talk to him," I said. "He'll listen to me."

  "Really," he said in an incongruously level tone. "I didn't get the feeling Calvin listens to anyone. He definitely didn't care what Shaun had to say."

  The conversation had suddenly gotten out of my hands. I had to convince Jude that Calvin wouldn't harm him, but the truth was, I didn't know how Calvin would react when we arrived at Idlewilde. Especially since he'd already killed Shaun. I didn't want to believe he was capable of shooting Jude in cold blood too, but I couldn't rule it out.

  "Even in the unlikely event that you get Calvin to back down," he went on, "what about the police? You'll have to report what happened. Everything will come out, including my role in your abduction."

  "No." I shook my head adamantly. "I won't tell them about you."

  "Not on purpose, maybe. But you're going to have to tell them about me, Britt. They're going to ask a litany of questions, and the truth will come out. You got dragged into this mess by accident. You don't have anything to hide. You have no reason to cover for me, and we both know it."

  "That's not true. Listen, it was Shaun's idea to take me hostage. If you promise to help me, I'll lie for you. I'll--do anything you want!" I finished desperately.

  He turned to face me, his brown eyes locking me in a penetrating gaze. "Do you think I'm only helping you because I want something in return?"

  I didn't know why he was helping me. But it only made sense that he expected some kind of payment. Up until now, I'd avoided any serious speculation about what I might have to do here in the mountains to survive, but I would make it out. I wasn't going to die up here. I'd do what I had to. If I had to send my mind to another place while I did, so be it.

  Jude moved toward me suddenly, and I drew back with a frightened gasp. Too late, I realized he'd only been shifting his weight.

  He gave a snort of disgust. "Think I'd hit you? Among other things? Your brain is going wild trying to imagine the sordid requests I might make of you in exchange for helping you to Idlewilde--don't bother denying it, your revulsion is written on your face. Well, you can stop panicking. I won't force myself on you. And I'll try to look past your thinking I would. I took you hostage because I didn't see another option. I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess, but I'll remind you that I did try to stop it from happening. And while we're on the subject of my character, let me ease your conscience. I've never been with any woman who wasn't willing," he finished with thinly veiled resentment.

  "I don't know you," I stammered, shaken not only by his perceptiveness but by the topic of our conversation. I didn't want to talk about sex with Jude. I only wanted to make it out of here alive. "So forgive me for doubting your motives."

  Jude had a scathing comment ready to fly--I saw it in his broiling, angry eyes--but at the last moment the tension went out of his face and he settled into a gloomy silence.

  I bowed my head between my knees. I wished my socks would hurry up and dry. I couldn't fully stretch out my legs in our tiny fortress without touching Jude. He sat so close, I could hear him breathing, every exhalation sounding agitated.

  "Why did you break up with your ex?" Jude asked unexpectedly. He wouldn't look at me, but I could tell he was doing his best to sound friendly. Maybe not friendly. Maybe just not offended. Like me, he probably realized we were stuck here together and it was in our best interest to keep things as civil as possible. "You said his name a few times while you were asleep."

  Instead of being embarrassed, I felt cheated that I couldn't remember the dream. Most of the time I dreamed that Calvin and I had never broken up. That he still lived three blocks away, that I could call him or stop by his house whenever I wanted. I dreamed we still went to school together, and that he stored his books and sunglasses in my locker. I never dreamed about the dark side of our relationship, the times when Calvin turned moody after fighting with his dad and refused to talk to me, punishing his father vicariously through me. During those times, he seemed to really believe it was him against the world. I tried to let go of those memories, especially now, when I needed something hopeful to cling to.

  "He broke up with me."

  "Dumb guy," Jude said, dipping his head to catch my eye. He smiled. I could tell he was only trying to make me feel better.

  "He's not dumb--he's very smart. And an excellent hiker. He knows these mountains really well," I added, letting the threat dangle. If we don't go to Idlewilde, he will find me.

  "Does he come up here often?"

  "He used to. Before he left for college."

  "He's a freshman?"

  "At Stanford."

  Jude paused, absorbing this quietly. After a moment, he let out a whistle. "You're right. He is smart."

  "Smart enough to track us to the ran
ger patrol cabin," I shot back. "Smart enough not to be fooled by Shaun."

  "Who he killed. For lying and kidnapping. He must have a temper."

  "Calvin doesn't have a temper. It's more that he--" How to put it? "He has a keen sense of justice."

  "Which takes the form of shooting unarmed men?"

  "Shaun shot the game warden, who was unarmed, so this is really a case of the pot calling the kettle black."

  "Do you by chance remember Calvin's SAT score?"

  I snorted. "Why do you care?"

  "Just curious if he beat me--if he's smarter than me."

  "He got a twenty-one hundred," I announced proudly. Beat that.

  Jude clapped his hands, clearly impressed. "Well, that'll certainly get you into Stanford."

  "Calvin got horrible grades to get back at his dad, who placed a lot of emphasis on report cards and student rank, then aced both the ACT and SAT. That is so Calvin," I added. "He has to do things his own way. Especially when it comes to his dad--they don't have a great relationship."

  "Did you visit Calvin at Stanford? Did you ever hit that restaurant downtown, Kirk's, with the green walls? They serve the best steak fries."

  "No, we broke up a few weeks after Calvin left for school. How do you know anything about Palo Alto? Have you ever been there?"

  "I grew up in the Bay Area."

  "You're awfully far from home."

  He made a dismissive gesture. "I was tired of the perfect weather. Everyone needs a blizzard now and then, a life-and-death adventure, you know?"

  "Hilarious." I dug around in my pack, hoping against hope that when Jude had grabbed clothes from my duffel in the Jeep, he'd inadvertently included--

  Yes. It was here. The Stanford baseball cap Calvin had picked up when he and his dad toured Stanford last year, back when Calvin was still deciding between Stanford and Cornell. A few days before Calvin left for Stanford for good, I'd asked if I could keep the hat while he was away. I wanted something special of his, and I had no intention of giving it back. It wasn't even a fair exchange; in the end, I'd given him my heart, the whole of it. "Calvin gave me this hat right before he took off for school. It's as close to Stanford as I've been."

  "Calvin gave you this?"

  I held it out to him, but Jude didn't take it right away. He sat stiffly, as if he wanted nothing to do with Calvin's and my past. At last he reached hesitantly to take the hat from my outstretched hand. He turned it over and over, examining it without a word.

  "Looks like you wore it painting," he commented, brushing his thumb over a yellow splatter on the top.

  "Probably mustard from a baseball game." I scraped my thumbnail over the stain, flaking it off. "Calvin loves baseball. His dad never let him play--it overlapped with tennis and track seasons--but he went to the games. His best friend, Dex, was our high school's pitcher. When Calvin was a kid, he'd tell everyone he was going to play in the majors. One time, he took me to see the Bees play in Salt Lake." Unexpectedly, my voice cracked as I relived the memory. Every time the Bees had scored, Calvin had leaned over and kissed me. We'd sat in our seats, hidden by a sea of fans who shot to their feet cheering, and shared an intimate moment.

  I buried my face in my hands. More than ever, I longed for Calvin. If he were here, he'd get me off the mountain. I wouldn't have to struggle to read the map anymore, because he'd lead the way. I rubbed my eyes to keep from crying, but that's what I really wanted. To let go and have a good cry.

  "You miss him."

  Yes, I did. Especially right now.

  Jude asked, "Have you seen Calvin since he left for school? Before two mornings ago at the gas station, I mean. Did you ever get a chance to talk to him and feel closure?"

  "No. Calvin never came home. Up until two days ago, I hadn't seen him in eight months."

  "Not even for Christmas?" Jude asked with an upward sweep of his eyebrows.

  "No. I don't want to talk about Calvin anymore, and I don't want to talk about me." I didn't want to talk about Jude, either, but that seemed safer than playing the dangerous game of wishing Calvin were here.

  Jude passed me his canteen again, but I wasn't thirsty for stale water. I wanted a Coke and cornflakes and mashed potatoes with gravy and toast with real butter, not margarine. It suddenly hit me that I hadn't eaten since last night. My stomach twisted painfully, and I wondered how Jude and I were going to survive the long hike to Idlewilde with nothing but water.

  Jude, always observant, guessed my thoughts. "We have three canteens of water and two granola bars, but I think we should save the food until we really need it."

  "What happened to the fourth canteen? I heard Shaun say we left the cabin with four."

  "I left one behind for Korbie." He pressed his finger to his lips. "Don't tell Shaun; it's our little secret."

  I stared at him. His morbid humor was lost on me, but his act of generosity made my throat grow tight with emotion. I wanted to squeeze his hand and weep at the same time. "You did that?" I finally managed to say.

  "I left her a canteen and two granola bars. It's enough food for her to outlast the storm. In another day or two, she'll be able to make her way to the road. She's going to be fine. I know you're worried about her, Britt, but given the two options--staying in the warmth of the cabin, lonely as that must be for her, or coming with us and risking exposure, exhaustion, and starvation--she got the better deal. When you lied about her having diabetes, you probably saved her life. I know I said I only covered for you to help myself, but I was frustrated when I said it, and in the heat of the moment, I lost my temper. The truth is, I saw what you were doing, and I was impressed by your ingenuity and your bravery. I should have told you then. I didn't, so I'm telling you now. You should be proud of what you did."

  I hardly heard his praise. I was too busy concentrating on the first thing he'd said. "But . . . why would you do that for Korbie?"

  "Surprised to discover I'm not entirely evil?" he said, with a jaded curve to his mouth.

  This was his greatest kindness so far, and I didn't know what to say. Tempting as my initial reaction was--to snub him with chilly detachment--I was incapable of expending the energy. I was tired of building walls. Blinking away tears, I simply exhaled a shaky breath and said, "Thank you, Jude. I can't thank you enough."

  He accepted my gratitude with a quick nod. The gesture hid the faintest grimace, which, I was almost certain, seemed to signify his discomfort at being heralded a hero. To save him from his embarrassment, I decided to change the subject.

  "Do you think my boots and socks are dry enough? I have to go to the bathroom." I wanted to look at Calvin's map again, especially if we were taking off soon, but I also really did have to go.

  After I laced up my boots, I trudged off into the snow. I didn't walk far enough to lose sight of our temporary camp, just far enough to have some privacy. Planting myself behind a tree, I pulled out Calvin's map. He had marked an old, abandoned fur trapper's hut less than a quarter of a mile away. The description read, "Semidecent roof, good wind protection." Too bad I hadn't been able to discover the hut last night, in the thick of the storm.

  Calvin had made a green dot beside the fur trapper's hut. There were two other identical green dots on the map; one marked the cabin where I'd first met Jude and Shaun. The third green dot also seemed to mark a shelter. Beside this final dot, Calvin's notes merely read, "Broken windows." The shelter was probably abandoned, but it fell between our current location and Idlewilde; hopefully, Jude and I could rest there.

  On the chance that I might find something useful at the fur trapper's hut, like granola bar wrappers left behind by hikers that could be used as fuel, and because I was already close by, I decided to check it out. Jude wouldn't miss me if I was gone an extra few minutes.

  Using the map, I navigated my way through the trees. The branches snagged my clothes, making me think of clawing, bony fingers. I pushed the image away with a shudder, suddenly wishing I'd brought Jude.

  Finally, the tre
es cleared to reveal a drooping, windowless, bare-bones log structure that looked well over a hundred years old. The door was so narrow and short, I would have to hunch over to pass through it.

  The tiny door was not a gross miscalculation on the part of the mountain men who'd built the hut. When the first fur trappers arrived in the area, Wyoming and Idaho were heavily populated with grizzly bears. We still had them, but not in the same numbers. The trappers had built their huts' entryways too small for a grizzly bear to get through, to preserve their beaver pelts and their own lives. I owed this bit of historical trivia to Calvin, who, along with Dex, had waited out a rainstorm in what had to be a similar trapper's hut last spring on a hiking trip.

  As I grew closer, a bit of yellow tape caught on sagebrush drew my eye. Police tape. A chill of familiarity tingled my spine, as if this clue should mean something to me.

  The hut's door creaked in the wind.

  I started to back away, suddenly cold with a bad feeling. The hairs on my scalp stood on end. I kept my eyes fastened to the door, afraid something awful would come out if I turned my back.

  And that's when my brain snapped to life.

  I knew this hut. It had been featured on the news last October when a local girl, Kimani Yowell, had been found murdered inside it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kimani Yowell. Miss Shoshone-Bannock. The high school pageant winner who was killed last October. Her death hadn't made the news the way Lauren Huntsman's had, because Kimani wasn't from a wealthy family. She had fought with her boyfriend at a party in Fort Hall, Idaho, the night she died. She left alone, and he went after her. He drove her to the mountains, strangled her, and crammed her body inside the fur trapper's hut. If hikers hadn't stumbled across her remains, her boyfriend might have gotten away with it.

  Kimani had gone to Pocatello High, my rival school, so her story had seemed especially traumatic at the time. Now it felt bone-chilling. She had died out here. In the same woods where I was fighting for my life.