Page 23 of One Last Chance

The air smelled of fresh river, summer flowers, a chilly breeze from the north sweeping into the valley, with the slightest scent of smoky barbeque hinting the air. She checked her watch—still early, before six, but it didn’t matter really. Not with the sun up almost twenty-four hours a day.

She headed across the street to the ranger station, a few backpackers sitting on the apron deck, probably waiting for permits. One of the women, her auburn hair tied into two braids that fell out of her yellow bandanna, laughed, and the sound and sight of her nearly made Flynn stumble, the sense of Kennedy suddenly deeply, painfully raw.

The girl turned then and looked at Flynn and smiled, and no, she didn’t have Kennedy’s green eyes, the smattering of freckles across her nose, but still.

Her sistercouldn’tbe dead.

Flynn pushed inside the ranger station. A small line in front of a permit window confirmed her guess, but she went to the counter and a teenager with blonde hair, dressed in cutoff shorts and a white shirt asked if she could help her.

“I’m looking for Peyton Samson,” she said.

“Parker, you’re not supposed to be helping guests,” said a woman from a side office. She emerged as the blonde stepped back, hands raised, and Flynn immediately recognized her.

Hard woman to forget, really. Dark-skinned, with hints of Native American in her features, her dark hair pulled back under a yellow bandanna, wearing a ranger uniform, patches on her arm that suggested a long tenure with the park service.

“I’m Peyton,” she said. Then frowned. “Wait—it’s Flynn, right?”

“Good memory,” Flynn said. “I was hoping I could talk to you about my sister.”

“Kennedy.” She gestured Flynn back to her office, unlatching and holding onto a swinging door. “Still no word from her”

“No.”

“I’m so sorry.” She gestured to the open door and walked in. A man leaned up from where he’d perched on a credenza.

Peyton gestured to him. “This is my fiancé, Nash.”

Good-looking guy, wore a hint of a beard, had a Brad Pitt-goes-to-Montana sort of aura about him in his khaki shirt, jeans, and boots.

Flynn shook his hand.

“Flynn is a detective from Minneapolis. Her sister went missing a few years ago around here. She’s still looking for her,” Peyton said.

“I’m sorry.”

“She was working for me as an intern—staying at one of the cache cabins over by the Copper River, near your land.”

“Really.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve never been there, but that’s pretty wild country.”

Deke’s words pinged inside Flynn. “Yeah. It’s possible she was attacked by a bear or?—”

“Oh, I don’t know. That’s right near the Bowie hunting lodge. I think the bears stay away. Was she a kayaker?”

“Yeah. Loved the outdoors.”

“Then better bet is that she got tangled in the river somehow.”

She frowned. “Really?”

“There’s a tributary off the river—a lot of fishermen get salmon there. But I know that Air One Rescue has pulled more than a few kayakers off the river after going over the falls.” He stepped forward and leaned over the desk. “I’ll see you in a few days. Please stay safe.” Then he kissed Peyton.

“Nice to meet you, Flynn,” he said, and left.

“Are you going somewhere?” Flynn asked Peyton. “Why do you have to stay safe?”

“Actually, I’m headed out into the bush—in that direction, just a little south. We’re studying the migration patterns of a number of wolf packs, and one of them has been spotted way out of their territory. I’m taking a four-wheeler in to see if I can figure out why.” Peyton considered Flynn. “You as outdoorsy as your sister?”

“Absolutely. We’re twins, after all.”

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