Page 21 of If You're Reading This
His boots crunched through the crust of ice that had formed over earlier snowfall as he swept his light in methodical arcs. The wind whispered through the spruce boughs, carrying with it that uniquely Alaskan scent of resin and ice.
In the distance, something large moved through the underbrush—likely a moose, though the darkness made it impossible to confirm.
“Morgan!” His voice sounded flat in the cold air, absorbed by the dense forest rather than echoing back.
There was no response except the startled flutter of an owl taking flight from a nearby branch.
The coordinates from the cell tower triangulation led him fifty feet from the road’s edge, where the trees grew closer together and the snow deepened.
Logan’s light caught a splash of color against the monochrome landscape—a disturbance in the snow beneath a gnarled spruce. Its lower branches had formed a natural shelter from recent precipitation.
Partially buried by the day’s light snowfall lay Morgan’s phone. He instantly recognized its distinctive hand-tooled leather case—one she’d bought from an artisan at last summer’s fair in Talkeetna. Logan remembered that day well. Remembered how much fun they had strolling beside each other as if they were a couple.
He crouched, his light splaying across the device.
He pulled on some gloves and lifted the phone, tapping the cracked screen.
The screen remained dark.
Was the battery dead or the phone broken beyond repair?
His lips twitched with a frown. He needed to find out.
The answers he needed might be on this cell.
Logan hoped one of the computer techs he knew could fix this for him. He knew her code—she’d shared it once while exclaiming she had no secrets to hide. So why did she seem like she was holding on to some unspoken truth? Why did she seem so haunted herself sometimes?
He needed to see who sent the text Morgan had received while in the bathroom with Andi.
He slipped the device into an evidence bag.
Then he lifted his gaze to the expanse of dark forest around him. Unbroken wilderness stretched for hundreds of miles in every direction—perfect for making someone disappear.
Whoever had taken Morgan—which he was convinced had happened—had chosen this spot carefully. It was in the middle of nowhere. Remote enough to avoid witnesses, yet accessible.
Disposing of her phone in a place like this had been calculated.
Almost as if someone had been driving by and thrown it out their window.
The bad feeling in Logan’s gut only solidified.
As if to emphasize the isolation, the aurora suddenly flickered to life overhead—ribbons of green and violet dancing across the stars, illuminating the landscape in an otherworldly glow that only heightened the emptiness around him.
Logan reached for his radio, knowing that what had begun as a search for a cell phone had become something much darker.
Logan called the owner of the lodge where the award ceremony was held. Though it was late, the man agreed to meet with him. When Logan told Duke and Andi the update on Morgan’s phone, they asked if they could meet him there and offer another set of eyes.
He wasn’t going to refuse their offer of help.
After he dropped off the phone with Reeves and filed a missing person’s report on Morgan, he headed to the lodge.
Duke and Andi waited there, and they gathered in the office to review the security camera footage.
The owner—David Arnold, a balding man in his late sixties who considered himself a reformed redneck—sat behind the desk, and Andi and Duke sat in chairs on either side of him.
Logan couldn’t sit. He had too much energy.
Instead, he watched the screen from behind the three of them. He wished the process of reviewing the video footage was faster and more efficient. He told himself to be patient even as urgency pressed in on him.
