“I’m going only a few miles and then turning around. Think of it like I’m doing you a favor to get out this stranded group.”

The trooper wasn’t amused. “Make it fast.” He directed Michael to a narrow path through the disaster that’d been cleared to get the ambulances in and out of the snowy scene.

Michael drove slowly, fighting his desire to stop and take photos of the burned-out husks and crumpled vehicles. He transferred his reporter’s instincts back to the topic of Gianna Trask. There was a story there; he knew it. Even if the shooter in the forest turned out to simply be a local nut with a gun, no one had publicly interviewed Gianna in decades.

She was a survivor.

Just like Chris. Michael shook his head. Knowing his introverted brother’s silent ways, he suspected Chris and Gianna had no idea how much they had in common. A lot had changed in the years since Chris had come back into Michael’s life.

Two decades ago Michael’s brother Daniel had vanished along with several other children and their school bus driver. Chris Jacobs had lived. Nearly dead, he’d stumbled out of the forest two years later with no memory of what had happened. Michael had hated the boy for surviving while his brother was still missing.

But the survivor had a secret. He was Daniel Brody and had assumed Chris Jacobs’s identity to protect the very public and political Brody family from a killer. The real Chris had died while escaping with Daniel from their captor. Chris had kept his mouth shut, protecting his secret for years, interacting as little as possible with society as he tried to heal and live as his deceased friend.

While looking for Chris two years ago, Michael had fallen for the real Chris’s sister, Jamie, and then discovered his secret. Because he’d lived longer as Chris than as Daniel Brody, Chris had kept the stolen name. Now the three of them were a tight-knit but incestuous-sounding family.

Michael wouldn’t have had it any other way. He’d gained his brother, a nephew, and the love of his life during that hot summer.

Michael understood the stress that had been in Chris’s voice when he talked about leaving the ranger and the other shooting victim behind in the forest. As a teen Chris had had his heart ripped to shreds when he’d been forced to leave his dead friend behind in the woods to escape their kidnapper.

Even after Chris had accepted that he no longer had to hide, he’d refused help coping with his guilt. He’d tried a few therapists at Jamie’s urging, but it never lasted. Talking wasn’t Chris’s strong point.

Good thing Michael could tell what his brother was thinking with a single glance. Jamie could, too.

A squat building appeared on the side of the road, a sign marking it as the ranger station. It’d taken him nearly an hour to reach the location. A figure moved to the center of the snow-covered highway and waved his arms. Chris. Michael smiled, relief flowing through him. A golden dog danced into the road, jumping in circles around the black figure. Two other figures stood outside the building, one in a pink coat and another in pale green. It appeared they’d just made it to the ranger station.

Michael slowed to a stop and stepped out of the SUV. A rare grin beamed on Chris’s face. Michael pulled him into a bear hug and pounded on his back. “Here I am, saving your ass again.” He turned to greet the two women.

Gianna Trask was tiny. Her direct brown gaze studied him as Chris made introductions. Violet was her mirror image, only slightly taller and with that youthful freshness of a teenager. Oro planted his front paws on Michael’s chest, a final set of dark eyes that were grateful to see him. “Hey, boy.” He rubbed the happy dog’s head.

“Thank you so much for coming to get us,” Gianna said. Michael sized her up. “Confident” and “competent” were his first impressions. A large brown smear covered part of her coat. His gaze locked on it and her gloved hand brushed it self-consciously, but she said nothing.

How close was she when the ranger was shot?

“We were just about to go inside,” Chris said. “But let’s put our stuff in the back of your truck.”

He was already grabbing two large duffel bags from a pair of sleds. He lifted the back window to Michael’s SUV and loaded them in. Violet scrambled to grab a few boxes of food and supplies. “How much did you pack?” Michael asked.

“I didn’t know if our trip would take three hours or three days,” said Chris. “I was prepared for both. I’ll feel more secure once I see pavement, but for now I’ll settle for some heat inside the station.”

Gianna and Violet chimed in their agreement.

Two pale-green forest service trucks were parked in front of the building, their tracks hidden in the new snow. Chris grabbed Gianna’s arm as she nearly lost her footing in an icy spot.

Michael blinked.

Nah. He’s just being polite.

But the length of time that Chris had looked at Gianna after she’d slipped had been more than polite.

Michael glanced at Violet, who’d hung back to hook a leash onto Oro’s collar. The teen hadn’t seemed to notice anything. He waved them all ahead and brought up the rear as they tramped up the snowy path to the door and walked right in.

It was as if they’d stepped back into the 1970s. The ceilings in the waiting room were uncomfortably low and the fake wood paneling had discolored from years of sun. The tile floor reminded Michael of an old grocery store, and the seats of the folding chairs had lost their padding. Down the narrow hall to the right, a man stepped out of an office and headed their way. “Can I help you?” The heavyset man wore the tan-and-green uniform that Michael associated with the forest service.