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Once again, the remarkable Sue Henry brilliantly evokes a magnificent northern landscape -- and chills the blood with a riveting tale of suspicion, suspense, and lives found and lost on an unforgettable journey.
What was once the home of champion Alaskan "musher" Jessie Arnold is now a pile of charred logs and ashes. With her life in pieces, she gratefully accepts a friend's proposal that she drive his RV up from Idaho, along a two-thousand-mile-long road that winds past glaciers and glass-blue lakes, hot springs and breathtaking wilderness: the Alaska Highway.
With her lead sled dog, Tank, along for the ride, Jessie sets out from the Lower Forty-Eight, sharing the journey with new friends she encounters along the way. One of them, Maxie, a colorful senior citizen living life at full throttle, makes the miles melt away. But it's Patrick Cutler who brings terror aboard.
Jessie offers the hungry, frightened teenager shelter, a compassionate ear, and a ride. But at Jasper National Park, he disappears. Suddenly police are swarming around Jessie and Maxie, searching for the runaway in connection with two shocking murders. Jessie's instincts are telling her that Patrick is innocent, but her concern, linked with a determined need to uncover the truth, has plunged her and her elderly companion into the deadly center of a crazed blood vendetta. There are dark secrets in the boy's past that could have devastating -- perhaps fatal -- consequences for anyone who unearths them. Because, stalked victim or murderous maniac, Patrick Cutler is a lightning rod for violence and death. And now Jessie is a target -- a traveler on a cold and empty wilderness road that could be leading her not to her home...but to her grave.
Once again, the remarkable Sue Henry brilliantly evokes a magnificent northern landscape -- and chills the blood with a riveting tale of suspicion, suspense, and lives found and lost on an unforgettable journey.
Chapter One
The old man woke still tired from a restless sleep in the back bedroom of his small house on the outskirts of Cody, Wyoming, and grumbled to himself as he rolled over, seeking comfort in a new position. His legs were aching again and there was a charley horse in his right foot. He slid down far enough in the bed to brace it against the footboard and push hard against the cramped muscles of the arch, stretching them until the spasm finally eased, then for a while longer, just to make sure it wouldn't immediately return.
Wide awake now, he pushed himself to a sitting position so he could swing his feet painfully out of the bed, stood up, and tottered toward the bathroom. Couldn't sleep through the night anymore without his bladder waking him at least twice. A couple of times lately he had even dreamed that he got up and made it to the toilet, only to come suddenly awake in the middle of the action and find himself lying shamefully in a wet spot like some ...
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What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading, you wish the author that wrote it was a ...
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