“I hate being on the ground like this. I wish I could use my plane,” Jonah snarls, peeling off his helmet.

My heart beats in my throat as we climb the steps, our limbs numb from the ride. The buzz of approaching snowmachines trails behind us. I don’t have to look to know it’s the McGivneys, who have no intention of leaving us tonight, whether we want them to or not.

This is becoming our routine—tragedy strikes and we congregate. It would be uplifting if not inspired by such horrible events.

Agnes is waiting for us at the door. The grief on her face says she has already received the grim news from the state troopers that they’ve called off the search until morning due to poor visibility.

“I’m gonna gas up and go back out on my own,” Jonah says by way of greeting.

“No, you’re not!” we both respond in unison, followed closely by similar reactions from Astrid and my mother.

“You can’t go out again tonight. Look at you both. You’re frozen!” My mom peels my stiff, snow-caked scarf from around my neck as if to make her point.

“And there are two teenaged girls out there, frozen!”

“Jonah!” Astrid scolds.

He smooths a palm over his forehead and tempers his tone. “I’m sorry. But I can’t sit around here while she’s out there.”

“And I can’t have you and Björn going rogue tonight.” There’s desperation in Astrid’s voice.

Jonah’s eyes bulge. “What do you mean? Where the hell did Björn go?” He scans our living room, as do I. Only a weary-looking Simon remains, quietly sitting at the dining table by the dim cast of an oil lamp. All the food has been tucked away and the kitchen is spotless.

“He was upset that he was left behind while everyone else went out.” Astrid hesitates. “He needs to feel useful in situations like this, and you made him feel old and useless.”

Bewilderment mars Jonah’s face. “You’re kidding me, right? I don’t give a shit about Björn’s ego right now. You shouldn’t, either.”

“I’m explaining what happened.” Astrid holds a hand up to stall Jonah’s rant. “Kelly’s mother phoned here to see if we’d heard anything. Björn answered. She mentioned not being able to go look for her daughter because of her two young children at home. So Björn asked if he could borrow her snowmachine to go out and join the search. She agreed to lend it to him.”

Jonah looks like his mother slapped him across the face. “Tell me you didn’t let a sixty-nine-year-old man from Norway go out into the Alaskan wilderness in a blizzard, alone?”

“I tried to stop him,” Astrid begins.

“He’s not alone. Roy went with him,” Agnes says calmly. I don’t know how she’s keeping her cool at a time like this. “Roy came by about an hour after you guys left. He heard all the engines and thought it might have something to do with Mabel, so he came looking for an update. When he saw how determined Björn was to go out there, he said he’d go with him. Roy drove him over to the Prichards’ to get the snowmachine and off they went.”

Jonah rubs the back of his neck. “At least he’s not completely alone.”

“He’s in good hands if he’s with Roy,” Muriel says, stepping inside to catch the tail end of the conversation. “He’ll make sure they get back.”

Astrid offers her an appreciative smile. “They took Mabel’s sweater with them. He said Oscar is especially good with scents.”

“In this weather?” Jonah runs a hand through his mussed hair. “Not that good.”

“Actually, I looked it up and research shows wolves can pick up the scent of their prey from two and a half kilometers away, even when it’s buried under several feet of snow.” Simon frowns. “I mean, not that I think they’re—” Clearing his throat, he announces, “I’ll boil some water for tea,” and scurries off to the kitchen.

“Those two went out four hours ago?” Jonah pulls his sleeve up and checks his watch.

“Yes. And it’s been at least thirty years since Björn has sat on one of those things. I can’t imagine he’s too comfortable right now, with his back problems.”

“As long as his ego isn’t suffering,” Jonah mutters dryly.

I bite my tongue against the urge to point out that this all sounds like something Jonah would pull. That’s a conversation for later, once everyone’s safely home.

“I’m sorry, Mom, but I’ve gotta go back out.”

“But what will you possibly be able to see when it’s like this?” Astrid pleads.

“I don’t know, but there’s no way I can sit here with my thumb up my ass while Mabel’s out there freezing to death.”

“Why don’t we take a look at the map to mark off everywhere we’ve already covered, before we forget.” Muriel gestures to the table where it’s still laid out. “We’ll get a hot tea in us, and then we can all hop out there again, together. Sound good?”

Jonah nods, his brow permanently furrowed.

“I’d like to go out, too,” Agnes says, worrying her hands. “I can’t sit here anymore—”

“Tell you what, I’ll ride with Teddy and you take my machine. Toby, you get started on that map. I need a bladder break.” She squeezes Agnes’s shoulder on her way past—a silent gesture of sympathy to a woman whose child is missing from a woman whose child is forever lost.

Trepidation churns in the pit of my stomach as we set to marking off trail after trail. I knew we’d covered a lot of ground, but I hadn’t realized how much.

Twenty minutes later, still frozen to the core, I’m pulling on my bunny boots—a precious Christmas gift from Agnes last year that is saving my feet tonight—when I swear I hear the buzz of an engine. Agnes and Jonah seem to hear it, too, because we all rush for the front porch at once and watch expectantly.

I hold my breath.

Two snowmachines travel up the driveway.

And then another two appear.

It’s impossible to tell from this distance who the riders are—if they’re searchers coming to check in.

That is until I see two four-legged animals racing beside them.

“It’s Roy!” My heart hammers in my chest, desperate for relief. But is it Roy and Björn and volunteers they picked up along the way?

Ten seconds later, Mabel comes to a stop outside our house.

And the dread that’s gripped me for hours lifts from my limbs, leaving me feeling weightless.

“Oh, thank God.” Agnes pushes out the porch door and runs down the path toward her daughter who has scrambled off the snowmachine. Jonah and I are close behind.

They collide in an embrace, their sobs carrying over the hum of the nearby generator.

“We got lost! No matter where we went, it was the wrong way. It was like we were going in circles. I was so scared! I’m so sorry.” Mabel’s words tumble from her mouth in a continuous blur.

She towers over Agnes now and yet somehow looks small within Agnes’s fierce embrace. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Everyone has filtered out of the house, and a chorus of relieved sighs and exclamations can be heard.