Silence the Waters: The Northwoods Trilogy, #2

Prologue

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Munising, Michigan

Present day

So what do you think, eh? You ever seen anything this big?

Mary Lagrasse dabbed the tears from her eyes as she scanned the vastness of Lake Superior. Land sakes, it was huge. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought she was at the Caribbean. Although, the ocean wasn’t nearly as blue. How many shades of turquoise could a person see with the naked eye?

Gazing into her new husband’s dark eyes, she nodded. It’s breathtaking, honey. It ain’t Iowa, that’s for sure.

Scratching his long beard, Randy Lagrasse dumped his hiking pack on the ground at his feet and drew a bottle of water from its depths. No, ma’am. Nothing but cornfields there, eh? Ain’t no better than Illinois. This here’s God’s country.

Contentment washed over her, and she sighed. The Lord truly is great. This was her first time traveling to the Northwoods. Her first trip anywhere outside of the lower Midwest, really. She and Randy lived in the Lower Peninsula just south of Ludington in the mitten, and it wasn’t much different than her home state of Iowa... corn and flat land with an occasional rolling hill and valley.

But this? Pines taller than skyscrapers covered the land like grass, their rich verdant tips seeping into the blues of the lake like a Bob Ross painting. Silently, she dipped a fan brush in a myriad of greens and swept it across the imaginary canvas of her mind.

Happy little trees.

Taking her Canon Sure Shot from her pocket, she snapped off a few shots of the massive rock formations to the west. The first day of their honeymoon, they’d taken the commercial cruise that toured the famous attraction from the lake. Unfortunately, the other guests had held up their tablets and phones for photos, and Mary hadn’t seen much. As they hiked along the twelve-mile trail bordering the ridge, she could see the picturesque view of the colorful rocks better.

The tumultuous waters of the world’s largest freshwater lake had carved these perfect rock sculptures, as she’d learned on the tour, and they all had special names. The enormous cliff shaped like an Indian’s head was easy to remember, but there were too many of them to keep them straight. She turned to her husband. Which one is this again?

Lover’s Leap. It’s got the arch. He handed her a bottle of water. Drink, babe. You ain’t in the greatest of shape. If you get sick, I’m not gonna be able to haul your fat ass out of here by myself. He smacked her hind end with a laugh.

Ignoring her husband’s rude behavior, Mary guzzled half the bottle and rubbed her aching thighs. Even though she was far from obese as her husband claimed, Randy was an avid outdoorsman, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. He was right. She hadn’t taken care of herself. A medical transcriptionist, she spent most of her days staring at a computer.

There’s a primitive camp about a half mile from here. Squinting, he wiped his balding head with a Frogg Togg. You ain’ tired already, are ya?

Brushing the hair from her eyes, she scanned the trail. It was getting darker. After the hour and a half hike through the marshy woods and another hour to the cliffs, she wasn’t sure how much farther she could go. She rubbed her belly. I don’t know...I’m pretty worn out.

Rolling his eyes, he muttered a curse under his breath and threw his pack on the ground. We’ll just have to camp here for the night. There ain’t many rangers scoutin’ this time of year, so’s I guess there ain’t no harm in it. The terrorists don’t start invading ’til the middle of June, either.

Mid-sip, Mary blinked at him owlishly. Terrorists?

Terrorists, tourists. Same difference. I still wanna bomb the hell outta them.

Prickles danced up her spine, and she stiffened. Was he going to blow up? As he unpacked the portable camp stove from his duffle, he glanced at her with a wink, and she relaxed. Attempting a small laugh, she eyed him warily and began to collect firewood. He had such a dry sense of humor, sometimes she couldn’t tell if he was joking, and his moods changed so quickly...

Randy hummed a hymn as he lit the small propane tank under their stove, and Mary sighed in relief. This Randy she could handle.

Touching the welt at the back of her arm, she bit her lip. Not that it was all bad. Heck, they’d only been seeing each other for six months before he popped the question. Married only a few weeks, they’d recently moved to Michigan to start their new life together.

Eleven years her senior, she loved that Randy was a man’s man, all beefy brawn. He’d been a janitor at the hospital where she’d worked in Green Bay, and they’d attended the same church. He was a hard worker, and he protected her fiercely. It was a welcome change after fifteen years of marriage to Todd, an extravagant real estate agent who didn’t know what monogamy was.

Hi, folks. Beautiful weather today.

Turning around, she swept her curls from her eyes and smiled at the two strangers approaching from the west. Randy cocked his head and stepped to her side, clutching her waist in a vice-like grip. Scowling, he muttered a curse under his breath, his deep timber sending a chill through her body. She tried to step away, but he refused to let go. Mary’s limbs went rigid as her heart pummeled against her chest. Angry Randy was starting to surface.

Best to not fight him.

Can’t complain. It’s nearly sixty degrees in June. Randy arched his left eyebrow and puffed his chest out. You enjoyin’ the view, son?

Dread snaked through Mary as the younger man, no more than thirty, removed his sunglasses and smirked. She placed her palm on her husband’s chest. Randy...don’t.

Clutching her tighter, Randy threw his free arm wide. I mean, you can’t get much closer to God than this, eh? Where’re you folks from?

Ohio. This is our first visit to Lake Superior. You?

I grew up in a small town not far from here. Lagrasse hiked a thumb at his chest. "This is my playground."

She rolled her eyes and pushed against him. Why did he have to act like such a caveman all the time? She’d never looked at another man knowing full-well what the consequences would be.

Patting his tummy, she cooed, Be nice, honey. She turned to the men and smiled. You’ll have to excuse my husband. We’re on our honeymoon.

Congratulations, folks.

As Randy accepted their handshakes, he glowered at her, and she lowered her head, immediately regretting the slip of her tongue. A God-fearing man, he was an old-fashioned sort that didn’t like her smarting off. He lived by the creed that women should submit to their husbands. While she wasn’t raised that way, their church often preached it, and Mary liked that Randy took care of her.

Unfortunately, he had a bit of a jealous streak. This wasn’t the first time his macho, competitive side had caused problems. There were days when it seemed like Randy Lagrasse had two personalities. The alpha male—Angry Randy—had scared the living daylights out of her more than once.

Twining his arm around her waist once more, he said, This is one of my favorite spots. You can see everything from up here.

The younger man cleared his throat. It seems fitting, doesn’t it? Lover’s Leap? Legend says an Ojibwa woman hurled herself from the top of the arch after her mate died during a hunting party.

Mary peered past the steep escarpment to the raging waves below. Jagged rocks jutted out of the water like sharp porcupine quills, and she shuddered. Is that true?

As Randy’s fingers cut into the back of her arm, she bit the inside of her cheek, ignoring the sting. She hated it when he acted like this. Inhaling, she rotated her shoulder and tried to break away from him. Linking his finger in the loop of her jeans, he halted her movements with a firm shake of his head and a menacing growl.

She clutched the front of her t-shirt and twirled it between her fingers. Yep, Angry Randy was here, and she’d be best just to heed his warning. He’d only hurt her once before, but she wasn’t looking to repeat that fiasco. Six months ago, one of the new janitors had sent her flowers to thank her for helping him with a bill. Randy didn’t like her working outside the home, and when he’d seen the gift, he’d gone into a rage. He’d thrown the vase at her head and accused her of cheating. Cornering her, he’d wrapped his hand around her neck and sworn he’d kill her before another man touched her.

She’d left him, vowing that she’d never go back, but it didn’t last. He begged for forgiveness, promising to get help, and she couldn’t say no. The truth was, she was lost without him. He even got on one knee and proposed, swearing he’d never lay a finger on her again.

That was three months ago.

Randy’s grip tightened around her arm, and Mary silently prayed she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life. She eyed the hikers warily.

Please God, just let them move on.

Apparently sensing trouble, the older man gave her a faint smile and clapped his son on the back. We’ll let you folks be. Come on, son. We’ll never get to our car by dark if we don’t keep going.

Good idea, Randy said. When you get to Mosquito Beach, you’s got another two miles to go.

Lowering his eyes, the man tipped his hat and skirted past them. Nice to talk to you folks.

As the hikers shuffled through the leaves and down the path, Mary released her breath. When they were out of earshot, she struggled against her husband. He finally released her, and she rubbed her bruised arm. "What in the world are you doing, Randy?"

Balling his fists, he stood in front of her. His eyes suddenly turned coal black, his pupils narrowing as he stared at her. You remember we took vows not two weeks ago, hey? You’re mine in the eyes of God, woman.

Bile roiled from her stomach, and she bit her lip. Just agree with him. It was the only way to get Angry Randy to calm down. Of course, I am. I was just being friendly. Being kind to the neighbors and all.

The muscles in his jaw unclenched, the ominous shadows in his eyes slowly fizzling. Hauling her against his broad chest, Randy clasped his hands around her waist. His harsh breath whispered against her cheek. I just have to protect what’s mine, ya know?

She swallowed. Sure.

He tapped a finger to her nose. Come ’ere, darlin’. I wanna show you somethin’. She strained against him, but he still refused to let her go. Don’t worry, baby. I’ve been dyin’ to show you this. You’s never seen a prettier sunset than on Lake Superior, let me tell ya. We’re on our honeymoon, right? Romance and all that crap.

Unease wound its way up her spine as she eyed him, still suspicious of his sudden mood swings. She scanned their campsite. But what about our things?

This won’t take long. He brushed a rough thumb over her cheek. I guarantee you’ll love it.

Lacing her fingers with his, she sighed. At least he was trying to make up for his horrible behavior. All right."

He led her toward the tree line to a small outlet where Lover’s Leap arched precipitously from the cliffside before diving two hundred feet into Lake Superior’s cerulean depths. A slight fog had settled upon the lake’s surface as the waves hit the outcrops with a roar. As the sheer cliff opened to the expanse of the water thrashing wildly below, Randy went right to the edge.

Mary drew back with a shudder. Peering into the inky depths below, she drew in a deep breath. She’d never been afraid of heights, but the spikey rocks jutting up at the shoreline like stalagmites could easily convert her.

Mary rubbed her shoulders. The small windbreaker wasn’t warm enough for the forty-degree nights they’d experienced since their arrival.

Come closer, baby. I’ll warm ya up. As she slid next to him, he put his arm around her. The heat of his body radiated to hers, and she relaxed. Randy hummed. Ain’t this nice?

Rays of light danced across the surface of the lake as the sun slowly dipped beyond the horizon. Resting her head against his shoulder, Mary nodded. It’s perfect.

If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll catch the lights tonight. He gestured toward the sky. This is a beautiful place to see the Northern Lights, babe. Isn’t that one o’ those stupid bucket list things of yers?

Peering at the inky darkness spreading overhead, she gasped. She’d been waiting for a chance to see the auroras ever since she’d moved to the Northwoods from Davenport six years ago. They lived too far south to really get a glimpse of them in Ludington. Do you think so?

Randy shrugged. Never know. It ain’t like anything you can imagine, honey. He took a seat on the ground and yanked her next to him. Come on, now. Sit next to me.

He patted the space between his knees, and reluctantly, she did as he bade. The deafening roar of the waves didn’t help calm her nerves. He wrapped his arms around her, the tattoo of a cross prominent upon his well-muscled forearm, and she gave him a wavering smile. Thank you for bringing me here, Randy.

Yer welcome, sugar. He dropped a small kiss near her ear. There’s a reason I wanted to bring you to my favorite place.

Mary met his gaze, her smile fading as dark circles rounded his inky irises. Digging his fingers into her shoulders, he slowly scooted forward. She clasped his ankles, trying to pull out of his grasp, but the thick muscles in his legs had her trapped like a caged animal.

Panic seized her. Let me go!

You remember what rock this is, Mary?

Planting her hands into the dirt, she whimpered. He was going to force her off the edge. Randy, please...

He gripped her hips harder, his hot breath hissing in her ear. Answer me, woman!

Her heart pounded in her throat as she swallowed. She couldn’t think. Lover’s Leap.

Yep. An’ you remember that young buck’s story behind it?

He inched forward a bit more. She clung to his legs as a sob escaped her throat, and he began to hum—a tune she knew all too well. With the ferocity of a lion capturing its prey, he clapped his thick hand over her mouth and dragged her away from the edge.

Thrusting her body against the ground, he smashed her face into the dirt and pushed her forward until all she saw was the thrashing waters below.

The warmth drained from every cell of her body, and she shuddered against him. Bile forced its way up her throat as the stench of his tobacco-stained fingers choked her. Smoothing her hair, he fisted the length and yanked her mouth to his for a rough kiss.

She attempted to pull away from him, and he lifted his lips in a sneer. You scared, baby? You should be. I don’t take kindly to jezebels makin’ me look like a fool.

Leaning over her, he placed the muzzle of a small pistol against her cheek, drew a line across her temple, and pointed at the jagged rocks. I swear to God, Mary Lagrasse, if you ever flirt with another man or cheat on me, I’ll make sure you’ll end up just like that native woman... you’ll never know what hit ya.

Minneapolis, MN

6 months later

Go on in, Alex. Mr. Corbin is waiting for you.

Brushing his hair from his eyes, Alex Price shouldered his messenger bag and smiled at his boss’ matronly secretary. Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he asked, What’s the weather today?

Patting his shoulder, the buxom, African-American woman smirked. Clear skies with no chance of rain. Mr. Corbin seems to be having a good day.

Alex ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled in relief. Good. It’s been a hellish week. This was their usual game before a big meeting. Steve Corbin, the CEO of Reynolds Outfitting, had many moods, and Alex was never sure which one he’d encounter from day to day. Stormy was always bad.

Thankfully, he could always count on June Johnson’s accurate office predictions. She kept their entire office on track, including Corbin. Fortunately, she’d taken a liking to Alex since he was hired two years ago. He’d come to rely on her for almost everything.

She just feels sorry for you, man.

Is Rob Morgan already in there?

"Yes. He and Mr. Corbin are waiting for you—and little miss thang."

Oh, for goodness sake. I’m right here.

With a shrill that would make Tinkerbell wince, the approaching woman’s voice bounded off the foam tiles of the ceiling. As Alex turned around, his chest tightened. His co-worker—and ex-girlfriend—bustled toward him, pounding the ground in her two-inch stilettos like she was strolling across the catwalk. She flicked her sleek, chestnut-colored hair behind her shoulders, and Alex rolled his eyes.

Fucking Cami Reynolds.

What had he ever seen in that woman? All looks and no brains—he’d never make that mistake again. Ignoring the woman’s hourglass curves, he growled, Is it too much to ask to keep her in the PR department? She doesn’t have to be at these preliminary meetings.

June smirked. Not if you don’t mind unemployment. With her fancy leather briefcase in hand, Cami skirted around them, issuing Alex the scowl of the century. June shook her head, her hand fluttering at her chest. My, my, someone’s panties are in a bunch.

Alex raked his fingers through his hair. I broke up with her last week.

Oh, Lawd, not again. June peered over her glasses with a frown. I thought you two patched things up.

Not anymore. It’s over.

For good this time.

Steeling his spine, Alex knocked on Corbin’s office door. Gentleman that he was, he even held it open for Cami. She strutted through without acknowledgment.

Alex scoffed. You’re welcome.

Your highness.

June tsked. Good luck with that one, honey. I’ll be prayin’ for you.

Alex snorted. Unless you can perform miracles, I won’t hold my breath.

As June closed the door behind him, he strode to the executive table and set his messenger bag next to his boss, Steve Corbin. Cami arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows and gave him a frosty glare that could have set off the next ice age.

Pursing his lips, Alex removed his blazer. What the hell had he done? Cami was the one who’d led him around by his nose for the last eighteen months like some puppy on a leash. Part of it was his fault since he’d never put his foot down with her—until last Sunday when they’d dined with her father, the owner of Reynolds Outfitters, and his parents at their country club.

It had started out innocently enough. Their parents were tickled that he and Cami had gotten together, especially since their fathers had been frat brothers at the U. They’d toasted to a long and prosperous future between the Reynolds’ and the Price’s.

Alex hadn’t thought anything of it—just small talk. But later that evening, his mother had pulled him aside and offered to give him his grandmother’s diamond ring, thinking he didn’t have enough money to buy one for Cami.

Alex’s life suddenly flashed before his eyes. He wasn’t about to let his parents bully him into marriage with anyone, especially Cami.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had doubts about committing to her. The heaviness of their odd relationship had felt like a lead weight on his chest since Christmas when she’d bullied him into attending the mayor’s annual ball as her father’s guests. Fancy suits, nights at the symphony... Alex didn’t recognize himself anymore. Cami had spent the last year trying to change him, and he was tired of it.

Anytime you’re ready, Mr. Price. Corbin cleared his throat.

Heat spread across the back of Alex’s neck. Straightening his tie, he took the chair next to his partner, Rob Morgan. Cami settled on the other side of Rob and issued Alex another snide look.

Corbin crossed his arms, alternating his gaze between Alex and Cami. Is this going to be an issue, people? I don’t have time for office theatrics.

As Rob shot him his best I-told-you-not-to-date-the-boss’-daughter-bro look, Alex clenched his jaw. Despite Cami’s annoying presence, he loved working for her father’s company. He wasn’t about to let the biggest mistake of his life ruin his career at Reynolds Outfitters.

Placing his legal pad on the table, he held his head high. Not from me, sir.

Ms. Reynolds?

Cami lifted her upper lip with a curt shake of her head. Her stiff hair barely moved. Probably because she used a bottle of hairspray a day.

Corbin steepled his fingers. Glad to hear it. We have a lot of work to do on the upcoming executive getaway, so let’s get to it. He looked at Alex. Alright, Price, what venues have you picked for this year’s trip? It sounds like we have plenty of new products to test. Mr. Morgan’s buyers spent more on new gear than our budget allowed, although he says to trust him. Apparently, the extra expense was well worth it.

Rob’s cherubic face brightened as he sat forward. Sales this year will be stellar, sir. They’ve done fantastic work improving everything from nylon and canvas tent fabric to GPS, and we got it all. We’ll make our budget back two-fold in the first quarter.

As long as the merchandise passes our quality tests, Mr. Morgan. Corbin stifled a grin. Price?

Handing everyone the packets he’d been perfecting all week, Alex smiled. Their boss was a meticulous CEO. Along with their squeaky-clean image, the quality of their products came first and foremost. It was just one of the many reasons Alex loved his job, and as Corbin’s executive assistant, he tried to live up to those standards as well.

He opened his laptop to his Power Point presentation. Turning the screen, he hit play, and the slideshow began. We have a lot of options, sir. He tapped the left button on his mouse, displaying a photo of a picturesque bridge winding toward a lighthouse at sunset. My first suggestion is staying in-state and using the Boundary Waters at Grand Marais or Portage Lake. There’s still quite a bit of driftwood clean-up at the waypoints from last fall’s storms, so it should make for some interesting test sites. And in early June, we shouldn’t have to fight the tourists.

Alex clicked the mouse again. We can also look into the Apostle Islands again. We can test the hiking gear at Madeline Island and skirt along the sea caves with the new kayaks. The lake levels are lower than usual due to the unusually mild winter.

Corbin nodded his head. Both good choices. Rob?

"I like the Boundary Waters. Alex is right. It’s still early, and the terrorists—ahem, tourists—won’t be too bad at either place."

Alex stifled a laugh as his friend waggled his blond eyebrows. Rob hated tourists, especially when they were trying to run gear tests. Die-hard gear junkies tended to get nosy, and Rob was less than patient with them.

Arching an eyebrow, Corbin addressed Cami. What does the PR department think, Ms. Reynolds? I assume since you decided to attend this meeting you have something to add.

Straightening her shoulders, Cami smoothed her hair. Daddy’s tired of visiting the same venues, and neither of those suggestions sound very exciting. Didn’t we shoot at the Apostle Islands three summers ago? The last three catalogs have been more of the same—evergreens overlooking Lake Superior. With the campaign to remake our image in full operation, Daddy wants something more picturesque this year.

Crossing his arms, Alex gave her a hard look. He’d only been working at Reynolds Outfitting for two years, and he’d suggested bigger venues, including Lake Tahoe, but his ideas had always been nixed due to budget restraints.

Placing his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. It’s the Northwoods. What were you expecting? The Rocky Mountains?

Cami snorted. Of course not. But there are other beautiful places along the southern lakeshore we haven’t explored.

Running a hand across his spiky blond hair, Rob laughed dryly. Jeez, just say it, Reynolds. You already have something planned, don’t you?

Folding her arms, she nodded curtly. Daddy wants Pictured Rocks.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath. In the Upper Peninsula? Biting the inside of his cheek, he scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck as his heart leaped into his throat. He hadn’t been to Michigan for five years. Not since... His gaze met hers.

Directing a simpering smile at him, she slid a brochure in the middle of the table. It’s perfect. There’s a resort on the lakefront where the board members and their wives can enjoy a spa-like getaway. And it’s the ultimate outdoor haven for testing our products. One of the local adventure companies offers week-long tours. We can hire them exclusively. In fact, I’ve already talked to them. They’ve offered us a reduced fee for the week with additional time if we need it because it’s their slow season.

Alex stared at the scenic photos lining the advertisement. Colorful rock faces flanked a group of kayakers as they skirted along the shoreline through a natural sandstone arch. Lover’s Leap. He turned the page. Sweat dripped from his palms. Miner’s Castle. Chapel Rock. The Rookery. Jesus, he knew every formation at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. He’d explored every one of them with his college girlfriend.

Sierra Cleary.

Let me see that, Price.

Steeling himself against the dull pain throbbing in his forehead, he passed the brochures to his partner. Rob flipped through the pages and laughed. This is freaking amazing. Didn’t you go to school in Michigan for a while? Have you ever been here?

Alex clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening. The summer of his freshman year of college, Alex had taken Sierra on a romantic weekend hike to Pictured Rocks. It was the best trip of his life. They’d planned on returning after graduation—until a madman destroyed their lives.

All of a sudden, Sierra’s battered and bruised body flashed before his eyes with a blinding punch. Alex sucked in a sharp breath, tampering the horrific memories threatening to take him down from the inside.

He swallowed hard. Once, a long time ago.

Leaning toward him, Cami propped her chin on her fist and arched her eyebrow. Interesting. Why haven’t you ever suggested it?

God, she’s such a bitch.

Pain snaked across his temples like a fault line reverberating loudly in his ears. Besides his parents, Cami was the only one who knew what had happened to him—and to Sierra—in college.

Give them here, Price, Corbin said.

Fumbling with the brochures, Alex handed them to his boss. His mind felt muddled as if he were having a strange, out-of-body experience.

Winking at Alex, Cami gave Corbin a bright smile. Merritt Adventurers is the only place on the Lakeshore offering overnight tour guides, sir. Levi and Katy Merritt... Both are highly qualified members of the local search and rescue team with years of training. They work year-round, so if we like them, we can even return for a winter photo shoot.

Rob shrugged. This sounds awesome. What else could we want?

Reality came crashing back, and Alex glared at Cami. She’d gone too far this time. It would have been a fine choice had the woman not known how he felt about returning to Michigan.

Bursting up, he threw his presentation notes across the table. If you’ve already planned everything, why am I even employed here? Good question. I’m sure daddy’s asking himself the same thing right now.

A mix of anger and dread tore through Alex as she flashed her pearly white teeth. She’d already told her father that they’d broken up? Shit. It was only a matter of time before Mr. Reynolds fired him. She lifted her chin and stared at him, and the vein in his temple pulsed. She’d won, and she knew it.

As if reading his mind, Corbin peered over his black-rimmed glasses. "Calm down, Price. You’re my assistant, and I’m in charge of your employment. He stared at Cami with pursed lips. Ms. Reynolds, while I applaud your latest efforts to take more of an interest in your father’s company, I agree with Alex. Choosing the venues should have been handled by him and Rob. They’re responsible for booking executive trips."

Jerking his head around, Alex did a double-take. He’d worked his butt off for two years, and Corbin had never championed him before. Pulling on the lapel of his button-down shirt, he slowly returned to his seat. Thank you, sir.

Whatever. Cami tapped her foot on the ground. I was just passing along information Daddy gave me. I haven’t officially booked anything yet.

Corbin gave her a sidelong glance. Noted. I do like the idea of going someplace different this year. As we remake our image to compete with the bigger outfitting companies, this sounds like a good place to start. What’s it like in the U.P., Price?

Sierra’s blond hair and sky-blue eyes danced through Alex’s mind. He loved hiking the North Country Trail with her. Young and happy, they’d spent days exploring every waterfall and rock structure they could, taking in the magnificent sunsets and Northern Lights along the shore. However, when winter set in during their sophomore year, their time together had run out.

Sierra’s beautiful face suddenly morphed into the bloody nightmare that had haunted him for five years, and he glanced at the door. Bracing himself against the dizziness and the subsequent nausea, he swallowed the acid burning his windpipe.

Please just let me make it through this meeting.

Price?

Rob kicked him under the table, and Alex shifted in his seat, spewing out facts like a park ranger. Um, it’s beautiful, sir. God’s country over there. At Pictured Rocks, the sandstone formations are layered with bands of red, orange, and brown. There’s over fifteen miles of those structures to explore and plenty of sea caves. Great for kayaking. The North Country Trail passes through there, too... miles of wilderness to hike. We could spend a week backpacking the trails. There’s also extensive sand dunes near Grand Marais.

Releasing his signature leprechaun giggle, Rob rubbed his hands together. Hell yeah, I’m sold.

Corbin tapped his pen against his lip. It’s quite a drive over there.

Pulling his phone from his pocket holster, Rob opened his maps app. Looks like eight hours, give or take a few. We’ll need to pack the gear in the trailer, but it’s not a problem. Price and I can drive over the day before.

What’s the nearest city? Corbin asked. I guarantee neither Mr. Reynolds nor the board members or their spouses are going to want to drive.

Marquette has a municipal airport, sir, Alex said. The rest of you could fly in.

I can be at the shoot earlier, Mr. Corbin, Cami piped up. "Anton will want to take some background before we do our regular shoot. Keith and Toby won’t be there this year.