Wilson would be in a dilemma, now, Jed knew. If the man asked who took the bullets, he’d be admitting he brought a firearm on the trip. It had happened before, and in every case the guest never said a word afterward.

“You don’t have to leave,” Jed said. “It’s cold out there.”

But she’d committed herself and although there was a hint of doubt on her face, he knew she’d go.

“Come back in if you get cold,” he said.

She grunted the curse at him again as she backed out through the door trailing her sleeping bag and pad. Before disappearing into the night, though, she paused and looked in.

“I nearly forgot,” she said. “He also has a satellite phone.”

Jed’s eyes widened. “He does?”

Her mouth curled into a sneer. “And he’s got a file folder filled with aerial photos,” she said, “just like those ones you tried to hide from me when I came in.”

And she was gone.

Oh shit, Jed thought. This I didn’t expect.

* * *

Gracie didn’t know what time it was during the night when she snapped awake at the sound of blows or thumping footfalls outside the tent, or heard what she thought must be the grunting of a bear. Or a man or woman being wordlessly beaten.

Part Three

Back of Beyong

23

Gracie was late to breakfast. She’d barely slept until the last few hours as the tent walls fused with morning sun, and when she finally awoke she was sweating in her sleeping bag and Danielle was already gone.

She stood and stretched and yawned. Her face felt dirty and her hair was matted to the side and took furious brushing to set right. Danielle’s sleeping bag was crumpled and puffy on the pad. She vaguely remembered her sister cursing and grunting as she pulled her clothes on earlier.

Outside the tent, it was cold, still, clear, and breathtakingly beautiful. Bright white sun danced on the ripples of Yellowstone Lake and electrified the dew in the grass. A bald eagle cruised along the surface of the water, talons dropped, fishing. Far across the water was the smudge of an island in the lake. Boils of steam rose from vents and dissipated in the clear morning air. She smelled woodsmoke from the fire and heard subdued voices from the kitchen camp.

Her father stood on the path between her and the morning fire, hands in the pockets of his jacket, head down, feet set on opposite sides of the path as if blocking it.

She thought, Ambush.

As she walked out into the wet grass to go around him, he said, “Gracie, please. We have to talk.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“I didn’t like how things developed last night,” he said. “I don’t like to see you go to bed angry with me.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes and passed him. He fell in behind her, speaking low so he wouldn’t draw the attention of the group already eating breakfast.

“I wanted you and Danielle to get to know her, get to like her,” he said. “I wanted you two to get comfortable with the idea of us together. I wanted you to want us to be together, for me to be happy and for us to be happy. I guess what I’m saying, Gracie, is I want your blessing.”

She stopped and turned around. He was right behind her. She said, “You use words girls use when they talk to each other. If I want to talk to girls I’ll talk to girls, not my dad. If you want to be with Rachel then tell me and be with her. I’m fourteen years old. I don’t give blessings. You’re the dad, be the dad,” she said. “And man up. That’s all I ask.”

She left him there with his mouth open but no sound coming out.

* * *

She expected chiding for being late but no one said a thing and she realized the moment she stepped into the campfire ring that something was seriously wrong. All she received were brief and furtive glances. She felt as though she’d just blundered into the middle of an argument and stopped it cold.

Danielle sat with Justin on the same log they’d occupied the night before. Walt sat near them, as did Rachel Mina, who eyed her coolly. The Wall Streeters stood and held their plates aloft, as if they had an appointment to keep. The menu was scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, and coffee. Although the food looked and smelled good, no one appeared to be really eating it. Donna Glode sat alone. She looked pale and sick. Strands of her hair fell into her face and the food on her plate was untouched. She stared at the fire although the flames were hard to see in the morning light.

Who was missing?

Jed, who was behind the kitchen station, said, “Hey, girl, come over here and get some breakfast. Get your dad to come eat, too.”

She looked around for Dakota but couldn’t locate her.

* * *

Dumbly, Gracie started to go get her dad but he’d joined her. He looked under his brow at her, as if trying to transmit a message.

They got tin plates and eating utensils. She glanced over her shoulder at the others.

She said, “Where is Mr. Glode and that guy Wilson? Where’s Dakota?”

Her dad said, “I think that’s what everyone was discussing when you walked up.”