The closest trail was up the remote north side of the mountain from a seldom-used old logging road. His great-great-grandfather would have taken that route two hundred years ago. Few even knew about it anymore, and it was impassable for most of the winter.

Drew stopped, held his breath.

There…voices.

“We have to think through every detail of every assignment.” A man’s voice. Arrogant, deliberate. “We can’t go off half-cocked. We have to plan.”

“You plan.” It was a woman this time, impatient. “I’ll take action.”

“This is business. We’re being paid to do a job. It’s not some adventure to keep you in adrenaline rushes. Just because you don’t need the money-”

“I want the money. That’s enough for me.”

“You’ve never killed anyone,” the man said quietly.

A slight pause. “How do you know?”

The door to Drew’s little house opened, but he didn’t look at who stood on the threshold. Instead he gazed up into the falling snow, letting one flake after another melt on his face. Now he understood his visions. He understood why he was here on Cameron Mountain at this moment.

It was meant to be. He was a father who would get his wish.

His son would live.

Elijah will come home.

One

Seven months later

A red-tailed hawk swooped down from Cameron Mountain and out over the small lake, gray and quiet in the mid-November gloom, as if to warn Jo Harper she wasn’t alone-but she had already figured that out.

She glanced down the private dirt road she shared with Elijah Cameron.