“Probably the moose, then.”

“Oh, yeah. Great. Did you know mama moose like to trample things?”

“Tell me about your run. Where’d you go?” he asks, steering me clear of that thought. It’s a distraction tactic but I gladly accept it.

Jonah listens as I walk and talk, filling him in on the resort down the road, Toby and his father Teddy, my voice shaky as I keep a steady pace. By the time I reach the door to our basement walk-out, my fear has abated some. “Okay, I’m home.”

“You good?”

“Yeah.” And feeling slightly embarrassed, to be so frightened by something I didn’t actually see. “I know there was something out there, Jonah.”

“Maybe it was a yeti.”

“Not funny.”

“Whatever it was, it’s probably already a mile away.”

“I hope so.”

His heavy sigh carries through the phone. “But you’ve gotta get used to this, Calla. You’re living in rural Alaska. You’re gonna see animals, especially if you’re out running. But as long as you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.”

“I know. I just … I know.” Living at my father’s wasn’t anything like this. The threat of dangerous animals roaming around his house was low. You had to go up the river to find black bear and moose.

“’Kay. Gotta go. See ya in a few hours.”

I slide the satellite phone into my coat pocket, looking forward to getting inside. I’ve pushed the key in the lock when I catch the sound of crunching snow behind me. The hairs stand on the back of my neck as I whip around, a scream curdling in my throat.

Zeke is standing ten feet away.

“Oh my God!” I exclaim, sinking against the door as relief bowls me over. “How did you get out?” I demand to know, my voice thick with accusation.

He answers with a loud bleat, marching toward me, his hooves leaving little round tracks in the snow.

“No. What are you … Shoo!”

He ignores my wild waving hand, moving in to nip at the bell on my right wrist. I wrench it away and step back. He follows, making another attempt, flashing his gnarly brown teeth, the smell of his fur making my nose curl.

As much as I’d love to go inside and leave him out here until Jonah comes home to deal with him, there’s a chance he’ll wander off and get himself eaten. A vision of Jonah flying home to find a goat carcass lying on the runway hits me, and I know what I must do. “Ugh … come on.” I follow Jonah’s boot prints from earlier around to the back of the house, checking over my shoulder several times to confirm that Zeke is following. The snow is deep, and by the time I reach the unlatched door to the pen—set some distance from our house—my ankles are chilled with snow and the hairs on the back of my neck have risen again with that eerie sense I’m being watched. I give a furtive scan around the trees but see no movement.

“Relax, Calla,” I say out loud as I pull open the gate—the only part of the enclosure that isn’t electrified—hoping my voice carries. Little good it does for my nerves.

Raccoon chatter answers a moment before Bandit’s tiny black-and-gray triangular face pokes out from the door leading into the chicken coop. He’s taken to his new home and companion more readily than we expected, though it’ll be interesting to see if he’s as willing to be penned up come the warmer weather.

“You let him out, didn’t you?” I accuse Bandit, luring Zeke back in, avoiding the piles of goat poop littering the trodden snow. I push the gate shut behind him, taking a few minutes to figure out how to fasten the latch. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t believe that Bandit could have managed it.

With the goat safe within his cage, I pause, taking a moment to study the two faces staring back at me. I shake my head. “Is this my life now? Spending my days talking to a raccoon and a goat?”

Zeke bleats and kicks at the fence, rattling the entire structure.

I hurry inside, my gaze on the surrounding forest the entire way.

Jonah plows through the door, bringing a wave of blustering cold with him. Temperatures have dropped with the impending storm. “Hey, babe.”

My eyes dart to the clock, though I already know the exact time, down to the minute. 7:04 p.m. Two hours from when he was supposed to arrive. Just one hour before sunset.

“Hi,” I push through gritted teeth. When I heard the plane coming in thirty minutes ago, relief coursed through every fiber of my body. Now, I’ve also had a half hour to stew in my anger.

He tosses his coat onto the hook and kicks off his boots. “Somethin’ smells good.”

“Soup.”

“Is that the mix you bought the other day?”

I hesitate, weighing civility over my irritation. I’ve learned that Jonah despises canned soup, so when I saw the packaged mix—spices and dry ingredients, with instructions to add meat and vegetables, as if from scratch—I threw three into the cart. “Yes,” I answer crisply.

“Nice. I was thinkin’ about that. Sounds like we’re gonna get snowed in starting late tonight. I’ve gotta bring in a bunch of wood for us.” He empties his pockets onto the desk—a wad of cash that I assume is from the run today, a fuel receipt, the satellite phone, and his iPhone. He leans in to kiss me.

I give him my cheek.

It might be the first time I’ve ever done that.

Finally, he seems to get the message. “Is something wrong?”

“Seriously?” I meet his blue eyes, his furrowed brow. Is he that oblivious? “You were supposed to be home at five.”

“I got hung up talkin’ to Bo Sterling and ended up givin’ him a ride to Talkeetna. It was on the way.”

“And you didn’t think to call me?”

“I did call you. When I landed in Unalakleet. Remember? I stayed on the line with you for almost ten minutes while you walked home?”

“Jonah! I was two seconds away from calling the state troopers and reporting you missing!” My voice cracks.

“Oh, come on.” He groans, pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re overreacting—”

“I am not overreacting, and you know it! The first day you’re out there with me in the office and you were an hour and a half late!” Angry tears escape, hot as they roll along my skin. “You have an itinerary to follow and a satellite phone to call me with if you change plans. It’s that simple! And it’s the only way I know something hasn’t happened to you.” I brush my palm against my cheek, annoyed with myself that I couldn’t keep my emotions in check. “I don’t have a network of people to reach out to and track you down. I had to call Agnes!”

She’s the first person I called, when the minutes kept passing with no sign or word from him and I wasn’t sure if I should be worried. She told me to sit tight while she made a few calls and was able to confirm that Jonah had left the airstrip in Unalakleet an hour later than he was supposed to, with this guy Bo. That led her to calling a pilot at the Talkeetna airport—because she knows Bo and knows that’s where he’s from—and confirming that Jonah landed there.

But I don’t know Bo. I don’t know anyone who works at the Unalakleet airport or any pilots who might have been in Talkeetna at the same time as Jonah. All I know is that Jonah was supposed to be here by five o’clock and he wasn’t, and he didn’t call to tell me otherwise.