Snowbound - Blake Crouch [0]
Also by Blake Crouch
Abandon
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Locked Doors
SNOWBOUND
BLAKE CROUCH
Minotaur Books New York
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SNOWBOUND. Copyright © 2010 by Blake Crouch. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Crouch, Blake.
Snowbound / Blake Crouch.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-312-42573-9
1. Missing persons—Fiction. 2. Human trafficking—Fiction. 3. United States. Federal, Bureau of Investigation—Employees—Fiction. 4. Gangs—United States—Fiction. 5. Gangs—Mexico—Fiction. 6. Organized crime—Fiction. 7. Domestic fiction. I. Title.
PS3603.R68S66 2010
813'.6—dc22
2009047487
First Edition: July 2010
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Jordan Crouch
I love you, brother
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In September of 2007, my great friend and uncle, Greg “Zig” Crouch, took me to Redoubt Mountain Lodge on Crescent Lake in the heart of Alaska’s Chigmit Mountains. It was one of the best times I’ve ever had, and I am profoundly grateful for that invitation. If there is a more spectacularly scenic place on earth, I haven’t seen it. The isolation and beauty of Redoubt became a huge inspiration for this book.
John Grove also made that trip possible, and Ryan and Heather Richards, who run Redoubt Mountain Lodge, were superb hosts and guides. Neither of them, nor any of the staff or guests who were at Redoubt when I was there are characters in this book. Except for Zig.
A heartfelt thanks to Linda Allen, who went so far above and beyond to get this one off the ground.
Michael Homler, my editor, made this book better in a thousand ways.
Anna Cottle and Mary Alice Kier, as always, provided wise counsel and tireless support.
Anne Gardner at St. Martin’s Press is the best publicist I’ve ever had, and these words are totally insufficient acknowledgment of the hard and brilliant work she has done to spread the word about my books.
And finally, back at base camp, hugs, kisses, and lots of love to Rebecca, Aidan, and my new daughter, Annslee Gray Crouch. I love you.
The Wrong Stars
ONE
In the evening of the last good day either of them would know for years to come, the girl pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped through onto the back porch.
“Daddy?”
Will Innis set the legal pad aside and made room for Devlin to climb into his lap. His daughter was small for eleven, felt like the shell of a child in his arms.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, and in her scratchy voice he could hear the remnants of her last respiratory infection like gravel in her lungs.
“Working up a close for my trial in the morning.”
“Is your client the bad guy again?”
Will smiled. “You and your mother. I’m not really supposed to think of it that way, sweetheart.”
“What’d he do?” His little girl’s face had turned ruddy in the sunset and the fading light brought out lighter strands in her otherwise-midnight-dark hair.
“He allegedly—”
“What’s that mean?”
“Allegedly?”
“Yeah.”
“Means it’s not been proven. He’s accused of selling drugs.”
“Like what I take?”
“No, your drugs are good. They help you. He was selling, allegedly selling, bad drugs to people.”
“Why are they bad?”
“Because they make you lose control.”
“Why do people take them?”
“They like how it makes them feel.”
“How does it make them feel?”
He kissed her forehead and looked at his watch. “It’s after eight, Devi. Let’s go bang on those lungs.”
She sighed but didn’t argue. She never tried to get out of it.
He stood up, cradling his daughter, and walked over to the redwood railing.
They stared into the wilderness that bordered Oasis Hills, their subdivision. The houses on No-Water Lane had the Sonoran Desert for a backyard.
“Look,” he said. “See them?” A half mile away, specks filed out of an