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  “That’s probably because you haven’t had anything to eat today. Sorry. In light of recent events, breakfast got a bit…derailed.” He lifted his eyes to Nat’s. “I assume you told him.”

  “Yes, I did.” What was it about this guy that a simple question felt like an attack? She felt sick to her stomach.

  “We need to get out of here. Before anyone else dies.” The resolve in Andrew’s words was impressive, considering that, as far as Nat knew, he hadn’t stood up yet that day.

  “I agree, but even now we’re losing daylight.”

  Nat’s spirits plummeted even further. She hadn’t noticed the shadows lengthening, but Steven was right. Soon it would once again be too dark to leave.

  “I don’t care,” Andrew said. “I’ll risk a broken leg over lying here like a lamb waiting for slaughter.”

  “I get what you’re saying, I do, but you’ll suffer a lot more than a broken leg if you fall off the side of this mountain.”

  “At least it would be a quick end.”

  “Don’t say that, Andy. We have to be smart about this.”

  “Nat’s right. Why don’t you both come over to the fire, and we’ll figure out the next course of action. Vasily wants to leave too. Perhaps he knows a safe way of navigating this place at night.”

  The idea of stumbling around in the dark, with who knows what behind them or in front of them, made her shudder. But how could she possibly spend another night at the campsite? It was becoming a graveyard.

  “I want to apologize for the whole trolling thing. It wasn’t the right way to go about it, and I’m sorry if my actions eroded any trust you might have had in me.” Steven took off his cap, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve been trying to get someone to investigate my great-aunt’s death for years, without any luck, and I’d listened to Nat’s Mysterious World long enough to know Nat didn’t back away from a dare. I thought it was worth a shot, but I now see that it was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you go on your own? It’s not like you needed any of us.” She refused to accept his apology. He’d made her life a living hell, and now he was at least indirectly responsible for three deaths. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven.

  “I didn’t have the experience with this sort of thing, the budget, or the equipment. Sure, I probably could have made it to Vizhai and hired my own guide, but then I wouldn’t have proper witnesses, either. And after what I saw in California, I wanted to make sure I did this time.”

  “Honestly? I think you’re only sorry you got caught. You kept the Cliff thing going for over a year. If you felt at all remorseful about it, there were plenty of opportunities to redeem yourself, but no. You antagonized us because you got off on it.” Nat’s jaw clicked and she realized she’d been clenching her teeth. She had to calm down before she slugged the guy.

  “You do seem to enjoy provoking people, judging by how you’ve behaved on this trip,” Andrew added.

  “I never mean to. It’s a character flaw. I rub people the wrong way.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s a cop-out. That makes it sound like it’s an accident. You deliberately sniped at everyone, every chance you got. And don’t think I didn’t hear you arguing to leave me behind.” As Andrew glowered at Steven, Nat wanted to cheer. It was about time someone other than her dressed this guy down. He’d been a thorn in their side from the beginning.

  “That wasn’t very compassionate of me, I admit. But I was only thinking of what was best for the group as a whole.”

  At his attempt to portray himself as altruistic, Nat lost it. “Bullshit. Since when have you cared about the group? If you really wanted to find out what happened to your aunt, there’s no way you’d want to leave now. These murders are obviously recreations of what happened in 1959. The longer we stay, the closer you get to finding the truth.”

  “Sure, I’d love to find out what happened to my aunt, but I’m not suicidal. In spite of my fears, I had no idea any of us were at risk, not really. Once Joe and Anubha died, it wasn’t worth it anymore.”

  “How do we know you’re not doing this yourself? You admit you’re obsessed with the case. You’re the only one, other than Vasily, who had the opportunity to kill Joe, Anubha, and Lana.” Andrew’s voice broke when he said Lana’s name, and tears welled in Nat’s own eyes. “You’re the only one with a motive.”

  Steven raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? I want to find out what happened to my aunt, and that’s enough of a motive to murder three people? You can’t actually believe that.”

  “Maybe your aunt’s death isn’t the motive. Maybe you killed Joe and Anubha because of your run-in with them the other night,” Nat said. “Lana could have spurned your advances.”

  “Trust me, there were no ‘advances,’ and if there had been, she wouldn’t have spurned them.”

  “You conceited asshole.” She’d never wanted to strangle someone so much in her life.

  “I’m not being conceited. Like you mentioned, we were fond of each other. But she lived in Canada; I’m in California. What would have been the point of starting anything?”

  “I’d like to think she had better taste.”

  Steven winced. “Ouch. Hey, I get you’re both pissed at me, and I don’t blame you. I probably deserve everything you can throw at me—”

  “Probably?” Andrew asked.

  “Okay, I definitely deserve it. But I came in here to make peace, to see if there’s some way we can get past this. Let’s not forget that something out there is picking us off one by one, and this is what it wants. The more we turn on each other, the easier it will be for them to eliminate us.”

  Andrew rolled his eyes. “Them? You’re not still pretending you believe this yeti theory, are you?”

  “Here. I want to show you something.” Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, the mountaineer withdrew a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Nat. It was a copy of a photograph, a famous photograph she’d seen before, the one that had been found in the camera in Dyatlov’s tent. This version had been enhanced, which hadn’t helped much. It still looked like a man in a snowsuit in the cedar forest. All the enhancement had accomplished was reveal a bit more detail in the clothing. It remained fairly fuzzy. “Check out the material of his suit. Doesn’t it look like it could be hide, like Vasily described?”

  Nat peered at the picture before handing it to Andrew. “Maybe. But I don’t see what that has to do with anything. It could have been a member of their group, or another tribe—anything.”

  “If that doesn’t convince you, how about this?” Steven passed Nat his phone. On the display was a close-cropped photo of a bruised hand, the fingers curled into a fist. Her stomach lurched.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “I don’t mean for it to be. Look between her fingers, Nat.”

  Swallowing hard over the lump that had formed in her throat, Nat examined the photo closely. It took a few seconds, but finally she saw what Steven had been getting at. Lana clutched a small piece of animal fur. It looked like part of a pelt. Or, perhaps, a homemade snowsuit.

  “That doesn’t prove anything. It could even mean an animal attacked her,” Nat said.

  “Except there were no tracks. No bite marks. And aside from the bruising, her body was in perfect condition. What kind of animal would do that?”

  “I hate to interrupt this argument, but while you two are bickering, we’re losing daylight. Something killed Joe, Anubha, and Lana, and I think we can all agree that we need to get the fuck out of here while we can.”

  Before either of them could respond to Andrew, a shadow loomed over the tent, making Nat jump.

  “Hello, guys? We have a problem.”

  She sighed. Great. What else was new? There had been nothing but problems on this trip. Pushing past Steven, she pulled the flap aside. “What is it, Igor?”

  The Russian’s eyes were red and raw, as though he had been crying. “Our skis are missing. While we were with Lana, someone must
have taken them.”

  ~ Chapter Fourteen ~

  It was a much-diminished group that gathered around the fire that evening, staring gloomily into the flames while the skies darkened.

  And then there were five.

  “We’ll have to walk down, yah?” Igor kicked at a stray ember, which fizzled in the snow. The temperature had dropped dramatically, and even near the blaze it was uncomfortably cold.

  “We can’t. The snow is too deep in places, and it will take us too long. And what if there’s a storm? We’d die,” Steven said.

  “We’ll die for sure if we stay here.” Andrew sounded so resigned Nat worried he’d lost the will to live. While his coloring and breathing had improved, and his mind appeared as sharp as ever, his spirit was lacking. And he probably needed that to survive more than anything.

  “We’ll die if we get trapped on the side of the mountain in a blizzard too.” As usual, the mountaineer was brimming with optimism.

  “Look, we all know this situation sucks, right? It sucks. So let’s stop pointing out how much it sucks, and start coming up with solutions. If you don’t have something positive to say, please keep it to yourself.” Nat took a deep breath. “Anyone have any constructive ideas?”

  The disappearance of their skis had complicated things in more ways than one. Not only had it effectively stranded them on the pass, but the one person who’d had the opportunity to take them was Igor, and the Russian couldn’t have killed Joe and Anubha, since he’d been with her and Andrew at the other site when the trappers went missing. Igor swore that once Vasily returned from the forest, they hadn’t been out of each other’s sight. Not to mention that whoever had taken the skis had either taken them far or hidden them extremely well. The group had combed the Dyatlov Pass, the trail, and the forest as far as Lana’s body, without finding so much as a single track.

  The resulting silence was deafening, but she wasn’t surprised. Take away the option of sniping at each other, and their “team” had nothing to say. If her job as a leader was to foster unity and inspire everyone to work collaboratively, she’d failed miserably.

  “How about Joe and Anubha’s snowshoes?” she asked.

  Steven lifted his head, and she thought she detected at least a glimmer of interest. “What about them?”

  “Well, they’re better than nothing, right? Joe and Anubha moved pretty quickly in them.”

  “I hate to sound negative, but Joe and Anubha were just two people. There are five of us. So I’m not sure how their snowshoes, assuming we can find them, would help.”

  Argh, now his cloud of hopelessness had drifted over her way. “I thought we could trade off or something, have everyone take turns.”

  “I’m out,” Igor said. “I cannot fit in their shoes.”

  “It’s not practical, anyway. It would mean two of the group are either far ahead of the rest or waiting while the others struggle through the snow. Doesn’t make sense, unless we plan on splitting up again, which I don’t recommend.”

  Nat scowled at him, but Steven was right. It was probably worth saving the shoes, just in case, but trading them back and forth wouldn’t make their progress any faster.

  “I’m not meaning to come across as the Killer of All Hope here, but our resources are dwindling. In the time it will take us to walk down the mountain without our skis, assuming we don’t get hit by a blizzard, we’ll run out of food. We don’t have enough.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Igor shot back, frowning at the mountaineer.

  “It’s no one’s fault. It’s simply a matter of supply and demand. We brought enough food to last a week, and we’re getting to the end of the trip. It will take days, maybe even a week, to get anywhere on foot. Again, assuming good weather. No one planned for the skis to go missing.”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t wasted all that food by leaving it out for the animals, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Igor said. Nat was shocked at how angry the Russian looked, how flushed his face had gotten. She’d never seen him like this. Steven was on dangerous ground.

  “I didn’t leave it out for the animals. It was to appease the yetis, a peace offering to make up for hunting on their land. I did it to keep us safe.”

  “It didn’t do much to keep Lana safe,” Andrew muttered.

  Steven turned on Andrew like a cornered cat. “I hope you’re not blaming me for her death.”

  “I’m not blaming anyone. I’m agreeing with Igor that it was a stupid idea. Breakfast got ruined too.” He held up a hand before Steven could jump down his throat. “I understand why, obviously. I’m just saying we shouldn’t waste any more food.”

  “I don’t think it was a waste. It might be the only reason the five of us are alive. Did anyone consider that? If we hadn’t left the food, they might have ransacked our campsite and slaughtered all of us. Besides, if anyone had a problem with it, they should have said so last night, not today, when hindsight is 20/20.”

  “Would you have listened?” Igor asked. “From the first day, you have been telling us what to do and treating us like children. You’ve acted like this is your expedition, not Nat and Andrew’s. Everyone else’s suggestions are stupid. And yet, you’re the one believing in children’s fairy stories and leaving out food for yetis.”

  “How can you deny their existence? Who the hell else do you think took our skis?”

  “You probably took them.” Igor’s voice rose until it was a roar. Nat had been about to ask the men to calm down, but now she was afraid to get between them. How had things gotten ugly so fast? “You’re obsessed. Anubha and Joe died because they knew what you were up to. Lana died because she wasn’t interested in you. You can off anyone who gets in your way, and blame it on the yeti.” The Russian hooked his fingers into quotes as he said yeti. “Pretty fucking convenient.”

  “That’s ridiculous. And, for your information, Lana was plenty interested.” Steven smirked, and before Nat could blink, Igor lunged for him, grabbing him by the neck.

  “You’re a liar! That’s a lie, and you know it. She was interested in me. She told me what you tried to do.” Holding the mountaineer by the throat, Igor slammed Steven’s head into the ground. “She told me you went into her tent that night. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you then.”

  Whaa? “Igor, stop. Please, someone stop him before he kills Steven.”

  Andrew and Vasily met her pleas with helpless expressions. It would have taken ten of them to have had a hope in hell. Shit. Steven had released Frankenstein’s monster.

  An eerie howl split the night air, starting off faint and growing louder and louder. It made the hairs on the back of Nat’s neck stand on end. Igor froze with his hands wrapped around Steven’s throat, Steven clawing at his fingers.

  “What the fuck was that?” the Russian asked, but it came across as more of a demand than a question.

  “I have told you what it is. Please stop—you are angering them with this fighting,” Vasily said.

  Igor groaned. “You expect us to believe that was a yeti?”

  “Honestly, it sounded more like a wolf,” Andrew said, and Nat agreed, although there’d been something unearthly, something inherently wrong about that sound. Then again, she’d heard the howls of wolves in the wild could be quite haunting. She’d never heard one before.

  The guide wouldn’t budge. “It is not a wolf. You are going to get us killed.”

  Whatever had made that noise had served its purpose. The rage that had infected Igor appeared to be gone. He let Steven go and stepped away from him, but before Nat could exhale, the Russian withdrew Joe’s knife from his belt. “I assume I’m your next target, but I’m telling you now—anyone who comes into my tent tonight, man or beast, is going to get this in the heart. Understand?”

  Steven scrambled to his feet, rubbing his neck and coughing. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  Something Igor had said troubled Nat. She told me what you tried to do. She told me you went into her tent. Had she unwittingly exposed Lana t
o a predator? And had the cheerful blonde died because of it? Her stomach twisted in knots.

  “Steven, what happened with you and Lana? Did you—”

  A horrified expression came over the mountaineer’s face. “No! I don’t know what she told Igor, but she invited me to her tent that night. We fooled around a bit, and then I left. I certainly didn’t force myself on her. I would never do that.”

  “That’s not what she told me.” It made Nat nervous that Igor still held the knife, turning it over and over in his hands, as if he were considering his options.

  “Maybe she didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “You know what? I think we should calm down, have some dinner, talk about less heated topics,” Andrew said. “Otherwise, someone is going to end up dead, and it won’t be because of any yeti.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t drop this with you guys thinking I’m some sort of wannabe rapist. That’s not fair. I really liked Lana, and would never have hurt her. Please believe me.” Steven looked into her eyes, and even though Nat knew predators often dressed in sheep’s clothing, she did believe him. Heaven help her.

  “Unfortunately, Lana isn’t here to give her side of the story, so we’ll probably never know exactly what happened in her tent. But I believe Steven isn’t a rapist,” Nat said.

  He nodded at her. “That’s something, at least. Thank you.”

  “And I wish she, or someone, had told me what was going on. This was supposed to be my expedition, and I feel like there was a whole world going on behind the scenes that I didn’t know about.”

  Andrew put his hand on her shoulder. “Isn’t that always the way? The boss is the last to know.”

  “I suppose. But I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to be a boss. I wanted us to get along, to be friends. To work as a team.” Nat looked at what was left of her group, which Andrew had assembled with such pride. The Russian stood, knife in hand, like he expected to be attacked at any moment. Red welts had already appeared on Steven’s throat. And Vasily, poor Vasily, looked as if he’d like nothing better than to melt into the ground and disappear.