The Summit

“Like I said, not interested.”

Fisher picked up the file, shoved it a little too firmly back into his briefcase and rose from his chair. “A-1 wants your stores, Ben. You can expect to hear from us again.”

“The answer will be the same.”

Fisher made no reply as he marched rather brusquely toward the door.

“Have a good day,” Ben called after him, then smiled to himself as he sat back down. It was a measure of all he’d accomplished that a company as successful as A-1 wanted to buy his stores. Still, he had worked hard to achieve his success and there was still so much more he wanted to accomplish.

From the time he was a kid working for his dad at McKenzie Mercantile, his family’s rural mid-west department store, he knew business was what he wanted to do with his life. He had studied hard, been determined to go to college, excelled at nearly every high-school sport and been the president of his senior class.

The effort had won him a scholarship to the University of Michigan, and the sports he had loved helped him zero in on which direction to take. Nike had recruited him to work in a management position right out of college but after a few years he realized he wanted to work for himself.

His mom passed away when he was twenty-four, then his dad died and left him the family business. Ben sold the mercantile, moved to the Pacific Northwest and opened his first sporting-goods store.

He smiled. He was as good at business as he always thought he would be and the rest, as they say, was history. He now owned twenty-one stores and had invested his earnings wisely in both the stock market and real estate. His financial portfolio had a net worth of twenty-five million and it was growing every day.

He had the life he had always wanted.

At least, he had until six years ago. That was the year he lost his daughter, Molly…the same year his wife divorced him, the year that had left him devastated and grieving and on the brink of losing his sanity.

He’d survived—barely—by burying himself in his work. McKenzie Sporting Goods had saved his life and he wasn’t about to sell it.

Not now, nor anytime soon.

Standing in front of the climbing wall in an area in the southeast section of the gym, Autumn looked at her half-dozen students, two women and four men.

“Any questions?”

Today was the second in a series of basic rock-climbing classes that would take place over the summer. Once the group had progressed far enough, there would be actual forays into the nearby Cascade Mountains. They would do some bouldering then progress to top-roping: safe, easy ways to build confidence and improve their skills. Maybe they would even do some more difficult technical climbing.

In her first session, she had addressed the general nature of the sport, some of its history and topics to be discussed in future lessons: getting your body in shape and the right nutrition, choosing the proper clothing; mountain hazards; climb rating systems; and the proper equipment and how to use it.

This morning they were discussing weather forecasts and navigation, which included the use of USGS maps and GPS instrumentation.

“I use my GPS all the time,” said Matthew Gould, a tall, string bean of a guy with shaggy brown hair. “Are you saying I’m better off hauling out a map? That’s kind of old-fashioned, isn’t it?”

“A GPS is an invaluable piece of equipment—I won’t argue with that—and some of the newer devices are pretty fantastic. But for the most part the information on a USGS map is far more extensive than what’s on the equipment most people own. The maps show vegetation, rivers, streams, snowfields and glaciers, as well as roads, trails and less tangible features, like boundaries and section lines. Learn to read them well and it may save your butt when the rest of your planning goes south.”

A few chuckles rumbled from the group.

“There are sample maps on the counter over there. I know most of you are hikers so you probably already have some experience using them. Take a look at the maps and go over what we’ve discussed. See if you understand everything that’s printed on them. If you need any help, I’m right here.”

The students rose from their places on the floor and ambled to the counter. Autumn stayed for questions, then once her students had left, changed into her shorts and went into the weight room to do her morning routine.

She usually worked out before class but sometimes she went to the gym in the evenings. It didn’t really matter, as long as she got her workout done. As a climber it was essential to stay in shape. Her small frame was solid and compact, with strong muscles in her arms, legs and thighs. But her breasts were nicely rounded—one of her most feminine features—and she was proud of the way she looked in a pair of shorts or a bikini.

She usually did a ninety-minute routine four or five days a week, which gave her weekends off to climb or to simply relax and enjoy herself.

Today, as soon as she had finished on the Stair-Master and the Nautilus machines, she showered, dressed and set out to see if she could find the mysterious little girl who had appeared in her dreams.

She had decided to begin at the school, which wasn’t far away. Summer school was in session, though she hadn’t offered to teach. The summer was hers and she loved every minute of it. Shoving through the door of the main office building, a flat-roofed, two-story brick structure, she walked over to speak to her friend, Lisa Gregory, who worked as office manager.

“Hi, Lise, sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you might do me a favor.” Lisa was in her thirties, a pretty woman with short brown hair who was efficient and always friendly.

“What kind of favor?”

“I need to get into the school’s computer files. I want to take a look at photos of the girls between five and seven years old.”

“What for?”

“I’m trying to find a particular child. I know what she looks like, but not her name. I’m not even sure she’s a student at Lewis and Clark.”

“Do I dare ask why you’re doing this?”

“I wish you wouldn’t. Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it. But it’s important I find her, whoever she is. Will you help me? You’re way better at this computer stuff than I am.”

“Sure. As long as it doesn’t get me into trouble.”

They walked into the back room and Lisa sat down at one of the office computers. The school was proud of its cutting-edge technology. Everything was computerized and updated every year.

“What else do you know besides her age?” Lisa asked as she typed in the information. “Maybe we can narrow the search.”

“I know she’s blond and blue-eyed. I think her first name is Molly. Besides my guess at her age, I’m afraid that’s just about it.”

“Every little bit helps.” Lisa input the information, hit the search button and waited for the results to come up. There were several pages of photos of students who fit at least some of the criteria and Autumn studied each girl’s face. Some she had seen on the playground but none of the others looked familiar, none were named Molly and none resembled the little girl she had seen in her dreams.

“Does your information go backward?” Autumn asked. “Maybe she was a student here last year but her family moved somewhere else.”

“We have the names and photos. We’ll have to adjust for age, though, if you think she’s only six. She would have been five then.”

Autumn sighed. “I suppose she could be younger now or maybe she could be older, I don’t know.” In fact, she had no idea if the little girl actually existed.

“I’ll bring up the photos for the past three years and you can see if you recognize her.”

“Thanks, Lise.”

But a search of the pictures led nowhere and after a thorough examination of each possible child, Autumn ignored a kink in the back of her neck and straightened away from the screen.

“Well, that’s it,” Lisa said.

“I really appreciate your help, even if we didn’t find her.”

Lisa slid her chair back from the computer. “So tell me why you’re looking for this girl.”

Autumn studied her friend, trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth. She sighed. “I’ve been having dreams about her. It’s weird because it’s the same dream over and over. In the dream, a man she doesn’t know convinces her to get in his car and drives away with her. The dream doesn’t go any further but I get the feeling something bad is going to happen. I was thinking maybe I should try to find her, warn her parents. Of course, it’s just a dream and it probably isn’t even real.”

Lisa stuck a pencil into the light-brown hair over her ear. “But it might be. You see that stuff on TV all the time.”