A missing-woman flyer gone amber in a store window.
Thirteen miles of trail with the river on the left.
A storm that takes the trail out behind her.
Travel journalist Claire Oakes hikes into the Olympic rainforest to write about a 1931 ranger chalet the river is finally carrying off. Five strangers are already in that valley when she gets there. By the second morning one of them is dead on the bank with her hands folded too neatly, the crossings between there and the road are gone, and the helicopter cannot fly for three days.
Four left. One room. One of them did it.
Claire's whole trade is telling a silence that's safe from a silence that's a scream. She got it wrong once, about her own sister, and she has spent eleven years paying for it. She is about to get it wrong again. Warmly, generously, and right in front of you.
This is not a thriller with a twist you won't see coming. It's a thriller where you see it coming and cannot reach her.
Book One of Wild Places. The case closes completely inside this book. What doesn't close is the editor who sent her the coordinates, the one she has never met.