Chapter One
Jenny
ThetrailheadsignsaysRIDGETOP LOOP — EASY in friendly block letters, like it's trying to reassure me.
Thanks, Park Service.
I like knowing where I'm going, how long it will take, and exactly how to get back. It’s the same reason I keep a color-coded calendar—a habit I picked up in law school—and why I read contracts three times before signing.
This hike is supposed to be simple. Forty-five minutes out, forty-five back. Fresh air, a little sunshine, and then I can go home and pretend I'm not thinking about the stack of files waiting on my kitchen table.
"Work-life balance," I tell myself, stepping onto the path. "You moved to Mercury Ridge for this."
The woods behind my rental cabin connect to a network of maintained trails, which was a major selling point. I’m not the most outdoorsy girl in the world. You won’t find me climbing mountains or base jumping or anything at all dangerous. But I do love to connect with nature on well-maintained,safetrails. And it’s awesome being able to walk out my back door, follow the markers, and easily find my way straight back to my yard. No driving, no planning, no risk of wandering somewhere I shouldn't.
No surprises.
Iloathesurprises.
I take a breath and settle into an easy rhythm. The path curves along the ridge, packed dirt under my boots, tree roots crossing here and there but nothing tricky. It’s early spring, and wildflowers are starting to pop up from the damp earth. The air is cool. The light falls soft through the branches, dappled and moving.
This isexactlywhat I needed after a long day of work. Out here, I can forget my deadlines and just disconnect. There’s no need to check emails or answer phone calls from clients calling to ask if I can just take a quick look at something that is actually never, ever quick.
I round a bend and pause at a small overlook. Through the trees I can see the river far below, a ribbon of silver cutting through the ravine. I know the ravine is even steeper than it looks from up here. It’s the kind of terrain you admire from a distance and leave the hell alone.
I take a sip of water and turn to keep going.
But then I hear something.Is that… barking?
The sound is sharp and echoing up from below.
I step closer to the edge of the trail and peer down through the trees. It takes a second to spot the dog. A medium-sized dog with thick dark and light fur blending with the rocks and brush near the river. The dog is pacing a narrow strip of ground, head tilted back, barking toward the ridge.
"Hey," I call, cupping a hand around my mouth. "Hey, puppy. You okay?”
The dog looks up at me and barks again.
My stomach tightens. She's alone. I don’t see a leash, but there’s a strip of pink around her neck.Her collar,I realize.Did someone abandon her?
I spin in a circle, peering through the trees for a human. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
There’s no one here.
The dog barks again, a sound that seems distressed and panicked to my ears. I look back down at her, at the ledge where she’s perched. It’s surrounded by rocks and dangerously close to the river.
Is she stuck?
I pat my knees and call out, “Come here, girl. Come on.”
She turns in a circle on her narrow ledge, barking again.
"Okay," I murmur. "You're stuck."
I scan the trail behind me again. Empty. No other hikers. No voices. Just wind moving through the trees and that steady, miserable barking.
I pull out my phone.
No signal.