CHAPTER 103
Robert Hunt left the snowmobile running. He dismounted and walked into the small rock overhang where he’d left the two men. They were gone. But one snowmobile was there. Had they gone on to the site? Reported him? Had they followed him, backtracking to the last site? That would be as good as reporting him.
He ran out, into the open field of ice, withdrew his binoculars, and scanned the distance in every direction, twirling like a ballerina with his elbows pointed out.
Nothing.
He walked back to the cave. It was cold inside. Deathly cold. He tried to turn the stranded snowmobile on, but it was out of gas. How? Had they followed him and barely made it back? No — the tracks were old. They had run it here in the cave. Why? To keep warm? Yes, probably. They had waited as long as they could, until it sputtered out and the warmth receded. Then they had climbed on the last snowmobile and left together. But where had they gone?