Mick peers out the window of the Cessna as it taxies to a stop outside Kathmandu’s domestic terminal. It hardly seems possible his good friend, Frank Kincaid, is dead. Across the aisle, Frank’s significant other, Sarah Madden, is looking ahead, subdued, while she strokes a gold locket around her neck. She moved from the States last year to spend the rest of her life with the man she’d fallen in love with three years ago on the mountain. But now she’s going back home, and she hasn’t said a dozen words since he picked her up this morning from her teahouse and walked her down the lane behind the tiny mountain airstrip. He hurts for her and for himself. He’d known Frank for over twenty years and considered him a great friend. The mountains won’t be the same without him. The man did so much to
