Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
I spend the rest of the day rebuilding the new chicken coop then planting new apple seedlings in Mr. Feeny’s yard. I swear Casper nickers from his pen, like he’s mocking me. Fitting, given the state of affairs.
It’s not like I haven’t endured Ava dating before. But this is different. This guy is here in Finn River—where Ava’s always known she would return to. It took everything I had to keep from hunting the guy down and telling him to take a fucking hike.
As if that isn’t bad enough, the disastrous conversation at Hazel Creek keeps rattling around in my brain. Ava has a right to doubt my intentions. I’ve never tried to hide my habits, and I’m very upfront about things with the women I take to bed.
But what Ava and I shared that night in that little cabin at Wolf Creek wasn’t just some fling. It was real to me. And it fucking wrecked me when she left. And now she’s saying that because of my history, I can’t be trusted?
I’m torn because she’s right but also wrong. How do I fit the pieces of us together?
That afternoon, I’m so consumed with unloading our hay delivery that I miss Ava when she comes to help with the evening chores. In the morning, she’s already come and gone before I finish in the fields. I catch her lingering scent in the barn or get a flash of her dark ponytail as she moves, but we don’t talk. By Friday, I’m beginning to think she’s avoiding me.
It’s aggravating as hell.
On Sunday morning, I’m about to head out to meet the 4H crew when my phone buzzes with an alert. It’s from Bitterroot Search and Rescue.
Fallen hiker recovery. Muster at York Springs Trailhead 900.
I type a quick reply, then hurry to the house. A rescue mission is just what I need right now.
“I got a call out,” I tell Mom who is at the kitchen table with a calculator and what looks like spreadsheets of farm expenses.
Her eyes brighten. “Ooh. Have fun.”
“Maybe give the accounting a rest,” I say, and nod at the iPad I bought her—a refurbished one or she’d skin me alive—so she can devour as many books as she wants, plus the contrast is working better for her eyes.
Mom sighs. “I don’t know how I’m going to afford the vet bills this year.”
I offer my hand and she lets me pull her from the chair. “It’ll work out. It always does.”
“Tracy says I should charge more for my flowers, but I hate that.”
I scoop up the iPad and lead Mom to the couch. “Do you want my help? We could look at the finance stuff together.” I can think of ten ways to reduce costs, but I sincerely doubt she’d like any of them.
“Maybe if I took on a few more boarders.”
I resist the urge to groan. Horses eat money.
“Beth is off at one o’clock, right?”
“Should be, why?”
My conscience nags at me. “I’ll call Ava.” A hot buzz lights up my face at the thought of hearing her voice. Especially after not talking to her all week.
Mom waves me off. “I’ll be fine.”
I plant a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Mom has already opened her iPad, so I scoop up my pack and head for the door.
Outside, I text Beth a heads-up and jump into the truck. Once I’m underway, I call Ava on speaker and set my phone flat on the dash—Mom’s version of Bluetooth technology.
“Morning,” she says.
I don’t let her brisk, businesslike tone get to me. “Do you have time to swing by the farm for a bit?”
“Is everything okay?”
I bump over a series of potholes. “I got called out and Beth’s not going to be home until later.”
“Of course. What’s the rescue?”
“Fallen hiker near Elk Flats. Probably in one of those mine shafts up there.”
“Be safe,” she says.
“Always.” I end the call and settle into the drive but my thoughts are like worms under my skin. All week, I’ve been going to bed angry and I waking up frustrated. At myself. At her. At us.
Maybe I don’t know how to be in a lasting relationship, but it doesn’t mean I’m incapable. I could try. For her.
Elk Flats is north of Finn River about forty-five minutes, and the York Springs trailhead is another fifteen to the east, in the Bitterroots. I park next to a row of vehicles, one of them a Finn River Sheriff’s Department SUV—Everett’s rig. A handful of volunteers are gathered at the back of Captain Parker Greely’s blue Ford, some I recognize from the search for Marin, plus Jeremy, who gives me a hang-loose sign from the other side of the group. I’ve been meaning to call him, but it’s not like I have a lot of leisure time right now.
No Troy today, but I didn’t expect him.
Everett breaks from the huddle and hurries over .
“I’m so glad you’re still in town,” he says, his sharp blue eyes tense. “The guy is down at least twenty feet with a broken ankle.”
“Mine shaft?”
“Yeah. And it’s not the first time we’ve had to pull him from one of these. Badger Thornton. Cantankerous old salt.”
“Frequent flyer, huh?”
“Yep.” He shakes his head. “We’ve had more technical rescues in the last two years than in the previous ten. I hope it’s not a trend.”
“Captain Greely ever talk about giving his volunteers technical training?”
“Maybe to the sheriff,” Everett replies with a shrug. “Think you could give me a crash course before you ship out?”
“Be happy to,” I say.
He glances back at the crew assembling for the rescue, his hands on his tool belt. “Well, we got a murder to solve. Later.”
I’m tempted to ask about the case, but we both have work to do. “Later.”
As I walk to join the group, one of the volunteers glances over his shoulder. He’s got short brown hair and a baby face. Red chamois shirt tucked into hiking pants. Then it hits me. He’s the guy I saw holding the door open for Ava at the café last Sunday.
Her date.
His face is unreadable, but I’m sure mine isn’t.
What the hell is he doing here?
I step in next to him as Captain Greely starts pointing at the map spread on the tailgate. While we get the debrief on our assignment, I size this guy up. He’s got a studious air about him, like a professor, and his skin is pale, like he spends a lot of time inside. He must have money because his hiking boots and gear are top-of-the-line.
The guy shifts on his feet and shoots me a sideways glance, like I’m making him uncomfortable.
Good.
Is he a regular volunteer with Greely’s crew? I don’t remember him from our search for Marin, but he wouldn’t have stood out to me then.
Captain Greely finishes his speech and hands out radios. I’ve already planned ahead to how I’ll access the mine and evac the patient, so I take off up the trail at a jog, cinching my pack straps tighter as I go.
I could tackle this rescue one-handed, plus the experience will help keep my skills sharp. The longer I’m away from my crew and our training, the softer I get.
Behind me, the chatter and footsteps from my fellow volunteers fades to nothing. No surprise Professor Baby Face can’t keep up.
Most mines up here are long-abandoned, and the shafts can be dangerous. The BLM and Forest Service make sure old shafts get closed up, but kids or poachers often break in. Badger Thornton is likely poaching.
The trail rises above York Springs Canyon, the slope above rocky and treeless. I spot the mine and a faint trail through the rocks to get there.
When I reach the opening, I call down. “Mr. Thornton?”
“About time,” he calls back.
Cantankerous is right. “I’ll be down soon.”
I drop my pack and get to work. Professor Baby Face arrives just as I’m putting on my harness and braking device.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks, panting.
Do I take pleasure in seeing him winded when I’ve barely broken a sweat? Fuck yes and I’m not one bit ashamed.
I don’t bother replying, and duck into the mine opening. A dry, earthy scent thick with dust assaults my senses as I double-check all my systems.
“All right, Mr. Thornton. I’m coming down,” I call over my shoulder.
The shaft slopes away into darkness, so I switch on my headlamp. Dust particles dance in the swath of light as I pause to get my bearings. The mine shaft is lined with pale cylindrical blast hole markings, and the rock is a dark gray glinting with tiny crystals. There’s a remnant of an ancient ladder, but it hangs into space, like the bottom half of it rusted free long ago.
I glance behind me, but my light doesn’t penetrate very far. “Keep covered,” I call out. “I might kick loose a few rocks.”
“Just hurry.”
I lean back in my harness and walk carefully down the steep, rocky slope, the oval hole to the outside world getting smaller and smaller above me, until it’s out of sight. The echo of water dripping somewhere below me gets louder, until I hear Mr. Thornton’s wheezing breaths. He’s on a wide shelf, his back to the side of the shaft. His lean, whiskered face is scratched, and he’s got a lump on his forehead. His left ankle is definitely broken but I don’t see blood or signs of other injuries.
“I’m Ryan Hutchins, Mr. Thornton,” I say. “I’ll do an assessment, and probably splint that ankle, then we’ll get an evacuation going.”
“Can’t we skip the first two and get out of here?” he asks.
“It doesn’t work that way,” I say. “You can refuse treatment, though. Is that what you want?”
He huffs. “No.”
When I lock off my rope and slip off my pack, something in my beam of light sends alarm bells blaring in my mind.
At first, I think it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me. But then I take another slow scan of the shelf, opposite my patient.
“What in the hell is that?” Mr. Thornton barks as I turn away from the jumble of pale white bones.
My radio squawks from inside my pack with a barrage from Captain Greely. “…blatant disregard for ord?—”
I unclip my unit. “We’ve got a ten fifty-four down here, Captain.”
Captain Greely halts his barrage. “Repeat that?”
“Looks like skeletal remains.” Thankfully only bones, but I think I saw a partially decomposed shoe .
“Fuck a duck,” Captain Greely says. “You’re sure?”
I click my mike.
After a long pause, he says, “Don’t move it or disturb the scene, got that?”
“I’ll do my best.” I refocus on tending to my patient. But while prepping him for the extraction, a chill slowly works into my skin.
Who do those bones belong to?
How long have they been there?
Did the person fall down here just like Badger Thornton, only nobody reported him missing? Or did the person have help?
Once Mr. Thornton is safely in the hands of the extraction team, I hurry to pack up my supplies and start my ascent. Someone either died on this ledge or was left here to die. Both possibilities give me the creeps.
When I finally break through the mine shaft opening, the vivid green of the valley and the warm afternoon breeze against my cold cheek nearly bring me to tears. Down in that hole, everything was dark and cold. Like a tomb.
“A rep from Forest Service is on his way,” Captain Greely says, his hands on his hips, like he’s tired of waiting for me. Below him, the team carrying the litter is slowly descending the rocky slope. “You all right to wait?”
“It’s fine,” I lie, and lower to a flat slab of rock.
He gives me a solemn nod, but pauses an instant longer, like he wants to say something more.
Thankfully, he thinks better of it and turns to catch up with the team. Professor Baby Face is at the front of the litter, one arm extended for balance. When the team reaches the trail, he looks past me to the mine shaft opening, an unreadable expression on his face. As if he senses me watching, he stares me down for a moment before turning away with the team.
What the fuck is his problem?
While I wait, I call Zach.
“Mission accomplished?” he asks .
“Did you hear about the surprise?”
“Uh, no.”
“Someone’s remains were down there too.”
The line buzzes with a long silence. “You okay?”
I take a slow gulp of the fragrant spring air and savor the sun’s warmth. That Zach’s first concern is for my well-being instead of answers regarding my find is another example of why he’s such a high-quality human. “Yeah.”
“You want to grab a beer some night soon?”
“I’d like that,” I say as two men in green Forest Service uniforms start climbing the slope toward me.
My phone chirps with another call. It’s Ava, so I say goodbye to Zach and switch lines.
“Your mom’s okay,” Ava says. “But she’s back in the hospital.”
I stand so fast my head throbs. “Why? What happened?”
“She was having trouble breathing.”
I slide my pack onto my back. “I’m on my way.”