Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ZACH
The cool, alpine breeze ripples through the tall grass flanking the ridge as I hurry away from the chairlift.
She caught me by surprise, but it won’t happen again. I fight the urge to look back, take her in one more time. She looked even prettier today, with the sun on her tanned cheeks and the wind in her long hair.
I’ll have to get to the ranch some other way than the free bus from town. If only I still had my mountain bike.
As if I needed a reminder, two people on bikes fly past me in a blur of color and shifting gears, kicking up dust.
It makes me think of the long rides I used to take with my family friend Evan McCabe back home. When things got hard, the McCabes were there for me and William, and when I was forced to leave, they are the only people I trusted to keep him safe.
I find the section of weathered snow drift fencing Stu described and the new material I’ll need to fix it at the top of the slope. With the hot sun beating down on my shoulders, I slip on the leather gloves and grab the drill and bag of screws from my pack.
Replacing the old boards gives my hands something to do, but my mind wanders back to the lift ride. Is Gabe Sofie’s ex, then? What was happening that night I yanked him off her? I forgot to ask about the brother—Jesse. But maybe doing so would tip her off that I’m angry.
Because what kind of big brother gets high, then climbs behind the wheel and puts his sister in danger like that? What would have happened if I hadn’t gone after them?
I haven’t told anyone.
Why is she willing to keep me a secret?
And how does she know I need her to?
Her comment about finishing college makes me wonder why she quit going. Money? From the newspaper article Henry showed me, I know her dad works for Idaho Fish & Game, which means he probably makes less than a teacher.
Just because you’re elusive means I’m nosy?
I can’t help but smile at this now that I’m alone.
Sassy, huh?
Her invitation rings through my mind. Because it’s fun. I might as well have forgotten what that’s like.
A sudden heat pricks down my spine, but I heave a full breath to force it into the ground.
Because no matter how curious I am about Sofie Whittaker, spending time with her is too risky.
By noon, I have the new posts in and the tiny security camera installed on the one Stu wanted. I carry my pack to a shady spot in the trees opposite the slope and take out my water bottle and two sandwiches. I eat the first sandwich in four bites, then gulp water to slow myself down. Since I landed at Henry and Barb’s, my hunger has only intensified, sometimes waking me in the middle of the night. I try to enjoy the second sandwich, but it’s gone too fast. I’m about to pack up and return to fencing when the distant whine of dirt bikes from the east cuts the silence.
Finn River Ranch is over 15,000 acres and borders a mix of wilderness and public land. Dirt biking isn’t allowed on ranch property, and it’s certainly not allowed on land designated as wilderness.
I slip the binoculars Stu issued me and zero in on the dust cloud rising into the air on a ridge across a broad valley. There are two riders, the warbling buzz of the engines rising above the breeze high in the trees. Before I can get any details, the bikes roll over the ridge and out of sight.
The sun is melting into the western foothills by the time I finish the final section and double-check with Stu about the camera function, so I pack up my tools and hike back up the ridge. I’m sweaty, and my hunger is an empty burn in my chest. The faded wild daisies bend in the wind buffeting over the ridge. I give the liftie a wave before skirting the back of the bullwheel, and he walks over to load me onto the chair.
My feet dangle over the abyss as the chair reattaches to the cable and accelerates down the mountain. From up here, the fancy village buildings and surrounding million-dollar homes look like those mini houses in a Monopoly game, and the only sounds are the stiff wind and the rattle of the chair through the tower wheels.
Stu offered me an apprentice job to become a lift mechanic this winter, but that’s more Sawyer’s jam than mine. Plus, I’m not sure I’m staying. It depends on what’s happening back home.
And if Sofie keeps her promise.
A shiver chatters through me.
After checking out with Stu—nothing to report besides the dirt bikers—I watch from the safety of a parked van to make sure Sofie isn’t riding the employee bus back, then hurry onboard.
Once in town, I head for the Radio Shack in a strip mall and pay cash for a new burner phone and pre-paid card good for 100 minutes. Then I walk to the small square in the center of town. Traffic has died down considerably since my first visit here after the accident. Only a few cars pass me, and the adjacent grocery store parking lot is only one-quarter full. But Stu warned that when it starts snowing, Finn River will be packed till Easter.
There’s an ice cream kiosk at one end of the square and a kid’s water sculpture in the middle. Along the back is a covered eating area with picnic benches. With summer long over, the ice cream kiosk is closed, and the eating area is deserted.
Sawyer answers on the second ring.
“About fucking time,” Sawyer mutters.
“I know.” I lean back against the wall and stretch out my legs on the bench. It’s so good to hear his voice .
“Where are you?”
“Finn River, Idaho.” Even though I’m alone in the square and there’s a solid wall behind me, I keep my voice low.
“Never heard of it.” Though Sawyer and I use dummy email accounts to stay connected, we save details for our sporadic phone calls.
“I hadn’t, either. It’s nice, though. Pretty.”
“Safe?”
I draw in a slow breath to keep the memories of Sofie stuffed away. Just because you’re elusive means I’m nosy? “For now.”
“How in the world did you end up under the sheriff’s thumb?”
My most recent email was cryptic, but Sawyer’s good at reading between the lines. A survival skill we have in common.
“It was Henry’s idea.” I scrub my face with my free hand. My shoulder gives a tired throb. Working like that all day felt good, but it wiped me out. As if to underline this, my barren stomach tenses. I should have grabbed something from the grocery store.
“And you trust him?”
There’s plenty I don’t yet know about Henry and Barb, but their actions speak louder than words. “They haven’t given me a reason not to.”
“What about Sheriff Olson?”
“He’s kept his promise, and unless I want to spend the winter getting frostbite and surviving on ketchup packages, I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Right.”
“There’s a new… complication,” I say. “I found out today his kid is the same asshole from the show.”
Sawyer curses. “How’d you learn that?”
“From his ex-girlfriend.”
“Um, what?”
I grit my teeth in frustration. “The girl from the show, Sofie. She followed me today and jumped onto the chairlift.”
“Bold.”
I remember the determined gleam in her blue eyes. “She hasn’t told anyone it was me at the accident.”
“Why not? ”
“I don’t know.” I think about her invitation to the live music on Saturdays. No way should I go. What would be the point?
“You don’t sound worried.” His tone has an edge to it, like a warning.
“I’ll worry if I need to.”
“Good. Because this sounds messy. The sheriff’s son likely knows you’re in town, and thanks to your little pact with his daddy, he could make life hard for you. Throw in that his ex and you are getting cozy?—”
“We’re not cozy,” I interrupt. “We’ve had one conversation.”
“Where she promised to keep your secrets safe for reasons she’s keeping to herself. For now.”
I pick at a dry sliver of the wood and flick it into the courtyard. He’s right, but I don’t like the implications. Because what if Sofie Whittaker has an agenda?
“You’ll be happy to know William’s team went undefeated,” Sawyer says, thankfully switching topics, his pride clear in his tone. “Man, that kid can throw. Even better than you.”
Emotion pricks my eyes, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to prevent it from spreading. William being able to play football like a regular kid means everything to me.
“Any Kristov sightings?” I ask. Because Sawyer’s a diesel mechanic for the railroad, sometimes he and my stepdad cross paths.
“He came to William’s game last Saturday, but I think he was looking for you.”
The knot under my sternum twists tighter. “Did you talk to him?”
“No.”
“Did he get to William?”
“No. The McCabes would never let that happen.”
I huff a breath and blink at the empty square. He’s right, but trusting Evan McCabe and his family—even though they’ve proved their loyalty many times over—isn’t easy.
“Speaking of the McCabes, how’s Lexie doing?”
Several weeks after I left Alaska, an explosion at a survey camp for a mine project made headlines. Our friend Lexie McCabe was there as part of a protest when a bomb went off, and she was nearly killed.
“There’s still investigating the explosion. Lexie’s okay, though. And it looks like Soren Creek won’t be turned into a giant copper mine.”
“That’s really good news.” The Soren Creek watershed has been in Lexie’s family for generations. It’s also prime salmon habitat.
“That cop came by again,” Sawyer says. “I acted like I was mad at you.”
“What?”
“I needed a cover, or he’d know I was hiding something, and I am still pissed about Margaret Dunleavy.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That was seventh grade.”
“She kissed me first,” he taunts.
“While thinking about me.”
He chuffs in disbelief. “I miss you, man.”
“I miss you too.” I miss a lot of things about home. More than anything, I miss my family and the way things used to be. But there’s no getting it back.
“If only you could talk to the McKenzie Valley Sheriff up here. Tell him what you know.”
Sawyer thinks if I could come clean, maybe I could come home. If it was that easy, I would have done it already. “I can’t risk it. Not yet.”
Sawyer releases a frustrated groan. We’ve been round and round on this topic. But I’m not chancing William’s safety. He’s my priority.
“How’s the halfway house?” I tease.
He laughs. “Screw you. It’s fine. I’m moving out in June, though.”
“Good for you, man.” After a stint of homelessness after high school when he aged out of foster care services, he accepted an internship from the railroad to become a diesel mechanic which included room and board. In exchange, he signed a three-year contract.
“Yeah.” He releases a heavy sigh that might as well be a door closing because he’s not likely to tell me anything more.
I’m tempted to ask about his half-brother, but if Sawyer hasn’t brought it up, maybe it’s better to leave it alone. Sheldon’s been MIA for almost a year now, and though it’s awful to think about what he may be going through, Sawyer’s better off without him around.
“Burnout Symphony’s playing in McKenzie next week,” Sawyer says .
Shit, when I left them in Sweetwater, that show was months away. How has so much time passed?
“It was a good gig.”
“Now you’re a backcountry spy.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve been watching too much Netflix.”
He chuckles. “Stay safe.”
“You too. I mean it.”
We end the call, and I slip the phone into my backpack. The walk to meet Henry takes ten minutes, but it seems longer because it feels like I’m being watched. The sensation isn’t new, yet the long shadows and the whoosh from cars on the road make my senses feel extra-sharp.
From what Sawyer shared, the police don’t seem any closer to putting a stop to Kristov or making him pay for his crimes. But William is safe, and me staying off the radar is the best plan to keep it that way.
I should call Heidi Jenkins at the foster home to warn her, but she’s done enough, and I don’t want to put her in danger any more than I already have. And I can’t be sure Heidi’s not being watched.
Which means I have to trust Sheriff Olson and Stu Valentine, and one cute but nosy girl to keep me safe.
At the stoplight, I wait with my back against the building. A truck engine revs from my right, followed by the rattle of the trailer it’s towing as they speed through the intersection. The light turns, and I glance up just in time to see who is behind the wheel of the truck.
It’s Gabe Olson, towing a flatbed trailer with two dirt bikes.
He glances my way, and I watch the recognition fire behind his eyes. With a hard scowl, he accelerates, returning his attention to the road.
Frozen against the wall, I watch his red trailer lights fade into the growing darkness.
Now there’s one more person in this town who knows my face. He didn’t look surprised to see me, which means Sawyer is right. Gabe knew I was here.
What’s he planning to do about it?
Across the street in the bank parking lot, Henry’s silver truck waits. After checking both ways, I hurry to meet him.
“Heya,” Henry says when I jump in .
“Appreciate the lift.” My voice sounds pinched. Too much on my mind.
“Welcome.” Henry turns on the engine and cruises to the exit. “Hope you’re hungry. Barb’s making her chicken pot pie tonight.”
Just the thought of food is making me lightheaded. “My mom used to make that.”
Henry raises an eyebrow.
Shit, why did I bring that up? I force in a steadying breath. “Who would I report a violation of a wilderness law to?”
Henry’s mouth puckers in thought for a moment. “I suppose that’d be our conservation officer, Rowdy Whittaker. Why?”
Sofie’s Dad? Great. Could this town get any smaller? “Saw some dirt bikers today. Pretty sure they were on wilderness land.”
“Any idea who they are?”
I don’t have proof, but yeah, I think I do.
But maybe it’s wise not to play that card just yet.