Chapter 8
Nick
Nick watched George settle into the camp chair and tried to figure out what was bothering him about the guy.
Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what.
He glanced at Gina. Her brow was furrowed in the same quiet unease, and he knew he wasn’t the only one seeing the red flags.
“So, what kind of hunting did you do around here?” Nick asked, keeping his tone casual.
“Used to do elk, mostly. Some deer.” George unwrapped his energy bar. “Haven’t been up here in a few years, though. Good country. Remote enough that you can have some privacy.”
There was that word again. Privacy. George seemed to keep coming back to it.
“There certainly is privacy,” Joe said. “I’m still getting used to how quiet it is out here compared to California.”
George’s attention shifted to Joe. “California? What brought you to Wyoming?”
“Work dried up. Journalism’s not what it used to be.” Joe shrugged. “Figured I’d try somewhere new.”
“You’re a writer?”
“Yeah, online newspapers and selling articles when I can. Freelance work, mostly.” Joe took a sip of his tea. “Nothing too exciting.”
Nick noticed how George filed away each piece of information. The guy was asking the right questions to seem friendly, but there was something systematic about it. Like he was looking for something specific.
And Joe . . . he tried to make conversation, but there was tension in his tone. Maybe the altitude sickness was still lingering, throwing him off. That seemed possible enough.
Gina must have caught it too. “Joe, do you want to sit down? Get back in the tent, maybe?”
He brushed her off. “I’m fine. Much better than earlier. It’s nice to move around a bit.” He gestured toward the tent before looking back at George. “It’s warmer in there if you want to crawl in.”
The words landed stiffly, with an edge Nick hadn’t heard in Joe’s voice earlier in the day.
George met his gaze, eyes narrowed. “No thanks. I’m fine where I am.”
Had George heard the tone too? It was odd, something very unlike Joe. Completely the opposite of Brooke, who was happy to rip everyone’s head off for messing up her training run.
Nick glanced at Brooke, and George’s gaze followed.
“What about you?” the newcomer asked, waving a hand in Brooke’s direction. “You from around here?”
Brooke moved back to the spot she’d set up by the wall. It was near enough to join in the conversation while being able to sit somewhat comfortably. “Around here? You mean this ghost town?”
George chuckled. “I guess not, huh? How about Basin County?”
“I own a coffee shop in Irma. Lived there my whole life.”
“Nice little town. Bet you know everyone. Know everyone’s deepest and darkest secrets.”
“Most people.” Brooke’s laugh had an edge to it. “Irma’s a small town, and the grapevine is highly active. Especially when you own a business like a coffee shop.”
“You could probably write a tell-all book.” George’s smile didn’t change. “Might want to team up with Joe there.”
Joe shook his head as Brooke shrugged. “You look familiar. Are you from Irma?”
“From Irma? Nope. I’ve been visiting the area, though. Which coffee place is yours? Maybe I’ve been in there.”
“Irma Brew. It’s on the main drag through town, next to the bank.”
“Oh, yes. You have those cookies the size of a person’s head.”
“That’s us,” Brooke agreed.
“Sure would like one of those now,” Joe said, moving toward the tent. “A cookie. A proper meal. All would be welcome. Did the temperature drop in here? I’m cold again.”
“A little,” Nick agreed.
The wind seemed to have kicked up again, but it was something more. Not just the physical temperature, but the atmosphere in the room since George had arrived. There was something odd about the man that Nick couldn’t quite decipher.
George’s explanation for being up here was vague. Combined with his story of his truck breaking down a mile down the road, something didn’t add up. The timing was strange.
Had he started up the mountain earlier in the day, before the storm hit, and then been delayed by the broken truck? Or had he driven up in the storm, and the rushing water he had to ford was what caused the truck to stop?
There were three separate river crossings, beginning about a mile down the road, but there were also a pair of cabins near one of the crossings. If that was where he ran into trouble, why not slip into those cabins? Why walk all the way to Bearwater?
Nick studied George again. The man looked completely relaxed in the camp chair. He had noticed the sidearm in the shoulder holster earlier. George had done nothing to hide it. Nick wouldn’t have either.
He’d asked Brooke about bringing a pistol on the run in addition to the bear spray, but both had decided against it.
The main reason was that his 9-millimeter wouldn’t have done much against a bear the size of the one they had seen that morning.
It might make the bear angry, and it would just keep coming.
From the looks of George’s gun, the caliber wasn’t suitable for a bear either.
One good thing about George’s arrival was that it seemed to calm Kelsey.
She no longer moved from window to window, peering through the boards.
Instead, she had taken a position against the wall.
She didn’t sit, but leaned there, alert.
Her body stayed still, and only her eyes roamed, taking in the room.
“Kelsey,” Nick said. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine.” She didn’t look at him. “Tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it,” George said, and Nick caught the way his gaze lingered on Kelsey. “These mountain storms can really wear you out. Especially when you’re not expecting them.”
Kelsey’s shoulders went rigid, but she avoided George’s gaze.
“The weather service said the storm wouldn’t hit until about now,” Gina said. “We thought we had a clear window.”
“Weather’s funny up here,” George replied. “Can change without much warning. Good thing there are places like this to wait it out.”
“True,” Nick agreed, still struck by the strangeness of George’s appearance. When he arrived, he was wet but showed none of the signs of cold or exhaustion that came from fighting through a blizzard. He even looked better than Joe, who had been resting for several hours.
Nick considered asking George exactly where his truck had broken down, but something held him back. Deep in his gut, he knew the man was lying. At the same time, a growing unease told him that pressing for answers might not be wise. Watch and wait; that was his best option.
Nick’s gaze found Gina near the camp stove. Whatever George was hiding, Nick would be ready.
“So, you’ve all been to Bearwater before?” George asked the group.
“A few times,” Gina said. “It’s a popular spot for hiking.”
“And other things,” George added with that same easy smile. “Amazing how useful old buildings can be when people need to conduct business away from prying eyes.”
The phrase hung in the air, and something cold settled in Nick’s stomach. George was fishing for something.
Nick looked at Kelsey again, noting how she’d gone completely still, like she was trying to disappear into the background.
“What kind of business?” Joe asked innocently.
“Oh, you know.” George waved a hand. “Sometimes people need to meet somewhere private. Discuss things they can’t discuss in town.”
“Sounds mysterious,” Joe said with a nervous laugh.
“Nothing mysterious about it. Just practical.” George’s attention shifted to Kelsey. “I imagine a smart woman like yourself would understand the need for discretion sometimes.”
Kelsey’s head snapped up, and for just a second, Nick saw something like panic in her eyes before she looked away again.
“I should check the windows,” she said, pushing herself away from the wall. “See if the storm’s letting up.”
“I’ll help,” Nick said, following her toward the boarded windows facing the road.
“I can manage,” Kelsey said, but her voice was tight.
Nick positioned himself where he could talk with Kelsey while keeping an eye on George. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” But her hands were shaking as she peered through the gaps in the boards. “I just want to get out of here.”
“The storm will pass.”
“I know that.” Kelsey’s voice was sharper than he’d ever heard it. “I just . . . I don’t like being stuck.”
Nick studied her profile, noting the tension in her jaw, the way she kept glancing back at George. “Kelsey, do you know him?”
“What? No, why would I know him?”
But she answered too quickly, and she still wouldn’t meet his eyes as she walked away.
Nick shook his head and moved to check the window he’d done the repair work on earlier.
Back near the camp stove, George was asking Brooke about her training schedule.
Nick half-listened to the conversation while keeping an eye on Kelsey’s odd behavior.
She’d gone back to pacing the room and refusing to look at the others.
“So, you’re training for some sort of marathon that’s one hundred miles?” George was saying.
“That’s the plan.” Brooke’s voice carried that manic edge again. “If I don’t mess it up like last year.”
“What happened last year?”
“I failed. Everyone said I wasn’t tough enough, wasn’t prepared enough.” Brooke’s laugh was bitter. “They were right.”
“I doubt that,” George said smoothly. “Sometimes things just don’t work out the way we plan. But there’s always another chance to get it right.”
Something in his tone made Nick look over. George was watching Brooke with an expression that wasn’t quite sympathy. More like calculation.
“What do you do for work?” Brooke asked suddenly.
“Consulting,” George replied without hesitation. “Business consulting. I help people solve problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“All kinds. You’d be surprised how many people get themselves into situations they can’t get out of alone.”
The hair on the back of Nick’s neck stood up. The conversation felt loaded with meaning he couldn’t decode, but the undercurrent was there.
Gina moved up beside him, close enough that he could smell her shampoo over the musty air of the old hotel. Her nearness put him at ease more than he wanted to admit. “That wind is really blowing.”
“Yeah. You’d think the storm would’ve just about fizzled out.” He pointed to the boarded-up window. “Wish I had some nails to add to this. Those boards are shaking something awful.”
“Maybe there are some here that we can pull out of something else?”
“I thought about that, but they’re all going to be old and bent. We’ll probably be fine.” He looked at the others. Gina’s eyes followed his movement.
“How are you holding up?” she asked quietly.
“Fine. You?”
“Worried. Something’s not right about this whole situation.”
He nodded, lowering his voice to match hers. “I know. We’ll figure it out.”
Her eyes met his, and for the first time since George’s arrival, the room didn’t feel quite so cold. “What do you think he wants?”
Nick focused on George, who was still making conversation with Joe and Brooke. “I don’t know yet. But we’ll handle it.”
Outside, the storm raged on. Inside, George continued his careful questioning while Kelsey avoided everyone’s eyes and Brooke spiraled deeper into her training obsession.
Nick kept Gina close. Whatever George’s game was, whatever he was really after, Nick would be ready.