Chapter 1
Beartooth Betrayal
Brooke
Brooke Davies knew hiking alone in grizzly bear country was a terrible idea, but she needed to prove that fear hadn’t won.
I should just turn around, she thought to herself. Turn around and go back. That’d be the smart thing to do.
She’d taken this trail before. It was a loop, about six miles total. She was maybe two miles in when she sighed and called out, “Here, bear! Here, bear!”
“Might as well let them know I’m out here,” she muttered. Pick up the pace and get this done. Everything will be fine.
She broke into a slow, easy jog as the trail curved through lodgepole pine. This was supposed to be recovery. No training plan. No pressure. Just proof she could still do this—still trust her instincts, still move forward instead of letting nightmares and what-ifs dictate her life.
Gina was supposed to be here. Brooke saw too little of her best friend now that Gina and Nick were in a relationship. She used words like forever and soulmate as if it were simple. Maybe for them. Brooke knew better.
She pushed the thought away and lengthened her stride. This run wasn’t about relationships or timelines. It was about reminding herself she wasn’t broken, that she was still the same person she’d always been, no matter what had happened on that mountain.
The trail dipped slightly, and she heard the sound of running water—loud enough to sound like a small waterfall, which made no sense. There was a creek crossing, but it was still at least a mile up.
Brooke skidded to a halt, every muscle suddenly tense.
She’d heard something like that before—the sound of rushing water where there was no water. That time, it was a rattlesnake.
Her heart kicked into overdrive.
She took a careful step backward, eyes scanning the trail ahead for any sign of movement. Another step back. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere to her left, just off the trail, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact location.
Panic fluttered in her chest. She needed to back away slowly, give the snake space, and stay on the trail where the ground was clear and visible.
Instead, she did exactly what she shouldn’t have done.
She bolted off the trail to her right, crashing through underbrush and around trees, putting distance between herself and the sound. Her breath came in sharp gasps, adrenaline flooding her system.
She ran until she could no longer hear the rattler, until her lungs burned and her legs shook. Then she stopped, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.
“Stupid,” she muttered as she glanced around. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Why in the world had she left the trail? She knew better than that, knew she should’ve simply given the snake a wide berth and kept going. She was too jumpy. Still not thinking straight after the trouble from before.
And look at what that got her. There she was, standing in the dense forest with no clear sight line to where she’d come from—or where anything could be lurking. A snake seemed to be the least of her worries now.
Brooke straightened slowly.
“All right. You made a mistake, but you’re okay. You’re fine.” She cleared her throat and talked her way through it. “Where am I? Not far off the trail. Fifty yards, maybe. I’m good.”
She took a few steps as she continued her pep talk to herself. “Backtrack carefully. That’s all you need to do. Watch where you’re stepping in case that snake has some buddies out here, and—”
Her eyes caught on something ahead.
A mound of disturbed earth sat ahead of her, dark soil piled in a way that looked deliberately shaped. A piece of bright blue synthetic fabric stuck out of it—something that didn’t belong in the forest.
Brooke moved closer, drawn by curiosity and a sick feeling that was building in her stomach.
The fabric was attached to something. A jacket, maybe, or a shirt. And next to the mound, partially covered by pine needles and forest debris, was a shoe.
A woman’s shoe.
With a foot and leg still inside it.
Brooke’s vision narrowed. The leg was pale and waxy, clearly not attached to a living person. And as her eyes adjusted to what she was seeing, she realized the mound wasn’t just dirt. It was a cache.
A bear cache.
She’d seen photos in wildlife management presentations. Bears covered their kills, saving them for later and defending them aggressively from anything that got too close.
The ground beneath her feet seemed to tilt. She took a step back, then another, her breathing going ragged as panic set in.
Her foot caught on something, and she went down hard, landing on her hip in another pile of disturbed earth.
This one had an arm visible.
She scrambled up with a strangled sound, backing away from both caches, her mind racing through implications she didn’t want to process. Two bodies. Two separate caches. Which meant the bear had been actively hunting, killing.
She needed to run. She needed to get out of here right now, because if there was a grizzly defending these kills, she was in immediate danger.
But even through her panic, she knew she’d never find this spot again. The police would need to locate the bodies. She needed to mark it somehow.
Her hands shook as she shrugged out of her daypack. Water, granola bars, jerky, a map, a multitool, an emergency blanket, and—yes, there—a length of paracord.
Brooke pulled out the cord and the multitool, cutting off a piece with the small blade. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she tied the bright orange cord around the nearest tree, knotting it multiple times to make sure it wouldn’t come loose.
Is this close enough? Will this help them find it?
It would have to do. She wasn’t going any closer to those bodies. She moved in the direction of where she hoped the trail was.
“Okay, okay,” she said, her breath ragged and sweat trailing down her spine. As the well-worn trail came into view, she added another length of cord. Hopefully that’d be enough for whoever she called to find the bodies.
“I’m getting out of here.” She shouldered her pack. The trailhead was closest if she went to the right. She’d probably have service there and could call for help.
“Take a breath, Brooke. Take several and then get going. Two miles. You can run this in fifteen minutes. No problem.” She gave herself a nod and tightened the straps on her backpack.
A sound caught her attention.
Rustling. Movement. Getting closer.
Please don’t let it be a bear. Please don’t let it be a bear.
Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, in her temples, in her fingertips.
She grabbed a heavy limb from the ground and gripped it like a club. If it was a bear, maybe she could hit it hard enough to buy herself time to run.
No. Don’t run. That’s the worst thing you could do. Make yourself big. Threatening. Use the bear spray.
She dropped the stick and pulled the bear spray off her belt.
If the bear was within thirty feet, she’d deploy the spray. If it came around that tree line ahead, it was going to be much closer than thirty feet.
She needed to be ready.
The rustling got louder. Was there more than one? A sow with cubs would be worse. So much worse. They attacked to protect their young.
Fear threatened to overwhelm her as she gripped the bear spray. The sounds were getting louder. Closer. Too close. Then she saw it. Movement on the trail. A figure rounded the bend and stopped.
Continue reading Beartooth Betrayal: Deadly Miles Book 2.
Thank you for spending your time with the people of the Basin County Running Club!