Chapter 19
Steph
At least one of the snowmobiles was still out there. The engine rose and fell through the trees, circling patiently. Scouting. The sound had moved farther off twice in the last twenty minutes, and twice it had come back. Whoever was on it hadn’t given up.
Not whoever. Steph knew it was the leader of the group. She’d known from early on he was going to be a problem. He would do all he could to find them. Until he stopped circling and searching, the only thing to do was to stay put. Stay hidden.
The cold in the crevice had become its own kind of miserable. Not dangerous yet, but present. The kind that settled into the spaces between joints and reminded you it was there every time you shifted.
The tight quarters didn’t help anything. If they sat there much longer, moving was going to become an issue. She was already experiencing an ache in her right knee from where it rubbed against the rock.
“The packs,” she said quietly. “If we get them off, we’ll have more room.”
The backpacks pressed against the rock behind them and pushed them forward, leaving no give in either direction. More room meant more ability to move if they needed to move fast. It also meant the possibility of layering up.
“You go first,” Jack said. “And we need to make sure we can grab the packs if we need to leave in a hurry.”
“Okay.” She reached for her buckle. “Careful.”
What followed was anything but graceful. The crevice left little room for finesse.
Getting a pack off in such a tight space meant twisting sideways and reaching behind, which would’ve been awkward enough alone. With Jack pressed up against her, it turned into a slow-motion mess of bumped elbows, shifting shoulders, and whispered I’m sorrys.
“Let me help.” Jack twisted toward her as she leaned in. Face-to-face now, moving got even more complicated.
“Um . . . maybe lean away from me a little?” she said, her voice rougher than usual.
“Uh, yeah, right. That might work.”
She shimmied, he leaned, almost. Heart hammering, she could feel the warmth of him through her clothes, and somewhere in there, a little thrill shot through her.
He held her steady, a light smile on his face and something smoldering in his eyes. The gentle pressure gave her just enough room to free herself from the pack. Now loose, she quickly looked away, her cheeks hot with the embarrassment of a touch that became far too familiar.
“Will your pack fit next to you?” Jack asked, his voice husky.
“It will. I can stack yours on top of it once you get out of it.”
Jack’s position, closest to the opening and in the marginally wider section of the crevice, allowed him to slip his pack off more easily and without so much awkwardness. Somehow, she discovered she was disappointed by this.
Stop it, Steph. It’s just the situation. Jack Swisher is trouble.
“Hold up a minute,” she said. “I have an emergency blanket in my front pocket.”
“Good idea.” He glanced toward the crevice.
The sound of the snowmobile had faded, suggesting it was searching a different section. Steph refused to consider that at least one of the poachers may have ditched the machine and was searching for them on foot. If that were the case, they’d have zero warning and would be absolute sitting ducks.
She pulled the emergency blanket from the pack’s pocket, slipped off her mittens, and used her teeth to tear open the plastic.
“I’ll go slow,” she said. “Try to minimize the noise.”
Each crackle sounded much too loud in the crevice, and she was beginning to regret her choice to open the blanket. But she knew they needed it. The rocks were sucking the heat out of their bodies, and even a little protection might make a difference.
She unfolded it slowly, a few inches at a time, controlling the sound as much as the material allowed.
Jack took the other edge without being asked, and they spread it between them, drawing it across the front of them.
The change was immediate as the material cut the wind and their own body heat reflected back at them.
The packs were to her right, tucked into the crevice but easy for her to grab if they had to run.
She settled back against the rock, noticing the engine noise hadn’t changed.
Steph unzipped her jacket and pulled out a handful of nuts, offering half to Jack. For a few minutes, they ate in silence, the snowmobile circling somewhere beyond the timber.
Steph reached into her pocket for the personal beacon.
The screen showed what she needed to see. Message received. Assistance en route. ETA 2-3 hours.
Two to three hours. She turned it over in her mind, running the math. The cold. Their layers. The blanket. They could manage two to three hours. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it’d be manageable.
As long as they weren’t found.
She typed a message, her thumbs working carefully.
Three men. Armed. Rifles. Camp in trees northeast of meadow.
Snowmobiles, at least two operating. We are sheltered but unable to move.
Believe the men to be poachers. Confirm law enforcement response.
She sent it and tucked the device back in her pocket.
Jack’s shoulder was warm against hers under the blanket, and she was suddenly far too aware of it.
The snowmobile engine dropped off again, moving south this time.
“Help is coming,” she said. “Two to three hours.”
He nodded. “We can do that.”
“I hoped it’d be quicker. Road conditions are probably bad. And they need to get a team together.”
“Seems likely.”
She looked out at the dark. “Sheriff Hepner will probably come himself.”
“Makes sense if he’s on the Search and Rescue team.”
“He is. All the deputies are. Lots of volunteers, too, including my friend Gina. Me too, but, um, well . . . ” She shrugged and shook her head. “The sheriff will come so he can catch the poachers. He wouldn’t want to risk missing that.”
Jack drew a quick, sharp breath. “You mentioned the poachers?”
“Yeah. And that they are armed.”
“Will that slow them down?”
She turned to look at him. “What do you . . . Yes, I didn’t think. I was thinking bringing the sheriff was smart, but you’re right. They’ll approach under the assumption of walking into danger. They’ll be all . . . tactical.”
“Which is what they need to be.”
“Yeah. But that means we might be on our own longer than they’re saying. The team won’t come in if there’s danger of gunfire.”
“But the sheriff and his deputies will. They’re trained for that.”
“Others too. Highway patrol, park rangers, and game and fish. Maybe even bring in LEOs from other counties or Montana. It really could take a while before they get organized.”
“We’ll be okay.” Something in his voice made her believe him. As if he truly couldn’t imagine any other outcome.
In spite of everything, she smiled. They’d be okay.
While she hated that it might take SARs longer to reach them, she still wanted the sheriff there.
Wayne Hepner had been in her life since she moved to Irma for the job at the college.
She’d known him before he was sheriff, before she started dating Chris, and before the running club was ever a thing.
Over the years, she’d come to count on him and look on him, not only as a mentor but also as a father figure.
Her own dad had died while she was in college, killed in a car accident.
Her mom had died when she was in elementary school.
Her dad had remarried, but Steph was never close to her stepmom.
In fact, she hadn’t even spoken to her in at least a decade.
Wayne and his wife, Meagan, both treated her like family.
Even now, with Chris married and expecting a child, Steph knew she was always welcome at the Hepner home.
Both had also supported not only Steph herself but her running club.
Wayne introduced her to people and made connections when he didn’t have to.
Connections that could help her reach her goals and dreams.
She had little doubt he’d have plenty to say about her being stuck in a crevice with Jack Swisher. He’d no doubt remind her, as he had dozens of times before, about the dangers of her hobbies.
“You know him well?” Jack asked.
“Well enough.” She reached into her jacket and pulled out the bag of pretzels. “I was almost his daughter-in-law.”
She didn’t mean to say that. Not that it was a secret, and she suspected he already knew, especially since he’d been by her side at the gear swap when Chris and Bethany showed up, both glowing over the news of their pregnancy.
She felt him nod, but he didn’t say anything. She appreciated that about him.
“Chris and I were together for years. Engaged for the last two.” She paused. “I ended it.”
“Why?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Why had she broken up with Chris? He was wonderful in just about every way.
“Because I knew he wasn’t the one. I knew it for longer than I wanted to admit, and I stayed anyway because I wanted what the future looked like. Not the actual future. The picture of it.” She exhaled slowly. “That’s not a good reason to marry someone.”
“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”
“He’s happy now. Bethany is good for him. I’m genuinely happy for them.”
“But . . . ?”
“But I spent years in a relationship that wasn’t right because I was afraid of what walking away meant.
Afraid of what it would cost me.” She looked at the mylar edge.
“I want a family. I’ve always wanted a family.
And every year that I stay single and dedicated to my career and my races, the clock gets louder. ”
The words were out before she could stop them.
She’d said more in this crevice with an almost stranger than she shared with her friends—even Jocelyn, who Steph spent the most time with out of everyone.
Jocelyn knew most of it, of course. She knew Steph wanted a family, but she didn’t know the lengths Steph was prepared to go to.