5. Base Camp
Base Camp
Janice
By midmorning, White Pine Lodge has become exactly what we need it to be.
Quiet. Private. Out of sight. Serenity chose well.
The lodge sits back from the road behind enough trees that anyone driving past would have to know it was here.
From outside, it looks like somewhere tourists might rent for a winter holiday.
Inside, Steve has maps spread across the dining table, satellite phones charging beside the kitchen counter and enough encrypted equipment running to make the place considerably less innocent.
I prefer it that way. The fewer people who know where we’re based, the better.
Steve is on a call with Victor while I pack medical supplies into smaller kits for Kai, Angus and Jax. They’ll carry what they need without wasting space, and I keep the rest here in case they bring someone back in worse condition than expected.
Which is entirely possible.
The temperature outside has dropped again since breakfast. The thermometer beside the back door reads minus twenty-seven Celsius.
I stare at it.
“Does Canada actually want people living here?”
Steve glances over from the table. “Jax reckons it’s fresh.”
“Jax is deranged.”
“Finally, something we agree on.”
I smile and zip the last kit closed.
We’re heading back to the community shortly, but we’re not moving in there.
Rose and the families need to know what’s happening, but they also need their lives without four strangers turning the community center into HAVEN headquarters.
More importantly, if Lockhart has people watching the area, I don’t want us making it obvious where every conversation and decision is taking place.
We visit. We listen. Then we come back here.
Steve finishes the call. “Victor’s working the Lockhart corporate structure with Felicity and G. They’re pulling historical ownership, contractors, old mine closures, transport companies, anything tied to this region.”
“And Perry?”
“Still digging.”
That name irritates me already.
RCMP Inspector Gavin Perry has signed off on enough missing-person files in this area that coincidence is becoming difficult to believe.
I collect my medical bag. “Ready?”
Steve reaches for his coat. “As I’ll ever be.”
The drive to the community takes less than fifteen minutes, most of it along a narrow road hemmed in by snowbanks and spruce. By the time Steve pulls up outside the community center, I’ve already gone through the medical bag twice and added three things I probably won’t need.
Rose is waiting when we arrive. She isn’t alone.
Three families have brought more photographs, and two women have found old newspaper clippings Honor had been collecting before she disappeared. We spend the next hour at a table in the community center while Steve photographs everything and I help organize names, dates and locations.
Before we leave, I make something else clear.
“I’m a nurse practitioner,” I tell Rose. “If anyone here needs medical help while we’re around, call me. Day or night.”
Her expression changes slightly. “You came to find Honor.”
“We did.”
“That doesn’t make you our clinic.”
“No. But if somebody’s sick or hurt and I can help, I will.”
Rose studies me, then her expression softens.
“Kinanaskomitin,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”
A younger man near the doorway raises one hand. Two fingers are pale and mottled from cold exposure after spending hours yesterday checking the shoreline and nearby trails for any sign Honor had passed that way.
I look at him. “Come here.”
He sighs. Rose smiles.
“Congratulations. You’ve already got a patient.”
Ten minutes later, I’m warming his frost nipped fingers slowly, checking sensation and making sure there’s no deeper damage.
Outside, the cold keeps pressing in.
Inside, people keep bringing us names.
For now, that’s enough.
First Nations Community, Northern Manitoba, Canada. 1230 hours.
We’re almost ready to leave when Steve steps closer to Rose.
“One more thing.”
She waits.
“We need a favor.”
“That depends on the favor.”
His mouth curves slightly. “Okay.”
I close my medical bag while Steve lowers his voice.
“Lockhart doesn’t know who we are yet. At least, we’ve got no reason to think they do. We’d like to keep it that way.”
Rose’s eyes sharpen. “They’ll hear strangers are asking questions.”
“Probably,” Steve says. “Especially if they’ve got people around here feeding them information. But there’s a big difference between Lockhart hearing a few outsiders came looking for Honor and knowing who we are, where we’re staying or what we’re doing.”
I join them. “The less they know, the more time Kai has.”
Rose glances toward the families still gathered around the tables. “You want everyone here to keep quiet about you?”
“Yes.”
She considers that.
“No Facebook. No photographs. No telling cousins in Winnipeg that some Americans came riding in to save us.”
“Australian,” Steve says.
Rose looks at him. “Is that the important part?”
I bite the inside of my cheek.
Steve gives her a solemn nod. “Just clearing the record.”
Rose almost smiles, then turns serious again. “I’ll make sure people understand.”
“We’re not asking anyone to lie,” I tell her. “If police come asking direct questions, nobody should put themselves at risk for us. We just don’t want rumors spreading.”
“People will listen if they understand why.”
Rose looks toward Murphy, the young man whose fingers I treated.
“Go around to the families. Tell them we have people helping with Honor’s search and nobody talks about our guests outside the community. No names, no pictures, no posts, no mention of where they’re staying.”
Murphy nods.
Rose catches his arm before he leaves. “Make sure they understand this isn’t gossip to share. Every day these people stay unnoticed is another day they can search without Lockhart watching over their shoulders.”
“I’ll tell them.”
He heads out.
Steve watches him leave. “Thank you.”
Rose looks back at us. “You find my granddaughter. I’ll keep your secret.”
We leave a few minutes later.
The drive back to White Pine Lodge should be uneventful.
It isn’t.
Less than a kilometer from the lodge, a dark pickup appears ahead of us. Steve slows as the truck comes toward us slowly.
Lockhart Mining is printed across the door.
I look at Steve. “Well, that’s subtle.”
“Could be nothing.”
Neither of us believes that yet, but neither of us has evidence otherwise.
The pickup passes with two men in the cab. The driver barely looks at us. The passenger does. His head turns as we go by, and Steve watches the rearview mirror until the truck keeps going toward the community.
“Coincidence?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
“You sound convinced.”
“I’m keeping an open mind, love.”
“That’ll be a novelty.”
He gives me a look.
I turn in my seat and watch until the truck disappears behind the trees.
They may only know strangers have arrived and people are asking questions about Honor. If that’s all Lockhart knows, I’d like to keep it that way.
Steve accelerates toward the lodge.
“Call Rose when we get inside.”
“Already planning to.”
“And Kai?”
“Him too.”
The truck isn’t proof Lockhart knows anything about us, but it confirms their people are moving through the same small patch of northern Manitoba we are.
From now on, we assume anything we do publicly might eventually reach them.
What they don’t know yet is who they’re looking at.
I’d rather keep that advantage as long as we can.
White Pine Lodge, Northern Manitoba, Canada. 1830 hours.
By six-thirty, the dining table has disappeared beneath maps again.
I’ve spent the afternoon putting together an emergency evacuation plan for the community in case Lockhart decides intimidation isn’t enough.
Kai, Jax and Angus can handle Honor’s extraction. This is about making sure Rose has options if pressure shifts toward everyone else.
Tomorrow, she can help me fill in the pieces I can’t know from here, who has vehicles, which Elders might need assistance, who lives alone and which families could take others temporarily if people need to move fast. I’ll build routes that stay clear of Lockhart property and keep the full plan with Rose.
Hopefully, none of it ever gets used.
But after that truck, I’m not assuming Lockhart will keep its attention on us. Maybe the passenger was only curious about a vehicle he didn’t recognize.
Maybe. I’m not betting anyone’s safety on it.
Steve comes into the dining room carrying two bowls.
“Dinner.”
“I’m nearly finished.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago.”
He puts a bowl down beside me.
Apricot chicken and rice.
I stare at it. Yum.
“I forgot I put that on.”
“Lucky I didn’t.”
He sits opposite me and takes his first bite, then stops.
“What?”
He looks down at the bowl.
“Jesus. I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”
I smile. “Apricot chicken?”
“Yeah. One of my foster mothers used to make it. Proper retro Aussie dinner.”
“It’s chicken, apricot nectar and French onion soup mix.”
“Exactly. Haute cuisine, darls,” he smirks.
I laugh and finally put my pen down.
Steve takes another mouthful.
“Needs canned apricot halves.”
“There are canned apricot halves in it.”
He finds one and points his fork at me. “Marry me.”
“I already did.”
“Smartest thing you’ve ever done.”
We eat while I talk him through what I’ve put together. He studies the map for a few seconds.
“If Lockhart ever decides to squeeze the whole community, this gives Rose a head start.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Hopefully she never needs it.”
I fold the notes together. “I’d rather give her choices now than wait until someone’s trying to make them under pressure.”
Steve nods. “Fair call.”
I add one last note beside the community routes, then set the pen down.
“I’ve been thinking about what happens after we get them out.”
“So have I.”
He taps Vancouver on the map.
“MacLeod’s Boat Harbor.”
I look at him.
“Brian’s place?”
“Secure property. Private accommodation. Far enough away that Lockhart can’t send one of their bloody trucks cruising past the front gate.”
“That’s a long way from here.”
“Which is why it’s stage two. First we get everyone out, stabilize them locally and reunite whoever can safely go home with their families. Anyone who needs protection, medical follow-up or somewhere Lockhart can’t reach them goes west once they’re fit to travel.”
I nod.
“That works.”
“Victor’s checking with Brian.”
Of course he is.
I add Vancouver to the evacuation notes.
By the time we finish eating, we have routes, drivers, rendezvous points, medical contingencies and the beginning of somewhere safe to send women who may have nowhere else to go.
I gather the papers into separate envelopes for Rose to distribute tomorrow.
Steve collects our bowls.
“You done?”
“For tonight.”
“Miracles happen.”
I follow him into the kitchen.
Outside, darkness has swallowed everything beyond the lodge windows. Somewhere north of us, Kai, Jax and Angus will be heading into that wilderness again tomorrow.
Somewhere farther beyond them, Honor may still be waiting.
Steve reaches for my hand. I take it.
The Lockhart truck achieved one thing today. It reminded us that once they realize someone is coming for their secrets, they’ll fight to keep them.
We’ll be ready.
White Pine Lodge, Northern Manitoba, Canada. 2130 hours.
Outside, the Manitoba frost groans against the thick cedar logs, but inside, the fire crackles behind the iron spark guard, throwing a circle of amber light over the hearth rug.
Steve pulls me down beside him, our bare skin instantly absorbing the radiant heat. He starts low in his throat, a deep, rhythmic vibration against my neck.
I tilt my head back, a smirk pulling at my lips. "Are you humming Barry White?"
Steve adopts an exaggerated baritone, his dark eyes sparkling. "Yeah, baby. Let's lie down by the fireplace."
A low laugh bubbles out of me. "You're absurd."
"Aussie boys aren't built for Manitoba sub-zero, darls," he growls playfully against my collarbone, his voice turning thick. "I need emergency insulation."
The laughter fades into the warm air as his mouth finds mine. The playfulness vanishes, replaced by a raw, immediate focus. There’s no hesitation between us tonight, only a sharp necessity to burn off the sub-zero chill rattling the windowpanes.
We lie on our sides facing the leaping flames, the rug rough and supportive beneath us. I curl back against his front, my spine pressed to his broad chest. Steve wraps a heavy arm around my waist, anchoring me firm against his hips.
His fingertips trace the curve of my hip before reaching lower, parting my thighs and guiding his broad tip to my pussy. He enters me from behind with a slow thrust.
A breath catches in my throat as the fullness locks us together. The heat from the hearth washes over my face and chest while the heat of him fills me from behind. Steve rests his jaw against my temple, his breath hitching as he initiates a steady, sweeping movement.
He drives into me with measured power, his hand tight on my stomach, drawing me back against every thrust. The rhythm is seamless, the friction in my lower body coiling into a tight, delicious ache that matches the flickering pulse of the fire.
"Steve..." I gasp, my fingers digging into his forearm where it grips my waist.
"I've got you, darls," he rasps, his hips angling deeper, finding that exact pressure point inside me that I love.
The sensation flares hot and fast building higher and higher.
Within minutes, my walls contract in a sharp, shivering release.
Steve lets out a rough groan against my ear, his muscles locking tight as he thrusts deep one final time, spilling his warmth into me while the hearth light dances across our skin.
Afterward, he reaches over to snag a heavy wool blanket from the armchair, draping it over our bodies to trap the hearth's glow around us. I snuggle back into the solid frame of his chest, resting my hands over his.
"I love you, Mr. Hollands," I whisper into the quiet room.
Steve presses a tender kiss into the hair at my crown. "I love you too, darls. Let’s have a hot chocolate and go to bed."