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37

AUbrEY

I ’m dreaming.

In my dream I’m with Lainey, my mother, and my dad. It is the year before my mother died, the last family vacation we took. We drove to Santa Cruz for the first and last time. Lainey and I were so excited about the idea of the boardwalk and the pier, the amusement park rides and the cotton candy. I had just seen The Lost Boys on TV the week before and I was hoping I might run into some punky vampires, too.

But during the winding mountain drive, my father pulls off to the side of the road, overlooking the bay and the ocean and the horizon beyond. The sky is pink and orange, soft tones of a sunset. I don’t remember stopping before.

“This is where we leave you, kiddo,” my father says.

My mother gets out and opens the back door of the Volvo for me. I climb out, confused, and Lainey is somehow already at the stone wall of the viewpoint, holding her hand out for me.

I walk over to her, wondering what’s happening.

She grasps my hand.

Her skin is cold.

“See those clouds,” she says. “That’s where we’ll be.”

My father and mother join us, standing on both sides of me, hands on my shoulders.

Their skin is cold too.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“To where we belong,” my mother says, giving me a soft smile. “We’ll see you there too, one day, but not now. Now is too soon. You have too much work to do.”

“Work?” I say. But I’m just a kid. I don’t have any work, unless she’s talking about homework.

“You’re doing a good job,” my father says, grabbing my hand now and giving it a strong squeeze. “I know it’s not easy, but you’ve helped so many people.”

What is he talking about? Why are they all so cold? Why aren’t we heading down to Santa Cruz?

“Including me,” Lainey says, putting her arm around me. “You finally helped me be free.”

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” my mother says, leaning down to kiss me on the top of my head. “Now go and live the rest of your life.”

Then they all turn away and walk back to the car. I want to run after them. I try but it’s like I’m frozen in place. I can only watch, tears streaming down my face, as they get in the car, my father at the wheel, my mother beside him, and Lainey in the backseat.

They all wave at me, blow me kisses.

“We love you,” Lainey shouts out the rolled-down window. “We’ll see you later, alligator.”

They drive off down the highway, now completely empty, disappearing from view.

And I realize what’s happened.

Where they’re going.

And why I have to stay behind.

I’m dreaming.

There is snow.

Monsters.

Blue eyes.

Lainey.

Blood.

I open my eyes and I see a night sky. Stars and a moon. Tree tops.

“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me,” a voice says.

I smile and stare into the night until all goes black.

“Aubrey,” my sister’s voice sings out. “Aubrey Strawberry,” she says my nickname. “Time for you to wake up now.”

I blink out of the darkness but there’s bright light behind my eyes. I don’t want to open them.

“Lainey,” I whisper.

“Easy now,” a voice says. It’s a woman’s voice but one I don’t recognize. “Wake up slow.”

“Who are you?” I whisper, my head rolling to the side. Then I remember.

I remember the cowboy.

“Where is Jensen?”

“Right here,” I hear his gruff voice, feel the pressure of his hand gentle around mine, and his face comes into view. I have to blink at him a few times because he doesn’t seem real. He’s not wearing his hat, his beard has been trimmed, and despite the scratches and cuts and bruises on his face, he looks as handsome as anything.

“And that’s Margaret,” he says. “You’re in good hands.”

“Where—?” I begin to ask but as I try to sit up, the room starts to spin, my blood thumping in my ears. Jensen’s hands are at my shoulders, pushing me back down.

“Relax,” the woman croons. “No sudden movements. You’re not out of the woods yet, so to speak.”

The woman—Margaret—hovers at the edge of my vision. She’s in her fifties, with silver-streaked dark hair and the no-nonsense demeanor of someone used to dealing with difficult patients.

“You’re at Lost Trail Ranch,” she explains, checking the IV in my arm with practiced efficiency. “Jensen brought you here Four days ago.”

Four days. The words don’t make sense at first. I try to piece together my last clear memories—the burning cabin, Adam’s death, the roar of snow rushing toward us, Jensen screaming my name as darkness closed in.

“What happened?” My voice is hoarse. “After the avalanche…I don’t remember.”

Jensen and Margaret exchange a look.

“You were buried,” Jensen says, his expression carefully neutral. “Head trauma, three broken ribs, broken ankle. You were unconscious when I dug you out.”

I raise my hand to my head, feeling the bandage wrapped around it. That explains the splitting headache and the fuzzy edges to my thoughts. My leg is immobilized beneath the blanket, and each breath sends a sharp pain through my chest.

“How did we get back?” The question feels urgent, though I’m not sure why.

“That’s a story for when you’re stronger,” Margaret says firmly, adjusting something in my IV line. “Rest is what you need now.”

But Jensen reads the fear in my eyes. “We’re safe,” he assures me, thumb stroking gentle circles on the back of my hand. “All of it is over.”

“How did you get us out?” I press, needing to fill the gaps in my memory. “The mountains…”

“Later,” Jensen says, but there’s gentleness in the word. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything. But Margaret’s right. You need rest.”

My eyelids are already growing heavy, whatever medication Margaret added to my IV pulling me under. The last thing I see before darkness claims me is Jensen’s face, lined with exhaustion but watching me with something like tenderness.

The next time I wake, sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains. For a moment, panic surges—where am I?—before memory reasserts itself.

Lost Trail Ranch.

Jensen’s house.

I’m alone in the room, which must be the main bedroom. Jensen’s space. The realization brings a strange intimacy, lying in his bed, surrounded by his things. Portraits of people, maybe Jake and Eve McGraw, on the wall, family pictures of Jensen with who I assume are his parents, black-and-white photos of the ranch from way back when. A glass of water sits on the nightstand, along with several pill bottles carefully arranged.

Testing my strength, I push myself to sitting position. The room sways slightly but steadies. Progress. The IV is gone, replaced by a neat bandage in the crook of my arm. My ribs protest with sharp, stabbing pain, but it’s muted, manageable.

The door opens quietly, and Margaret appears, carrying a tray.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says, setting the tray on the dresser. “How’s the pain, one to ten?”

“Four,” I answer automatically. In truth, it’s closer to seven, but I’ve never been good at admitting weakness.

She gives me a look that isn’t fooled. “Eight it is, then. Time for medication.”

As she hands me pills and water, I study her more carefully. “You’re his mother’s nurse.”

“That I am. But I’ve been a friend of the family for a long time.” A hint of reproach creeps into her voice. “Though I didn’t expect to find him at the hospital with a woman who looked like she’d gone ten rounds with a mountain.”

She knows. She must know.

About the hungry ones.

About what happened up there.

“What did Jensen tell you?” I ask carefully. “About what happened up there?”

“Enough.” She busies herself checking my bandages. “The McGraws have encountered those creatures before. Sarah told me the stories years ago. I just never thought…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Jensen’s family has a complicated history with those mountains. But he comes from a strong stock of people.”

She gestures to the old-timey portraits on the wall. “Eve and Jake McGraw first encountered the hungry ones in 1852. They survived to tell the tale. After that, they moved to Oregon, but eventually they returned right back here to the scene of the crime. Jake supposedly said that they were stewards of this land now, that they had a responsibility to keep watch. Make sure history didn’t repeat itself. Think they did a pretty good job, but you can only poke a bear too many times before he attacks. Jensen has always been good at poking the bear.”

“Where is Jensen?” I ask.

“Meeting with the sheriff.” Margaret’s voice is carefully neutral. “They’re discussing the official story about what happened up there.”

The official story. Right. Four men missing, presumed dead. A woman with serious injuries. How do you explain any of that without mentioning monsters?

“Don’t worry,” Margaret says, reading my expression. “Jensen knows how to handle the authorities. And you being FBI helps.”

Former FBI , I almost correct her, then realize my status is still active. Another complication to deal with. No doubt if I was brought to the hospital, if Jensen is talking to the damn sheriff, that Carlos and Diana know what happened to me.

I’m going to be in so much shit.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for him to be talking to the authorities?” I question, giving her a look that tells her I know all about Marcus’s illegal operation.

“You need to eat,” Margaret says, ignoring that and retrieving the tray. Oatmeal, toast, sliced fruit. Simple foods for a recovering body. “And then rest more. Doctor’s orders.”

“And where is the doctor?” I ask. “Why am I not in the hospital?”

“You were there, just to get your head checked out. But they released you to me. I’ve got twenty years’ experience in trauma care as a nurse practitioner.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth. You were caught in an avalanche. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

I mull that over. No one would believe the rest of it.

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it. “For helping us.”

Margaret’s expression softens. “That boy has been through enough. I’m just glad the both of you are okay.”

Before I can respond, she’s pressing the tray into my lap.

“Eat. Then sleep. Jensen will be back when you wake.”

“…avalanche took out the eastern ridge,” Jensen’s low, gruff voice pulls me from sleep. “Sheriff says search and rescue can’t get up there for at least another week, maybe longer.”

I open my eyes to find him sitting near the window, his attention focused on his phone. When he notices me watching, his face softens. “I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey,” he says to me, setting the phone aside and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” I say, and it’s mostly true. The fog in my mind has cleared slightly, though each movement still sends pain radiating through my ribs. I probably won’t be riding again anytime soon.

At the thought of Duke, I look at him, wide-eyed. “The horses!”

“They’re all fine.”

“Duke!”

“Duke made it back. So did Jeopardy and the rest. All except Angus.”

I put my hand to my chest. “Oh no.”

“Oh, Angus is fine,” Jensen says with a chuckle. “But he’s a mule. He didn’t head back here, he ended up in someone’s backyard at Donner Lake. Swanky place too. Anyway, we got his ass back here in the end.”

I sit back with relief. “Okay. Well, now you need to tell me what happened with me. How did I get here?”

He gives me a grave look. “You were buried when the avalanche hit. I managed to stay anchored to a tree, but you were swept away.” His voice remains steady, but his hand tightens around mine. “When I found you, you weren’t breathing. I thought—” He breaks off, jaw tightening. “But then you gasped, and I knew we had a chance.”

I remember nothing of this—not the avalanche, not being buried, not Jensen finding me. The last clear memory I have is Adam’s death.

“You carried me out. All the way down the mountain? How?”

“Went back to the cabin, took down part of the wall that made the outhouse. Made a sled. Pulled you until we hit a forest service road near Sugar Bowl.” He shrugs, as if hauling an injured woman through miles of wilderness was nothing. “Turns out I knew the guy, Geoff. Got him to take us to the hospital where I called Margaret.”

“So what’s the official story?” I ask. “For Cole, Red, Hank, Eli?”

“Avalanche,” Jensen replies. “Sheriff’s already writing it up. Freak storm, unstable terrain. They know the weather was bad and they have proof of an avalanche at the trapper’s cabin. Four men presumed dead, bodies unrecoverable until spring thaw.” A humorless smile. “By then, there won’t be much evidence left to contradict the story.”

“And Marcus?” The question has been nagging at me, a loose thread in our fragile safety. “He’ll be looking for you.”

Jensen’s expression hardens. “Not for much longer. I’ve made a deal with the FBI.”

This catches me off guard. “A deal?”

“Immunity in exchange for testimony,” he explains, his voice carefully neutral. “Everything about his operation—the money laundering, the drug running, names, dates, accounts. Enough to put him away for decades.”

I process this information, immediately understanding the significance. “Your word against his won’t be enough.”

“It’s not just my word.” A hint of satisfaction crosses his face. “I’ve been gathering evidence for years. Insurance policy, in case things went south. Audio recordings, financial records, photos. Kept it all in a safety deposit box in Reno.”

“Smart,” I acknowledge. “You thought of everything. When did you set this up?”

“Called your boss, Carlos, from the hospital while you were getting a CT scan. Searched your car, found your badge, rest of your business cards. Said I had information on the Marcus Thorne organization, but I wanted guarantees.” Jensen’s thumb traces circles on my hand, a contrast to the tension in his voice. “Full immunity for past involvement, witness protection if necessary. They agreed within the hour. They’re watching him now, I guess. But we’re safe.”

The speed of the agreement tells me how badly the Bureau must have wanted Marcus.

“What happens now?”

“Now you rest,” Jensen says firmly. “Get your strength back.”

“And after that?” The question encompasses so much more than just my recovery. What happens to us? To whatever this is between us that started as antagonism and evolved into something neither of us expected?

Jensen moves closer, his weight shifting the mattress. “What do you want to happen, Aubrey?” His voice is quiet, serious.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I need to go back to Sacramento, deal with the Bureau. They’ll want a full debrief. I doubt I’ll even be allowed to return after this.”

“Will you tell them everything?” There’s no judgment in his question, just curiosity.

“Not everything.” Some truths belong only to us, to the darkness we survived together.

“Will you tell them about Lainey?”

I shrug, though it makes me wince. “I don’t know that I can. I can’t explain to them what really happened to her. Even if I blamed it on Adam, which I would love to, there’s no proof of anything…”

Suddenly I remember Lainey’s journal and the documents. I sit up straighter. “I have her journal. Don’t I still?” I try to remember but my brain is too slow. It was in my jacket pocket, but we went into the water, and then after that…

Jensen nods over at the desk. “They took a few days to dry out but we have them.”

My heart flutters with relief. I still have a piece of her, even though I can’t use any of that as evidence either.

“She’ll remain a cold case,” I eventually say. “But at least I know now the truth.”

He nods, accepting this. “And after you deal with your job? What are your plans?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility. I think of my empty apartment, of the life I built around finding Lainey. Now that quest is over—painful and unresolved, yet finished.

What comes next?

I look at Jensen, at the man who carried me through hell and brought me back, who’s watching me now with those yellow-green eyes that see too much.

“I don’t know that either,” I say honestly. “But I’d like to figure it out.”

His hand finds mine again, fingers intertwining. “Together?”

The word holds a promise neither of us is ready to fully articulate. But it’s a start.

“Together,” I agree, and something settles in my chest—not quite peace, not after everything we’ve seen, but something close to it.

A foundation to build on, once the dust clears.

Outside the window, the mountains loom in the distance, their peaks still snow-covered and forbidding. They hold our secrets now, buried deep in caves and darkness. But here in this room, with Jensen’s hand warm in mine, the monsters seem far away.

For now, that’s enough.