Page 36 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
HARLOWE
“I understand you were involved in the rescue-and-recovery mission last week of the out-of-state family that was camping at Bison River,” Sheriff Evans says, pen tapping on the legal pad in front of him.
Of course, he already knows this, but just like every interview question, this one is designed to test me.
“Yes, sir.” It’s been six days and the thought of Morgan and her family still chokes me each time I talk about it. I reach for the water in front of me, taking a drink that doesn’t ease the tightness in my throat. I thought visiting earlier this week would help, and in some ways, it did.
“Such a terrible tragedy. I hear you stopped by the hospital to see the Freelands.”
Fiona must have told him I was there. She came in to check Mr. Freeland’s vitals while I was outside the room talking to Aspen before I left.
Not that the sheriff’s daughter really knows who the hell I am, but gossip about the Freelands and Steve’s condition is everywhere.
It makes the simplest tasks like going to the grocery store an emotional minefield.
Aspen was giving me a hug and trying to talk me into a hike this week, so I hadn’t paid much attention to Fiona at the time. Sharing that with her father borders on a HIPPA violation, but pointing that out probably won’t bode well for my interview.
“You didn’t have any concerns that your emotions regarding the incident at the ravine were clouding your judgement when you visited them? The family could take your interest as an admission that you or the department did something wrong.”
His question is a slap to the face. This man has faced the unthinkable during his career. He’s pulled teenagers out of wrecks on backcountry roads and had to tell their parents. He’s lost an officer in the line of duty.
To place blame on me . . . my blood boils.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep in the last week.
Maybe it’s just the fresh reminder that life’s too short to hide your true emotions.
Maybe it’s that I’ve been the family member at the hospital waiting to see if my loved one was going to make it through.
It could certainly be the fact that I don’t think he would have asked a man that question.
Maybe it’s just fucking all of it. Or maybe it’s none of it and it’s the sound of Atlas’s voice in my head telling me that my compassion and my heart make me a better leader.
“No, I didn’t. I’d like to think that by checking on Morgan’s family, who’s going through the worst days of their lives while away from home, no less, is called being human.
Not an admission. Not a weakness. Just human decency.
And frankly, that’s the bare minimum it takes to earn the respect of a team—and to lead them in a way that matters when everything else falls apart.
It’s what my dad would have done, but you never would have accused him of being emotional. ”
He shuffles the papers in his hands, his eyes scanning words I can’t see.
“I respected your dad for the work he did on the job, but his trust wasn’t always well placed.
You’d do well to learn from his mistakes.
” Pushing his chair back he stands. Evans doesn’t hold out a hand for me to shake, which is fine because I’m not in the mood for pleasantries.
“If you have any other questions about my qualifications, you know how to get in touch with me,” I say in parting and then head for the door.
That Evans might dislike Canyon more than me feels like my only win coming out of this round of interviews. Everyone asked about Morgan Freeland—all in different capacities. Mostly with care and concern for my well-being.
Had it not been for Atlas’s encouragement and the two sessions with a therapist specializing in emergency services earlier in the week, I don’t think I would have handled any of it with grace.
There’s a chance I wouldn’t even have shown up to the interviews.
The thought of talking about the night at the ravine was debilitating enough that I’d questioned if I could go through with it at all.
If I had what it took to lead a team through something like that.
Atlas, Vivi, and my dad took turns talking me off the ledge all week.
Atlas, a near-constant presence of support, always listening and never pressuring.
Vivi, more loudly, threatening to fly to Timberline Peak and hold my hand while she dragged me to the interview with her newborn strapped to her chest. And my dad, reminding me who I was and why I was doing this.
I’ve done everything I can and all I can do now is wait for the decision. The interview process and testing are over and all that’s standing in the way of me and my best friend’s wedding is one red-eye flight.
By the time I’ve left Town Hall and walked over to Powderline Donuts, I’m stripping off my blazer and carrying it over my arm. After an afternoon trapped inside stuffy offices, the sun on my skin is a welcome warmth.
Before I can order, Marcy is pushing a donut across the counter at me.
“I need you to try this and give it your seal of approval. It’s my Backcountry Bourbon Maple.
And don’t hold back on me. This one needs to be a bestseller.
All the proceeds from it are going to The Green Signal Project during Founders’ days.
This batch was just to fine-tune things and make sure it’s ready. ”
The bite goes down thick, my throat tightening as I’m overcome with emotion.
“For real?” I’m stunned. The Green Signal Project focuses on the mental health of first responders. It’s not hard to believe that someone with a heart as big as Marcy’s would want to help, more that she chose that cause. It’s . . . a lot.
She ignores my obvious shock.
“Did you know that I’m terrified of mountain lions?
Like utterly petrified. It stopped me from running on the trails for months when I first moved here.
One morning, I’d finally worked up the courage and made it a third of a mile before I found myself doubled over, leaning against a tree hyperventilating because I’d heard the snap of a branch and was convinced it was a cat sneaking up on me.
Your dad was out running too and he stopped and helped me through it before a full-blown panic attack took hold.
Once he calmed me down, he told me we could do one of two things: he would walk me back to the car, or we could run together. ”
“What did you choose?” I ask, hanging on every word.
“You’re not going to want to hear this, but your dad was shirtless, and it helped me push through the fear and finish the run. I figured if I was going to get attacked by a mountain lion and die, at least I’d go happy.”
“Marcy,” I groan, but it’s exactly what I need after my interview with Evans.
“Commotion for the donut?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
“They’re delicious enough that I can almost overlook the fact that they were inspired by my dad’s bare chest.”
“No, sweetheart, these were inspired by you. Your dad is . . . really something,” she hedges.
“But you’re, well, honestly, a little intimidating.
You’re brave and humble. And I think it’s safe to say that whether you get the Incident Commander job or not, we’re all proud of you.
Your dad might have gotten me back on the trail, but you’ve kept me there.
You’re the heart of the search and rescue team and we all know it could easily be our asses you’re saving one day.
I’m just a middle-aged woman who tries to balance her sweets by getting out in nature.
There’s not much I can do when tragedy strikes, but I can help raise money for causes like The Green Signal Project, so your team gets the support they need after something terrible happens. ”
“You didn’t have to go so hard.” I sniffle. “I could have forgiven you for ogling my dad, but that is beyond anything—thank you, Marcy, truly.”
She doesn’t say anything else, just gives my hand a squeeze as I take another bite. And somehow, this ridiculous, gooey, bourbon-soaked donut tastes like hope.