Page 20

Twenty

Jackson

“What’s going on?”

Stephanie is sitting up when I try to sneak into the bedroom.

Dammit, I was hoping she could sleep a bit longer, since we didn’t get much the other night. I was up early and ended up on the couch out in the living room, watching some news on TV, when Jonas’s message came in. Unfortunately, I had to get in here for my clothes.

“We got called out on a rescue.” I sit down on the mattress beside her. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back and I may not have cell reception, but if you need me for anything, check in with Ama. We’ve got two-way radios and a satellite phone in the office in the ranch house you can try.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got a few things I need to take care of in town, and I want to pick up some groceries.”

When I open my mouth to remind her she’s welcome to anything from my fridge or from the kitchen in the big house, she places her fingers against my lips.

“I know what you’re gonna say, but I’ll feel better if I have my own stuff.”

I bite my lip and nod. We had an argument yesterday afternoon in Kalispell when she insisted I stop at a car rental place because she needed wheels. I told her she could use one of the ranch trucks if she needed to get around, but she was adamant and followed me home in the little SUV she was able to get.

The entire visit to Kalispell had been a little tense. Every time I tried to bring up her decision to quit her job, she evaded the subject. Other than, “I’m considering my options,” she didn’t give me much feedback, which made me uncomfortable. On edge. Which is what had me up at three thirty and unable to sleep this morning.

“Fine.”

As soon as the clipped word leaves my lips, I regret it. It’s petty and I’m cranky. Ticked because I want her to let me in all the way, I want to look after her and she won’t let me, and I’m frustrated because I have to go out on this call and I don’t want to leave her alone.

“Look, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. My life has been shaken up these past few months, and we’ve just had a shitty few days, and it makes me feel a little better knowing I’m still able to. Even if it’s just going to the bank or the grocery store on my own. It has nothing to do with you.”

I take a deep breath and let that settle in. If I’m being completely honest with myself, I want her to need me. It would make me feel better, but I hadn’t really considered how it would make her feel.

“Fair enough. Understood,” I concede, which earns me a sweet kiss on the lips.

But I can’t help myself from asking, “Are you going to call Vallard back?”

The agent was blowing up her phone all yesterday afternoon, but she let his calls go to voicemail. Part of me wonders if that was because I was with her. She knows I’m not a fan of her getting more involved in this case, and I’m even more convinced that’s not a good idea since the fire. But I can’t lose sight of the fact Stephanie is a trained and experienced FBI agent, leave of absence put aside. Hell, in all truth, she’s better equipped than I am to deal with scum like Mitchel Laine and even sleazeballs like Vallard.

“I should probably check in with him. He’ll be wondering where I am.”

I bite my lip and nod, limiting myself to, “Just be careful.”

Jonas and Sully are loading up the back of the truck when I get to the barn.

“Are you okay to ride?” is the first thing my stepfather asks.

He probably wants Sully to man base camp.

I rap my knuckles on the socket of my artificial limb. “Got a new gel sleeve for this one and it fits like a glove. I’m good.”

I had to leave my good prosthesis there, but with this new sleeve, the old one fits better than it ever has. Even though a marathon may be out of the question with this limb, it should be fine for riding.

“Good. Go give Dan a hand loading the horses, and as soon as JD and Wolff get here, we’ll grab some coffee and have a quick brief before we roll out.”

When those guys arrive a few minutes later, we have the horse trailer loaded up, and all the equipment—including the brand-new, high-end drone Jonas apparently bought—is in the back of the truck. We congregate in the big kitchen, where Ma has coffee going and is slapping together some egg and Canadian bacon sandwiches.

“Where is Ama?”

The woman is normally here by six, ruling the kitchen. My mother does her best, but she’s no Ama in the kitchen, evidenced by the slightly charred toast and crispy eggs.

“She needed a break,” Ma answers curtly.

“Yesterday was hard on her,” JD explains. “Dad’s taking her home for a visit for a couple of days.”

From what JD has shared with me over the years, home is the Flathead Reservation where he grew up. They still have family living there.

I know Ama had a very strong bond with Thomas. They bickered all the time, but she cared for him deeply. She looked after him like a daughter would for her father, when the rest of us went about our daily business, so I’m not surprised his loss cuts her to the core.

“Okay, here’s what we have,” Jonas starts. “Two guys tried to climb up to Snowshoe Peak and fell forty feet down a rock wall last night. One of them is in pretty bad shape, the other guy managed to stabilize him, thanks to some first-aid training. They were in a dead zone though, so the one guy was forced to leave his friend to find a signal. He was barely coherent by the time he got through to dispatch. All we have is a ping on a map and a starting point at Leigh Lake trailhead. We need to find both, and extract them. Jillian is on standby to bring in the dogs if we can’t get a visual on those guys.”

My mother hands him a travel mug and a breakfast sandwich wrapped in paper. He gives her a resounding kiss on the lips before turning back to us.

“Guys, help yourselves and let’s roll out.”

Ma sees us off from the porch with a “Be careful out there,” when we get into the trucks.

Just as we pull away from the ranch and pass the cabins, I catch sight of Stephanie stepping outside, a coffee mug in her hand. She smiles and blows me a kiss when she sees me in the passenger seat.

I don’t realize I’m grinning until I glimpse my reflection in the side mirror.

Fuck , I look happy.

* * *

Stephanie

It feels a little weird to be out in athletic wear when I have no intention of hitting a gym, but, other than work suits, that was all I had left in my closet back at my apartment.

All the casual clothes I had—and there weren’t too many to begin with—got lost in the fire. So yoga pants and a zippered hoodie it is until I can find myself some more serviceable clothes, which is on my list of things to tackle today.

There’s a discount store called Stytches Bent West that is supposed to carry some discount and consignment stuff Janey recommended. She says they sometimes have unique things, not that I’d know something unique if it slapped me in the face, but I’ll have a look.

Jackson’s mom, Alex, suggested the Blessed in the 406 boutique which is supposed to carry more mainstream jeans and tops.

But first I’m stopping in at the salon to see if I can get some more information on Tracy’s whereabouts.

“Can I help you?” the young girl behind the counter greets me.

“Hi, yes. I was wondering if Tracy is in today? I don’t have an appointment, but I had a house fire a couple of days ago and I can’t get the smell of smoke out of my hair. I’ve washed it three times already. I was hoping Tracy might have some suggestions?”

“Oh no. That place by Foxy’s Bar? My boyfriend is a firefighter and told me the folks staying there narrowly escaped. Was that you?”

Both the hairdresser and her client, sitting in the chair closest to the front desk, are gawking at me right now.

“I heard about that,” the woman with half her head in foils contributes, inserting herself into the conversation. “Heard it was a total loss. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Thank you,” I mutter, for lack of anything better to say.

“Smoke alarm woke you up?” the customer probes.

“Something like that,” I respond.

The smoke alarm didn’t wake us, but I’m not about to share that information. I’m still trying to figure out how it was possible for the alarm not to sound when I personally saw JD put a fresh battery in the day I moved into the trailer.

I told Ewing as much in Jonas’s office. He asked me who all had been in the trailer since I got there, which is how Ben Vallard’s name came up. Except, I had eyes on Vallard at all times while he was inside, I would’ve seen him tamper with the smoke alarm.

Ewing indicated the smoke detector would be checked out by the forensic lab, to see if it had been interfered with or whether it could’ve been a simple malfunction. It happens.

He’d also wanted to know about the trailer’s security. Other than the door locks, there hadn’t been much. I guess there hadn’t been any need with just JD living there. Plus, it’s not the kind of place that would’ve promised a profitable haul for a random burglar passing by. All of that to say, it is possible someone snuck in at some point and tinkered with the smoke alarm.

In any event, all that is speculation until we know for sure the detector was purposely disabled, and I’m not going to open up a public discussion on the subject.

“So, do you think Tracy could help?” I return the conversation to my original request.

“I’m sorry, Tracy is out of town, visiting family,” the receptionist shares.

“Really? That’s so odd, Tracy never mentioned anything about that.”

A statuesque redhead—I’d guess her to be mid-to-late forties—wearing a pair of orange platform Crocs comes walking up to the desk. I guess she was working at one of the chairs closer to the back, judging from a pair of scissors still in her hand.

“You were looking for Tracy?”

I turn to her with a smile. “Yes, she’s a friend, and I tried to call her but my calls keep going to voicemail, so I decided to try and catch her here. I have a bit of a hair emergency I was hoping she could help with, but I’m told she’s out of town? That seems so weird, I was in here not that long ago and met her for lunch after, and she never mentioned anything about going away. Odd.”

The redhead nods. “I remember seeing you. I’m Donna Farley. I’m Tracy’s boss, and also a friend. Why don’t you step into the back with me? Let’s see what we can do about your hair problem.”

I follow her to the back and through a set of beaded curtains to a private section of the salon, where she ushers me into an office, closing the door behind us.

“Have a seat.”

She slides behind the desk and I take the visitor’s chair in front. It seems odd she’d take me into an office to look at my hair, but I suspect that’s not the reason I’m here.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, playing up the role of concerned friend. “Did something happen to Tracy?”

“You’re new to town. Tracy mentioned you.”

It’s not an answer to my question, but it is telling nonetheless.

“She did? Yeah, I haven’t been here that long yet. I’m still getting my bearings, so it was nice to make a new friend. Is Tracy okay?”

The woman leans forward, studying me through narrowed eyes, and I do my best to look as non-official as possible. It seems to work, because she finally sits back, leaning her head against the chair.

“How much did she tell you?”

I’d like to think I know what she’s referring to but I need to tread carefully.

“About what? Um…we talked about new beginnings. She’d picked up on some problems I had with an ex. We discussed men, both past and present. Mostly my past and her present. I told her about the abusive relationship I left, and she mentioned finally meeting her longtime, online boyfriend for the first time recently. I know he was an ex-con. Did something happen?”

Donna presses the heels of her hands against her forehead.

“I don’t know. She called me a week ago, told me she had to leave, and if anyone asked to tell them she was out of town indefinitely, looking after her sick mother.”

That’s the story Vallard was given, but I’m not supposed to know about it, so I force a look of confusion on my face.

“But…I could’ve sworn she mentioned her mother was dead,” I volunteer.

“She is,” Donna confirms. “Has been for years. When I asked Tracy if she was in trouble, she said she didn’t have time to talk but would get back to me as soon as she could.” The woman’s worried eyes meet mine. “I don’t think she was alone.”

“The boyfriend?” I suggest.

“I’m sure of it,” Donna states, her face now filled with anger. “I told her the guy was a bad idea, but she wouldn’t listen. Now the FBI is coming around asking questions.”

“FBI?” I echo, feigning ignorance.

She nods. “Walked in the other day, asking her whereabouts. I gave the agent the story Tracy wanted me to tell, but I’m afraid I haven’t seen the last of him. What if I’m in trouble now for lying to them? Tracy may be gullible but she’s a good person, who hasn’t had many breaks in life. I’m trying to protect her, but the longer I don’t hear from her, the more I worry I may be making a mistake lying for her.”

When I walk out of the salon forty-five minutes later with a freshly washed and coiffed head of hair, I still don’t know where Tracy could be, but I’m more convinced than ever she didn’t exactly go voluntarily.

Poor Donna. The woman seems truly conflicted, and I feel bad I’m deceiving her. She thinks I’m a battered woman and feels safe talking to me about our supposed mutual friend. She never would’ve confided in me if she knew I was an FBI agent.

At least, I am for now. I’d been tempted to stop in at the office yesterday afternoon when we were in Kalispell, but Jackson suggested I take a bit more time to really think it through before handing in my resignation. That annoyed me at first, but then I realized there really wasn’t any hurry, and it would probably be a good idea to put some plans in place for my next steps before I burn my bridges behind me.

To be honest, I’d been pretty combative with him on several subjects yesterday, and for the most part he was undeserving, but stress and emotions and uncertainty had me lash out at him. The poor guy had an arguably worse week than mine, but he still managed to be a lot more patient and understanding with me than I was with him.

Something I’ll have to make up for when he comes back.