Page 22 of Saving Jennifer
“Gray sedan, been following us for a while. It’s been there since we crossed the state line.”
She fought the urge to turn around again and look. “Could be coincidence.”
“Maybe.” His tone said otherwise. He took the next exit without signaling, cutting across two lanes of traffic.
The narrow two-lane stretch of road wound through gently rolling hills that gradually grew steeper. Noah’s eyes flicked constantly to the rearview mirror as they climbed higher.
“Still there?” Jennifer asked after a few minutes.
Noah nodded grimly. “Time to lose them.”
What followed was a masterclass in evasion. Noah navigated the increasingly serpentine roads with precision, each turn executed at speeds that left Jennifer’s stomach lurching. He took unmarked side roads, doubled back, accelerated through blind curves with a confidence that spoke of intimate familiarity with the terrain. After twenty minutes of heart-stopping maneuvers, he pulled onto a logging road barely visible among the thick pines.
“Hold on,” he warned, steering their SUV into the rutted dirt path. The vehicle bounced violently as they climbed, branches scraping against the windows.
Jennifer braced herself against the dashboard. “Are we still being followed?”
“No.” His face remained tense. “But they’re searching. We need to get to higher ground.”
The logging road narrowed further, becoming little more than a trail as they ascended. The forest thickened around them, old-growth hardwoods and towering pines blotting out much of the afternoon sun. Despite the danger, Jennifer couldn’t help but appreciate the wild beauty surrounding them, the dappled light filtering through leaves, the glimpses of rocky outcroppings and cascading streams.
After another hour of painstaking progress, Noah finally eased the vehicle into a small clearing half-hidden by a stand of towering pines.
“We walk from here,” he said, reaching for his pack in the back seat.
“You’re just abandoning the car?” Jennifer started gathering her supplies, muscles protesting as she stepped out. The air was cooler at this elevation, carrying the scents of pine and damp earth. Noah secured the vehicle, brushing branches over it to obscure it from casual observation.
“I’ll have one of my brothers pick it up. They’ll make sure nobody can find it. We’ve got a bit of walking to do from this point. It’s about two miles up,” he said, pointing to a barely discernible trail leading deeper into the forest. “Watch your step. Ground’s uneven.”
They hiked in silence, Jennifer struggling to match Noah’s pace as the trail grew steeper. Her breath came in short gasps as they climbed, the city-softened muscles of her legs burning with the effort. Funny how she’d thought herself in decent physical shape, having kept up with her gym membership before coming to America, but she already felt like a little old lady in need of a walker and an oxygen mask. Yet Noah moved with the easy grace of someone returning to familiar territory, though he frequently paused, ostensibly to check their surroundings, but she suspected it was more to allow her to rest without having to ask for a reprieve.
The trail curved around a massive boulder, and Noah stopped, his posture relaxing slightly for the first time in days.
“We’re here.”
Jennifer moved to stand beside him, and felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. Nestled in a small hollow, protected on three sides by steep rock faces, stood a cabin. It wasn’t large, nothing like the expensive flats she was used to staying in, but it had been built with evident care. The exterior was weathered cedar, with a metal roof that had oxidized to a muted blue-green color. A covered porch wrapped around the front, two Adirondack chairs facing the spectacular view of the valley below.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.
Something in Noah’s expression shifted, a flicker of vulnerability quickly masked. “It’s secure. That’s what matters right now.”
He led her down the final slope to the cabin. A small generator sat close to the back wall, alongside neatly stacked cords of firewood. Noah retrieved a key from beneath a loose stone in the foundation and unlocked the heavy front door.
The interior was spartan but not austere. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, with a well-worn leather armchair positioned beside it. A rag rug covered the floor in front of the fireplace, the muted blues, greens, and reds giving the place a cozy feel. A compact kitchen occupied one corner, its open shelving holding a small collection of plates, bowls and glasses. Another held basic provisions, canned goods and canisters for dry goods. A small dining table with two chairs stood beneath a window, and a loft was visible overhead, accessed by a ladder-like staircase.
What struck Jennifer most, however, was the carvings. They adorned every available surface—intricate forest scenes depicted on the mantelpiece, animals captured in mid-motion on bookends, birds in flight suspended from the ceiling beams. Some were painted in muted colors; others were left in their natural wood tones, the grain itself becoming part of the artistry.
“You made these,” she said, running her fingers over a fox frozen in a cautious crouch on an end table.
Noah busied himself checking the perimeter windows, his back to her. “Keeps my hands busy.”
“They’re extraordinary.” She moved to examine a great horned owl, its feathers so delicately carved they appeared almost soft to the touch. “I had no idea you were an artist.”
“I’m not.” His voice had a hard edge to it. “It’s just something to do when sleep won’t come.”
Jennifer recognized deflection when she heard it, but she let it go. There would be time for questions later. For now, the sight of an actual bed, even the simple one visible in the loft, made her realize just how bone-weary she was. It felt like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, maybe months.
Noah seemed to read her thoughts. “Get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”