Page 25 of High Frequency

“About Aspen. Nobody here knew either.”

“What?” I react a little sharply. “Why would you not share that with your family?”

She faces away from me and stares out the side window, and for a few moments I think perhaps this conversation is done.

“Too many reasons and, in hindsight, all of them stupid,” she finally admits. “Just another mistake to compound all the mistakes that got me there in the first place. I guess I wanted to prove—to them, or maybe to myself—I wasn’t that reckless, impulsive, problem-child anymore. That I didn’t need rescuing and could handle my own problems like any normal functioning adult.”

I don’t bother pointing out that a normal functioning adult wouldn’t have kept a child a secret, since I get the sense she’s already come to that conclusion on her own.

It explains why Sully never mentioned anything about Sloane becoming a parent. He didn’t know. I imagine talking to her uncle and her mother cannot have been easy conversations. There’s no need for me to add to that. If anything, she could probably do with a bit of support.

“You know, I think it took a whole lot of strength to recognize you needed help, and even more guts to return home to find it.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch her nodding as she swallows hard.

“You do realize I wasn’t born here, and lived here less time than I have anywhere else, right?”

I grin. Sloane was never good at taking compliments.

“Doesn’t matter,” I counter. “You and I both know Libby is home.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but a faint smile touches her lips when she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the seat.

It’s a twenty-five minute drive from the restaurant home, and by the time we drive through White Haven, just south of Libby, Sloane is asleep in the passenger seat. Already sleep-deprived, I’m sure the full stomach and the two beers she had at dinner helped knock her out.

She needs the sleep, so I take the next exit off the highway. Using the backroads past the regional airport will force me to go slow and add some much-needed time to our drive home. It also gives me a chance to process what she told me.

Her choices wouldn’t have been mine, but I can see how she came to make them. Sometimes when you try so hard to do the right thing, you end up making the wrong decisions. I might know a thing or two about that.

Hell, life might look a whole lot different now, had I done things differently all those years ago. At the time I was overwhelmed trying to take care of my mother, it sucked up every bit of free time I had. Not that I’m complaining, I feel lucky I was able to do that much for her. However, medical bills were piling up and I was losing the battle to keep my head above water. I had less than nothing to offer someone else.

I always thought, once Mom died, I’d be in a better place to start something. But I never got the chance, because by the time I buried my mother and started getting my life together, Sloane was already gone.

I glance in the rearview mirror to check on Aspen. Her seat faces backward, but a mirror installed against the backrest allows me a view of her sleeping face. Then I look at her mother beside me, her soft mouth slightly open, and my chest gets tight.

For just a moment, I allow myself to imagine they belong to me.

Eight

Sloane

It’s much tougher going this time.

Clearly the department ATV isn’t as suited to the sometimes dense tree growth, and I end up having to find alternate routes to get where I want to go.

After almost getting lost twice when I veered away from the trail, I end up abandoning the vehicle and continuing on foot. It’s a rough trek, but at least I can follow the fading paint marks the HMT team left behind.

I suppose I could’ve gone back to the ranch to see if I could borrow Pudding, but that would’ve meant likely bumping into Dan, again. I’m pretty sure he would’ve insisted on coming with me, and I’ve decided it’s safer for me to avoid the high frequency he seems to emit that I find myself drawn to.

Dan is one of those people who seems clear on who he is, and what he wants. He’s stable, grounded, and a genuinely good person. He’s everything I’m not and, therefore, is on an entirely different wavelength.

I didn’t see it years ago, but it is obvious to me now.

Anyway, I’m up here by myself because I need to double-check on something.

Last night after Dan brought me home, I put Aspen to bed and lay down myself, but after that nap in the car, sleep wouldn’t come. I ended up opening my laptop to work on the photos. It was almost three this morning when I spotted something that looked out of place. I couldn’t distinguish what exactly I was looking at—I enlarged it to the point the picture became grainy—but the contrast of the bright yellow color stood out.

This morning, I tried running it through several filters at the office, but couldn’t get the image any clearer. I knew I had to go back up there, see if I could get a visual. So I asked Betty if the Sheriff’s Office happened to have high-powered binoculars I could use. Jason Heany, one of the deputies, overheard me and loaned me a pair he uses for hunting. Nice guy, he also helped me hook the trailer with the ATV up to one of the department’s Ford F-150 crew cabs.

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