Page 53 of Love Me Fearless

I bump over a series of potholes. “I got called out and Beth’s not going to be home until later.”

“Of course. What’s the rescue?”

“Fallen hiker near Elk Flats. Probably in one of those mine shafts up there.”

“Be safe,” she says.

“Always.” I end the call and settle into the drive but my thoughts are like worms under my skin. All week, I’ve been going to bed angry and I waking up frustrated. At myself. At her. At us.

Maybe I don’t know how to be in a lasting relationship, but it doesn’t mean I’m incapable. I could try. For her.

Elk Flats is north of Finn River about forty-five minutes, and the York Springs trailhead is another fifteen to the east, in the Bitterroots. I park next to a row of vehicles, one of them a Finn River Sheriff’s Department SUV—Everett’s rig. A handful of volunteers are gathered at the back of Captain Parker Greely’s blue Ford, some I recognize from the search for Marin, plus Jeremy, who gives me a hang-loose sign from the other side of the group. I’ve been meaning to call him, but it’s not like I have a lot of leisure time right now.

No Troy today, but I didn’t expect him.

Everett breaks from the huddle and hurries over.

“I’m so glad you’re still in town,” he says, his sharp blue eyes tense. “The guy is down at least twenty feet with a broken ankle.”

“Mine shaft?”

“Yeah. And it’s not the first time we’ve had to pull him from one of these. Badger Thornton. Cantankerous old salt.”

“Frequent flyer, huh?”

“Yep.” He shakes his head. “We’ve had more technical rescues in the last two years than in the previous ten. I hope it’s not a trend.”

“Captain Greely ever talk about giving his volunteers technical training?”

“Maybe to the sheriff,” Everett replies with a shrug. “Think you could give me a crash course before you ship out?”

“Be happy to,” I say.

He glances back at the crew assembling for the rescue, his hands on his tool belt. “Well, we got a murder to solve. Later.”

I’m tempted to ask about the case, but we both have work to do. “Later.”

As I walk to join the group, one of the volunteers glances over his shoulder. He’s got short brown hair and a baby face. Red chamois shirt tucked into hiking pants. Then it hits me. He’s the guy I saw holding the door open for Ava at the café last Sunday.

Her date.

His face is unreadable, but I’m sure mine isn’t.

What the hell is he doing here?

I step in next to him as Captain Greely starts pointing at the map spread on the tailgate. While we get the debrief on our assignment, I size this guy up. He’s got a studious air about him, like a professor, and his skin is pale, like he spends a lot of time inside. He must have money because his hiking boots and gear are top-of-the-line.

The guy shifts on his feet and shoots me a sideways glance, like I’m making him uncomfortable.

Good.

Is he a regular volunteer with Greely’s crew? I don’t rememberhim from our search for Marin, but he wouldn’t have stood out to me then.

Captain Greely finishes his speech and hands out radios. I’ve already planned ahead to how I’ll access the mine and evac the patient, so I take off up the trail at a jog, cinching my pack straps tighter as I go.

I could tackle this rescue one-handed, plus the experience will help keep my skills sharp. The longer I’m away from my crew and our training, the softer I get.

Behind me, the chatter and footsteps from my fellow volunteers fades to nothing. No surprise Professor Baby Face can’t keep up.

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