Page 5 of Running to the Mountain Man

I shouldn’t approach. I need to call the police right away.

But the last time I called the cops, it didn’t go well.

My security cam had picked up some guy wandering onto my property and stealing my clothes and my firewood—and he even attempted to break into my truck. But that young cop shrugged and said he couldn’t do anything about it.

Something didn’t seem right with that guy. Mark or Brad was his name.

So, I take it upon myself to investigate the body and the area for clues.

Upon closer inspection, the man has two bullet holes in the back of his head, at close range. Anxiety builds in my veins. I look around for shell casings, but I see none. No other muddy footprints are evident on the ground. No signs of struggle.

Which could mean several things. One, he was killed elsewhere and dumped here while the snow was still thick on the ground. Or he was killed with a revolver, or someone was extra careful and picked up the casings. Third, there’s the most likely scenario that he was killed months ago and buried in the snow and then washed down the creek when the snow melted.

Whichever way it happened, there’s been a murder, and now I need to call somebody.

Shit.

This is not how I wanted to spend my birthday.

Chapter Three

Goldie

Well, that worked better than I thought it would.

I’m on my way to the storage silos while Peter is passed out cold after an unfortunate bout of violent nausea and diarrhea.

Hm. Something in the spaghetti sauce must not have agreed with him.

Ah, well. I did my best.

I move silently over the rutted paths of the compound to storage silo 7, which is where the medicine and survival gear are all kept. I go over the list of everything I need. Ready-to-eat meals, matches, a bedroll, antibiotics, a canteen, a water purifier, a flashlight, batteries and, of course, backpacks.

I don’t expect to need all this stuff, but who knows how long it will take before I’m settled. If I have to live at a campground until I get a permanent address, that’s what I’ll have to do.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Elder Nevyn, my idiot uncle, is blocking my path just as I think I’ve gotten in without anyone seeing me.

I smile brightly. “Elder Peter ran out of his antacid, so he sent me to get some.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. We’ve had a pretty busy night, this being our wedding day and all.”

“Maybe I should confirm that with him.”

I nod. “Normally, you should. But he’s all tuckered out. You don’t want to wake him up right now, do you?”

Nevyn glares at me and says, “Fine, but I’m going in there with you.”

“Fine.”

Well, crap. How am I going to get out of this?

He follows me inside the silo, and I can feel his creepy eyes on me as I scan the shelves. Everything I need is within reach, and this dude just won’t leave me the hell alone.

As if someone—finally—is looking down on me with favor, Nevyn’s phone rings.

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