Page 105 of High Density

“Let’s stop up on that ridge,” JD suggests, pointing out a rocky ledge that should offer a nice view of the valley.

We tie the horses to a tree, and JD grabs the backpack he stuffed into Sterling’s saddle bag, before we climb the remaining distance to the rocky outcropping. The view from here is amazing. Your eye skips over the busier valley and goes straight for the mountains on the other side. The fall colors are stunning. Maybe not as famous as the ones in the New England states, but no less beautiful.

It’s warm for an early October day. I shrug out of my jacket I needed in the shade of the trees, but not sitting here on this rock in the sun. I lean back against JD, whose legs bracket mine.

I’m enjoying the silence we share. Every so often he feeds me a bite of cheese, or a piece of those delicious Honey Crisp apples Rachel sent us last week. It feels utterly indulgent and blissfully relaxing.

Then suddenly, JD’s hand appears in front of my face, instead of food dangling a silver chain with a gorgeously intricate, turquoise-and-silver pendant.

“It’s not safe to wear a ring when you’re working,” he says softly by my ear. “But it would be an honor if you would wear this on your heart, as a sign of my love for you. My shield on your heart and my promise to keep it safe forever.”

I tilt my head back and look up to see the love in his eyes.

“The honor is all mine.”

Stephanie

ThankGod for the small wood stove, I’d be freezing otherwise.

Of course, the downside is I have to go outside from time to time to grab some more firewood.

Not so bad during the day, when the temperatures venture into the fifties, but at night—when they dip below freezing—it’s still a shock to the system. Hopefully, by the time May comes along, I won’t need those extra blankets at night.

Not that I’m sleeping much, I spend most of my nights rewatching episodes ofHouse. I’m almost through season seven, which leaves me with just one more season to go. I hope my sleep improves before I run out of episodes, otherwise I’ll surely go nuts. The days are already hard enough to get through.

I can’t believe I’ve been hiding out here for close to two weeks already. In some ways it doesn’t feel quite that long, and yet, it seems like I left Kalispell ages ago. Maybe it’s just that I’m determined to bury the events leading up to my departure deep. Nothing I particularly care to be reminded of, but my mind won’t let me forget.

Then to add insult to injury, I was forced to take a leave of absence tosort myself out. My boss’s words, not mine, but they were delivered in the hospital by my bedside, where I was recovering from what appeared to be a cardiac event.

It wasn’t. According to the doctor, what I’d suffered was an anxiety attack. However, they did discover my blood pressure was concerningly high and I was put on medication for that.

When Don Bellinger—my boss at the Kalispell FBI office—walked into the hospital room the next morning, the serious expression on his face made it clear he didn’t come bearing good news. He explained the health scare had been the last in a culmination of reasons he felt it was better for me to take sometime off. It hadn’t been a question, it was clearly an order, and it couldn’t have hit me harder.

The FBI is my life. It has been for the past twelve years, and I don’t know anything else. Other than going to the gym regularly, I don’t really have anything but my work to keep me occupied. Which is why my life feels like an endless void now that I’ve been sidelined.

After only one week stuck in my apartment in Kalispell, I’d been climbing the walls. A random phone call from Janey—who I’d remained friends with after she’d found herself at the center of not one, but two intertwined cases I was working on last summer in Libby—gave me the idea a change of scenery might be better for me.

I don’t really have many friends outside of my colleagues, mostly because work takes up all of my time, but I connected with Janey. Probably because we’re not all that different. She’s a veterinarian, but she’s also a bit of a workaholic. Anyway, I ended up spilling the beans. I told her the entire sordid story and she immediately offered me a place to stay and lay low for a while.

That’s how I ended up in JD Watike’s trailer on the banks of Libby Creek.

JD is Janey’s man, and although they now live together at her place on the other side of the highway, he still has this trailer sitting on his pretty patch of land. I can see why he wouldn’t want to let go, it’s a beautiful spot. It definitely offers a better view than I had from my second-story apartment in Kalispell.

It’s also lonely though, something I never thought I’d feel. Other than Janey meeting me here with boxes of groceries when I arrived, I haven’t seen anyone. Besides the occasional sighting of wildlife, that is. However, I don’t know that I’m ready to face people just yet. I’ve spent enough time in Libby over the past years since I was transferred to the Kalispell office, I don’t thinkI’d be able to avoid bumping into someone I know. I’m feeling a bit too brittle, still.

Unfortunately, after two weeks here my groceries have dwindled to the point of a limp stalk of celery, a quarter onion, the butt end of my last loaf of bread, and half a jar of peanut butter. Not exactly the sum of a meal. I’m not going to have any choice but to hit up a grocery store once the sun is up, which should be in another half hour or so.

With the quilt wrapped around my shoulders, I get up, shove my feet in my Crocs, grab the bucket by the back door, and slide it open to get to the firewood I chopped and stacked on the deck yesterday afternoon. It actually felt good, doing something physical after weeks of inactivity, staring into space like a couch potato. It was a decent workout I’m still feeling in my arms and shoulders. I groan as I fill my bucket and lift it up.

A rustle draws my attention just as I’m about to step back inside. Swinging around, I squint into the morning’s deep shadows, trying to focus in on what I heard. As I scan the faintly visible tree line on the far side of the creek, I hear it again and my eyes snap in the direction of the sound.

Even with only the first faint hint of dawn in the sky, I have no trouble recognizing the large shape of a bear at the edge of the water on the other side of the creek. I can just see him off to my right where the creek bends out of sight. His front legs are in the water as he bends down for a drink, not paying me any attention. This is his domain, after all, and he’s at the top of the food chain.

Then suddenly his large head snaps up and he appears focused on something on this side of the creek. I can’t see what might’ve spooked him, but I jump when I hear the snap of a rifle shot.

Instinct has me drop the quilt and the bucket, and I duck inside, where my gun is sitting on the kitchen counter. When I slip back out, brandishing my weapon, I notice the bear is down.A splash of water has me glance to the far right, but I can’t see anything. Trees block my view of the creek as it meanders its way south. Careful not to make any noise, I move to the edge of the deck and step down, keeping my eyes peeled and my gun aimed at the spot where I heard the splash.

I stop in my tracks when I see a figure appear, crossing the icy waters of the creek.

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