Page 127 of Death Valley

“…avalanche took out the eastern ridge,”Jensen’s low, gruff voice pulls me from sleep. “Sheriff says search and rescue can’t get up there for at least another week, maybe longer.”

I open my eyes to find him sitting near the window, his attention focused on his phone. When he notices me watching, his face softens. “I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey,” he says to me, setting the phone aside and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” I say, and it’s mostly true. The fog in my mind has cleared slightly, though each movement still sends pain radiating through my ribs. I probably won’t be riding again anytime soon.

At the thought of Duke, I look at him, wide-eyed. “The horses!”

“They’re all fine.”

“Duke!”

“Duke made it back. So did Jeopardy and the rest. All except Angus.”

I put my hand to my chest. “Oh no.”

“Oh, Angus is fine,” Jensen says with a chuckle. “But he’s a mule. He didn’t head back here, he ended up in someone’s backyard at Donner Lake. Swanky place too. Anyway, we got his ass back here in the end.”

I sit back with relief. “Okay. Well, now you need to tell me what happened with me. How did I get here?”

He gives me a grave look. “You were buried when the avalanche hit. I managed to stay anchored to a tree, but you were swept away.” His voice remains steady, but his hand tightens around mine. “When I found you, you weren’t breathing. I thought—” He breaks off, jaw tightening. “But then you gasped, and I knew we had a chance.”

I remember nothing of this—not the avalanche, not being buried, not Jensen finding me. The last clear memory I have is Adam’s death.

“You carried me out. All the way down the mountain? How?”

“Went back to the cabin, took down part of the wall that made the outhouse. Made a sled. Pulled you until we hit a forest service road near Sugar Bowl.” He shrugs, as if hauling an injured woman through miles of wilderness was nothing. “Turns out I knew the guy, Geoff. Got him to take us to the hospital where I called Margaret.”

“So what’s the official story?” I ask. “For Cole, Red, Hank, Eli?”

“Avalanche,” Jensen replies. “Sheriff’s already writing it up. Freak storm, unstable terrain. They know the weather was bad and they have proof of an avalanche at the trapper’s cabin. Four men presumed dead, bodies unrecoverable until spring thaw.” A humorless smile. “By then, there won’t be much evidence left to contradict the story.”

“And Marcus?” The question has been nagging at me, a loose thread in our fragile safety. “He’ll be looking for you.”

Jensen’s expression hardens. “Not for much longer. I’ve made a deal with the FBI.”

This catches me off guard. “A deal?”

“Immunity in exchange for testimony,” he explains, his voice carefully neutral. “Everything about his operation—the moneylaundering, the drug running, names, dates, accounts. Enough to put him away for decades.”

I process this information, immediately understanding the significance. “Your word against his won’t be enough.”

“It’s not just my word.” A hint of satisfaction crosses his face. “I’ve been gathering evidence for years. Insurance policy, in case things went south. Audio recordings, financial records, photos. Kept it all in a safety deposit box in Reno.”

“Smart,” I acknowledge. “You thought of everything. When did you set this up?”

“Called your boss, Carlos, from the hospital while you were getting a CT scan. Searched your car, found your badge, rest of your business cards. Said I had information on the Marcus Thorne organization, but I wanted guarantees.” Jensen’s thumb traces circles on my hand, a contrast to the tension in his voice. “Full immunity for past involvement, witness protection if necessary. They agreed within the hour. They’re watching him now, I guess. But we’re safe.”

The speed of the agreement tells me how badly the Bureau must have wanted Marcus.

“What happens now?”

“Now you rest,” Jensen says firmly. “Get your strength back.”

“And after that?” The question encompasses so much more than just my recovery. What happens to us? To whatever this is between us that started as antagonism and evolved into something neither of us expected?

Jensen moves closer, his weight shifting the mattress. “What do you want to happen, Aubrey?” His voice is quiet, serious.

---