Page 2 of High Velocity

They say it becomes second nature at some point, but the fact is about fifteen percent of the body I was born with is missing, which isn’t that easy to adjust to. Every time I catch a glimpse of myself coming out of the shower, I’m still startled at my own reflection. This mental image I have of my former intact body persists, and I’m shocked each time to find part of it gone. Even in my dreams, I still have my right leg.

I went through a really dark phase for a while, especially right after my official medical discharge came through. Special ops had been my dream and I worked my ass off to get there. The training was brutal, my position on my team hard-earned, and our operations were dangerous, but I loved every goddamn minute of my years in service. I was good at my job too; as a sniper I could pick off a moving target at a thousand yards.

But in the end, my excellent marksmanship was irrelevant. We were on our way back to base when we ran into an ambush. Grenades from a Russian GM-94 were launched into the lead vehicle I was in. I don’t remember much more than one minute I was looking forward to a shower and a hot meal back at base, and the next there was a scream, right before a blinding flash of light and a loud explosion filled the Humvee. The last thing I remember is the acrid smell of burning flesh.

A sound from across the creek drags me from my slippery slide down memory lane. Lifting my rifle to my shoulder, I squint through my night-vision scope to see the large lumbering shape of the bear moving out of the trees toward the water.

I wait a moment, allowing him to step into the creek for a drink, as I take in a breath and let it out slowly, grounding myself. I place the reticle of my scope right behind the bear’s front shoulder, just as the animal raises its large head, blocking my side shot. From across the creek, I swear the animal is looking right at me, but I can’t let it unnerve me. If this was just another bear or any other hunt, I might hesitate to pull the trigger, but this bear clearly has no fear and could pose a serious danger to the public.

Determined, I reset my scope, my target now low, between the bear’s eyes at the bridge of his snout. The animal still hasn’t moved a muscle when I slowly depress the trigger. The crack of the rifle reverberates loudly in the early morning silence, and the bear drops down instantly.

It’s not until I start wading across the creek I detect the smell of a wood fire. Odd, there’s not much out here except for JD’s vacant trailer. I turn my head and find it just a few hundred yards from where I came out of the trees.

The first thing I notice is the faint glow of light through the small kitchen window and it stops me in my tracks. Next, I catch movement on the bank of the creek, and see the outline of a woman, her arms stretched out in front of her. She’s holding a gun in her hands and it’s aimed at me.

“You’re on private property!” she yells.

Her voice sounds familiar, but at this distance I can’t make out her face.

“I’m well aware,” I call back, changing direction as I start moving toward her.

Whoever she is, I’m pretty sure she has no business being here or I would’ve known about it.

“Not another step,” she warns me as I approach.

Now that I can see more of her, I have no trouble recognizing her voice. In fact, I’m surprised I didn’t recognize her sooner. Although, in my defense, the last person I expected to find camped out here in JD’s trailer is Special Agent Stephanie Kramer.

“Easy…it’s just me.”

I pull off the camo-print balaclava I covered my face with, and see her expression change as she recognizes me. She immediately lowers her gun, but keeps it in her hand by her side, aimed at the ground.

“Jackson. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I should ask you that question,” I return. “I live a few miles down the road and this is my friend’s land, but you’re quite a bit farther from home.”

I notice her eyes drifting over my shoulder toward the dead bear. I get the sense she’s not eager to share.

Too bad.

“Are you here on another case?” I push. “Does JD know you’re using his place?”

Her eyes come back to mine and her shoulders slump visibly.

“Yes, he does, and can you just forget you saw me?”

It sounds more like a plea than a question, and either way, it’s a laughable request. Like I’d be able to forget, I’ve had a hard enough time forcing thoughts of her from my head when she was safely tucked away in Kalispell. There is no way I’d be able to ignore the fact she’s camping out right under my nose.

I’m also going to need a serious talk with my so-called friend, who is clearly keeping shit from me.

“Not a chance in hell,” I tell her honestly. “So you may as well clue me in. Are you here for work?”

Her gaze drifts again, but this time she answers with a shake of her head.

“I’m on a break. Call it a vacation. I just needed some peace and quiet.”

Something doesn’t quite ring true. The Stephanie Kramer I met last year does not take breaks or vacations. She struck me as a bit of a workaholic, someone who doesn’t have any quit in her and gives her all to the job. I recognized the drive. It’s the same one I used to have. I have a strong sense she’s not telling me the whole story.

“And you picked Libby?”

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