Page 5 of Deadly Target (Rocky Mountain Courage 2)

TWO

Fishing. Rock climbing. Fishing. Baseball. Fishing.

Nathan Campbell hiked down the trail toward the Grayback River, following his dad—a man he hadn’t seen in person in seven years, when he was twenty-five. Nathan wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Dad suddenly showing up today. Memories crashed over him. Sure, Dad had been there for him when he was growing up, teaching and coaching him in outdoor activities to fill his schedule so he never got into trouble. But he left Nathan and Mom twenty-two years ago. Nathan didn’t blame either of his parents, but it was a life-changing event that had blasted a big hole in his heart.

And now as he traipsed behind his detective father, Nathan considered that he’d become a detective too. He had literally followed in his father’s footsteps—unintentionally, of course. How had that happened? He didn’t need the man’s approval, or even his respect. Still, Dad had given Nathan a good foundation.

“Almost there,” Dad huffed over his shoulder.

At fifty-seven, Newt Campbell was still in great shape and only a little out of breath. Nathan was probably in the best shape of his life. He had to be since he was a search and rescue technical climber as well as a member of the evidence dive team.

They approached the river at the point where it calmed after spilling from the old dam created by a series of buttresses built decades ago. Boiling rapids echoed from the narrow part of the canyon over a quarter mile downriver.

Memories gushed over him like the rushing water.

Why’d you come back? Why had Dad brought him here to fish after sharing a few phone calls here and there over the years? Was he sick? Did he have regrets and this was his way of trying to make some new memories or revisit old ones? Nathan needed to stop trying to figure it out and let his father explain.

“What about this spot?” Dad smiled, but he couldn’t hide his troubled expression.

“It’s perfect.” This had been their spot to fish back when Dad and Mom were still together. Nathan hated that he chafed at the memories—good memories of a solid family and a good father. Those had all been dashed. He shook off his growing agitation.

Dad opened up the bait box. “I fished here when I was growing up. Funny thing about life. When I was a kid, I never imagined I’d bring my son here.” He gestured to his right. “And that dam’s been here even longer than that. I’m surprised they haven’t replaced it already. I thought we could fish here today before everything’s ruined.”

“What are you talking about?” Nathan baited his hook.

“That new copper mine they’re putting in upriver.”

“They’re using a new method, Dad. Environmentalists and new laws won’t let them otherwise.”

“Whatever you say. We’ll see.”

“You came all the way here just to fish on the river before it gets ruined?” Nathan’s laugh leaned toward incredulous.

“Nope.”

Didn’t think so.

They stood on the bank, baiting their hooks. Nathan was struck by the fact he had dreamed of this moment for far too long since Dad left. It was like the little boy in him came running back, filling his thirty-two-year-old self with the old feelings and creating new ones. He had more “dad issues” than he wanted to admit.

Dad cast his line out ahead of Nathan, then gave Nathan a questioning glance as if to offer his help. Yep. Just like old times. Still, he could bask in the comfortable silence and enjoy this moment, despite the questions that remained. Life had a way of shifting so quickly, so suddenly, almost like a river could twist and turn and the rapids could boil underneath you and suck you under. Erin had come back too. Like that could change anything and he could somehow erase the last five years without her or the hurt she’d caused him.

Even if neither Erin nor his father stayed in Big Rapids, the secret dream he thought would never come true had happened this week. Suddenly and without explanation.

If he was admitting things to himself, he might as well go ahead and admit that he hoped Dad had come back to see him. Yep, Father-Issues-R-Us.

Dad’s pole suddenly arched and bobbed.

“You got one!”

Dad reeled it in easily enough, crouched, and lifted the cutthroat trout. He pulled the hook from its mouth and tossed it back in, then grinned up at Nathan. “I love to fish, but I’m not much for cleaning them up anymore.”

He reached into a small cooler he’d brought and grabbed two sodas, then handed one to Nathan. They popped the tops, and Dad lifted his in a toast. “To old times,” he said.

“To old times. It’s good to see you, Dad. You look good, maybe a little grayer at the temples, but no worse for the wear.”

Dad chuckled. “Glad you think so. Henry thought the opposite.”

“So you saw the sheriff?” Sheriff Henry Gibson was Nathan’s boss—directly, now that Sergeant Aaron Brady had moved on and they never filled the captain position. Budget cuts could be brutal.

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