Page 69 of My Three Mountain Men

“There’s no longer a murder investigation, Miss Summers,” Officer Filomena explained with a grimace. “Just a whole lot of paperwork for me to undo.”

“But Aimee VanBuren—”

“Is from Nevada and out of my jurisdiction at the moment. You can get back to your life, Miss Summers, and I’ll send for you when—or if—I need you.”

I balked, shaking my head.

“W-what if she comes for me again?” I demanded, swallowing. “She’s nuts! You’ve seen what she’s capable of!”

“There’s a warrant out for her arrest. I wouldn’t go home if I were you. Stay with friends or family until she’s in custody.”

As it turned out, I couldn’t go home, anyway. I’d been evicted for non-payment of rent in the three months that I’d been gone. With LA’s rents being what they were, my landlord couldn’t wait to see me out to jack up the prices for his next unsuspecting tenant.

But there was a comfort in knowing that Aimee couldn’t track me down so easily. On the other hand, I also couldn’t get online with any great ease to make money.

I reached out to my sponsors, and some were happy to hear from me.

“Oh, this will do wonders for your views!” Selma Vischer squeaked. “Let me see what I can draw up for you. How soon can you get back online?”

“I-I just need a few days to regroup. I’ve kind of been through an ordeal,” I reminded her.

“I know! That’s more the reason to get out there and tell your story, honey!” Selma insisted. “Bank on it! Sell it! Milk all those sympathy votes. If you play this right, you’ll be bigger than Dixie by the end of the week! Don’t wait too long, or people will just be onto the next trend already!”

I swallowed, my pulse quickening. “Noted,” I mumbled. “I-I’ll be in touch.”

Hanging up, I sat in my tiny motel room near the airport, the weird din of the city wearing on my nerves.

I couldn’t do anything until Aimee was caught, or I was going to endanger myself.

There was nothing I could do but sit there and wait for word, getting broker and sadder by the minute.

CHAPTER30

Brooks

Overnight, spring sprung as it did on the mountain. Buds popped up bravely through the white of the melting snow. Berries appeared among the growing greenery through the wooded area, and the sun grew stronger to dry up the excess wetness along the pathways.

Typically, this was when Knox retreated from his communication room with a wicked grin on his face to inform us of the indecent state of affairs in which the world was, the realm that we were so far removed from, it was just like reading a dystopian novel by now.

Ryder’s surly mood brightened, noticeable only to Knox and me when March tinkered away to the promise of April.

I looked forward to hours of walking along the mountainside, befriending the waking animals who snuck out of their dens.

Typically. As in, when a normal spring arose.

This year was not a normal year.

To me, it felt as if winter had never really left, despite the brightness of the sun, which started to wear away on my nerves. The gold rays reminded me of Simone’s hair, the tweeting of the birds akin to the sweetness of her voice.

I took over the cooking as I had before she’d come, and my cousins were quick to compare the difference in our styles.

“What is this shit?” Knox growled. “How do you burn eggs?”

“They’re not burned,” I snapped. “And if you don’t like them, make them yourself.”

“You have a job. Do it properly. Or did you get so used to Simone doing everything for you that you just forgot how to be useful at all?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who holes himself up in the communication room all day,” I retorted.

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