Page 5 of Montana Freedom

The town I’d passed through to get to this place wasn’t far. I remembered it exactly, like everything. And frankly, it was close enough I was surprised I hadn’t seen anyone around the cabin. But it was well hidden. Simon wouldn’t have anything in his name that wasn’t as perfect as possible. He stayed off the grid, and I’d learned from the best.

If only I couldfind him.

Once I knew where he was, I could take what I knew to the police and trade the information for my safety.

My stomach rumbled again. Covering my face with my hands, I breathed deeply. The anxiety was rising, like it did whenever I thought about leaving this place and being seen. It was so strong and so sudden, I’d given up on the thought of leaving the cabin a week after I got here.

But I didn’t have a choice now. If I didn’t leave and go get food, I was eventually going to starve. I couldn’t survive on water alone.

I traced the route in my head. Down the rocky, treacherous mountain path and to the main road, past ranch after ranch and open fields that somehow made me feel just as anxious as enclosed spaces, and finally to the town. On my way through it, I’d spotted a small grocery store that would do the job. Smaller likely meant less security, which was perfect.

I’d found a laptop here, along with a rickety Wi-Fi network that seemed about as slow as I’d heard dial-up internet was in the nineties, but it worked. I was careful not to do anything that would identify me, though every time I logged on was a risk if Simon had someone watching for blips from his safe houses.

Still, I checked every couple of days and scanned the news stories just to see if he’d been caught. Nothing so far.

I did my usual sweep of those headlines as I waited for it to get darker. This far north, it took forever for the sun to finally set and even longer for the sky to go completely black. I couldn’t wait that long, but when the sun finally sank below the horizon, I grabbed one of the ski masks in the closet full of hunting and winter clothes, took a deep breath, and forced myself to leave the cabin, locking the door behind me.

Out here, there was too much noise. Every shivering leaf and snapping twig made me jump, and I barely got the keys into the door of the old car because my hands were shaking.

“Breathe,” I told myself once I was in the car. “It’s okay. Keep breathing.”

I’d always been an anxious person, and none of this helped. Desperation was my only driver at the moment. She was going to be the one getting me through the next couple of hours.

Once I crept down the mountain road—calling it a road was gracious—I waited for long minutes to make sure no cars were visible in either direction before pulling out onto the road and heading for the town. The ranches I passed were peaceful and quiet, even though I didn’t like the wide-open space. There was even one ranch with walls like I’d never seen before. It looked more like a fortress or a jail than a ranch, but I knew full well some of the people here wanted to protect what was theirs at any cost.

The lights of the town came into view, and I slowed down. Not too much. I didn’t want to attract attention for being too careful, just like I didn’t want to speed through like I was a NASCAR driver.

The grocery store was exactly where I’d remembered, of course. Arrowhead Grocers. Small and very clearly closed, which was what I’d hoped.

A narrow alley between the buildings was just wide enough for me to pull the car in. Luckily, it was late enough no one was around on the streets either.

The alley behind the store was dark, but I could just make out a window into the back of the store. Perfect. If I was lucky, there would be no security tied to that window. Frankly, I didn’t know enough about security systems to have an accurate guess, but in a small town with a small grocery store, I guessed—I hoped—they were more worried about the front door than a back window.

Pulling on the ski mask, I moved quickly. I had to. Otherwise, I was going to lose my nerve. I’d already remembered to grab the tire iron from the trunk that I’d spotted when I’d first taken the car after that night when everything happened. In the chaos, when they thought I was going to get checked out by the paramedics, I was slipping out the opposite door and getting the hell out of there.

The window smashed under the metal, and I ducked away from the shattering debris, protecting my eyes. I kept myself crouched low, waiting for any sign of an alarm or someone noticing the crash. Nothing. After a couple minutes, my lungs began to ease, and I needed to move. I couldn’t discount a silent alarm, but it was already too late to worry about that.

Using the tire iron, I knocked the rest of the glass out of the frame so I wouldn’t impale myself, and I looked around. A couple of trash cans and boxes. A dumpster. The dumpster looked the safest. I pulled it over as quickly and as silently as possible, hoisting myself up onto the lid. For once, I was glad to be tiny. It made not breaking the dumpster lid and fitting through the window a lot easier.

Peeking inside, I saw a small stock room. Perfect. Getting in would be fairly easy. I would collect what I needed, then use the back door. By the time any alarm was answered, I would be gone.

I hoped.

Carefully, I maneuvered myself through the window feet first.

It was awkward with nothing below the window to catch me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Pain bloomed down my torso, and I cursed, dropping the rest of the way and feeling a sickening pull in my side. Glancing up, I saw the source—an old piece of the metal window frame bent out of shape, which I’d just shoved myself onto.

“Fuck.” Gritting my teeth, I pressed a hand to my shirt, already feeling wetness beneath it. Adding bandages and alcohol to the list of things I needed, I forced the injury out of my head. It wasn’t a deep wound. Instinctually, I knew this wasn’t life-threatening. I could make it until I got back to the cabin and treat it there. Getting in and out of here with the supplies I needed as quickly as possible was far more important.

I found a light, and I flipped it on. My clothes were nondescript, and both my face and hair were hidden by the ski mask. If there were cameras—and I didn’t see any—I would simply be a small person in jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that was way too big.

I scanned the shelves of the stock room so I could know what was here if I needed to come back later. And then I went to work. I moved to the front of the store, quickly and quietly. If I moved too fast, I could make a mess, and that would slow me down.

I spotted an alarm at the front of the store, blinking and armed. I wasn’t sure why it hadn’t been connected to the back window, but I counted my blessings.

I picked up a plastic basket and started to fill it. Bandages, alcohol, ibuprofen, and antibiotic cream. Cans of condensed soup. Instant potatoes. Things I could cook with my limited resources at the cabin—a camp stove and water.

Protein bars. Chicken and tuna packets and some pepperoni. Soon, the first basket was full. I put it by the back door and grabbed a second one. It was all I would be able to carry to the car.

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