The first three miles of paved road swept across an open field. Under the smoky haze, the tall prairie grasses mingled with bright splashes of scarlet and blue wildflowers. Then the road turned to graded gravel, still two lanes but bumpy. The scenery closed in around them as they entered a narrow canyon.
While she guided the SUV through a series of turns that followed the winding path of Horny Toad Creek, they chatted about family and how much Ty and Loretta missed living in the mountains. His dad wanted him to move back to Swain County and help out at the ranch.
“That would mean giving up your career,” Sam said. “There’s not much need for an FBI special agent around here.”
He exhaled a sigh. “You and Wade had the right idea. Decide where you want to live, and then find a way to make a living.”
When she and her husband started out, she hadn’t been so sure they’d made a good decision. They were newlyweds with six acres and a good well outside Woodridge. She’d just quit her cop job and was trying to make ends meet on one salary. Within two months, she was pregnant. While expecting and unemployed, she was able to oversee every step of the construction.
The house they built was perfectly tailored for them. She’d even made the kitchen counters a few inches taller so she didn’t have to stoop when she was chopping tomatillos for green salsa. She and Wade had made love in every room and on the deck and in the garage...
“The turn is coming up,” Ty said as he squinted toward the left side of the road.
“I know where it is.” She checked on the safe house whenever she was in the area. It hadn’t been occupied in months.
He took a water bottle from his gym bag, unscrewed the lid and poured a splash over a red bandana. Like Caleb, he tied the bandana across the lower half of his face.
She couldn’t stop herself from being Miss Know-It-All. “The fire marshal says the weave of a cotton bandana isn’t fine enough to prevent ash particles from getting through.”
“Don’t care,” he said. “The wetness makes breathing easier. Here’s the turnoff.”
After a quick left, she drove on a one-lane road that ascended a rugged slope. The safe house clung to the side of a granite cliff and faced away from the road. If she hadn’t known where she was going, Sam would never have found this place amid the rocks and trees.
When she exited her vehicle, the smoke swirled around her ankles in a thick miasma. From the wraparound porch of the house, she and Ty had a clear view of the wildfire. The blaze danced across the upper edge of a hogback ridge. With the sun going down, the billowing clouds of smoke turned an angry red. It looked like the gates of hell. A chopper flew over the leaping flames and dropped a load of retardant on the forest.
She watched as Ty wandered around to the side of the house toward the long attached garage. “Looking for something?”
“I’m being thorough.”
She noticed his hand resting on his belt near his holster, ready to make a quick draw. What was making him so suspicious? “Is there something I should know about?”
He joined her on the porch. “Long as I’m here, I might as well look around inside.”
His fingers hovered over a keypad outside the front door. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Do you happen to...?”
“Remember the code to deactivate the alarm?” She grinned and rattled off six digits. The Swain County sheriff always had the code. When the alarm went off, it rang through to her office, and she had to come up here to turn it off.
Before she could follow Ty inside, her cell phone rang. It was the fire marshal—a call she needed to take. As she answered, she signaled to Ty to go ahead without her.
“Marshal Hobbs,” she said, “what can you tell me?”
“The fire is mostly contained.” His voice was raspy. Sore throats must be an occupational hazard. “You won’t need to evacuate the town, especially not if it rains tonight like it’s supposed to.”
“That’s the good news,” she said. “What’s the bad?”
“Well, Sheriff, I’ve got a favor to ask. The chopper pilot spotted three hikers on the road by Horny Toad Creek. I can’t spare the men to pick them up. Could you take care of it?”
“No problem,” she assured him. “I happen to be in that area right now. How do you know they’re hikers?”
“The pilot said they were wearing backpacks. You know the look.”
“I sure do. Keep me posted on the fire.”
When Ty came out of the safe house, she waved him over to her SUV and told him about the hikers who needed a pickup. “I can’t imagine any sensible reason they’d hike near a wildfire. These guys must be thrill-seekers or morons.”
“Or reporters,” Ty said.
“Same thing.”
She’d had her fill of reporters after Wade’s death. They wouldn’t leave her alone, constantly pestered her for interviews or photos of her and Jenny. All she ever wanted was to grieve in private. But Wade’s accident was news.
One year and twenty-one days ago, he’d gone bow hunting with Ty and two other feds, including Ty’s boss, Everett Hurtado. A kayaker on the river had lost control in the rapids, and Wade had jumped into the frigid waters to rescue him. The kayaker had survived. Wade had been swept away by the white water. His body had never been found.
As Sam started the engine in her SUV, dark thoughts gnawed at the edge of her mind. She had plenty of things to worry about: the fire, the hikers, the lack of ventilation masks and Ty’s “important” news. But she could never escape the pain and the sorrow that had taken up permanent residence inside her. She’d never forget the loss of her husband. He was her soul mate, her dearest lover and best friend.
As she drove along the road that followed the twists and turns of the creek, she turned her head toward Ty. Might as well get this over with. “What’s this important thing you want to tell me?”
“You know, Sam, I can hardly look at you without thinking of Wade.”
“Back at you, Ty. You were one of his best friends. You grew up together.” She guided the SUV into a more open area that deviated from the path of the creek. “Is this important message about Wade?”
“How do you feel about him? Are you, maybe, looking at other men?”
“Hell no.” There was no other man, and there never would be. She only had room in her heart for Jenny and for Wade.
The road straightened out. The right side was a field behind a barbed-wire fence. To the left, a gently rising hillside climbed into a thick, old growth forest. If the fire got this far, these hills would go up like dry tinder.
Ty cleared his throat. “I was just thinking...”
“If you’re going to say that it’s time to move on, that I should get out there in the world and start dating, forget it. Don’t you dare tell me how to grieve.”
