But am I grasping for something? Because I want to save Naomi. Ever since I met her, my radar has been off.
"What brought you out here in this weather?" one of them asks, casual-like. Davis, he said his name was. "Not a great couple of days for hunting."
"Or fishing," Reynolds adds.
I run my palm down the back of my neck. Sheepish. "Well, I'm not sure I should admit this to law enforcement."
They share a look. "As long as you didn't kill anyone, I don't think you have anything to worry about," Davis says.
"Well, that bear she killed attacked a kid. And no one wasgiven a green light to hunt it, but that didn't really sit right with me, so I just sorta wandered out here with my gun…"
Reynolds laughs. "To see what happened?"
I chuckle too.
Look at us, all friendly.
Reynolds catches up, falling into step beside me. "Did she talk to you at all? Tell you anything?"
"Not much. Said the prison van crashed, and she took the opportunity to escape."
They exchange another look.
"That all?" Reynolds presses.
"Yeah. I was more concerned with staying alive than having a heart-to-heart." I add a chuckle. They crack smiles too. Oh yeah, we're all nice and chummy out here in the woods.
But underneath that false pleasant veneer, I can tell they’re treating me like a possible threat. Though I know they don’t know just how much. But I can’t figure out why. Are they just regular law enforcement who think I’m working with her? Or are they thetheyNaomi was worried about?
We reach the edge of the rushing stream. It's died down a little but is still swollen. The fallen tree I cut lies across it, marking it as the right spot.
"Should be about here, if the stream didn't carry it too far.”
Neither of them looks surprised. Neither of them scans the area, searching.
And that's when it all clicks. Why my dander was up. The direction they pointed when he asked me to lead the way. He pointed directly to where the Glock had fallen. He had 360 degrees to choose from, and he settled on the exact right one.
They don't need me to show them where it is.
They already know.
The Glock. There was a tracking chip in it. That's whythey knew where it was without me telling them. That's how they found us in the vast Montana wilderness.
I make my way down with Davis, and he makes a show of looking around for it. "Got it!" he says, pulling the gun out of the mud.
Reynolds trails a few feet behind us and racks my rifle. "This is a beautiful weapon."
I nod. "Thanks."
I can't see Davis’s eyes behind me, but I can see Reynolds check in with him.
I feel that same change in energy for the second time today. The stillness before the storm. The violence imminent, the darkness right before dawn breaks.
I wasn't going to harm them if they were true-blue officers of the law.
But I know men who have murder on their minds. And these men are aiming to kill me.
I know it deep in my bones.
