"You a doctor?"
"Ranger. Combat medic trained. I know enough."
His voice is low. Short on words. He delivers information like he's giving a mission brief, and something about that steadies me more than any bedside manner would.
My pack is sitting on a table across the room. Pelican case next to it. Notebook on top. Exactly where I'd want to see them.
He follows my look.
"Checked it. Didn't read it. Figured you'd want to know it's here before you started asking."
"Thank you."
"You remember getting to me?"
"I remember the fall. I remember you carrying me up." Pieces coming back. "Someone was up there. On the ridge."
"Yeah."
"You saw him."
"Single male. Armed. Moving like he was looking for something specific."
I close my eyes. "Me."
The silence that comes after that is the kind of silence you can lean on. He doesn't rush it. Doesn't fill it.
When I open my eyes again, he's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, waiting.
"I'm Delilah Reyes. I'm a contract geologist. I was doing a survey for Crestview Resource Partners. The claim they're working up on the north ridge."
"Heard of it."
"The numbers they filed with the state are garbage. Ore grades don't match what's actually in the ground. I ran tests three times. The site's a shell. Whatever they're really doing up there, it isn't mining."
He takes that in without blinking. "Who'd you tell?"
"My project manager. He told me to lose the data. When I didn't, he asked who else I'd talked to. Three hours after that call, a truck I didn't recognize was parked at the head of my trailer. So I packed my samples and my notebook and I went into the backcountry."
"Smart."
"Until I twisted my ankle on a loose rock like an idiot."
"Not an idiot. Tired. Scared. Moving fast on unfamiliar terrain. Happens to pros."
I look at him. Really look. The compliment landed gentle. Not a line.
"What's your name?"
"Garrett Hawkins. People call me Hawk."
"Of course they do."
His mouth moves. Almost a smile. Doesn't quite get there.
"Tell me about the notebook."
I ease myself up on one elbow this time and he doesn't stop me, just watches to make sure I don't push it. "Assay data. GPS markers. Photographs of what's actually on the site. Trenches that aren't in the filings. A prefab structure on the west edge that isn't on any permit. Truck logs I pulled from their own loading pad."
