High Intensity (High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G #2)

Chapter 5

Five

Jillian

I dislike hospitals.

Kind of ironic, given I worked in one for at least a decade. Still, they represent a bit of a trigger for me now. Not just the hospital itself, but the smells, the sounds, the sense of pain and fear and anxiety is almost tangible within these walls. So strange how I am able to handle visiting when I have my animals with me, but without them I become overwhelmed.

Sloane and Aspen were taken into a treatment room, while I stayed behind in the waiting room. I told her I’d wait here, but that was over half an hour ago and I’m finding it progressively difficult to breathe.

I shoot Sloane a text and don’t go too far. Just outside, in the small park at the edge of the parking lot behind the hospital, I find a bench. It’s still pretty chilly out and I have to brush a hefty layer of snow off before I can sit, but the sun is out and it’s very peaceful. No one is here.

It’s a good spot to just sit here with my feelings, which inevitably triggers the tears. I allow myself a few minutes of grace before I pull it together again. This is how I deal with grief, letting it out in controllable measures, otherwise I’m afraid, even after all these years, it will sweep me away.

I haven’t shared my past with anyone here, mainly to give myself a break. It’s not that any of it is a secret—anyone doing a little background search will be able to find every sordid detail—but I wanted a chance to establish myself in this new place as just a woman, not a woman with a cargo hold full of baggage.

I lived like that for the eight years I remained in Missoula, where every day I risked being confronted with a reminder that would hit like a punch to the gut. It could come out of nowhere, finding me vulnerable and unguarded.

The last time that happened, I was going about my business, grabbing a few groceries on my way home. I was testing some avocados for ripeness when I caught sight of them. They didn’t see me at first, and I was frozen on the spot. By the time I forced myself to move, Chris noticed me and his expression went from surprise to one of guilt in an instant. It took me a second to figure out why, and the next moment I was walking out of the store, my cart left in the middle of the produce department.

That experience triggered my decision to move here to Libby. To a clean start. But I suspect it won’t be long before my history will start coming to light. It’s that Sloane was distracted by her baby’s condition, otherwise I’m sure she would’ve probed my admission I am an RN. More importantly, why I’m no longer working as one.

I don’t know if I’m ready to talk, but I’m not going to lie about it.

“Here you are.”

I turn around to find Sloane walking up and immediately get to my feet.

“I needed some fresh air. How is she? Where is she?”

“She’s dehydrated, and because of her age they want to treat her here. The doctor agreed with you on the strep throat, but he swabbed her to make sure. They put us in a room, and she’s asleep now.” She restlessly glances back at the hospital. “I don’t have any idea how long we’ll be here, and I didn’t want you waiting around forever.”

I hook my arm through hers and steer her back to the entrance.

“If they’ll allow me in the room with you, I’ll stick around for a bit.”

The fact she doesn’t immediately tell me that’s not necessary assures me I’m making the right call.

“Have you had a chance to get in touch with Dan yet?”

“He’s on a search, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Fair enough.” I suggest carefully, “But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to contact your uncle, or someone at the ranch to let them know what’s going on.”

She immediately shakes her head. “There’s no need to worry anyone.”

I squeeze her arm. “Unless someone drops by your house—maybe to see if you need help after the storm—and finds your Jeep in the driveway but no sign of you or Aspen. They’d worry unnecessarily.”

One of the reasons Sloane and I get along so well is because we’re very similar. Both of us are fiercely protective of our independence. Sometimes at our own detriment.

“You’re pushy,” she mumbles as we make our way into the hospital.

“You’re stubborn,” I fire back.

We stop at the nurses’ station, where we’re told Aspen is still sleeping, and yes, I’m allowed to join Sloane in the room. She appears tiny in the big crib, which looks more like a dog kennel on wheels. It doesn’t seem to bother her, she looks quite peacefully asleep with her hands relaxed by her face, and her mouth soft and slightly open.

She’s so precious.

When I turn around, Sloane is on her phone, typing a message. Good.

“I let Ama know,” she volunteers when she catches me looking.

I’ve only met Ama briefly, but it was clear off the bat the woman is a force. I can see why Sloane would pick her to pass the information to.

“Good call.”

“Why don’t you sit down?”

Sloane takes the chair beside the crib and points me to the recliner in the corner of the room. I have a feeling there’s a reason she wants me comfortable. The moment my ass hits the seat I’m proven right.

“So…a nurse? How come I didn’t know this?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, it’s never really come up. I haven’t worked as a nurse in eight years.”

“Why not? What made you change careers?”

A little honesty goes a long way. At least I hope it does.

“I specialized in palliative care; it starts to wear on you after a while.”

A sympathetic expression slides over her face.

“I can only imagine. That has to be a tough job.”

“It is. Although, it’s gratifying at the same time. Supporting terminal patients and their families through those final steps feels like a privilege too.”

“Right. Still…” she nudges gently, probably sensing this isn’t the easiest subject for me.

“Still…” I pick up on her prompt, “It’s hard dealing with someone else’s loss when you’re grieving yourself.”

“You lost someone,” she confirms.

I swallow the lump in my throat and blow out a sharp breath.

“I did, but I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it.”

She tosses me a sad little smile. “Then don’t. Why don’t you tell me how you ended up working with the dogs?”

I’m grateful she steers the conversation in a different direction, and for the next half hour or so, I tell her about volunteering at the animal shelter because I had to stay busy but couldn’t handle people. I share how I ended up with Peanut and Nugget, who were deemed unadoptable, but ended up being exceptionally wonderful support dogs to me, and as it turns out, to others as well.

Sloane doesn’t pry, but seems genuinely interested when I tell her about my growing passion to give these animals, rejected by the people who were supposed to care for them, a new purpose in life. It’s my favorite topic and I’m so deep into it, at first, I don’t notice the door opening, but Sloane does.

“What are you doing here?”

Dan stalks into the room glaring at her, all broody and hot under the collar.

“What am I doing here? Where would you have me be when our daughter is lying in a hospital bed?”

Yikes . I sense a come-to-Jesus discussion in the air, and they certainly don’t need me for that. But when I ease my way to the door, I find it blocked.

By Lucas Wolff.

Wolff

“Out.”

I’m surprised when she plants a hand in the middle of my chest and forcefully backs me out of the room.

“Whoa, hold on.”

“Let’s give them some space,” she mutters, not letting up.

I cast one last glance into the room before Jillian pulls the door shut. Then I follow her down the hall to a waiting area.

“How’s the baby?” I ask when I take a seat next to her, running my hand through hair that’s getting too long again. I could braid it.

“Suspected strep throat, and she’s dehydrated. They want to at least make sure she can keep liquids down.” She shifts in her seat, turning toward me. “I thought you guys were out on a call. In fact, so did Sloane, which is why she didn’t wanna bug Dan.”

Guess that makes sense. We were, in fact, out on the missing airplane call most of the day, but because of the cold temperatures, Jonas doesn’t want us out there after sundown.

It’s a complicated search, because all we have are the coordinates where the private jet last pinged on the radar before it disappeared. That doesn’t necessarily mean that’s where the plane went down. All day, helicopters have been flying over Elephant Peak while we set up a base of operations along a forest development road near the Howard Lake Campground. With any visible irregularities they reported, Sully would dispatch our state-of-the-art Matrice drone to get a closer look. Based on his findings, we’d go in with the horses, but so far today we haven’t had much luck.

If that plane went down and on the off-chance someone survived the impact, it is doubtful they’d last the night.

None of us had been happy going home for the night, but there is little we can do in the dark, except risk the safety of our horses.

“We were out, but were losing light. We’ll be heading back out there first thing tomorrow. Dan happened to be in my truck with me when Ama called him so we came straight here. He’s in a bit of a state, but he loves that little girl,” I add in defense of my teammate.

She grins. “I know. And Sloane is still not used to sharing responsibilities when she’s been used to carrying those by herself,” she points out, defending her friend.

“Fair enough,” I concede, nodding.

“So, no sign of the plane?” She diverts conversation to the search.

“Not yet. Either it veered completely off its set course or the snow is obscuring any signs of a possible crash site.”

She leans forward with her forearms on her knees, twisting her head to look at me.

“How many people on board?” she asks somberly.

She knows as well as I do, even if someone survived the crash, it’s unlikely they would’ve survived the elements for long.

“Three crew and four passengers,” I share. “The plane belongs to Vallard Logistics and members of the Vallard family were on board.”

We were told it was the family matriarch plus her oldest son and his family who were on the plane. The son is acting CEO for what apparently is a large, worldwide transportation company. We’re talking big money, which is probably why Ewing said we’d not only have multiple state and federal agencies involved in this search, but the press wouldn’t be far behind.

“Oh no. A family? Kids?”

“I heard one kid. An eleven-year-old girl, both her parents and her grandmother.”

Jillian turns to face away, softly shaking her head.

Yeah, I feel the same way. Any time kids are involved—hurt, or possibly dead—it hits hard.

I’m sure I am not the only one still experiencing an occasional nightmare after we discovered the body-dumping ground of a couple of perverts who snatched young girls off the street last summer. We were able to rescue only one girl who survived hell and will never know a carefree life again.

Jillian had been the one to actually find what was left of the bodies of the other missing girls with the help of her cadaver dog, Emo.

“Do you think my guys and I could be of help?” she suddenly asks.

I glance over. “Right now it would be a wild-goose chase. Maybe once we have a more defined area, but it’ll be tough going on foot.”

She straightens her back. “I have snowshoes.”

“I’ll mention it to Jonas,” I offer.

She nods and her eyes drift off to some place unseen. We sit lost in our own thoughts for a bit, but I’m the one to break the silence when I remember a promise I made this morning.

“By the way, sorry I didn’t end up doing your driveway as promised. Were you able to find your shovel?”

“I did, and as I told you this morning I would, I managed fine doing it myself.”

The clearing of a throat has me turn my attention to the door where Dan is standing, his eyes narrowed on me. I’m guessing he caught some of that exchange and has some thoughts on the subject, but to his credit, he keeps them to himself.

“I’m gonna stay here with Sloane,” he announces. “You guys should go home.”

“Then how are you gonna get back?” I ask him.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Why don’t you take my truck,” I offer, fishing the keys from my pocket and tossing them at him. “I’ll catch a ride with Jillian.”

Dan’s head snaps around to check on Jillian, who is looking at me, a smirk tugging at her pretty mouth.

“Sure, I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.”