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Outside Katelynn Pierce's travel trailer, Quint faced Mark, Will, and Anders. They'd finished their discussion on how to protect themselves knowing their enemies were around and had knocked off their last beer when Katelynn had shown up claiming she'd killed a man.
"She might not have tried to stab him in a vulnerable spot, but she got a main artery. He bled out quickly." Will looked over Quint's shoulder at the campground. "Why does the name Cord Miller sound familiar?"
"Back about eight years, Ken Powell hired him to set fire to the headquarters building." Quint ran his hand down his beard. "We let Miller go in favor of taking out Powell. Miller lives...lived up Cougar Gulch about a half mile from Lookout at the border of Idaho/Montana. He had a cabin up in the woods, kept to himself. If you believe the gossip, he was a mean drunk and paranoid. Some say he keeps his land boobytrapped. He has a brother. They're both a couple characters."
"No big loss," muttered Anders. "If he aligned himself with Powell, he's better off dead. We should've taken him out when we caught him and saved the woman the trouble. Tonight is on us."
Quint closed his eyes an extra beat, cushioning the guilt on his shoulders. He could've saved the woman's life from ruin if he would've killed Miller years ago. Now Katelynn would have to live with the fact she'd murdered someone for the rest of her life.
"Your property. Your call." Mark shrugged. "It's more important that whatever you decide to do with the body doesn't come back and bite us in the ass. Once the woman in your office comes down from the shock and gets a sense of right or wrong, and if she doesn't like the decision we've made, we'll be living life behind bars when she goes to the police and tells them what we've done."
Quint stepped back a couple of paces. He'd known something was wrong the moment Katelynn pulled up and admitted it was her first time with the travel trailer. Hundreds of campers stayed at the campground every year, and single women in an RV was a rare event. If they showed up by themselves, they usually stayed in a tent and worried about their safety against four-legged and two-legged creatures, not a travel trailer.
He looked up the road at headquarters. His decision would impact her. He could call the state police, and if he hid his past, the only inconvenience would be the presence of law enforcement hanging around him until the investigation ended. Without knowing the background on how Katelynn knew Miller, he couldn't even guess if tonight's accident was in self-defense or she murdered him on purpose.
He didn't want to know. Whatever had gone on inside the trailer was Katelynn's business.
Knowing, however the accident happened, he wouldn't want a woman to go to prison, or be put through the hell of living with her crime. He'd traveled that road himself.
"Let's get rid of the body," he said.
"We'll need to take him away. You don't want him on the property." Anders pulled his keys out of his pocket and looked at Mark. "Do you have your truck?"
"Yeah, I'll pull it over." Mark glanced at the nearby campers. "Are we going to have problems?"
"No. We'll keep the lights off. It's late enough, the campers won't notice a thing unless they're questioned tomorrow." He grimaced. "They might remember the noise of someone rolling around the loop, but that's all."
He hated the risk it put on him having a crime committed on his property. He'd worked at the campground since he was nineteen years old after his return from Mexico. For the next ten years, he worked side by side with the previous owner, learning the business. Saving all his money, he was able to buy the place for cash when ol' Sawyer retired and moved to Arizona.
His past and present were never supposed to touch.
"Let's do it," he said.
Somehow, he'd need to convince Katelynn that his decision to bury the body on the mountain and not let the authorities know what happened was for the best. He gritted his teeth. She'd adapt. If she needed help adjusting, he'd be there for her.
Living with the truth would be her new normal.
He looked at Will and Anders. Since they were fifteen years old, they'd rallied together more times than he would've liked. When they'd escaped Mexico, they went searching for freedom away from those who'd had control over how they lived their lives.
In different forms, they'd all found their future. Each one of them owned a business which supplied others with a way to enjoy the Bitterroot Mountains.
But that freedom had cost them.
The upkeep to stay alive added darkness to their lives, and that shadow would forever follow them.
***
THE DOOR OPENED. KATELYNN flung off the blanket wrapped around her and stood from where Quint had set her hours ago. The whole time he'd been gone, she'd expected the sirens of an ambulance to arrive or the police to come and question her.
Instead, she'd sat alone not knowing what was happening.
She shivered without the blanket to cover her. "What's going on?"
Quint grabbed his jacket off the hook by the front door. "Right now, I'm going to take you back to my house. Then, we're going to talk."
"But, what about Cord?" She wiggled her toes, knowing his dried blood remained on her skin.
"It's best if we wait to discuss everything until we're back at my place." He stepped over and grabbed the blanket off the chair behind his desk. "It won't take long to get there."
He covered her whole body, except for her head. Wrapped in warmth again, she stared up at him. She couldn't tell from his expression what was going on. His beard covered half his face.
"I don't know you," she blurted.
"No, but you can trust me. That's about the only thing you've got going for you tonight." He walked to the door and waited for her.
She followed him outside. The darkness wrapped around her. She wanted to hide in a box and never come out to face what'd happened with Cord.
Tonight felt like a never-ending bad dream. One that'd gone on for six months.
Most of the time, she disassociated herself from her surroundings. This couldn't be happening to her.
She would wake up and be back in Vancouver, looking forward to Friday and having the weekend off work. The most significant stressor in her life would come on the fifteenth of the month when her electricity was due. The last two weeks of the month were always tighter, money-wise, and she wouldn't be able to get her morning Starbucks.
Quint stopped beside one of those motorcycle thingies with four wheels she'd seen others ride around on in the campground. She stood with one foot on top of the other, trying to warm her toes.
"Are you okay to sit on the back of the ATV and hold on to me?" His blue eyes studied her.
She looked at the machine again. "I've never ridden on one or any kind of motorcycle."
His gaze dropped to her toes and back up to her eyes. Ashamed of what she'd done, she remained quiet under his inspection. There were reasons why she wore Cord's clothes.
"You're small. You can ride in front of me. All you have to do is put your hands on the gas tank between your legs." He stepped away.
He made getting on the vehicle look easy as his body made one smooth motion. Taking her prompt from him, she moved closer and raised her leg, realizing she needed to stretch and the oversized jeans restricted her movements.
As if sensing her dilemma, Quint put his hands on her hips, turned her away from him, and lifted her up. She'd barely had her foot over the seat in front of him, and he plopped her down. He flipped a switch on the handlebar, turned the key, and the ATV rumbled to life underneath her.
Caged between his two strong arms, she planted her hands on the oblong piece in front of her as Quint rode forward.
The wind in her face stole her breath.
The darkness in front of her immobilized her.
The man surrounding her broke her out of the shock of killing Cord. His refusal to tell her what was going on screamed the truth. Nobody had to tell her. She'd seen all the blood and the blank look on Cord's face when he fell on the floor of the trailer.
Quint was the only one around to help her. He was the only one who knew what she'd done. He'd taken charge when she had no idea what to do. She needed someone to tell her who she was supposed to call and what she was supposed to do next.
She'd spent six months planning and failing her escape from Cord. For once in her life, it was nice that someone helped her. While she no longer trusted her judgment, considering her past mistakes, she was glad Quint was with her.
"Duck your head," he said in her ear.
Tree branches came closer to her as the trail narrowed. She let her chin fall to her chest and then Quint put his hand on the top of her head. The span of his fingers almost covered her from ear to ear. Limbs hit him, she could hear the slaps against the arms of his jacket.
A couple of minutes later, he let go. She looked up and found they'd arrived at a clearing in the forest. In the headlight of the ATV, a log cabin with a full porch set against the base of a mountain came into view.
He parked near the four steps and turned off the engine. His hands landed on her waist again, and she was ready when he lifted her. She put her feet on the ground.
"You can come in, take a shower, and then we'll talk." He waited for her to move.
She stepped forward. What he offered seemed like a dream come true. All she wanted was warm water to wash off Cord's blood and feel normal again. As normal as she could not knowing what was going to happen to her afterward when they talked.
Afraid to walk into his cabin with dirty feet, she stopped on the rug on the porch. Quint reached around her and pushed open the door.
"Go ahead," he said. "Everything is cleanable."
She stepped into the dark room. Seconds later, a light came on, and she found herself transported to somewhere absolutely beautiful. His place reminded her of one of those cabins in magazines they show by a blue lake with a deer drinking from the bank. Bare, but rustic. A part of the mountain.
She could tell his home was also bigger than she imagined from the outside. The open living room and kitchen combined was larger than her last rental house in Vancouver.
Quint walked out of the main room, leaving her alone. She crossed her arms and cupped her elbows, wanting to run after him. Six months of being with Cord had made her desperate for companionship.
"Katelynn," he called from the other room. "Can you come here?"
She hurried and followed the sound of his voice, finding him in a bedroom. Her legs trembled, and she stood in the hallway, not wanting to go in.
She was weak, hungry, and exhausted. He was a stranger.
"Will these fit you?" He stood in front of the closet with a Rubbermaid container at his feet, holding a woman's pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with the word VANDALS across the front.
"I think...probably?" She looked around the room, trying to find out whose clothes he wanted her to wear.
There was nothing on the dresser except a folded shirt and comb. No dresses hung in the closet. The plain brown comforter on the bed and dust on the ceiling fan gave her a hint that he lived alone. A woman would've added a softer touch to the room and paid attention to the details.
"I'll set them on the counter in the bathroom. Then, you can go in and shower. There's towels, washcloths, and soap in there you can use." He went into a small room off the bedroom.
She moved forward, peeking inside. Nobody else lived with him, female or male. The bathroom had the bare bones of a men's commercial with deodorant and a stack of towels.
Quint walked out. She straightened.
"Go ahead. When you're done, we'll talk," he said.
She nodded and shut herself in the bathroom, locking the handle. Avoiding the mirror, she turned on the water in the shower and stripped off her clothes. Knowing she could grab a towel from the rack when she finished, she only took a washcloth with her.
The water scalded her skin. She rubbed her foot against the other one as she shampooed her hair. The warmth stopped her shivers but failed to remove the tremors inside her. She couldn't prevent herself from falling apart.
Scrubbing her whole body, she spent extra time on her feet trying to get off days' worth of stains she'd earned from running around with bare feet.
The cleaner she got herself, the more worried she became. No ambulance came to the campground. Even if the paramedics turned off the sirens out of courtesy to the guests, she would've spotted them going past the office.
Her stomach rolled, and she grabbed for the wall of the shower. Deep down, she knew Cord was dead. But where was his body?