He guided them to the area where he’d stashed the ATV, using the sun as an indicator of their direction.
“How do you know how to navigate so well?”
“I was born and raised in Alaska. Grew up in Copper Mountain, not too far from where we are. My cousin has a summer home out here, and we spent a lot of time there with my family.” Well, before he’d disappointed them all. Now that his father had passed, he rarely saw his mom or sister anymore.
“It’s really beautiful out here. And peaceful.”
Had he really experienced peace on this mountain? It was more of a refuge for him to keep the storms at bay. He’d worked too hard to keep people out to let peace in. His judgment was flawed when it came to trusting people, so it was easier to just keep people at a distance.
But somehow, Dani had snuck through his security perimeter.
She kept talking, chattering like a bird in spring. “It makes me think of God, in a way. I don’t actually believe in a God who cares about our mundane lives. I mean, my mom always made my sister and me go to church every Sunday. But it’s different when you think about the fact that someone had to create all of this.” She gestured to the thick trees all around them.
“You don’t believe God cares?” Hmm. That kind of sounded like him. His grandfather had been the most faithful man on the planet, but Grizz just couldn’t trust that easily. Not when God hadn’t saved his friend’s life.
She shrugged, her sweatshirt crusted with mud. But it didn’t matter what she wore; the woman still looked like she’d spent hours putting together her outfit.
And why was he looking at her in that way?
“As far as I’ve seen, it’s more like God is mean.”
“Really?” He pushed a branch out of her way. “Most of the church services I attended as a kid said the opposite. That God loves us. Unconditionally.” Even if that hadn’t been his experience.
“No one loves unconditionally. Eventually we’ll fail—we fail each other, and someone always gets hurt. And then we’re on our own.”
“I kind of agree with you.” He’d rather take action now than trust a God he couldn’t see. At least he’d be doing something rather than waiting around for a God who might show up. Or not.
She stopped short. “No way. Something we have in common finally?”
“I just think God is too capricious to trust Him with what I love. I prefer to take care of things myself.”
“And if you can’t?”
Well, that was when he’d become a hermit—when he wasn’t with the hotshot crew—and shut everyone out of his personal life rather than let them down. Again. But he wasn’t ready to say that to Dani.
The reporter was shaking him down for a story, and he refused to be her next headline.
Grizz stopped short and sniffed.
“What is it?” Dani’s eyes darted around.
“A storm is coming. I can smell it.” To prove his point, thunder rumbled in the distance, and the clouds swirled overhead. A breeze rustled through the tree branches.
But there was a different smell that had Grizz concerned.
The smell of death.
Buzzards circled in the distance. The ATV was still about a quarter mile away, and those birds spelled trouble. They’d have to walk by them.
It could be a dead animal, but Grizz’s gut twisted in an unrelenting knot.
Up ahead lay a mound of dirt. The kind that signaled a shallow grave. And then Grizz saw it. A sneaker sticking out of the heap of earth.
“Hey, Dani?” He needed to guide her gently through this.
Dani pulled up short. “Oh no. No. No.”
Oh nowas an understatement.
